<font color=gold> In Jason's head, that's how things may have gone and perhaps, it was quite an effective plan, but in truth, it did not quite work like that. When the stone was thrown at the guard, he simply stepped aside and it went flying down the corridor. The other guard never fled in terror, recognising magic for what it was, and both of them coolly dismissed Jason. In fact, such was their disdain that they may as well have shunned him entirely.

In a rather surprising turn of events, both of them dropped to one knee and said in unison, <font color=white>“Your majesty! Are you all right?”</font>
<font color=orange>“Sire! Are you unharmed?”</font>

Both inclined their heads towards the old man – should Jason attempt anything, well, what he thought would happen probably would not. These guards weren't born yesterday.</font>

<font color=red>Nivram

Nivram forced a smile as he turned to Telryn.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that all my bodily wounds are healed or shall be healed pretty soon. I do not worry about my body..." The way Nivram ended the sentence, hanging in the air, unfinished, Telryn could easily guess that not everything had been said.</font>

<font color=white>Old Man

Times did change indeed. Only two decades earlier anyone calling him majesty or sire in this city would have been put to the stake. It had been a long time since he had been called these names and the recollections of those almost forgotten times brought a smile to his face. Gaining a more composed, almost commanding air, he turned to the two guards.

"You may do as you wish with this one..." He pointed to Jason. "I plan on enjoying my freedom...him talking too much could ruin it."

He stepped out of the cell and walked down the corridor.</font>

<font color=gold>
<font color=white>“Uh, Your majesty, you are not permitted to leave your chamber, remember?”</font> the first stuttered, a little afraid as the old man began to leave.
<font color=orange>“Sire, shall we throw him out with the dogs?”</font> the second asked.

Both guards immediately rose and followed the old man.
</font>

<font color=white>Old Man

"Begone you filthy beggars. I have nothing to give you now!" he shouted at the two guards following him, almost beside himself with fury. He continued walking towards the end of the corridor and the freedom that awaited him there.</font>

<font color=grey>Telryn

The way Nivram ended his sentence, abruptly to say the least, was odd. "Well what do you worry of then, friend?" the large man said, his brow naturally lowering as he spoke.

"Perhaps now I'll get a bit of insight, he's so elusive."

"Then again, perhaps not."</font>

<font color=gold>
<font color=white>“No sire, come baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!”</font>
<font color=orange>“Majesty, please! You’ll be killed! There’s a riot out there!”</font>

Both guards chased the old man.
</font>

<font color=red>Nivram

"Only time will be able to tell whether my worries shall come true. Torture has been known to cause psychological scars that no magic or healing can ever heal."

Nivram wondered why he spoke in such an impersonal way about himself.

Maybe they put me on some sort of sedatives...</font>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

<font color=white>Old Man

The old man looked with contempt at the two lackeys chasing after him.

"I fear not the masses, for one stone is enough to strike a man down. It is obviously not my time," he said referring to the near misses his cell had had, "so I shall take my own chances."</font>

Jason Smiled to himself ruefully. Things never seemed to go his way. But he was free. He walked out of the cell and decided to pay his friend Cornillius a visit at the towns armory. The man did owe him one for saving his life. Then maybe he would get some decent clothes and try to find his captors....maybe.

<font color=gold>For those in the Lord’s ‘mansion’…

The priestesses had all but left, though the young one remained. Not the girl but the priestess who had massaged Nivram’s knee with oil. A tap at the door and a servant girl made her way over to the priestess; curtsied and whispered in her ear.

The priestess’ face drained of blood.</font> “Come, we must leave. It would appear that stars have fallen from the sky; a grave omen, but a troublemaker has stirred up the crowd. There is rioting outside and the prisoners have escaped. There will be fighting in the streets and this is the first place they shall strike now the temple is gone. Unless order is restored… I worry for these people.”<font color=gold> She met each of their eyes in turn, then turned and left the room. They were free to follow her, or stay as not. If her words were true, then this would shortly become a battlefield.

The servant girl turned and hurried after her.

~~~

A few minutes earlier...

An old man escaped his confined, 'escorted' by two guards, unwanted though they may be. Freedom was his for the taking; but not so. <font color=orange>“The King has returned!”</font> hailed the first guard; though his cry was lost in the crowd. <font color=orange>“Make way for his majesty!”</font>
<font color=white>“Make way! Make way! Your king has returned! All hail the King!”</font>

Quite obviously, the world had gone mad. Amazingly enough, the people made way. Titles were easy to come by these days, or so it seemed...

~~~

Meanwhile, outside…

Jason found himself surrounded; the crowd’s numbers had only grown. Fire was everywhere; at the heart of the town a pillar of smoke wafted, where the temple once lay. Now it was a smouldering ruin, as though someone had taken a hot knife and carved holes in butter – only, the temple was stone. What could be hot enough to melt stone? Several other buildings lay ruined; unfortunately, the smithy was one of them.

The crowd was getting angry. Jeering was heard; at the heart of it, a young boy was giving a speech and the crowd muttered in approval.

Soon they were cheering.

<font color=lightgreen>“Kill the Unclean!”</font> they chanted;
<font color=green>“The boy is right!”</font>
<font color=pink>“No! He lies! The Lords have protected us!”</font>
<font color=green>“Then why is their temple struck down with fire from the skies?!”</font>
<font color=orange>“They are unworthy! They did not know the Truth!”</font>
<font color=lightblue>“We should sacrifice the boy to appease the Master!”</font>
<font color=red>“No! We must heed his wisdom!”</font>
<font color=white>“He who casts the first stone shall surely be damned!”</font>

From out of nowhere, a knife flew towards Ydalon. He may have hopped down in the crowd; trying to disappear, but someone was watching… someone skilled at stalking and adept with blades.

<font color=teal>“The knife has been cast!”</font> someone yelled, <font color=teal>“Let us see if he speaks true!”</font>

The knife, regardless of whether Ydalon evaded it, was a plain and simple knife; a belt knife lifted from a commoner, or the like no doubt. Not perfectly balanced; not of a razor edge, but thrown with deadly accuracy.

~~~</font>

<font color=silver>Isokla looked on at the crowd in disgust. The Master would burn these first come the new age. Surely, he must; they were sickening; filth. Rabble to turn upon one another as rabid dogs. With her most haughty and disdainful look, she pushed through the crowd and made her way to the temple. In her white dress, and at her sheer arrogance (or force of will), the crowd parted for her. Something about her commanded they do so. She slipped inside the ruined temple and headed for the catacombs.

Strange she would know exactly where to tread…</font>

[ 05-18-2007, 07:09 AM: Message edited by: Calaethis Dragonsbane ]