Prison Break

Six days had passed since Tavian was condemned to hanging for attempting murder against the duke. Four more days remained until he died. That night, Alfgir Axeweave was unquiet, for it was time to escape.

“Pst. Lad. Yer awake?” whispered the dwarf into the cell in front of him. From there, a whisper came in response.

“Yes Alfgir, I’m awake” Tavian replied.

“The moon is high lad. It’s time” Alfgir said “Ye finished yer tools yet?” he asked.

“I hope they work” Tavian answered. He had been working day and night sharpening bones, trying to recreate his trusted lock picking tools. All his belongings had been confiscated when he got arrested – his dagger, a gift from his father, his tools, that had never failed him once. This night he would put his new tools to the test. The night was quiet, and the moon cast strange shadows all over the place. Perfect, the rogue thought. He would be using his stealth skills once more. The halfling slid the bones into the lock of his cell door and started probing. Sweat ran freely thru his forehead. He was almost giving up, almost accepting his death by hanging, when the magical and harmonious ‘click’ came from the lock. Carefully, he opened the door and scanned the hall. No guards. The other cells seemed empty as well.

“Great job, lad!” Alfgir greeted “Now, get me out of here.”

Tavian hurried to open the dwarf’s cell door. Click. The dwarf exited his cell and looked to both sides of the hallway. To his left, only a wall stood. To his right was the exit door. All the other cells were empty. All, except one.

In a cell in the back of the hallway, a girl was chained to the wall. She had her arms up high and apart and her legs closed and chained together. She was literally hanging from her hands, her feet half a foot from the ground. Her head was down, her face covered by a long red mane. She had her eyes closed and Alfgir wasn’t sure if she was dead or asleep.

“Hey lad, come look a’ this” Alfgir called for Tavian “There’s a girl chained in this one.”

Tavian approached the cell, looked at the girl in that miserable state and, with a dismissing snort, turned his back on the cell, moving for the exit.

“Ain’t ye gonna unlock her?” Alfgir asked.

“Nah, why bother?” Tavian replied, carefully studying the lock on the only door out of the cellblock. Suddenly, he felt as if he had just take flight. He was quickly in front of the girl’s cell, hanging by the back of his shirt on the end of Alfgir’s strong arm.

“Now, ye gonna let her outta there” the dwarf said in a tone that told Tavian that that was his only option. Alfgir put him down and he started to work on the locks. He managed to open the door to the cell and unlock the chains in her legs. He motioned for Alfgir to lift him up and he unlocked the chains form her hands. The girl fell limp on top of them. She awoke and, seeing herself in that awkward position, she scrambled to the corner of the cell, where she huddled and trembled.

“Come, I won’t hurt ye lass” Alfgir said to her, while holding out his hand to her. She stopped trembling and, recognizing the duo not as guards but as other prisoners, she took Alfgir’s hand and, with his help, stood up. She would’ve fallen again, wasn’t it for Alfgir grabbing her and helping her stand.

“Listen,” Tavian started “We’re gonna make a run for it from the prison. You’re with us?”

She nodded.

“Ok. Alfgir, you carry her. I’ll scout ahead and try to cut some guards throats. With luck we’ll find the keys and...”

“No need” the girl interrupted “Just let me drop to the floor.”

“Nay girl!” the dwarf replied “I’m not fer leavin…”

“Now!” she screamed, while looking the dwarf with the fieriest look he ever saw. Without a thought, Alfgir dropped her to the dirt floor. Quickly, she grabbed a stone and started chipping away at the wall.

“Err, girl, I don’t think ye’ll e’er break that wall with that little stone there…” Alfgir said, moving in close to her.

“Stand back” she said. She stood back a bit to let the duo see a round symbol shaped on the stone.

“What’s…” Tavian started to ask, but was interrupted, as the girl put her hands against the symbol and, without any apparent effort, blew the wall away. After the dust settled, Alfgir’s and Tavian’s jaws were dropped and the starry sky was visible on the other side of the wall.

“What the hell are ye lass?” Alfgir asked. He never heard her answer, for behind them the sound of guards cut the girl's answer short. He quickly grabbed her, hoisting her over his shoulder and ran away into the night, followed close by Tavian.

New Friends

“You are hereby condemned to hanging for murder attempt against lord Timaeus” those were the judge’s final words. Tavian tried to tell them the truth, reveal Razel as the viper he was. But how could a simple rogue’s word stand against a noble of Nartak family? He was dragged from the courtroom back to his cell to await his own death.

“Damn that Razel!” he cursed aloud in his moist filled cell “How could I, Tavian Dragontouch, let that elf befoul me like this?” he kept asking himself.

“Dragontouch?” asked a voice nearby. It came from the cell in front of Tavian’s own. Scanning the bars of the opposite cell door, he found a small, rotund individual. Dirty hair and beard, with a big and round nose and earth-brown eyes, the dwarf was anxiously staring at him “Are ye a Dragontouch, lad?” the dwarf asked again.

“Indeed, good dwarf. I am Tavian Dragontouch, son of Anson, the bard” Tavian answered “And who might you be?”

“I’m Alfgir, Alfgir Axeweave, from Mithral Hall” the dwarf replied “Many years passed since I heard the name Dragontouch. Never I expected to hear it again in jail!” he said, laughing “I knew yer father, lad. He travelled a lot to Mithral Hall back in the days. How’s he?” Alfgir asked.

“Dead.” Tavian answered coldly “Or alive. I don’t really know nor do I care.”

“Why’s that lad?” the dwarf asked with a puzzled expression.

“He didn’t come for me after I ran into the woods during a raid on our town” Tavian remembered “I don’t really know how the whole town fared that day. All that I know is that I was left alone in the woods. I kept on running when after two days my father didn’t come for me. I found myself in the streets of this city in a tenday.

“Since then, it’s been a rogue’s life for me. You know, stealing, murdering, the works.”

“Ye don’t plan to ever see him again?” Alfgir asked “I surely can’t believe that Anson Dragontouch hasn’t searched for ye in all these years.”

“I really don’t care” the rogue answered, with a tone of finality in his voice “Right now, I can only think of that bastard Razel that got me behind these damned bars.”

Tavian told Alfgir the whole story of his relation of hired hand with the noble elf. Told him about the way Razel betrayed him and his thirst for revenge.

“I’ll help ye to get out of here, Dragontouch. I owe it to yer father” Alfgir said “Can ye pick the locks from the cells?”

“I’m afraid not, Alfgir. My tools have been confiscated” he replied, sadly.

“Can’t ye make new ones?” the dwarf asked.

“If I had bones, or wood, I could try to make some. I still have this small blade.” Tavian answered, drawing a rusty little razor from his shoe.

“It’s your lucky day then lad. Seems that the last owner of me cell didn’t last long, and the guards didn’t bothered to clean it” Alfgir said, pointing at a skeleton lying in the opposite corner of his cell “Here!” he started throwing bones Tavian’s way “Help yerself!”

Tavian managed to grab a few bones from the ones that landed close enough to his cell “Great, these will do. I’ll start working on them tomorrow. My hanging is still far, a tenday or so from now. I think I can make them in time” he said “I appreciate your help, Alfgir” Tavian offered “Let’s get some rest.” Tavian turned back to his bedroll at the corner of the cell and curled into a little ball. His head started working fast. First Razel had to pay, and then maybe he could find some use for the dwarf. He though about several artifacts from several lords, until he understood witch would be the perfect one. The Nartak family ceremonial dagger. What a good replace weapon it would be for his confiscated dagger. He dismissed the thought for just a bit and managed to fall deep into sleep, in witch he murdered and tortured Razel in many, many fun ways.

Betrayal

Swift, clean and perfect. That’s how Tavian slit the throat of the guard outside the duke’s quarters. It had been a quiet night - moonless sky, only one guard and an almost conspicuous silence in the house – too quiet for Tavian’s liking. He reached for his pocket and produced a small case. He opened it and found his trusted lock picking tools. Quickly, he slid them into the lock on the door to the duke’s bedroom and started prodding.

“C’mon…c’mon…” he mumbled repeatedly, trying to find the right position inside the lock. Click. Tavian’s eyes lit up at the almost melodious sound. I still got it, he thought. He stored the tools back to the case, the case back to his pocket, and scanned around the hallway once more. Silent. Still. Carefully, Tavian slowly opened the door. The inside was even darker than the hallway. A problem for humans, but thanks to Tavian’s infra-vision – a common feature among the halflings – he could clearly make out the duke’s chambers. How the duke was picky. Nothing in the room was left by mistake. Every piece of furniture was carefully placed around the bedroom. In the centre, lied the big canopy bed, with the duke lying on it. He picked his way to the duke’s side, careful not to make a sound.

Easy peasy, the rogue thought. The duke was fast asleep, fully covered by his blankets. Tavian pulled them carefully. He didn’t want to disturb the duke’s sleep. At first look, the duke’s eyes resembled pretty much Tavian’s own eyes, but a more close look revealed them as a reflection on something shiny, something sharp. Tavian knew this katana all to well, the runes on the flat side of the ornate weapon revelling it has a weapon of the Nartak family.

“Razel!” Tavian said, frozen in place. Slowly, the elf climbed out of the bed, gaze locked on Tavian’s eyes, katana rested on Tavian’s neck. From a door to the side of the room, the duke and two guards stormed into the chambers.

“My God, Razel!” the duke screamed “You were right! Someone wanted to murder me!” he turned to the guards “Arrest the halfling!” he screamed again.

Stunned, Tavian could only watch as the guards dragged him from the room. How could he fight back? Razel had whispered a stun incantation as he rose from the bed. He smiled right back at Tavian, still congratulating his genius once more.

The meeting

Midnight, as agreed. Razel just arrived at the meeting spot when the moon was in its highest spot in the sky. Patiently, the elf reclined against the alley wall, with his hood pulled down on his face, as he lit his pipe.

Always late, Razel thought, scanning both sides of the alley for the small thief. He didn’t like to make business with this halfling, but the situation required it. “And you know that there’s no one better than I for this job.”

The sentence caught Razel off guard, as it completed in perfection his line of thought. He scanned the alley once again to find a humanoid form at the entrance of the alley. The form was small, not even 4 feet tall, and was completely covered by a cloak as dark as the shadows.

“You surely know how to make an entrance, honorable rogue” Razel offered “but you should try to make it on time.”

“I hope you have the payment, Razel” the halfling said, letting a greedy smile trough his cloak’s hood. This was the main reason why Razel didn’t like to make business with the diminutive rogue: the price. How could someone so small cost so much gold?

“One thousand gold pieces” he said, handling a bag full of gold to the halfling.

“One thousand gold pieces?” the rogue repeated, weighting the bag “Do you plan to mock me in my own environment, elf? This is less!” he growled, bringing his hand to his knife sheath.

“Calm yourself Tavian. You’ll get the rest after you bring me the duke’s head on a plate” grinned Razel.

“The duke, hey? You aim high, elf, I expect you don’t fall from that height” Tavian mocked.

“Only your wrong doing could prove my misfortune, halfling. Am I trusting the wrong rogue?” replied Razel, with a laugh. Not knowing how he came to that position, Razel could only feel his back against the ground and a knife at his throat. Tavian was already on top of him, face to face with the elf.

“Doubt me for a moment, elf,” Tavian spat “and it’ll be your head in a plate at the duke’s door. By the next full moon, at the same time and place.” He vanished in the shadows as quickly and swiftly as he appeared. Razel, still lying on the floor, could only congratulate himself for his genius.