Fantasy To Tail a Demon(?)

[jaelybug]

Avi swore inwardly and cringed backward farther into the shadows, looking for a way—any way—out of this mess that he had gotten himself into.  Then he watched, slackjawed, as Draven leapt out the window and charged towards the group of thugs. He was putting on quite a show. Saving Avi again.

Avi watched with bated breath to see what Draven would do to the men or how he would escape, but he went down quickly. What was he doing? Why wasn't he still fighting? He looked nearly pathetic with his face pressed in the dirt, his ravings about the morningstar slowly dying on his lips.

What could Avi do to help? His stomach twisted. Draven was there because of  him, and he couldn't even do anything. Their best chance at this point was to hope that they took Draven to some type of holding cell overnight so that Avi could break him out or talk him out or something. Worst case, they killed him right now in the street. The only thing Avi could do now was wait and hope.

---

After ordering the morningstar taken, then listening to the tiefling scream about "Mr. Prickle," Jacob sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was getting too old for this. Hopefully capturing the tiefling would appease Deputy Gorlak and he wouldn't keep them looking for the scrawny kid. Today was his daughter's birthday and he was supposed to be going to the shops to get ingredients for his wife to make the pastries for tonight. Unfortunately he had been waylaid by Gorlak, who had been in an even worse mood than usual since having his food stolen in front of all his drinking buddies.

He and the others all owed Gorlak favors—it paid to be on the good side of the law. And thus it was that they spent the morning searching up and down the streets for the two who had dared to disturb the deputy's dinner. Jacob had about decided to call it quits when he heard something in the alleyway next to the Lathandrian church.

He couldn't quite wrap his head around where exactly this man had materialized from, or what had induced him to run straight into their clutches, but he was obviously not right in the head. Jacob wasn't going to question it.

He gave a boy a coin, and sent him running to fetch the deputy. It took longer than it should've. The child was moving none too fast. Oh well.

When Gorlak appeared on the scene, he lumbered up to the tiefling, who, although he had mostly stopped struggling, was still being held down by a few men. Gorlak looked down on him and sneered, "Not so high-and-mighty now, are we?" He spat and proceeded to kick the downed man in the side. Jacob flinched and looked away. There was nothing he could do, and it wasn't his business even if he could.

"Well," he said, trying to sound jovial and mostly succeeding, "that's that. Looks like you've got everything covered, so I'm going to run down to the shops and I'll see you tonight for a few rounds of dice, eh?"

As he turned to go, his eyes grazed across the weeds in the alleyway once more... and met those of the boy. The boy's eyes were wide with fear and guilt, and he shook his head pleadingly. Jacob hesitated for barely a second before he was on his way, acting as though he had seen nothing at all.

 

[Daisie]

Just as Draven was finally giving up the fight (not that it was getting him anywhere in the first place), he was shocked by the wad of spit landing next to his face, and then...

Oh no. He recognized that demeaning voice moments before he was rammed straight in the side, wrenching his voice from his throat. Thankfully, a single kick from a half-orc, while nothing to sneeze at, was something he took far better than Avi. The mere idea of the kid being in his position only cemented his decision further. He was a Paladin. It was his job to be hit first.

That being said, by the gods above, that hurt.

The kick having turned him to his side, a guard busied themselves by latching his hands into thick manacles. At the same time, Draven looked up at what he assumed to be the same senseless thug from last night, only to find "Gorlak" donning the town guard's colours and symbols.

"You're the-...?!" His automatic question didn't even need an ending, eyes wide in shock and maybe now just a little regret. It bore down on him that this wasn't something he could just smooth out with an explanation to a higher-up; Gorlak was the higher-up. And judging by the bit of bruising left on his hands that a potion couldn't quite cover up, any amount of reasoning was done for.

As Jacob went on his merry way with the guards stripping the panicked Tiefling of his possessions, he passed by none other than a local shop owner among the small crowd of civilians investigating the scene.

"HEY! He's the thief!" The man shouted suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger towards Draven. "Yeah, came in lookin' for some coats 'ere, got all priggish about my prices, and wouldn't ya know it, the eleven gold he paid is gone in the mornin'?!"

"Stole?! Never! I challenge you to prove such a ridiculous-" Draven began.

"Eleven gold?" He was interrupted by another guard, the small of their hand jingling with coins pulled from Draven's coin pouch. "Was it paid in two fives and a single?"

A look of utter confusion and defeat crossed Draven's face for a split second, before the gears began to sloooowwwwly turn. Two and two came together, and all of a sudden the glare he rested on Gorlak was, without a single doubt, meant for someone else. He recanted his previous confidence in his decisions - if Aviel were in his position, Draven would be sorely tempted to throttle him, himself.

Yet he pressed his lips together and stayed his tongue, his scowl nothing less than pure defiance towards Gorlak.