[Gaol] Easy Money (Crimson, private)

[Thracyn Caldor]

Fourth Brightening in the Second Cycle of Pontius, Winter, Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XV PF

Jailbreak.

It was an unusual term, not so much semantically as in its' unfamiliarity to Thracyn Caldor. Though he had worked with the Protectorat some six months now and risen rather quickly through the ranks to Sergeant in the intervening time, he had never had occasion to visit the city's lockup, affectionately dubbed 'The Hole' by the various and sundry sorts in the know about that sort of thing. He had not wanted to, to be honest, his interest was exclusively on criminals and creatures who were outside the stone walls of the prison and needed to be introduced, not on those who had already been caught and punished for their crimes.

So it was quite a surprise for the young Medonian when wanted posters suddenly sprouted all over his fair city of Jaedaxia screaming for the recapture of four nefarious ne'er do wells who had somehow connived to escape from custody. The names and descriptions of the four fugitives had caught Thracyn's interest quickly and by the fourth time he had seen one of the posters around the city he had memorized all ther pertinent inofrmation the public broadsheets offered. What also caught the young man's interest, and began to germiniate into an idea the more he thought about it, was the offer of rewards for the recapture of the four. He had mulled the idea over in his brain throughout the brightenings between his first look at the wanted posters and the morning of the fourth brightening now, and he thought his plan was finally ready to be put into action.

He and his squad both were off for the next two brightenings, even though the alert status of the entire force had understandably been upgraded after the escape of the four fugitives. The brass, despite their wishes to see the four speedily recaptured, were not about to let fatigue and lassitude degrade the effectiveness of their forces and so the patrol squads had only an extra brightening of work in the cycle owing to the current situation. Thracyn had been told that bringing in the four while on duty was perfectly acceptable, indeed even ideal, but of course blue-and-gold wearing guardsmen tromping the streets were not exactly subtle tools of investigation. That, and even if he and his squad managed to bring in all four, the total reward of 6,000 crowns would be distributed among all of them, leaving each with only 1,000 crowns, surely not a pittiance, but definitely not what the young sergeant thought could be made with a little 'creative' planning.

Money had never been an overriding concern of his, until his recent purchase of his own private villa in the Southern Quarter. As homes went it was nice but modest, certainly not a mansion, though Thracyn knew he had no need of such an extravagance of space anyhow. What it certainly was though, was a financial strain. Between the cost he had paid, the fees for cleaning and refurbishment, and the salary he paid to the housekeeper he insisted on keeping he found himself for the first time on thin economic ice. Not that he was in danger of being thrown into a poorhouse or anything of the sort, but the gentle conmfort he had enjoyed from having a large reserve of cash was gone now, and he badly wanted to get it back. With that in mind he had taken the rewards offered on the posters and formulated a daring plan of his own.

He and his squad were off duty, which meant none of them should be happening by headquarters during this brightening or the next. Thracyn himself was clad in civilian clothes, his longsword discreetly buckled around his waist but covered by his dark forest green cloak. The little sapphire jewelled dagger he had bought from the bohemians sat on his other hip while, concealed underneath his navy blue shirt, he wore the unnaturally tough black leather vest he had been gifted by the New Order some months before. He hoped the thin veneer would camouflage his true intentions as he stepped through the door of the Siege Principal and looked around. Aha, there they were.

The other two members of his squad he had hand-picked for this little 'off the books' excursion stood near the back wall of the cafeteria, mingling with other men and women of the Protectorat while they waited for his arrival. Thracyn approached them with a nod and a wave and he smiled as he noted the eager looks on both of the men's faces. Darus Vectrix, his senior PFC, looked almost piratical in civilian garb, though Thracyn was gratified to see the flash of a sheathed short sword under the man's cloak. He had always known Vectrix kept his ear a little closer to the street than was technically legal, but had looked the other way when it was applied in a way which helped him get his job done. Now Thracyn was counting on the somewhat older man's expertise as an entree into the less than polite society they would have to go through to find the four fugitives. The other man he had handpicked, the massive Vagaran Erik Handshold, stood silently and regarded the other two men from seeminly impassive eyes, though Thracyn knew that beneath the taciturn exterior Handshold was as eager as they were.

With a few white lies and a handful of well wishes for the coming patrols, Thracyn and his two men slipped from the cafeteria and into a currently unoccupied office. Taking a last look outside Thracyn closed the door behind him and turned to the two expectantly waiting men inside. "Everything's clear, we're good. Now you both know why you're here, and hopefully you know why I've picked you two from the available candidates. Six thousand crowns sounds much better split three ways then six, don't you agree?" Thracyn waited for both the men to agree with him before he continued on, "Now these men are fugitives, and every indication is they're stuck in the city. They're going to be desperate, sneaky and vicious. Instead of tromping through the streets in uniform, the three of us are going to play this smart, quiet, and mean. We're hitting the streets with what leads we've got, plain-clothed, and I want you both with your ears to the ground when we step out of this building. Not a word of this to anyone else. We bring the four in, dead or alive, we collect our money and we split it three ways without anyone else finding out. You get me?"

Once the other two men signalled their agreement Thracyn would simply nod, smile and lead the two men out of the Siege Principal and towards the more questionable parts of town. At least two of the fugitives were heavy drinkers and a quick toss of some of the more disreputable taverns might glean the first clues the three innocuously clad young gradsmen would need if they were to make their dreams of financial windfall a reality.

[Crimson]

The four new fugitives were not the only wanted men in Jaedaxia but that didn't mean the others were less mean or any less wanted per se. But these four fugitives were runaways and the highest sum was on their heads. Thracyn chose well and seemed to have planned their current mission well enough. With a sure nod both Vectix and Handshold agreed with the terms and easily slipped back onto the cold cobblestones outside the Protectorate Headquarters. A quick gust from the Trident Isles greeted the trio of undercover guards, causing them to flick their collars and tug at their cloaks a little to shield their bodies from the unfriendly Jaedaxian weather.

The walk to the more 'questionable' parts of town didn't take long; in truth, those parts were just east from the Southern Quarter. The closer they got between the boundaries betwee each sector, the more run-down houses and shady looking individuals seemed to crop up. Then, just as quickly one of those yellowing taverns with dusty, candle-lit windows appeared between a pair of old villas that may have once been homes to the rich and famous. There were drunks stumbling out of the establishment, singing random songs and odes to various dead heroes slaughtered during the first seige.

[Thracyn Caldor]

Thracyn was gratified when both Vectrix and Handshold agreed to his plan of action with no questions asked and with nary another word the three guardsmen slipped from headquarters and back out onto the frigid streets of Jaedaxia. A chill wind blew through the stone canyons of the city as the three set out and Thracyn pulled his cloak tighter against him to help ward off the chill as the little band walked. He reflected as they quickly strode through the snow crusted pathways that it was rather conveneint for his purposes that the worst parts of town were located so close to Protectorat headquarters. Though he had not seen anything to the contrary he rather thought his superiors would be more ameniable to receiving their fugitives back alive, which meant a short transport time might be key to success in this little venture.

The environment changed as the three undercover guardsmen pushed deeper east, the buildings gradually becoming more run-down and dingy, and the people on the streets seemed to reflect those attributes as well, looking more disreputable themselves the further east the guardsmen pushed. Thracyn kept sharp eyes out for trouble as they moved and at Vectrix's murmured word both he and Handshold came to a stop.

It was a tavern, perched between what might have been magnificent villas in their day, but were now little better than candlelit slums. Drunks poured in and out of the place at a prodigious rate and the sounds of inebriated carousing rang up and down the dingy streets as Thracyn took in the situation and formulated a quick plan of action.

"Looks a likely spot, at least to start looking. Darus, you go on in, slip in with the customers, get a table that gives you a clear view of the room. Erik, wait with me here for a few minutes until Darus has time to get settled, then we'll head in and start making 'gentle' inquiries. Any questions gentlemen?"

If there were none Thracyn would send Darus in then drift over towards the other side of the street with Handshold at his back, giving the appearance of nonchalance while he waited for the other guardsman to get settled somewhere useful in the tavern. After perhaps seven or eight minutes Thracyn would nod to Handshold then lead the way into the dank little tavern, his next move dictated by what he saw as he walked in the door.

[Crimson]

Appearing nonchalant was rather easy during the gentle folds of the darkening. Only a stiff and frigid breeze caused the guardsmen to shiver slightly, thogh Thracyn noticed that the vagaran was indeed faring better than himself. Perhaps Handshold was just thicker built than Medonians. After several minutes, and several more tumbling, roaring drunks entering and leaving the pub, Thracyn and his larger counterpart made their way towards the door. The smell of vomit, spit, and piss was prominant -- but it was the bitter stench of cheap ale that prevailed. Whether the guardsmen should be thankful for that or not was left to be seen.

Opening the door allowed for the hot air and the heavier smells of sweat and liquor to battle with the incoming weather from outside. One of the men by the bar (which was on Thracyn's immediate left) yelled for the newcomers to close the 'fething' door. "You in or out?" the barkeep called. He was a thick chested man with a decent set of biceps developed after eras of dragging and throwing leftover drunks after closing time. He was dark skinned, blad, and carried a thick accent that made his words sound harsher than normal.

Parrallel to the bar were several round tables complete with low stools. No one bothered to clean the pub during 'happy candlemark' -- which was actually from open til close. Cheap ale was cheap for good reason. Most of the time it wasn't even ale. Not that the drunks cared or even noticed. As long as coppers and silvers were paid, fat mugs of frothing dark amber liquid was served. Immediately, Thracyn noted Darus sitting near the corner of the establishment. He gave no indication that he recognized Thracyn or even saw him coming in -- except for a brief glance in their direction.

The place had a low ceiling and when Thracyn and Handshold approached the bar, the barkeep wiped the counter between them with a dirty rag, which actually drew grime and other filth from the surface with surprising ease. "What will ya have then?" he asked while absentmindedly cleaning a mug with the same rag he just used on the counter.

[Thracyn Caldor]

The sour stench produced only by the mixture of various other foul odors was the first thing that hit Thracyn, right between the eyes so to speak, as he stepped into the dingy little tavern and took a look around. He and Handshold had spent a valuable few minutes out in the cold observing the patterns of the people who staggered into and out of the bar and in his first visual sweep he spotted Darus, off in the corner and himself paying no mind to the two new arrivals. Thracyn gave no sign he knew the man as he took in the rest of the scene. The heat of the place, along with its' crowded capacity where the next things the undercover sergeant noted and as the barkeep yelled at them to close the door Handshold complied easily and the room turned its' attention elsewhere.

Thracyn noted the bar, to the two guardsmen's immediate left, and the various tables scattered parallel to the bar and nearly all holding a cast of unsavory characters. He gave them all a cool glance then turned and made his way through the crowd and towards the bar, sizing up the barkeep as he approached. Bald, bulky, he looked like he would know how to handle himself in a fight, indeed, the fact that he tended bar in this part of town proved it. Thracyn decided, as he and Handshold came up and claimed two empty seats, that he'd try civil the first time around. Just for appearance's sake.

"What will ya have then?" the barkeep asked while he pawed at one of his mugs with a filthy rag and Thracyn kept a look of disgust off his features with barely a flicker. "Pint o' ale," Thracyn replied as he gestured at one of the other mugs, all most likely just as dirty, but at least he hadn't seen them being swiped with the rag. "Same for my friend here," the sergeant gestured towards Handshold while he waited for the barkeep to turn to pour the drinks. He gave Handshold a quick glance and the large Vagaran nodded almost imperceptibly as he scanned the rest of the room in a casual way. Thracyn accepted his ale with a smile and took a long sip before setting the mug down with a good approximation of a satisfied grunt.

"I've 'ad worse," Thracyn offered as he pulled out a five crown note and slid it across the bar. "For the drinks and the rest for yerself. Mighty fine to have ale again, after all that time in the fethin' Gaol. Stupid buggering Protectorats." The sergeant took another sip of his ale and waited for his comment to percolate through the barkeep's mind before he spoke again, this time directing his comments obstensibly to Handshold though pitching them to carry to the barkeep's ears. "Wouldn'a been so bad, 'cept the fethers split me and ole Krowspear up. Ha! That little drunk! Ten to one he's spent all we sconced with on some damned drunk-on! I'll never catch the little bugger now. W'ole damn city's lookin for 'im. Can't even find him at none of his old haunts. Not fair, I tells ya." Thracyn turned to Handshold who grunted and nodded in agreement with his sergeant's words, shrugging with the weary resignation of the world-worn. The undercover sergeant fell silent then as he sipped his bad ale and waited to see if the fish would nibble on the hook he had just dropped in the water.

[Crimson]

The barkeep developed a noticeable twitch as Thracyn relayed his comments and side stories from the other side of the counter. At the end of his statement about Krowspear the barkeep was already on the other side of the counter, fidgeting with what appeared to be a tankard of ale. He lifted it toward the counter with a grunt, effectively blocking Thracyn’s view of him and another patron he remembered seeing seated on that end. Turning toward his secondary eyes Darus nodded briefly before he conveniently rose from his table and approached the barkeep’s position. He learned over the counter and cleared his throat. “I’ll be needin’ some more ale over here” he said harshly, doing a fine job at masking his otherwise polite demeanor.

“I think you mean excuse me”, came a dark voice.

But before Darus could reply, Thracyn and Handshold saw their associate flying backward, crashing against a pair of tables behind him. Whatever force provided the lift was a mystery – but Thracyn didn’t have time to contemplate that. From the corner of his eye he saw a figure dart toward the back door of the tavern while the barkeep yelled for the other patrons to calm down before a riot brewed up and cost him more gold for repairs.

Handshold immediately rushed toward Darus and signaled that he was alive. There was, however, a nasty looking bruise beginning to develop on the guardsman’s jaw which was emphasized by a fat lip and some blood on his tunic.

[Thracyn Caldor]

Thracyn watched as the barkeep seemed to start twitching as the undercover sergeant spun his fake tale of criminal woe. He moved towards the other end of the bar, all the while avoiding eye contact with the sergeant and Handshold both until he lifted a tankard of ale at the other end, obstensibly doing his job but in reality providing a perfect cover for conversation with another customer at the end of the bar. Thracyn sent a quick glance Darus' way then returned his attention to the barkeep, trusting Handshold to observe the other guard's approach and make sure he made it to the bar unimpeded. Underneath the cover of the wooden bar the sergeant flexed his right hand and tested the draw of his still-concealed longsword.

He heard Darus' approach and watched as the other guard made his way forward, losing him for a moment in the press of the crowd. That second proved to be all that was needed, for a strange voice rang out and suddenly Darus was flying through the air, victim to force or forces unknown while at the same time the figure who had been speaking with the barkeep was off his stool and out towards the back entrance. Thracyn swore as he and Handshold both stood almost at once, and as the barkeep yelled for calm and Handshold made his burly way towards his fallen comrade the sergenat elbowed his way none too gently towards the back entrance.

He spared a quick glance at Vectrix and Handshold, and at the Vagaran's signal that the other man would live Thracyn made up his mind. He drew his sword in a shimmering arc and as the crowd cleared a bit at the sight of so much bared steel he growled out orders to the trusty Vagaran.

"You see anyone in here who even looks like he hit him, take him out. Whoever just went out the back is our man, or at least knows where he is. I'm going after him." After Handshold nodded in the affirmative Thracyn would suddenly swivel and level the point of his blade right beneath the barkeep's chin, letting the man get an appreciation for his situation for a few seconds before he spoke harshly. "And you, my friend, are going to help my unfortuante friend here get revived, and tell my men who coldcocked him, or the next time we come back, it'll be in pretty blue-and-gold. With torches. You get me?"

With the barkeep's agreement, reluctant or not and surely helped by the fact that their real identities as officers of the law were now known, Thracyn pushed his way through the crowd and towards the back entrance, cursing the precious seconds that had been eaten up by the necessary delay. As he pushed open the door he stepped out into the alleyway, all his senses alert and his blade ready for trouble.

[Crimson]

There was a flurry of nervous utterances, some curses, and even bellows of drunken laughter as the trio was forced to improvise. Handshold nodded immediately while Darus was still noticably fazed by both the pain and the shock. Their cover was blown, but not before Thracyn was able to issue a few warranted threats. The barkeep, seemingly loosing more hair off his top, nodded and gulped in agreement. He immediately rushed off, grabbed a few lousy rags, and joined the remaining Protectorats. The sergeant, however, ran as fast as he could -- he had a score to settle.

Bursting through the back door required little strength and even less skill. The old, creaky frame shuddered somewhat at the force Thracyn invested into the push as the cold, dark air greeted him at once. He looked from side to side before his eyes narrowed at a figure that was obviously fleeing from him. His back was draped in what appeared to be a hooded cloak. That much detail was only possible thanks to the conveniently placed street lamp Thracyn's target ran under. But before Thracyn could take a couple of running steps forward, the man had darted left into another alley, disappearing from sight completely.

[Thracyn Caldor]

Thracyn waited until the barkeep went into motion before he moved towards the back, but not before leaning in and muttering to Erik. "When he wakes up and gets on his feet, follow me out. Do whatever you have to do to get out the door. The last thing we need is to explain ourselves to other guards right now." The sergeant was angry with himself for the hash he had already made of things, a fugitive in flight and one of his three men already down, with the second having to be left to keep watch over him, at least till he came back to his senses. This was already a risky enough situation without the added difficulties all this brought, but Thracyn knew this wasn't the time for ruminating on how his plan had gone awry, only the time for action.

The old door almost broke into the alleyway as Thracyn moved through it as if it weren't there, the cold air of the alleyway a sharp and refreshing slap to his senses. He was glad to leave the crowded, filthy warmth of the tavern behind and as he looked first one way then the other he spotted his prey, wearing some sort of hooded cloak just visible as he ran underneath a burning streetlamp. Thracyn opened his mouth to call out to the fleeing figure, even though he figured it would be futile but as he took a couple of steps forward the figure disappeared, darting left into another alleyway and out of the Medonian's sight.

He ran for the alleyway, not bothering to sheath his sword and keeping his eyes straight ahead as he pounded down the narrow lane towards the last spot he had seen his apparent fugitive. Speed was of the essence now, but Thracyn had no intention of charging blindly into an alley just to get himself killed so as he neared the intersection where his quarry his disappeared he slowed, bringing his pace down to a walk as he approached within ten feet of the alley's entrance and circling around cautiously to try and get a look down the narrow urban passage.

[Crimson]

Thracyn was wise to slow as he arrived at the slippery entry where the figure disappeared into. He felt something wet, something icy touch the soles of his boots but ignored it momentarily. It was quite common to have water freeze so rapidly that it turned into slush that time of the era. Plus, he was in Jaedaxia. Raising his blade at a guard position, Thracyn moved as silently and stealthily as he could. Peering into the alleyway, he caught sight of the figure immediately and called out for him to halt.

At this point, the man was attempting (quite horribly) to ascend a fairly tall stone wall made perhaps to separate a private alley from a more mug-you-if-you-enter portion accessibly by common thugs. And undercover law enforcement, for that matter. He twisted around, the dark hiding most of his features still. The hood and thick cloak didn't help much either but there was only a fraction of a second before Thracyn heard the familiar hiss as blades were drawn.

Looks like the man wasn't about to get caught the easy way after all.

Without warning, he lunged forward and sped up with two arm-length daggers in tow, one in each hand. Then he aimed on slash after another, the first aimed for Thracyn's neck and the next one for his unprotected abdomen should he decide an upper block.

[Thracyn Caldor]

Thracyn stepped into the alleyway gingerly, suddenly aware of the state of the ground beneath his boots as he finally got a look at the cloaked figure, not enough to discern any specific features but enough to know that this was indeed the man he had pursued outside from the dank little tavern. He called out for the man to halt even as he brought his blade up, showing the criminal that he was well prepared to back his words with force if the situation called for it. Truth be told, he rather hoped it would, he didn't like having one of his men getting hurt, even if it was just from a sucker punch, and the young sergeant thought teaching this man that lesson would only save him trouble in the rest of his endeavor.

The whisper of metal on leather was all the warning he had that the figure was not going to go down without a fight, and as he adjusted his stance and raised his sword the the guard position Thracyn saw the man lunge forward, twin long daggers glinting in the silvery winter moonslight. The cloaked man slashed out with both weapons, one low and aiming for the abdomen while his other blade danced up high, on a level with Thracyn's throat, both attacks sure blood spillers and possibly mortal wounds. Thracyn had no time to think and didn't even try, he surrendered to his instincts as he took a haldf step back, bringing his own single blade up and over his shoulder and hacking downwards with vicious force, aiming to beat off both attacks with the same parry.

His main focus was the slash aimed for his neck, the abdominal attack was just as potent but he thought the black leather vest gifted from the New Order he wore underneath his civilian shirt should be able to turn the blow, or at least prevent it from spilling his intestines all over the street. Ideally his overhand chop would knock away both daggers and leave the cloaked man off-balance and in position for Thracyn to return the favor, but if not he knew he had to at least avoid the slash aimed for his throat or he was done before he even began.

Assuming his actions partially or totally worked, he would go over to the attack, using his own downward momentum and stepping forward with an upward slash for the man's torso while pressing forward and forcing the cloaked figure back towards the wall which the man had so recently been attempting to scale.

[Crimson]

Thracyn's calculations were expertly chosen as he decided the match-up between himself and the dual wielder. For what it was worth, armor was a hard commodity to come by -- good armor, at least. Leather could only lighten hits and hardly stopped piercing weapons and arrow heads; chain mail was lighter than plate but even those two combined hindered movement considerably enough that it is often used against them by lighter, swifter opponent. There was nothing better than a knife to the neck against a fully armored foe.

His elven long sword sang against the metal of the two long knives. There was a brief spark and the bandit backed off, knowing suddenly that he was outmatched. The figure before him was no cutthroat or mercenary. This man was a trained fighter and he had top grade gear to match his style. At once, without even the attacks intended to decapitate the Sergeant, the thief broke off into another run.

This time, however, he dropped something -- and immediately, Thracyn's first instinct was to throw his face away from the smoke that suddenly clouded upward. It tasted vaguely of salt first until his eyes, nose, and throat started to sting violently. Behind him, the undercover guard heard the footfalls of two more individuals. Moments later, he identified them as his two partners -- they arrived beside him and managed to tug Thracyna way from the smoke and away from the alley. "Are you all right, sir?" Handshold grumbled, the sort of way that indicated his frustration to anyone who knew him sufficiently well. "I think our mark might have escaped ... for now."

[Thracyn Caldor]

OOC: So sorry for the delay.

Thracyn's arm flashed downward, driving the twin points of death away from his body and igniting a small spark which briefly flashed before his eyes. He stepped forward, fully prepared to run his still unseen assailant through, but for whatever reason, whether the man hadn't expected resistance or what, the hooded figure turned and ran, back towards the rear of the alley he had been attempting to scale. A fierce grin stretched across the sergeant's mouth as he thought he saw his chance, but the object he just noticed the man drop came to life and immediately he drew his forearm to his face to try and fight off the thick smoke, pursuit all but forgotten.

His eyes watered as he took in an unwelcome whiff of the stuff and stepped back, disgust replacing the initial glee on his features as he realized he'd lost whoever it was he'd been going after. The little - gadget, he supposed - continued to burn as he stepped backwards out of the alleyway and he finally preipherally noted the twin pairs of footfalls heading his way. The sergeant turned to look, rubbing his eyes to dispel the discomfort and was happy to see Handshold and Vectrix as the two approached, neither looking especially happy at the turns the darkening had taken so far.

Not that he could blame them, neither was he.

"I'm fine," Thracyn answered the large Vagaran as he looked at the two other officers, both apparently none the worse for wear following the tavern brawl. "That did not turn out the way I wanted it to," he continued, definitely an understatement if ever there was one. He lapsed into silence as he considered the next course of action, the seconds ticking by as he thought. "Let's circle around, I want to see if we can