On a mission, she is

[Anonymous]

The guards were no match for the Lady in Gold.  No.  She'd snuck past them effortlessly and found her way to where the prisoners were kept.  So many sanctioned here, to be executed for a power they preferred to possess above all else.  

Jheasayte was taught since childhood to hate all magic-users.  "They are all evil!" her father would preach.  He'd gone on many nights explaining to her that the Gods wouldn't tolerate the evil running amok in Connlaoth, or any other part of the world.  "Another Armageddon will unfold, if they are not eliminated!" he'd bellow.  And she'd always listened and agreed.  That is, until her mother left with another man at her side.  Jheasayte knew then that a far greater evil was afoot among them.  

With her father at a distance, Jheasayte finds that the beliefs she once practiced are quite outdated.  If those who possess magic master the art, could they not use it for good?  An intelligent lady, Jheasayte, but perhaps she's up against something far too great and mysterious for even her to handle?

Stalking among the cradling shadows, her eyes adjust slowly and evenly to the candle-lit interior of the dungeon.  How many can she help escape?  How many can she convince to escape in the first place?  Surely they do not wish to be here, she thinks.  Having shed her jewelry and anything which might jangle or jingle, (for she wishes a silent presence) she settles her back against the wall.  It wishes not her presence, this merciless wall, and so it assaults her skin with a fire so cold it ought to burn the skin from her bones.  

Drawing air between clenched teeth, she stifles a yelp that would surely result from the sudden onslaught of unevenly cold stone.  But to give in would surely get her caught.  And with no training in weaponry to save her life, the guards would win whatever battle upon her that they would wage.

Moving slowly, Jheasayte's cloth-laden feet cover ground easily.  And as she strafes along the wall, veiled by ghostly shadows, her right foot collides with a small pebble of sorts.  Among the eerie, deathly silence, a clinking resounds as the small pebble-like debris skips along the ground, rolling between two bars of a cell.  It comes to rest just within the cell-keep and silence ensues.  Body stiffening, Jheasayte inhales heavily, lungs prepared to burst if no oxygen is given them, and she awaits shouts from the guards...if they heard such a small disturbance.

[Anonymous]

"Bang." Captain Tearshed rolled his eyes, tilted his head to the side and lolled his tongue. He lifted the pistol away from his head and glanced back at the three guards. No, the two guards and the sergeant. 'I'm a sergeant' the man was quick to remind him after he called him a guard, somehow managing to make a two syllable word sound like it had twenty. The guards and their ser-r-r-r-r-r-ge-ant were making a point of ignoring him. They didn't like him too much.

Tearshed didn't care, he didn't like them too much either.

He didn't like this guarding prisoners crap either. What use was it to store the mages in little pens before killing them. It was sloppy work if you asked him. Just begging someone to try to save their asses. Maybe that was the great and grand point of it all. Jar up the little magical buggers and see who comes running to unscrew the lid. Tearshed couldn't think of anything stupider. Who the hell would try breaking into a jail when it was so much easier to show up at the execution and save them.

In his own humble opinion it would have been more productive just to shoot the bastards after they were through being interrogated. He'd volunteer now if it meant getting out of guarding them. Of course, then they'd probably build a cell around the cells so he could be in jail and watch the other inmates at the same time.

The Lefteanant General Sergeant then proceeded to work himself into an excited lather because of a teeny little scraping sound he probably would have missed if he hadn't stopped braying long enough to gauge just how bored his troops were. Tearshed modified his plan to get out of guarding prisoners to just shooting his company, or at least that sergeant of theres. He might even be able to work a promotion out of that one, or get some sort of award for improving the quality of life in the military.

"Shhh men, did you hear that?" Both guards, one of which was a female and growing steadily more annoyed every time he referred to her as a 'man', nodded. "You have to be aware of every sound when you're on duty. Every sound is a potential enemy."

"Or a rat," Tearshed interrupted. The sergeant ignored him.

"Should we investigate?" The other guard offered timidly, his hands already shaking on his musket.

"I'm going." Tearshed holstered his pistol and walked toward the place he guessed was where the sound came. Anything to get out of walking up and down the halls and listening to the sergeant's endless wisdom. It was probably nothing, but at least it gave him an excuse to wander up and down the halls for an hour or so. He'd just tell them that it was good to check every possible place.

Tearshed ran a hand through his black hair as he walked, lazily glancing from one wall to another and not bothering to be quiet. If it was a someone and they attacked it'd be all the better for him. He could use some excitement anyway. Further throwing caution to the wind he decided to talk to the rock scratcher.

"Hallo, oh mighty scatterer of pebbles. I'm going to ge-et you, so stay right there. No, actually I'll let you have a bit of a head start. Go ahead and run so I can chase you down and catch you." Tearshed grinned and folded his arms behind his back.

[Anonymous]

Breath still held, Jheasayte's upper lids married their counterparts briefly.  Moments passed, and just as she thought she was in the clear a voice interrupted the breathless silence.  A guard!  Holy crap she's in for it now.  

If not for her careless steps, she'd most likely be helping a prisoner gain back freedom right now.  Saving the world one mage at a time!  She opens her eyes now, frantically scanning the dungeons halls for a potential hiding spot.  Right, like there's a little alcove where no guard searches, made just for you Jhea.

Her lungs can take no more lack of oxygen and she exhales, allowing withheld breath to explode past plain lips.  Heavy breathing must now be tended to, but she hasn't the alotted time for catching her breath.  Pushing from the wall, Jheasayte bends at the waist, gathering in her hand several small pebble-like stones.  With a quick jerky motion, she flings these pebbles as far as she possibly can in the opposite direction; behind her.  A distraction perhaps?  'Tis what she hopes.

She begins to run.  She'd snuck in past, perhaps, the same guard that is looking for the source of the noise just now.  She prays to the Gods that he's behind her somewhere, as opposed to being somewhere in front of her.  She knows not the layout of this dungeon, for this is her first time here.  She rounds a corner here, rounds a corner there and knows not where she's headed.  For all she knows, she could be running right to the guard.  

Her father taught her so much; instilled within her so many of his wretched beliefs.  But never once did he teach her to defend herself.  Sure, she could scratch someone's eyes out like no one's business, but as far as keeping herself alive?  She hadn't a clue.  If she found any sort of weapon here, she'd not know how to wield it.  So why does she instist on sneaking down here to the dungeons when she knows fully well that if she's caught, the guards will show no mercy?  If she knew the dungeon's layout, intellect may have played a hand in this outrageous game; outwitting an opponent would surely outrank any weapon.

For what seems an eternity, she runs blindly through the dungeon's halls and corridors.  Hell, she may have even run in a complete circle.  Either way in which the outcome unfolds, Jheasayte has a feeling the guard will catch her.

[Anonymous]

One of the prisoners sat against a mouldy wall, staring at a rat chewing on a bone. What species that bone belonged to, wasn’t on his need-to-know list. Heck, he didn’t even want to know. Trying to ignore the white, half-chewed bone that may have belonged to the last prisoner here, the wizard continued to stare at the rat.
You will find the keys. Nice shiny keys. Go and find the keys.
Malik said over and over in his head, trying to Trance the vermin to do his bidding, who didn’t seem to acknowledge the young man’s existence.
Damnit. He was getting a headache from staring at the disease ridden rodent in the dim light. Malik leaned his head against the damp wall of his cell, playing over in his head how he managed to get himself into this gods-forsaken mess.
A scrap of paper from a majik book should never be read out loud by an apprentice in a magik filled room.
Also, he noted, is to run when suddenly and unexpectedly Appearing before crazy-majik-hating-armed-soldiers instead of trying to convince them it was a smoke bomb and a fancy costume, his bad connloath accent didn't go down too well either, it hardly covered his forgien one.
Lessons learnt too late, he feared.

With a sigh he suspiciously eyed his discarded manacles that had surprisingly leapt off him with a simple spell earlier, surprisingly because Malik wasn’t one to get simple spells to work when needed. Especially when needed. Sometimes he half expected it to pounce back on him as a punch line to a cruel joke.
Deciding not to let it have the first move, the wizard stood up and kicked it angrily across the room, scaring the rat back into the dark walls.

He rubbed a hand in his eye, he was tired, hungry, scared, and angry and every other miserable and unhappy feeling he could portray as words.
He clenched his fists if only they didn’t take his book! He had a perfect spell that would open this stupid door and-and-what? Walk out? They would see him surely, especially dressed like this! Why didn’t he memorise it? One word! Just one word off from the incarnation and it won’t work. Why does Majik have to be so fussy!?  

He took his red coloured pointed hat off and brushed a hand through his silver hair. The hat matched his robes; both also had large yellow stars on them. Very wizard like, if you read fairy tales. The hat even had a rim on it, so impossible to sleep in, strange for pyjamas really. He looked at his red fabric slippers. It was embarrassing to be caught in his pj’s, let alone executed in public. He was partly thankful that no body he knew would be there…he stopped himself before uttering a bad pun that involved the words embarrassment and dying.  
He sighed again, beginning to feel frustrated, maybe he could turn at least one of them into toads before tomorrow. That is, if it doesn’t backfire again.

Plonking the hat back on with summoned confidence he stood tall at 5’10 and not willing to let them break him he turned to the bars of his cage.
“I should at least have a last meal!� He whinged loudly, his stomach growling as all previous confidence escaped him. It was only his pride that stopped him from crying. Maybe he should cry to get it out of his system. He didn’t want to look more of a wimp than he already did come morning.

While pondering that dilemma a girl ran past his cell. Not seen one of those down here before, least of all wearing anything as fancy as what she was wearing.  
“Hey!� Malik called out in shock, he must be hallucinating, maybe she’s some sort of angel sent to read last rites or something. He hoped the something.
He gripped the bars, willing them to bend upon his command, and of course they didn’t. Stupid bars.

[Anonymous]

(as not to make it an odd forum, I'll back into past tense as you two are doing)


Lost in the abyssmal dungeon, Jheasayte wondered just where she was headed.  Turning right here; left there.  She stopped momentarily to catch her breath.  Never before had she had to run from anyone; especially a guard.  She had come here to hopefully do some good and rescue a magic-user.  What would her father have thought of her?  He'd have slapped her pretty face eight ways to hell surely.

On the run again, she began to wonder when the hell this dungeon came to an end.  It was as if she were in a hedge-maze that never ended.  A practical joke played upon her by the Gods she most definately was defying.

Fancy clothes?  Really?  To Jheasayte, they were but simple everyday clothes and accessories.  All but the Emerald of Repel which was set within a golden headpiece of magnificent fortunes.  This jewel was nothing simple.  The Emerald, given to her by her Father, was said to have "powers" which Repelled against magic-users; kept them at bay.  Her father had told her that the Emerald contained the blood of a Mordecai. Jheasayte never believed this; simply thought it a beautiful piece in her crown.

Hey!...someone had called out to her.  With an abrupt stop, she nearly collided with a sharp turn of the wall just before her.  With a quick glance, she settled darkened eyes upon the magic-user behind the cell's bars.  He gripped them, she noticed, so tightly as if he willed them to bend and allow his escape.  A silly outfit, he wore, but she had no time to giggle at his attire.  At least not for now.  

As if time stood still, Jheasayte stared at this wizard and his saddened eyes.  Hunger, fatigue, fear.  All etched upon his face so clearly that Jheasayte needn't be a special observant.  Settling a finger vertically against her lips, she motioned for him to hush.  Oh but she knew the guard had to have heard the prisoner's outcry; knew the intruder was near.

Stalking up to the bars, Jheasayte lowered her finger.  In a hushed whisper..."Please!  Be quiet!  There is a guard after me.  I came here to help those barred up down here, but you're the only prisoner I've seen.  If I can hide long enough for the guard to give up his search, I will come back for you," she said, as if they were long-time friends and she was acting upon a promise made years ago.

But hide where, Jheasayte?  Tearing her eyes from the wizard with much regret, she moves away in hopes to find a sufficient hiding spot.  With candle-light dancing upon her reflective golden attire....it surely will be difficult to hide.  Even here in the musty dungeons.  But she'll try.

[Anonymous]

Unless he was so scary he could make pebbles come to life and flee in terror then the sudden clattering after he advised the 'intruder' to start running had to have been from such a person.

Or maybe a prisoner was feeling their oats and decided to toss rocks in an attempt to be difficult. It didn't matter, illegal intruder or roudy prisoner, either would be a good distraction from sitting around with the guards and their great and glorious leader. Hell, they'd be better conversation partners at the least, even if the conversation was a one sided exchange of them begging for mercy.

Tearshed grinned, lowered his arms to his sides and crept toward the clattering sound. It was easy enough to find the offending rocks, they landed relatively close to one another. Now he had to keep quiet and listen to for the one that scattered them. He slowed down a bit while walking that corridor, if it was an ornery prisoner he might be feeling their wrath at any time now. Unless they were playing some kind of stupid game by throwing rocks when there were no guards around. Either way he'd hear or feel rocks sometime soon.

Neither. Damn. Tearshed turned down another corridor, rising onto the balls of his feet to keep them from making too much sound. As he snuck along the dissapointment at not finding an irate pebble-throwing prisoner drowned in glee. An opponent with nowhere to run wasn't anywhere near as fun as one that could run.

A faint shout drew his attention toward a particular path where the hall forked. It may have been faint, but Tearshed was almost willing to bet he heard the shouter say something about a meal. Though it may not have been the type of shout he was looking for he took that hall, moving a little faster when he heard another, shorter outburst. Wasn't there a prisoner down this corridor? He was almost certain a mage had been brought in recently.

Tearshed let his heels fall to the ground and moved from a stalk into a stroll, grinning wider and shifting the pistol belt around his long coat so the glint of metal in the pistol's hilts could be seen by those in front of him. The wink of a different type of metal in the candle light got an eyebrow raise out of him. What was a lady of all things doing in a dungeon?

"Good day dee-eear lady," he said cheerfully. "If you wanted a tour you could have come in the front door." He let a hand fall on a pistol's hilt.

[Anonymous]

Golden attire, fitted to her body as if painted there by the Gods themselves; a thick and lengthy platinum mane (hair any man may wish to get his fingers caught within); coal and paint applied to her face to paint a portrait of beauty.  Sure, she fits in down here really well.  What's your cover, Jhea?  'I got lost whilst talking a stroll in the woods and happened to fall into the dungeons here?'  No...that wouldn't work out so well.  'I was hired to dance for the prisoners before their executions; a sort of last minute pleasure before their lives are taken by unfit hands.'  Nah...that's even worse.

So what will you say to this guard who's happened upon you, my dear Goldie?

Jheasyate was about to turn and flee, search for a hiding spot, when the guard's voice shattered the silence.  Whirling around, a sharp inhale sounded her surprise at how quickly he found her.  Should I play stupid, or tell him my business, she wondered.  Playing a naive Lady Denvier wasn't her style.  No.  Jheasayte's mind, laden with volumes of knowledge and unseen events, wasn't keen on stooping to the level of a barwhore.  But what had she to lose?  Her dignity?  Screw her dignity.

Gaining her composure, she sighed and settled a hand upon her upper chest.  "My Goodness!" she exclaimed, her common dictated with a deep sultry tone.  Yea...lay it on thick my dear.  

Lips embraced one another in a simple and quick smile, before divorcing as words slipped past.  "A tour! Yes a tour.  I did come in the front door.  No one was there.  So I thought I'd take a look around and try to find someone."  Another flashy smile and the blood 'neath her cheeks rose against her pallid skin in an attempt to look absolutely embarassed.  "And here you are.  My, " she paused momentarily and took a step closer, "You look so strong.  I'd always heard that the guards here had muscle, but you...you are built like a God."  Steadily aware of the candle-light glinting off his weapon, she offered him another smile; a most seductive expression washing away all traces of suspiscion.  

Hoping to the Gods that the guard doesn't catch onto her, Jheasayte took another step closer.  She also hoped the prisoner she whispered to moments ago won't say a word of what she promised him.  Maybe the guard will let her go.  Maybe he'll take her seduction and giggle like a schoolboy with a crush.  Or maybe he'll kill her.  See what mess you've gotten yourself into now?

[Anonymous]

He nodded dumbly at her words, then wondered why she was wasting time talking to him when she could hide and rescue him later? Maybe she’s part of a rescue attempt by his guild? A spy to find out where he was, before they could come under cover of darkness and free him. Yeah, they must know what happened to him, it’s surely been a few days now and so they must’ve Tracked him after Detecting an Appearing or Transporting or whatever it was spell.
Malik felt his spirits rise. He could taste freedom.  His confidence stepped back up.

From the corner of his grey eyes he saw the guard; he was still gripping the bars but now not as tightly.
“Hey, where’s my food?� Since being thrown down here, he’s been mostly ignored except when they remembered to give him some lumpy grey mush and water.
“And as it would be my last meal, how about a full cooked dinner? Some tender lamb roast, potatoes, steamed veg, rich gravy…â€? His mouth was watering as he imaged it, well he was going to be rescued but why waste this right? “None of those little green sprout things, they’re nasty.â€? He added then noticing a glint from the guard’s belt; Malik released the bars with a soft sigh. Oh yes, they had those pistols; he didn’t want to show he was afraid, but the Wizard Apprentice wasn’t very good at hiding his fear.  

But the guard wasn’t paying any attention to the prisoner, instead his line of sight was directed at the girl, no, lady. As she stepped further into the weak light Malik could see she was around his own age, perhaps younger. Of course his silver hair and scruffy beard probably made the pyjama wearing man look a lot older than he really was so he wasn’t really one to judge age.
Damnit! Hadn’t she hid yet? Or did she think she could blend into the walls? So far this rescue business wasn’t going down so well.
Why hadn’t they Contacted him through thought? Were the walls that thick that they blocked mental communication? Is that why they sent her? He had tried to Contact people from his Guild earlier, but the distance were too great, or the walls were shielded, then he tried shouting but after the first hour his throat became sore. Were they close enough to hear him now?

- Jermyn? Alac?  Hyssop? Anyone there? -

No reply.  

Malik leaned onto the bars with a sigh, watching the girl’s attempt at trying to seduce the guard. Pity it weren’t aimed at him, maybe he should also ask for a lady to keep him company in his ‘last hours’... A god? He managed to suppress a snigger, and then remembered a simple spell that may prove useful, why didn’t he think of it sooner?  Did the guard carry keys? Dare he try it and risk ruining a planned rescue attempt? If the opportunity presented itself, he would try. He would just merely speed up the process.

[Anonymous]

Tearshed curled his upper lip at the prisoner's request for a last meal - and what a last meal! He wasn't even used to eating like that. Were prisoners supposed to be fed so sumptuously before being killed? Was that why they were kept locked up like canaries before then?

The lady's voice drew him out of the thoughts on last meals. He relaxed his lip and tilted his head to the side as she went on speaking. She wanted a tour? Who the hell would want to come to the dungeons? It wasn't like these were the West Wing breaking rooms in the palace. Even though they were relatively plain; lacking in the decorative stone, bars, and torches of a 'typical' dungeon; and for the most part an unpleasant place; they were part of the palace. A random noble lady lost in the corridors wasn't that odd a coincidence there.

Tearshed's eyebrows rose as the lady continued. A god? He wasn't sure what a god was supposed to look like, having never met one in person and not desiring to any time soon. Some of the covens had little idols they prayed to, or wore necklaces with a pendant featuring whatever god they wasted breath on. None struck his fancy. The comparison was amusing though.

This was that one Sergeant's game, the one that was in the infirmary because some pissed off magic user shot him whats-his-name. Ah well, if he could play that game Tearshed could do it too. How hard could it be?

"Luck is with you m'lady," he said, grinning and letting the hilt slip free of his hand. "Hell knows how long you would have been walking around." He walked the last few steps between himself and the prisoner's door. "This bastard hasn't bothered you has he?" Tearshed smirked at the mage and ran a leather-gloved finger across the bars.

[Anonymous]

Weren't guards supposed to be immune to seduction?  Well, she didn't really seduce him, but her lies did invade his suspiscion and render them dead.  Yes.  Her stupid naiveness worked.  Oh poor little noble lady, lost down in the dungeons.

She wasn't going to be able to free the prisoner with the guard standing right here.  Think Jhea, think! she scolded herself.  Her mind churned as she watched the guard remove his hands from his wiast.  You got yourself out of having a pistol make love to your face, but now what?  

Closing the distance between herself and the guard, she shook her head slowly.  "No, he isn't bothering me," she said, eyes dancing about the darkened corridor in hopes of spotting perhaps a bigger pebble or a stone.   So far, nothing.  Stupid girl, she scolded herself again.  You should have had a plan of sorts.  What were you thinking sneaking in here?  

"In fact," she continued, "I was asking him if he had seen anyone pass by his cell.  I was growing frightened down here.  It's so dark..and cold."  A heavy shiver washed across her form and she shook so theatrically that even the most observant guard may believe she was truly scared out of her wits.  "Silly me.  I shouldn't have come down here unattended.  This prisoner, this...evil-doer," she seethes, all but spitting her words upon the cell-dweller, "isn't bothering me now.  But if you hadn't arrived, there's no telling what he would have said or done to me.  I was a little too close to the bars.  He could have," another shiver..." could have touched me."

Playing the part of a helpless woman in the midst of such a mage wasn't easy.  In fact, she thought the mage rather charming.  The perfect candidate for her to rescue.  But if the guard caught onto her lies....

Again, her eyes scanned the grounds quickly.  Ah-ha!  There...just a few feet to her left: the perfect rock for head bashing.  Momentarily she doubted her ability to render the guard unconscience.  Her limbs, so frail and thin, may only offer enough force to tap the rock upon the guard's head and he'd never feel a thing.  But she had to try.

Her field of vision shifted to the darkness lying behind the guard.  Lifting a finger she points to absolutely nothing, behind him.  "What was that!?" she exclaims, a frightened expression washing across her lovely candle-lit face.  And if the guard so dared to turn; to look at what she never saw, she'd bend down and pluck the rock from the dirt-laden ground.  As the guard may perhaps realize nothing was there, she'd throw the rock, aiming for his head.  What if she'd miss?  Oh she'd be in some trouble then, no?  Luck be with you, Lady Denvier.

[Anonymous]

Malik rolled his grey eyes at the question if he was bothering her, he was in this cage because of discrimination, he was born able to use majik and was taught to harness it and for that they lock him up. Of course he was bothering her, he wanted out! Did all connloathians believe that wizards were evil? That they snuck into people’s homes to snatch children and young maidens to use in some twisted, unholy spells?  
Ok, so there were a few, small groups of spellcasters that abuse their powers for evil, but Malik weren’t one of them. Just look at what he was wearing! Did he look like a hell bent evil sorcerer? People laughed at him scowling. He also liked puppies and-and kittens, ok not kittens they scared him, but puppies! That was how un-evil he truly was.

This girl didn’t think he was evil; she looked and sounded like she belonged to this kingdom and was trying to help him escape. The guild must’ve known she would help, boy they know a lot. He hoped they gambled correctly; this was his life they were risking after all and Malik was pretty attached to it.

But it seemed he had jumped to the wrong conclusion; she spat at him like a two-faced cat. Was this all a trick after all? Did she and the guards set this little play up to see how far he followed? Would they end the game after he escaped and taunt him, or give reason to torture him? Malik shuddered, his jaw hung open in surprise and disbelief. What if she did want to help him? And was only acting to fool the guard to believe she hated him. That must be it. Wow, she’s good.
So he’d better play his part. Could have touched her? Hmm.

“Could have? I wouldn’t have dreamt it.� He replied with a look, he hoped, of a man with ulterior motive to his statement and tried to add a seedy tone to his voice to underline his ‘desire’ of doing more than touching.
All he needed was eye contact from the guard and that should throw a dirty glance his way. That was one of the downsides to the spell he picked, the other was he had to maintain the eye contact once the spell had been cast. No blinking and nothing must pass through the line of sight, as that would break it, and fortunately his victim wouldn’t be able to move a muscle, let alone blink.
Lips barely parted to start the casting he was a pro at. ‘The Stare’ as many called it was used mainly in pairs, as the caster couldn’t move from his or her spot without breaking the link. So the second duellist would take the opportunity to strike without sudden reaction, it didn’t always work though and wasn't that popular, but Malik had used it often for practical jokes on friends and scholars, so was better than most. Competing in staring contests helped with the practise too.

He drew the majik to him and held it until he uttered the final word. This was another ability he had perfected, holding onto his power until the right moment. Who knew that swift and correct timing used for pranks would help in real life situations?
He also had no concentration etched on his face to betray his plans, when dealing with sharp eyed, scholars it was always best to look innocent, that way it was difficult to pin the blame or in fact the intended prank on the true culprit, hence why no words left his breath. They had damned good hearing too. The only thing they did notice was that Malik were quietier then normall.

He almost looked when the girl cried out, but he needed to face the guard if he should look his way, although now it might be too late and he may go and investigate, leaving Malik behind. He took a steadying breath, the apprentice will hold the casting until he was sure he couldn’t or didn’t need to use it.

You move mister guard.

[Anonymous]

Captain Tearshed nodded and fought to keep the grin from morphing into a smirk while his finger slid up and down one of the bars on the mage's cell. How interesting, she asks the man a question, yet fears what he'll say to her or that he'll touch her. Shivers in cold fright after glancing around the room like she was nervous about something. Actually, he couldn't quite tell if she was nervous or curious or what. She was either very clever or very stupid.

Twenty-eight years of dealing with women made him seriously doubt the second option. A stupid woman would either be too scared to try getting into the dungeons in the first place or if she wasn't she would have started throwing rocks and screeching as soon as she saw him approach.

And there she was looking around again. He spared a quick glance to the mage after he put his two copper in. The mage definitely wasn't the actor the lady was. His words made it sound as if he didn't want to acquaint his hands with the lady's fine form, but the tone made it sound as though he wanted more than his hands to get to know her.

The lady's sudden shriek almost startled him. Almost made him believe that she was a little lost lady scared of everything she saw. Almost, until he figured he would have heard more of her than a couple pebbles scattering under her feet. He didn't hear anything immediatly behind them, but the sound could have been drowned out by the mage's words. Her face looked frightened enough... He crossed his eyebrows a bit, listened.

Nothing worth a scream. He 'listened' a bit longer, taking advantage of the still moments to think. Even though the lady was a noble, arresting her, should she give him evidence of aiding a magic user, would be a small accomplishment. A small fish could be used to bait a bigger fish though. Verde would be pleased if he came up with a good plan so quickly, might even get him off this abysmal duty.

Tearshed's grin twisted into a frown and he swung around to look behind him, his eyes sweeping across the front of the mage's cell for a moment.

Nothing but darkness, and the stars that crackled up before his eyes when something rather hard and unyeilding smashed into the back of his head. He would have sworn he felt his brain do a little spin from the force, groaned and swayed unsteadily on his feet.

Thrown rocks weren't the the cause of most of the damage his head had taken during his life. He didn't think a child would have been dropped by the blow he'd just taken and was certain he'd had a couple hangovers that wracked more havok on his head. Nonetheless, before he could get his feet back under him he let them slip and dropped to the ground for the sake of the little scheme that danced through his head before the pain from the rock. He closed his eyes, wondering briefly if the lady would use this opportunity to liberate his pistols as well as the prisoner. Those guns were his pride and joy, the plan be damned if she tried to lift them!

It was too late to try shifting so he was on top of the pistols. Moving now would compromise this illusion of being unconscious. So he bit his lip and listened.

[Anonymous]

By the Gods, the rock knocked the guard out cold.  Jheasayte remained motionless for but a moment, eyes trained upon the unconscience body, breath held within still lungs.  No doubt ever flickered across her mind that the guard might be faking it.   Which is a shame, no?  The guard wasn't moving now and allowing the stale breath to escape from pained lungs, Jheasayte smiled easily.

She wanted to shout for joy; do a little dance from a "battle" won.  But she couldn't waste any time.  The rock hadn't been large enough and the force with which she threw it wasn't powerful enough to have killed him.  He'd wake soon.  Moving to the guard, she crouched and began patting his clothing.  Guards usually carried keys on their person, right?  Jheasayte hoped to the Gods that this one did.  

Continuing to search the guard's form, hands caresseing places they shouldn't, Jheasayte turned her head to look at the mage.  In a voice so hushed (for she feared another guard may have caught a whiff of something gone awry and came to inspect) she spoke to the mage.

"He has to have a key on him," she questioned more than stated.  Turning her attention back upon the guard, she continued searching; stuffing her hands in here, skimming them over there.  But never once did she think to disarm him of his precious pistols.  Even if she did, she'd not know how to use them, much less hold them.  With all of her luck, she'd end up shooting her toe off.  Even worse, she'd end up killing the one she was here to rescue.

"Come on," she mumbled to herself.  Stradling the guard now, she grew more frustrated with every passing second her hands came up empty.  What sort of guard doesn't carry a prison cell key, but carries two pistols?  Oh, a useless guard of course.  He was naive enough to believe her earlier lies about wanting a tour and he hadn't truly rejected her flirtacious ways.  Maybe he was useless.

Still stradling the guard, hands still working over his body, she turned her eyes once more to the mage.  "Don't worry.  We'll get out of here.  When I find the key, that is.  He should be out cold for a while longer.  At least long enough for us to find the way out."  Attention diverted, she would not be prepared if the guard were to attack her, or subdue her now.  Quite vulnerable and in an odd position, he could easily overpower her.

"What "heinous" magic trick did you perform to end up here?" she asked, her tone laden with sarcasm.  Really.  What could the mage have done that was so terrible to end up as cell-decorative bones?

[Anonymous]

The apprentice blinked his dry eyeballs, the casting forgotten and discarded.  
“Or that, you could do that.� Said Malik in a surprised tone, breaking the silence after they both stared at the unconscious body of the guard for a few seconds.
He leaped to the locked door, as his rescuer searched for some keys, and taking her dear sweet time about it. He fidgeted about and looked down the alleyway feverishly, knowing his current run of luck somebody would come down and investigate.

Grey eyes glanced worriedly to the crumpled heap of a person being frisked that could wake any moment. What was taking so long? The thought of telling her to take the pistols didn’t cross his mind. He wanted out, not fret about a gun-welding woman that may accidentally shoot him. No, that didn’t appeal to him at all.
At least his acting didn’t fool her, the last thing he needed was questions about his supposed ulterior motives or even doubts in her mind if he was a good guy, which brought up a question of his own, how did she know he was innocent? He could in fact be an ‘evil mage’ like they claim for all she knew, but of course, the guild hired her so she would know he was alright.

He bit his lower lip as a sudden thought struck him, due to the lack of finding keys.
“Uh, do you happen to have a hair pin or something? Anything long, thin and metal would do.� His fingers probed the keyhole in the door, he could pick it, he was sure of it.

Her question caught him off guard, oh yeah they had time for small talk, why don’t they swap their life stories while they was at it? He hesitated for a second, deciding to answer her,  but debated about whether to tell her a lie or the half-truth. Well, considering she was here to rescue a mage, lying that he wasn’t one would maybe change her mind.
“Wrong place, wrong spell.� He vaguely replied then decided it might be better on his case if he explained it in a bit more detail and he took offence to her suggestion to being a magic trick.
“The ‘magic trick I performed,’ as you so put it, was a powerful use of majik that had transported me a great distance that unfortunately did not do as was intended and instead placed me in the middle of a soldiers’ barracks far from where I originally should be, a different country to be precise.� He tried to keep the offended and snobby tone out of his explanation and added an irritated one aimed at his own dumb luck, which wasn’t hard at all to include. His foreign accent was noticeable when pronouncing ‘majik’ the word flowed like the beginning of mage and ended with a sharp 'ick'.

Well, that wasn’t exactly the truth. It wasn’t planned at all, he didn’t want to be transported anywhere, especially not while he was in his pj’s, and he had no idea how he got here except by the scrap of paper. By majik law it shouldn’t be possible on his own, but as Malik has found time and time again, majik liked to bend and twist its own laws, it was an accident that he was here and damn be to it he wasn’t staying any longer.

[Anonymous]

Tearshed wanted to smirk when he felt the lady's hands pawing at him. He'd be a dyed in the wool idiot if he thought the she wouldn't try searching for something that would help her out - keys most likely, since those hands stayed well and away from the pistols draped around his hip. Still, it wasn't everyday that he found a classy lady's hands on his person. This was almost worth getting tapped in the head by that little rock.

She could paw him to her heart's content, but that wouldn't make a keyring appear in his pockets. That item was currently sitting with the Lefty that held command over the jail. Clever Lefty, it almost made him want to learn the man's name so he could whisper it in an ear that appreciated cleverness.

The lack of keys didn't make the door any less resistant to having the lock blown away. That would attract the other guards, but what other options did they have at the present? The caged mage had a solution to that: picking the lock.

Well... it would certainly be quieter than shooting the lock. He knew that if he were in jail and given the chance to pick a lock or shoot it, he'd try his luck with picking. Picking the lock gave one more bullets to use on any guards one might run into. Of course, Tearshed wasn't a mage, this man they had behind bars might not need steel to get out once his cage was open.

His thoughts were neatly garbled when the lady sat on him. She was a bold one! This lady seemed to be of the same cut as their Matron, even if one was golden finery and the other dyed green leathers and roughspun. From what he'd seen the Lady Maverikko had no patience for being a proper lady, and this dungeon was the last one he'd expected to meet a proper lady.

Only, I haven't really met one... he thought. It couldn't have been that hard to topple backwards rather than fall on my stomach.

Tearshed remained still, kept his breathing long and deep. Now wasn't quite the time to spring back to consciousness, not with her on top of him. She'd hit him with another rock, or worse scream. He didn't need her screaming and drawing the other guards attention - not now, not ever.

[Anonymous]

Jheasayte sighed headily.  The guard apparently carried no keys on his person.  Just her luck.  Still she doesn't think to go for his weapons and she rises, moving around him.  The mage seemed irritated that she was making conversation, and just when she felt the urge to tell him to be a bit more patience, he requested a hair pin or something of that sort.  

"Why didn't I think of that?" she mumbled low.  Reaching towards the bejeweled piece just above her forehead, she paused momentarily.  If she used the pin from her headpiece, it may destroy the frame.  And it was a priceless gift from her father.  Her eyes fell to the guard out cold on the floor - or she thought - and then traveled the short distance to the mage.  He looked eager to be free of the prison cell.  But what if she freed him and he simply took off, never thanking her or never wanting her company again?  This worried her for a few seconds before she brought herself back to her present predicament.  The guard would wake soon.

Sighing, she unlatched the golden piece from her head, taking care not to let the Emerald scratch against her golden clothing.  It was rough, yet seemed painted upon her slender form.  As the hairpiece was released of its duty at her forehead, platinum hair cascaded down against her cheeks, framing such an innocent yet devious featurette.

She stared at the Emerald briefly before turning the item over.  Prying at the golden pin which latched onto the golden hair piece, she freed it from the small hinge and set to work on the lock before her.  Her eyes lifted to the mage's, and bounced between his own.  It was as if she was trying to read him, assess him.  She continued to pick at the lock and was having a mighty troublesome time, for she'd never picked a lock in her life.  Her ears also stayed tuned to listen for any movement from the guard now lying behind her, or anyone who may approach.

"I've never done this before.  It may take me a moment or two," she commented in that beautiful velvety voice.  The mage may wonder how many men that voice has seduced.

[Anonymous]

He watched as she took the pin from her hair and smiled, then she hesitated. Hesitation wasn’t good. It meant that she was considering whether she was willing to go as far as brake this country’s law. He looked at her wilfully, praying she wasn’t about to run off or cry for help and claiming he bewitched her or something. That would be just his run of luck.
He sighed too, in relief that she still was going to help him escape, but dually noted her own sigh, that meant either she didn’t want him to ruin her hairpin, or felt it was too late to back out now.
The hairpin was just as fancy as her clothes, more so in fact, it had a jewel, no doubt real and looked as though the whole of the golden piece was carefully hand crafted.

“Don’t ruin it.� He said softly as she took to trying to free him the slow way. He took her small hands in his large ones, opening her fist and taking the hairpiece from her.
With one hand he rubbed the pin with his thumb, his lips moving to unheard words as he stared at it. Suddenly a purple zap of lightening leaped between his thumb and finger, it was so quick and small that one couldn’t be sure that it went to the pin or from it.
Not a second after the zap, Malik yelped from still holding Jheasayte’s hand and at once released her, shaking his hand as if he had been electrocuted and she would’ve felt the same.
“That’s never happened before.� He muttered, but the pin was now ‘charged’ and he swiftly inserted it into the keyhole and with barely a movement the door unlocked.
He grinned as he opened it, striding out and shaking the pin as if it were a lit match and gave it back to its owner. The pin was as it were when she took it out of her hair, gleaming brightly in the uncovered flames from the torches.
“Here you go m’lady, thank you.� His free right hand was clenched into a fist. He whispered; “Illume� which brought a faint green glow through his fingers that grew stronger by his hushed words of encouragement, then shook it sharply twice and let the light go.
A small blue orb zipped out like an insect, faintly illuminating the darkness around it; it flew low over the apparent unconscious form of the guard, then circled the pair, lazily.

Malik eyed the guard cautiously.
“I need my book.� He said quietly to his rescuer and grabbed hold of the girl’s hand, waved the faint light to fly down the corridor and followed it swiftly and almost silently. The dim blue of the light barely lit their surroundings as well as the torches mounted on the walls, but it helped as it flew just before their feet, lighting the ground a foot in all directions from the odd source.

[Anonymous]

(So sorry for the delay, I was south of the border for most of the weekend, no-place close to a computer ^__^;; )

Who was it that was always harping about how patience was good? He couldn't remember, but it was probably a woman. It seemed like a womanly thing to say, they were good at waiting for whatever they were waiting for. This time he could see whatever wisdom was supposed to be in it though, no matter how tempting it was to move, he couldn't right now.

Even if the ground was cold and his arm was about to fall asleep. He just had to find something else to focus on.

Like the sound of footsteps that couldn't have been the mage and the woman. Damn, he hadn't pegged that ass of a sergeant for the concerned type. The clouds of irritation wafting from him, suggested that he'd be thankful for every moment Tearshed was out looking for the disturbance. It could have been the rookies too... there were two of them, and some sergeants let themselves be cowed by their troops when they had numbers.

He didn't doubt that the other two heard the footsteps, but they might need some incentive to start getting the hell out of there. It was about time too, Tearshed was sure he'd explode he if had to play dead any longer.

Groaning, he pushed himself off the floor, shook his head and just happened to glance back at the cell. "Hey!" He barked, letting his eyes go wide and scrambling to his feet. "Hold it right there," he drew a pistol and pointed it in their direction. All the clichéd guard talk threatened to make the throbbing in the back of his head worse, but it would hopefully get the pair running and the other footsteps heading in his direction so they wouldn't end up cutting them off.

He didn't want to take the chance of them having a freeze reflex to seeing his gun either; so he shot at them, his aim off just enough not to hit them but enough to crack against the stone in front of them. If that wasn't enough to get them running then they deserved to be captured...

[Anonymous]

((I'm gonna post anyway. I like this character.))

Malik yelped loudly once he heard the guard awake and draw his pistol. There was no way in hell that Malik was going to ‘hold it right there.’ He had gotten this far and he wasn’t going to stop now. Oh, and being shot at helped in that assessment.
The wizard grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her back from the bullet that would’ve missed her anyway, but the bloke wasn’t one to take any more risks then necessary, this guard would probably kill them both without a second thought.

He ran down one of the darker corridors the opposite direction from the footsteps he failed to hear after screaming like a little girl from being shot at.
The corridor curved round, the torches few and far between. They ran in silence, only the pounding of their footsteps and their heavy breathing echoed along the walls.
The faint blue light zipped back and forth, irritating Malik, as he had to concentrate it to keep still and light their way.

“Which way?� He gasped as they reached a T-junction in the underground dungeons. He doubled over, out of breath; he was never any good at the 100-metre dash.
His hat slid over his eyes, but he pulled it up and glanced at her with worried pale-grey eyes. She didn’t know, this wasn’t the way she ran down earlier. They were lost and against people who were trained to capture criminals, with pistols and knowledge of these tunnels.

He turned back sharply. They were coming; he could hear their footsteps getting louder, voices echoed down the dark stony corridor. So much for this rescue, it wasn’t going in his favour at all.
Think Malik, think! He scolded himself. If there were more then one guard chasing them then they’d easily split to follow each tunnel and trap them.
Malik snatched the orb from the air and squished it from existence, then pulled his rescuer towards another cell, this one was empty but he wasn’t planning to hide in it. Standing on the furthest side where the wall stops and goes in to meet the bars he held Jheasayte close, covering her mouth with his hand as she was about to complain
“Keep still and silent. Vis noe� He whispered in her ear and made them disappear from sight.

Now they waited for their chance.