Catalyst

Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen rolled onto his side laboriously and slowly as if every movement was done under the weight of the ocean. At times, he felt as though he truly was at the bottom of the sea, and all of the sea's vengeance and beauty lay on top of him, urging him to never move again. Defiantly, he did, and the haggard man pushed himself to a standing position. After a shallow night's sleep, his body wanted nothing more than to rest just a little longer, but to do so might be his undoing, he told himself, as he was without adequate food and was without sufficient water and already very weak from his recent sickness. Silently though, he thanked fate for said sickness, for it was the day and a half of violent dry-heaving that cleared his body of a dubious and mind altering drug that kept him in the Cauric prison for as long as he had been, though he couldn't quite recall how long he'd actually been incarcerated. He could remember his last few moments before being arrested, but he couldn't specifically remember why he'd come to Cauric in the first place. While his first guess was routine thievery, he felt like there was more to that story that he would certainly remember later as his condition improved.

The blonde man, most commonly called Rohaan by those that knew him, navigated his way though the darkness of the Province's viaduct system to a large drain in a back alley that he used as his entrance and exit to his hideout. He climbed out of the hole, put the shoddy metal grate back over the entrance, and, squinting in the morning sunlight, began to formulate a plan for the day. Before he could even fathom getting out of Cauric's capital city, Erien, much less the province walls, he had to have all of his belongings back. Most of the things he owned were on the outside still, but one of the few possessions he cared about was in a locked room somewhere in Erien's dungeons. The item was a thick leather bandolier, lined with pockets full of various supplies and items he'd picked up along his wide travels. Though it had some loose sentimental value, the real value was it's practical importance. His knives were in there, bits of medicine, a map, stolen keys, and a host of other small trinkets and toiletries that would be essential in getting past the province walls. He would get out, regroup with his friends that had likely moved on (as they likely presumed he was dead or already in the process of escaping), and remember why he'd come to Cauric at all. After more careful planning, he would almost definitely strike again.

So, unlike the majority of escaped convicts, Rohaan Ja'aisen carefully made his way through the lesser streets and alleyways, back to Erien's dungeons in search of his things; the first step to his eventual freedom.