Opynonias

Nothing...nothing...nothing!...

Alner finally slows to a stop, his mail jingling with each slowing trot until quieting all together. It feels like it has been forever and he has yet to find even a trace of the escaped prisoner. He must have picked the wrong direction; a wrong passageway, but when did he? Was he even chasing anyone at all? It may very well have been his imagination to begin with. Where in the colosseum was he headed for now? He had no knowledge of the place and there was nobody around to ask. Not to mention he would risk forgetting his route back to the cells if he deviated much in an attempt to find passage to the surface.
But something catches his ear. Relief flushes through Alner's body as the sound of more imperial chains jingles from around the corner.
The soldier, despite being out of breath, forces out a call to grab the attention of whoever makes the disturbance.

"OY! NINTH!"

The chains stop before questioning, "Kid? 's'atchyou?" and then come closer, jingling around the corner to meet the man calling to them, the faces of the rest of his squad luckily coming attached.

"Fucking-THERE you are!" The figure Alner recognizes as Liner exclaims. Alner's eyes dart to the familiar man's face and bulge, glaring at the man as his lips curl and open to reveal a smile completing an expression which has not the ability to speak ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING more than:

..."I am going to fucking kill you."

The expression immediately peels back to one of rage.

"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO-I TOLD you 'HEY, WAIT-THE FffffffFUCK-UP, I THINK I SAW SOMETHING'-AND I SWEAR BY THE CREATOR that you looked me right in the eye and told yourself, 'Nah! SCREW this guy! I think I'd rather find SOMETHING TO HELP ME PUT MY THUMB UP MY ASS!!!' BUT, while you were OFF getting exactly that with yourself, I found the cell block we were looking for!"

Titus intercepts the heated Alner, slowly backing him away from his failed battle buddy while Ros makes his usual verbal nudges, sarcastically adding, "Dammit, Corporal, why'd you do that? Looked to me like Sweet 'eart-there was 'bou'da kiss 'im-it woulda been a beautiful makeup!"

"Deep breaths, man, I need you to calm down," Titus urged, ignoring Ros. "So you've found it? What of the fugitive? Was she not there?"

Alner does as he is ordered, attempting to calm down and only barely succeeding for the sake of the situation.

"No, Corporal. She wasn't. I-I thought-..." the lancepesade looks down the hallway he was moving through.

"Thought what?" Titus asks.

"...Nothing. Here, let me show you the way."

...

Within a few minutes, the squad of imperial soldiers finds the entrance to the block by the solitary holding cells. The open one, of course, remains empty.

"-Truth be told, I hadn't the slightest clue as to where I was beyond what direction I was going. Liner and I had been separated for a bit by then, so I had already given up on finding him. But then-"

Alner enters the room and, to his surprise...-

"...Then what?" Calette asks as the rest follow him into the room.

-...finds it seemingly as empty as it was when he first found it. Nothing accompanies the other fighters in their cells as there was when Alner and that man entered. He was now missing from the room.

"Uuh-um..Sorry-I-I stumbled onto the door across the room there." Alner points at the still-open wooden door. "I noticed the opening had bars in it and there was-...there was a lone cell left wide open." The boy gestures to Vadania's open quarters. "That's when I began searching around the area for the fugitive."

That asshole left me high and dry. I knew I should have detained him and brought him back with me just to be safe but no, Lynarson, you just had to put your neck on the line for the sake of a stupid mission...

By now, many of the fighters have woken back up and began making their way to their cell doors to investigate what is happening.

"You were pretty far from here when we found you," Liner chips in, "maybe she went in a completely different direction than you checked?"

Titus interjects, "It's best to remain skeptical before jumping to conclusions, Liner." The corporal pauses, thinking a moment before seeming to come up with something.

"Simple. We'll ask around."

Titus approaches the center of the room and looks around before asking the imprisoned characters before him, "A Duuthesh female. Was there one here?"

Some of them looked unwilling to answer, perhaps they had a reason to dislike authority, perhaps they had their own personal vendettas with the empire. None of those fighters spoke, though. They knew better than to mouth-off to an imperial non-commissioned officer. There were a few that appeared to remain loyal, however.

"There was. In that cell there," one called out.

"T'was a thief-it was!" Added another.

Titus turns around and nods to his men.

"You were right, Lynarson. We need to report this to Lt. Farnham, so lets get top-side and regroup with the rest of the men, but we can search while we look for a way up."

The rest of the squad file out of the room, satisfied that they have found the correct cell, and begin looking for a way up.

-

Vadania was impressive. There were no threats to being spotted so far in the depths of the colosseum yet-with the fight still in occurrence-but the care Danairia's companion seemed to take in remaining unseen was incredibly detailed. She knew when it was wise to hide; when to move. She knew how certain actions could be foolish and, if the Tlamani didn't know any better, would have attributed that to an immense amount of experience gained throughout the years she has done just as they are now. It was almost fun to watch, and certainly interesting to participate in. But mistakes can always be made...

The two move silently. First, Vadania would scout ahead, checking each corner and slipping past every corridor-every obstacle in the way. Danairia would follow after, doing her best to flow as her partner did. She recognized this area. It was close to a passageway up and out of the place all together. There would likely be few people around to see them and even less likely that a presence of guards would be there. With the lack of imperial soldiers encountered, it is also likely that they have not flooded into the lower level yet either so it should be clear of them as well.
Vadania stops ahead of Danairia, checking around another corner near one of the staircases to the ground floor. A commotion of yelling and imperial mail can be heard but it does not bother the two ladies. As long as they remain up there, they should be fine...

-

Alner follows close behind Corporal Titus, he has looked around with the help of the rest of his squad, yet they still found nothing. As they finally neared what seems to be a way up, he could not help but feel a little disappointed that they could not find who they were hunting. He could not help but feel that maybe what he saw was not actually there, that:

Maybe it was my imagina-...

Just as the squad begins mounting the staircase up, he turns his head for one final look and sees a lone Tlamani wearing slave rags, hopping across the passageway. Time seems to slow down as Alner's expression turns to one of confusion at the surprised face of the elvish girl.
As if compelled by an unseen force, Danairia, with the grace of The Empire of Dessor's top diplomats...ever-so-tactfully...delicately...

...raises her middle finger to the lone imperial soldier looking at her out of his squad...

"CORPORAL!"

Vadania stops and turns around to investigate Alner's call for his superior-while his squad all stop and turn to him-, only for her to find Danairia practically flying past her, now in full sprint, and tugging on her tunic.

"RUN. RUN RIGHT NOW."

Alner grabs hold of Calette, pulling the private along with him.

"THAT WAS A SLAVE!"

Titus blinks; confused, for he had only barely seen a person cross the gap-let alone what they were wearing, but gives the order.

"Well, chase it down!"

Alner does not have to be told twice, he has already taken off after the fleeing elf. Followed close behind is Calette, with Liner and Ros trailing behind and Titus bringing up the rear.

Vadania rips her tunic from Danairia's grip and follows close behind her.

"What was that?!" She demands.

"Imperial soldiers! One spotted me!-"
"-ALSO, WERE YOU JUST FLIPPING THEM OFF?"

Straight to the point, I see...

...

"DANAIRIA!"

"...Fuck the city watch-"
"-ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!-"
"-I CAN'T HELP IT!"

Alner can barely see amidst the dark but manages to make out enough to continue pursuit. By the sound of it, they are actually chasing two women, one of them for sure not the dark elf they are hunting but, even if it is not who they are looking for, they are criminals and could provide answers for the squad.

Danairia grabs Vadania by the arm and pulls her into another corridor.

"This way! To the right!"

The path begins to slant upward toward a crack of torchlight. Quickly, Danairia rushes to the crack and opens the doors, illuminating the entrance with a mixture of light from the surrounding torches and from the freshly risen moon, just above the buildings in front of them...

...Freedom...

Alner looks up, the faces of the women now visible. Accompanying the Tlamani slave is none other than a Duuthesh female, small in size...
...Perfect for a thief.

...Vadania...

"Close the door, you idiot!"

"Huh?" Danairia wakes back up.

"I SAID CLOSE THE DOOR." Vadania commands, pushing the door shut to block the soldiers in pursuit of them.

"Yeah, probably a good idea!" Danairia agrees, pulling Vadania once again, leading her into town.

Alner lifts his foot, letting his momentum carry it into the door and sending it flying open. Calette now takes the lead, followed by Liner. Titus catches Alner though and pushes him back ahead of him with Ros now in the rear behind everyone else.

"Keep on moving, Lynarson!"

The two ladies run through the streets, turning some curious heads as they pass. The rest turning with the fully-equipped soldiers doing their best to keep up. Despite the weight of their armor, they even start gaining on their quarry. They have the advantage of conditioning themselves for heavier armor and, while that alone would certainly not be enough for chasing individuals in light armor, they also are wearing their gear, unlike the women carrying their's in individual sacks.

"This way!" Danairia yells, leading Vadania into the market, tipping a stack of crates along the way in desperation. It is easily side-stepped by Calette. Liner slows down just enough to hop up on and then over the crates. Titus leaps over, completely clearing the obstacle and speeding right past Liner. Alner hops over, using his hand for leverage while Ros attempts to clear it as Titus did, only to clip the back corner of one of the crates with his foot and lose his balance, nearly planting his face into the cobblestone beneath him but regaining his footing at the expense of some momentum.

"Shhhhhit!"

The elves pass by a group of fruit stands. Danairia grabs a few oranges, holding them in a cradle before choosing one.

"What are you doing?!" Vadania questions the girl. "They're wearing ARMOR, you idiot! What do you expect to do?!"

Danairia turns and pitches one back. It connects with Titus' left shoulder pauldron and bounces off, doing absolutely nothing except for allowing them to gain a little extra ground.

"See?! Just keep running!-"
"-The FUCK UP!"

Danairia furiously whips back another volley of citrus. The projectile, accented by usage of flow, screams through the air and connects cleanly with the front of Calette's neck, causing him to make a sickening sound, imitating that of someone swallowing far more food than any single man could ever handle as he looses his footing, trips, and cleanly face plants; sliding to a halt, defeated so that all of the stars in the heavens-if they were to come together in an alliance of friendship in a single attempt to bring poor Calette back to the realms of success-could only put him out of his misery as it would at least bring an end to the failure that is his life now.

"Private! Holy shit!" Titus exclaims, taken completely aback by the sudden bullseye.

"DID YOU JUST KILL THAT GUY?!" Vadania cries.
"I DIDN'T MEAN TO! FUCK!" Danairia yells.

Liner sprints past the motionless shell of a man, barely able to hold himself back from exploding in laughter. Tears form in his eyes in his effort. Alner reaches down and picks up Calette-or what's left of him-by the back of his mail tunic, doing his best to stand the lad back up.

"On your feet, Calette! They're getting away!" Alner orders.
"Kuhrrkuhrrhrr-khrrr!" Replies the young private.

Ros, breathing heavily, finally manages to reach the two men-or rather, they slowed down enough for him to do so-and the three continue on together.

Danairia after finally throwing the last of her oranges turns around to find a cart to her immediate front. She dodges right, only to find stands blocking her way back to regrouping with her companion.

"VADANIA!" She calls out, trying to grab the attention of the Duuthesh.

Hearing Danairia's voice, she turns her head. Seeing the problem, she slows and turns around, still trotting back her way.

"Just-...Just keep going! I'll be alright from here, YOU just RUN! GO!"

Danairia blinks, surprised about what just happened and then does as she is told, following the flow of her own route toward the outskirts of the market. Toward the port.

"Maybe we'll meet up later!"

Titus watches as Danairia splits off from the route.

"LYNARSON-CALETTE!"
"-WE'RE ON IT!"

Alner pulls Calette to the other side of the cart with him to follow the escaping Tlamani.

"You want me to do what?" The felidin protested. "He has nothing to defend himself with."

The Sivyne, he only just found out was named Ya'weh, crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her right hip. "Your master wanted you to train with the master Dhaxi. Dhaxi personally picked this one from his others to train with you. Both of you fight hand-to-hand so I could see the connection he was going for. Now, begin."

Tumhathil raised his arms on each side, still hesitant.

"I don't exactly fight the same way-"

"I said fight him!" The trainer yelled, shifting to a much more threatening posture.

Tumhathil was used to taking orders. He was used to being shouted at so much that it no longer phased him...but he could not help but mindlessly obey, regardless. It was his life and he cared little if it changed or not.
The Osu man, looking to be roughly about 20 or 21, almost a full decade younger than Tumhathil, took his stance. It appeared to be that of a standard fighter: left hand being the lead, right being the rear. Hands raised in an open position, ready to close and harden into a fist. The felidin, a full few heads taller and definitely overall much larger, took a step forward with his left foot and raised his paws up in a much different fashion from his opponent. His palms were facing forward at an equal distance away from his body, individual fingers pointing to the human with his left hand blocking high, for his face. His right hand down at chest-level.
They began.

Already knowing his size provided a large disadvantage, Tumhatil knew he would have to take the first initiative. He moved forward in his stance, closing the distance quickly and immediately attempting a right-hand grab on the Osu.

...He would not fall so easy...

Moving quickly, the man leaned to his left, side-stepping the first strike and countering with two of his own. A quick lead jab, finding his range, and following through with a right hook to the kidney and quick escape. The lion felt a little stunned from the blow as a sharp pain shocked through his right side. The best he could do was turn to face his opponent again after he had fled his striking distance. Perhaps he had misjudged the abilities of this fighter after all, but he would no longer do so.

The fight would carry on through a couple minutes. Tumhathil would go for a swiping strike-landing only a couple stray blows with his knee after failing to hit with his hands-and the man would take advantage of his own agility to get around it, forcing the lion to defend or be subjected to a blow to wherever he was open. However, the Osu was quickly tiring out and that was not good for someone having to rely on speed. However, that knowledge did little to hint at what was to come next.
Much to Tumhathil's surprise, the fighter bolted forward toward him. It was a reckless move and one that almost certainly guaranteed the felidin victory but that was not all. The man had a trick up his sleeve.
In an instant, he was upon the lion, jumping up, looking as though he was risking a strike at his face for the first time in the fight. Suddenly, Tumhathil's adrenaline was alight and it was not the only thing as such. The Osu's fist opened to reveal a growing flame.
Flow.

In one quick move, the lion lashed out with his right hand, stifling the pain as he grabbed the flow user by his hand, extinguishing the flame, and pulling him down to his own level into his other waiting paw in a quick strike with his palm. Capitalizing on the current situation, Tumhathil's fingers gripped around the shoulder strap of the man's cuirass and pulled him into a brutal headbutt before letting him fall back and pulling him close again, this time the lion's exposed claws awaited, stopping just short of his prey's face.

"Stop!"

Tumhathil held the man there for a moment after Ya'weh had given the command to halt before retracting his claws. Finally, he set the man back down on his feet.

Oddly enough...the man smirked. Through blood dripping down his face from his nose and a cut on his forehead-he was grinning at the large creature in front of him.

Suddenly, his arm raised out in front of him; not in a fist, but with an open hand to shake. 'Huo' was all he had said.
Tumhathil never had an opponent give his name like that before-not after losing a sparring match like that. This guy definitely was something else entirely.
...
Their hands met.

"Tumhathil," he quietly spoke.

"Tumhathil," Huo repeated...

...

"Tumhathil~."

...

"TUMHATHIL!!"

The lion awoke in an instant, his left paw bolting forward upon reflex and grabbing the tunic of the one causing the disturbance.
Unfortunately, sense came back to him but a moment too late...

8th Breh

A fist rockets through the air, connecting with the left side of Tumhathil's mouth. Before he can even react beyond letting go of the tunic, the same hand comes up, grabs his face, lifts his head up and then shoves it right back down to the deck before it is pressed into the wall apparently next to his laying body. The sound of a small blade being drawn whispers through the air and, without hesitation, the felidin feels it pressed against the side of his throat.

"TRY IT AGAIN, KITTY CAT!" Kail yells at the slave as he pushes harder with the knife, holding it there.

The Felidin could barely remember the previous night but it was slowly coming back to him, though it was currently a bit hazy at best. Somehow, his master had woken him up in his cell and stood him up, bearing some of Tumhathil's sheer mass as they walked out of the arena, at which point the memory becomes even more blurred. All he can remember is not really helping at all as Kail practically took the entirety of the Felidin's weight all the way over to...
...wherever they were now, he guessed. He would have liked to know why they were where they were but cared too little to let it bother him.

A moment passes...then the master flicks his wrist back, removing the blade from Tumhathil's neck, and sheathes it back on his belt before getting back to his feet and walking away, toward a point further down the wall which the lion had been awoken next to, and stopped next to a window, hidden behind closed curtains.

Zilinder pinched the curtain of the window, gingerly peeling it back just enough to peak outside. Light impacted half of his face. It was only a little bit but it was just enough to slightly illuminate the surrounding room. From the empty darkness emerged the furnishings of a bedroom. The floor, as he could previously feel, was a worn wood surface. A mattress, of what is probably straw, lays on the floor in the corner across the room from Tumhathil, appearing to have been freshly used, as the accompanying blanket lies crumpled at the foot of it. A wardrobe stands, still opened, much closer to the lion, though still on the opposite wall of the room. Used clothes lay around on the floor at the foot of it.

This was Kail's home...

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Daddy?"

It was a girl. The voice was gentle, small. A little girl.

Both men looked at the door. Kail glanced at the fighter as the curtain shuts, stealing back the light without returning the little bit of dark vision it had taken from him upon its arrival. Tumhathil could barely see the figure but he could feel the presence of a continued, menacing stare.

What came next was...unusual. The usual threatening content was present but the delivery seemed much too quiet; unusually quick as well. The words from the slave master's mouth were barely a mutter.

"I will not here you speak.-If I hear a word even whispered from those fat-fucking-whisker lips of yours, I will personally end your life."

The man walked over to the entrance of the room, cracking open the door just wide enough to squeeze through, though Tumhathil could not see beyond the door, for it had unfortunately opened from the side opposite his in the room.

...After a moment had passed, Kail had returned, opening the door and then immediately closing it behind him before turning to his fighter and approaching.

"I swear by the creator's merciful-fucking-face, you will not touch her-you will not harm a single hair upon her head. If you make even the slightest scratch upon her skin, I will end your very existence.-I will melt your fucking soul so that you can't even go back to whatever it is you fucking cat-people pray to. No god-no deity or demon will save you from me, because I am more powerful than any of your gods. I am more fierce than any demon and you will have no mercy of that wrath. DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND."

Any indication of an empty threat was missing. Throughout his speech, the man's words had no relent to them. It seemed as though Kail meant every single word. The content was obviously a bit fantastic in nature but Tumhathil could tell without any doubt that it was the most real threat he has ever received, not just by Kail, but any man...

The lion nodded as his handler glared at him for another full moment...before turning and opening the door.

"G'the fuck out here."

Tumhathil followed Kail down the hall and a flight of wooden stairs into what appeared to be the house's main room. In it stood a little girl, somewhat lighter in skin than the man he had followed. Her deep, dark brown, poofy hair seemed ill-proportionate to her tiny nose and mouth. From the moment she saw the lion, her lids opened wide, revealing a large pair of eyes which matched closely to Kail's.

"Daddy, look! Look daddy, it's a big kitty!"

Zilindar approached the little girl and leaned over to pick her up. She glanced back and forth between the two men, trying to get her apparent father's attention, to no avail.

"Tika," he said softly as he reached underneath her arms. "Up-up."

The usually entirely hostile man gently lifted, seating the little girl on his left hand and leaning her against his shoulder as she continued pointing at Tumhathil.

"Daddy!" She said softly. "Look-..look at the big kitty!"

"I know," He quietly reassured her. "I need you to be quiet now though..."

The little girl did not listen however, and continued to quietly address the elephant...or lion...in the room.

"Hi kitty!" She said, waving at the slave fighter.

Just as she did with her father, she continues waving and repeats herself when she does not get a response.

"Hi kitty~!"

...

Zilindar led the way down to the market, where it seemed as though there was some kind of commotion the night prior. His master had not spoken about what they were doing there and all that was commanded of him was to stay put when he would approach a stall or enter a shop. After a short period of time, Tumhathil had begun to notice that Kail had not been browsing any of the wares; only speaking to the shop keepers. It was only natural that it had something to do with why he had been brought back to Kail's house and why he was following his master around then but he still had not even a guess as to why he was there.

The crowd was buzzing about. Conversations about the previous night were everywhere as rumors began to spread. The fighter had since dismissed the chatter as talk about the championship match of last night...but, before long, he had overheard something of interest...

Imperials had visited the city. They had even raided the colosseum.

Such news sparked his interest. The lion listened in for more.

A large fight. Soldiers practically sidelined in a conflict with mages. Escaped fighters.

Tumhathil stopped, his eyes widening as the blurry memories of last night cleared just a little bit more...

"I need to go. I...I just..."

It was him...

"That woman-...-I might have seen her when we came to that tavern."

He was the reason why Kail had brought him there...

"I can't get those visions out of my head..."

They were tracking Huo...

Tumhathil could feel his pulse rising...but why were they after Huo? He was one of Dhaxi's fighters and Kail certainly was no friend of Dhaxi.

The thought plagued his mind as Kail returned, motioning for the fighter to follow him.

"Daddy~," the little girl in Zilindar's arms whined. "I'm hungry~..."

"I know, Tika. We'll eat soon, okay?" Kail reassured the little girl quietly, barely even whispering loud enough to hear over the ambient noise of the market.

Of course. They had yet to even eat morning chow. But the grumbling of Tumhathil's large-and very much empty-stomach failed to steal away his thoughts.

What were they doing there?

"KAIL!"

A voice yelled from behind the men and the little girl, calling-out the slave owner and commanding their undivided attention.

Four heavily-armed former colosseum guards, now likely paid as on-hand mercenaries, stood before the other slave owner. Amidst them was none other than Dhaxi and two slave fighters. One had a short sword, shield, left shoulder steel pauldron and a closed helmet, leaving his face completely masked. The other wielded a trident and light pieces of leather armor scattered around her body.

"The Imperials were here for one of your fighters. One of my most prized has escaped and Madame Phrina is now dead because of you. Because you did not care enough to stay away from shackle trades!"

Kail was noticeably surprised at Dhaxi's words.

"Madame Phrina is dead?"

"ASHES," Dhaxi simply said. "A spell sword they brought with them did it. She was complaining to her about the damage they caused and the woman disintegrated her."

Tika quietly tugged on her father's tunic.

"Daddy?" She said. "I wanna go home..."

Kail took a deep breath, taking it in and reinforcing his composure while he shushed the little girl in his arms, clutching around his body.

"It was a mistake, Dhaxi. I had not been told about who exactly I was purchasing when-"

"-DO YOU THINK THAT MAKES ANY KIND OF DIFFERENCE?!"

Dhaxi interrupted the fellow gladiator owner, his temper now openly lost.

"BE IT MISTAKE OR ON PURPOSE, DO YOU HONESTLY FEEL THINGS WOULD HAVE TURNED OUT DIFFERENTLY?!"

Zilindar tightens his grip on Tika's bottom.

"Daddy? What's happening?" The little girl begins to become noticeably shaken.

A light snap hits Tumhathil's ears as his master undoes the strap locking the whip to his belt. By now a crowd has begun to gather around the two parties.

"Tumhathil...I'm going to have to leave this solely to you."

The lion steps forward slightly, in recognition that Zilindar has his hands full. His claws extend out from his fingers down at his side.

Dhaxi quiets down but appears to only vocally regain control of his temper.

"...I have been waiting for this, Kail. Whether you made a mistake or a careless investment, it would have ended like this every time."

And finally, he tilted his head to address his men, never leaving Zilindar's eyes with his own.

"Take his head."

Zilindar loosens his grip on the whip, letting the end drop as his arm flicks the weapon up and extends it out the side with a loud, intimidating crack.
Tika tightens her grip around her father's neck as she begins to panic.

"Daddy? What's happening? What are you doing?"

Just then, the slave owner catches a smooth whiff of tobacco smoke. Something in his gut does not feel right...

Tumhathil walks forward with purpose as Dhaxi's men prepare to meet the hulking giant of a creature.

From not so far away, a man puts away his cutter and strikes a match, quickly putting it to the cigar between his lips and moving it around in a circular motion at the tip, using his other hand to block the breeze. After reaching a satisfying burn and testing the draw once; twice, making sure to get a nice flow, he shakes the match, extinguishing it before dropping it to the ground. The man takes his first draw, exhaling through the gaps in his occupied lips as a whip cracks in the air in front of him. With emotionless, absent expression from his face he removes the stick from his mouth and lazily raises a hand up.
As if it were just another day in his life, he brings the cigar back to his lips and takes a puff...
...His hand falls.

Just as Tumhathil readies himself to swipe aside the spear of one of the mercenaries, bolts streak from above, impacting each of Dhaxi's men. The guards simultaneously fall, their cheap armor easily penetrated by the projectiles and fail to stop them from embedding themselves in the chests of the men. Dhaxi, seeing his men fall, quickly reacts, pulling the larger gladiator of his in front of him, forcing him to take a bolt to the chest, as well as the nape of his neck, killing him. The other gladiator is hit in her side, collapses as she struggles to breathe and slowly suffocates from the sucking chest wound. The public around them begin to scream.

Tika tries to turn her head to look behind her but Zilindar brings his hand with the whip up to block her eyes and shield her from the carnage.

"Don't look, Tika! Don't look.-I've gotchyou."

Infuriated at knowing he has been defeated, Dhaxi unsheathes the long, curved blade of his shamshir and yells out as he begins walking forward toward Tumhathil.

"AYREH FEEK!!"

The man smoking the cigar calmly walks past Zilindar from behind and removes it from his lips before glancing up at the adjacent building and making a sharp whistle. A blank white-masked figure leaps from the rooftop-a two story fall-and lands into a roll before seamlessly returning to their feet and charging at the D'homani. Dhaxi, seeing the threat, swings his sword in a horizontal slash to the threat but the blade finds nothing but air as the figure drops to its knees and slides in front of the slave trainer, taking one of his ankles with it. As Dhaxi falls to the ground, letting go of his weapon in the process, the figure gets on its feet, turns back around to face an adjacent building to the one it leaped from, and makes a fist before pumping it downward. A single bolt, fired from the crossbow of an unhooded Sivyne wearing a similar white mask to the first figure, shoots from the rooftop of the building and flawlessly impacts the calf of Dhaxi, causing him to cry out in pain and stop him from completely getting up.
Regardless of the pain, Dhaxi attempts to reacquire his blade but finds it difficult to do so with the foot of the mysterious cigar smoking man on the other end of it.

The man removes the stogie from his lips and leans over, staring directly into Dhaxi's eyes. The gladiator trainer stares directly back as the robed figure with the blank white mask, with only the features of two rectangular holes cut to see through, unsheathes a long stiletto dagger and hands it to the apparent mastermind of the entire show.

...
"WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE?!!" Dhaxi screams at the man, confused at what was happening.

The man smirks with a single chuckle.

His smirk drops back down to a blank expression.

"The last thing you wanted to see today."

Just then, the spectators cried out in horror again as the man forces his cigar into Dhaxi's left eye. The slave owner screams in pain, matching-even seemingly surpassing-the volume of the crowd. The man tosses the stick away and replaces it with the stiletto, pushing his left hand down against the screaming man's upper back before violently and very much forcefully shoving the pointed dagger up through Dhaxi's abdomen; once, twice, thrice, leaving it in-even shoving it as deep as it would go-before pulling it out and handing the blood-soaked dagger back to the masked figure who bows and sprints off.
The man casually removes a cloth from his pocket, wiping his hand clean to the sounds of Dhaxi coughing up and choking on blood through what is left of his terror-filled screams as he slumps forward and collapses onto his side in a fetal position.

After cleaning his hand, the man calmly produces another cigar from a steel tube and effortlessly cuts the head before putting it to his lips for a cold taste. He removes it with a dissatisfied expression before cutting just a little bit more off and testing it again. Apparently having found the right amount of fullness in the draw, the man expends another match and lights the new gar to the sound of the struggling and dying at his feet.

"Greetings," the man offered aloud, seeming to be addressing the other slave master, though he receives no response. Instead, Zilindar and Tumhathil wait for confirmation, glancing at each other before returning their gaze to the immediate threat to them.

The man turns around, removing the cigar from his mouth.

"Pardon my manners. I know, such circumstances are not the most ideal for making a first impression."

He approaches. Tumhathil flanks the approaching man as he slowly closes the distance to Kail. The man's voice lowers to a conversational volume as he draws close.

"Zilindar Kail. An owner and trainer of gladiators. Bets on his own fights to make extra money from each one to support his adorable little daughter, Tika, after her mother abandoned them."

The man flaps his fingers down twice at the child in Kail's arms and offers her a special little "hello" of her own.

"Currently is in a bit of a bind after illegally acquiring an Imperial fugitive as his newest fighter."

Tumhathil's eyes dart back and forth between the two men at the revelation that his master had acquired his new duuthesh as an illegal slave. Kail stares at the cigar man, shocked at what he had just heard. His bearing somewhat fractured.

"H-how-...how did you-?.."

"-Lucky guess," the man interrupts before taking another draw.

"Lucius. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Mind if I take a bit of your time for a moment? I'd like to discuss something with you."

Kail remains silent. The man continues regardless.

"Zilindar, I think you have the potential to make both of our lives a whole lot easier. My employer would like a word with you, in regards to making this current mess you're in go away completely. Worry not about that business a moment ago, for that is but an act of good will he offers to you."

Tumhathil watches as his master's expression does not move an inch, other than the single bead of sweat sliding down his temple. Yet, he could swear something was different within the man...

...

Little Tika tugged at her father's tunic.

"D-..daddy?"

Finally, Kail moved, raising his stance as he pulled the end of his whip back toward him and, still holding his daughter, pinched low on the whip and began maneuvering it into a coil.

"Take me to him," he muttered quietly while snapping the strap of his belt to lock the whip back into place.

Tumhathil gazed upon the clean man while he puffed on that cigar of his. His claws tickled the air.

What exactly happened last night...Kail?

The lion glared at the man before them...and then retracted his claws.

-

Lucius led them through the market. Everything seemed normal other than the unmistakable feeling of eyes on them. At first, Tumhathil looked to the rooftops, where he expected to see the men from before, but found nobody.
...Then it dawned on him that it was the regular patrons around them who were staring at the lion walking among them and he finally remembered that it was normal to have eyes on him in public. Tumhathil sighed, frustrated in his paranoia but only partially relieved.

He still could not shake a feeling of discomfort...of his presence of power eroding into impotence-into a creeping helplessness.

Where his master was leading them, he knew from which there was no returning...

No escape.

The man had looked around before turning a corner into an alleyway and then stopping at a side door for one of the buildings. He then raised his hand and lightly knocked with two fingers. A quick double tap on the surface.
...
The door cracked, revealing a frail elderly man, looking far older than most when they pass-an appearance of being in somewhere in his seventies or eighties.

"May I help you?" He asked.

Lucius, with a face straighter than that of a 'Taokhari's Teeth' champion player, spoke to the old man in a low voice.

"You may, old man."

The man smiled sweetly and shut the door. There was a pause before the door opened once more, this time much wider.

"He's waiting for you."

Lucius furrows his brow as he walks past, clearly surprised.

"That man always seems to find a way to be early to everything. Ain't no rest for the wicked, I suppose."

The men followed behind their guide, through what appeared to be a small warehouse of sorts. Gas lamps lined the walls though none were lit. However, windows high on the walls illuminated the room to a dim with their light. Shelves holding stock of leather and fabric occupy the room. Crates sit among the shelves and around the floor; occasionally stacked on one another.

A man stands among the crates in the dark at the end of the room.

Lucius halts in the middle of the room, half way to meeting the figure. Kail and Tumhathil followed the actions of the other man and stopped just short of him.

"I brought him. As requested," Lucius says, more stating a report than stating anything one could not already see.

The man nods.

"Good."

He raises his palms, gesturing them out in front of him.

"Thank you, Lucius. C'm'ere."

He had an odd accent, one which Tumhathil did not recognize however there was no mistaking that the man was not from Opynonias. Though he had little knowledge of the land, he knew the Empire's borders expanded far and wide.
Perhaps, the man was from another far-out Imperial province? It was entirely possible.

Lucius walked forward, approaching the man who stepped from the shadow to offer a handshake. His appearance was much more...normal than expected. Where Lucius had an unmistakably cold presence about him, this new man seemed much...different.
His light brown hair extended down to his upper neck and then halted in a dramatic cut to form an ugly bowl cut. It was odd, considering the man was not dressed half-bad. His attire seemed befitting of a successful businessman; a made man. He also had a goatee and brown eyes which imitated that of a regular tradesman.

Now within range, the man reached out and gingerly placed his hands on Lucius' shoulder blades in an odd sort-of embrace. The whole scene just seemed uncomfortable to the Felidin...

"How are you, my boy? How's your girl?"

The man's arms extend out, distancing the two gentlemen so that they may look at each other but the employer's hands seem to remain on Lucius' arm and the back of his neck.

"I'm good, boss," he mumbled through the cigar still in his mouth. "She's probably a lot better now, t'tell you the truth. We're not really 'a thing' anymore."

"Ah-I'm sorry, Lucius, she was a good girl." The man said.

"Nah, it's fine. I'm the one who dumped her," Lucius said with a cheeky grin.

The foreigner rolled his eyes playfully.

"Now," he said, gesturing toward Tumhathil and Zilindar.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I have called you here. To business then?"

Tika nervously stared at the man who began expressing himself with exaggerated hand gestures. Her father also watched him.

"My name is Avoni di Lorenzo de Noppona and I understand we've a common purpose-to an extent. You're looking for your escaped slaves. One in particular but the other would also be preferred. Am I correct to assume this?"

Zilindar, after a short pause...slowly nods...

Tumhathil, for the first time since the conversation began, loses his bearing and looks over to his master.

Who else escaped in the commotion last night?

"Well then," Avoni continues, "I regret to inform you that your primary interest has been taken into imperial custody."

Kail's eyes widen but Avoni has not yet finished talking.

"All is not lost for you, however. You've no need to go into hiding-no you've not even need to relinquish ownership of all of your fighters and start anew. I can protect you from the wrath coming for you...all I request is a favor of you."

Tumhathil, again, glances over to his master, who has clearly become entirely interested in what Avoni had to say.

"I want the one known as Danairia Feyn. You will either give her to me..."

Avoni's posture straightened further. His hand gestures paused, leaving only a firm point directed at the slave master.

"...or you will give me undeniable proof of her...misfortune...Is that understood?"

Tumhathil quietly sighed. So it was Danairia who had escaped. She was one of the newer ones and quite the firecracker but he could not help but take a liking to the little elf, despite her temper. She may have behaved a bit obnoxiously but he always could read her well enough to know there was much more to her than she let on.

Zilindar nods nervously before speaking up.

"I could not find any leads before I was brought here. It may take a while to find-"

-"You've no need to worry about that," Avoni reassured, waving his palm in the air as if he were physically dismissing it before resuming his sporadic gesturing. "We know where she is-or rather-where she is going and have already made the arrangements to send you to Khi'ir and pursue them wherever it is they go to from there."

The slave master recoiled somewhat.

"Khi'ir? You're telling me she ALREADY gained passage to Syakh?"

Avoni shrugged.

"She had help. A good kid. Well-meaning. Someone a fair amount of people would be upset if something happened to him..."

It was Tumhathil's turn to be surprised. He could not believe what he was hearing from the mouth of the man before them. Whoever he was referring to was going to get a brutal wake-up call which he did not even deserve and, judging from what he saw with the white-masked men, it would certainly be the last he would ever receive...

"What of my daughter?" Zilindar asked, his grip tightening around her. Avoni smiled.

"She will be safe here. In good faith, I'll even look after her myself. I assure that you don't need to worry about her. I may not seem like the kind of person you would want around her..." Avoni chuckled. "...but I am a man of my word and I promise that I will treat her as I would my own until your return."

Zilindar stood quietly...looking around the room in nervous thought and lightly embracing the little girl in his arms.

"...Okay."

Tumhathil could not help but feel uneasy about everything going on around him...


...


The harbor was busy with passing sailors and citizens. Men and women of all walks of life carried on with their own personal business, now accompanied by two...new lives. A trained Felidin, tasked with protecting the life of his master, a man caught up in a shady situation he never wanted to be apart of for the sake of his life. One hunted someone he owned, the other hunted someone he understood and, to a limited extent, could even say he admired.
Both mixed in with the public masses. If people could only fathom just how unique the circumstances of everyone else's business was...

"Here," Lucius said, gesturing to the ship before them. "This is the ship that will take you to Khi'ir. The Nerodia. Her crew's made up of employees of Avoni so you may be able to request passage with them if they're at least somewhat close to you. Don't worry about contacting us either."

Lucius tilts his head as he turns just enough to look at Zilindar.

"We'll always be watching you, to an extent. Just keep in mind that we'll know if you need us. Expect visits from my associates too. Now, get going."

Zilindar turned to Lucius.

"My daughter. What about her?"

"Don't worry. I'm not the one who will be taking her back," the shady man chuckled. "I've got business of my own anyway, so someone else will be here shortly to pick her up. You may leave her here and I'll keep an eye on her until they get here."

Zilindar sighed before turning toward his bodyguard.

"Tumhathil," he said, his cold, regular tone toward him somewhat returned but still at a mild level. "Board the ship and wait for me there."

His eyes seemed especially threatening. The lion's master clearly was in no mood for any slack so Tumhathil obeyed with haste, stepping off down the dock and climbing the ramp up to the side...
...but something itched at him. Rarely did he ever disobey Kail but...this was no ordinary situation.

The slave fighter glanced around and immediately turned the second he stepped on deck and made his way into the ship's deckhouse. Upon opening the door to the room, he found nobody currently occupying it and quickly took advantage of its current status by hurrying through and gently cracking open a window adjacent to where Kail and Lucius stood.
What was he doing there? Why did he behave like this?...He could not say, for even he did not fully understand his actions but something compelled him to listen. Something told him it would be worth it to listen to his master...

After seeing the hulking lion disappear behind the hull of the ship, Zilindar set his daughter down.

"No, daddy!" She protested before imitating her father's command for carrying her.

"Up-up!"

The man held his little girl's hand.

"I'm sorry, Tika. Daddy's got to go."

"Go?" She questioned, making it obvious how much she actually paid attention to the talking adults. "W-where are you going?"

Zilindar has traveled far and has done many things. He has seen all kinds of people and enslaved many people he would not have considered to even being close to deplorable. He has led good people to their unfortunate deaths countless times and has withstood the abandonment of someone he once whole-heartedly cared for.

Yet, none of it could have prepared him for the heartbreak he was feeling now...

"I couldn't tell you exactly. I'm probably going to a lot of places and I don't think many of them will be close."

The little girl's eyes began to express panic.

"B-...but-! But, why?!"

"Because I need to. If I want to keep you healthy and well, I need to," He said.

"No!" Tika yelled. "I-I don't want you to! I wanna go with you!"

Zilindar frowned.

"I'm sorry, Tika. I can't do that."

"But why not?!" The girl whined. Tears formed in her eyes.

"Because," her father explained. "I don't want you to get hurt. This is something only I can do. I have to-...I have to do some things that only big men, like me, can do. It's no place for pretty little flower like you."

"No!" she yelled again. "No! NO!"

Zilindar pulled the little girl close into a hug which almost swallowed her.

"I'm sorry..."

The little girl said nothing. She simply hugged her father back in defeat...

Tumhathil watched the scene from above...sighing before shutting the window.

The rumors were true...It appeared Kail was indeed a human being after all...


...


The ship set off without trouble. Tumhathil and Kail may never had been able to turn back before but it had never been as apparent as it had been now. They were on a ship, bound for their destiny and there was no stopping the journey which lied ahead of them.
They may have been quiet, but both men could not shake the undeniable knowledge that they were going to succeed in their endeavor...or die trying...