Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history ~ Rakhash

[Guest]

Rakhash smirked mockingly as Al Sadr denied that he would reveal any information about the situation to him, refusing to remove his icy glare from his opponent’s eyes. As the fiend attempted to stand and make his way past him, the fury that had lain suppressed inside, a prisoner of the sheer power of his will, reached its breaking point. Reaching out as the man stumbled forward, Rakhash grasped his cloak, and thrust him backwards as hard as he could.

He had assumed throwing the first blow, to an injured man no less, would be a more trying task for his conscience. It seemed to him at that point, however, that compassion was due only to those who showed compassion in turn, and certainly not to a monster like this. Considering what Al Sadr has done in the past, and remembering how Lianelle had looked when he had told her about what might have occurred to her home, Rakhash found himself doubting that he could feel any compassion for this man, even if wanted to.

“The problem then, Al Sadr,” he said in a low voice, his anger managing to break through slightly in his tone, “is that you will not be catching that boat, or visiting that healer, until you sing. And dance, if I desire it.” He shrugged absently. “The fact of the matter is that you remain healthy enough to walk to a healer or a boat only because you hold information that I desire, and are therefore useful. Deciding not to divulge that information would significantly reduce the value of your health to me, and, in case you haven’t noticed, I have you at somewhat of a disadvantage.”

Still staring into Al Sadr’s eyes, Rakhash found a crack in his confidence finally. It was a powerful factor in so much of his life that it only seemed fitting that it would appear now. He had never seriously harmed, much less killed, another man intentionally before in his life. Would he be able to do it, even to such a monster in the guise of a man? Mentally, he shook himself. I’ll do what I have to.

“I have it from good sources who it is you’re working for - and why - it’s the little details that add up to a completion of the goals, however, that I’m interested in. It’s the background, the uncertainties, that attract my interest in this matter,” He stated simply, after a long pause. “It’s either you answer my questions, invoke my mercy and forgiveness with respect to your past actions, and get seen on your way, or you start to really piss me off, and I can guarantee you that finding a boat will be the least of your worries.” The young man looked about absently, as though only mildly interested in the man before him, before turning back to meet Al Sadr’s gaze once more with all the intensity that he had to offer at the point in time. “Start spitting out what you know, and let’s have the truth. Trust me, you’ll be better off in the end,” he said simply, as though it were a basic fact.

[Ashari]

The shock was evident on Al Sadr's face as Rakhash thrust him backwards and against the wall of one of the three buildings that created this short alleyway dead-end. The stone wall, not particularly sturdy, shuddered with the sudden movement against it, and further down the exterior wall a door shook on it's hinges, squeaking on rusty last bits of metal before it would no doubt fall off in the morning dew.

An audible "Ooof" Sounded from the man as his back was pressed against the hard surface. "Alright, alright." He said, watching Rakhash. The burning in the young man's eyes, paired with the searing pain of his stomach was enough to make any man talk.

"Tedrin hired me, I've worked for him for a long time now. If you don't know him, or how to find him, there's little I can do for you but say there is a statue in the center of the trade district of Ionis. One of many entrances to Tedrin's lair is located there." His words came out in a rapid stream, and he took a breath here, followed by a slight wince before continuing. "I thought Tedrin wanted the girl for something, I didn't ask questions, I only did my job and went and got her. When I arrived and asked for payment is when the trouble started. There was a slip in information, I found out she was wanted by the Rafao himself... well.. honestly I decided if that were the case I should be getting more money for her, ya know?" His eyes tried to meet Rakhash's, but quickly found no similar sentiments therein and continued.

"So, I told him, I said: 'Tedrin, I want double the money for the girl.' He didn't like the sound of that much, and told me to try to find any profit off of her on the streets... which, I did." He didn't elaborate on that point, rather sped forward. "But, I didn't succeed very well, so I dumped her and that's where I guess you came along, right?" His brows raised briefly. "Come to find out, the Rafao has been looking for her ever since. Seems he doesn't want her off wandering the streets of Abu`Sahir, so he sent word to Tedrin that he wanted her right then. Axe came down on me, I was told by Tedrin's enforcer that I either squeal on where the girl is, or else. Kinda like you..." He trailed off before taking another painful breath. "Well, he knifed me in the gut, and I said all I knew, about where I dropped her off and that stuff, the fact that I saw some guy.." He paused. "Some guy go over to her, anyway, he let me crawl off with as much dignity as I could muster."

"And there ya have it, boy.. all I have on the little pretty princess from the desert. Now, let me go." He didn't fight, but merely demanded his freedom from Rakhash. In reality, he probably couldn't have fought very hard in this condition anyway.

[Guest]

Rakhash refused to let down his mask, to convey any emotion outside the fury in his eyes that would signify that he had heard the broken man before him at all. Instead, he stood perfectly still and silent, taking in every word the man uttered and passing judgement within the dark recesses of his mind. Slowly, in contrast to the speed at which the street urchin was spewing out words, Rakhash began pace his relatively large frame about the confined area, his arms crossed across his chest as though he were growing tired of the man’s acts.

As the dark figure touched down on the subject of his price-searching, speaking about Lianelle as though she were an object, the young man halted, and arched an eyebrow interestedly. His opponent quickly spurred ahead, leaving Rakhash with no window of opportunity in which to speak, and without sufficient offense to make the man stop divulging his story. He shrugged off the annoyance mentally. Bigger things to worry about than this man’s lack of respect.

“I hope,” he said softly, finally breaking his silence, “that you’re description of ‘that guy’ wasn’t too detailed or accurate. I doubt he would be pleased if one of the Rafao’s guards or soldiers could point him out without much difficulty.” Al Sadr had finished his story, and Rakhash looked over the man’s body absently, as though deciding what to do with some seemingly worthless animal too weak to be of any further use to him.

He was injured deeply, and on his way to a boat. Certainly, the threat was all but neutralized. Besides, despite all the man had done, he had been relatively co-operative, and Rakhash wasn’t at all positive he would have the stomach, or strength of conscience in the near future, to deal this man any more lasting harm than already done. All in all, he had wound up with little more information than he had come into this situation with, save one piece that freed him from Yabal’s grip where this crime boss was concerned, but at least the facts were confirmed. And one threat safely laid to rest.

“The boat you’re headed to, for your sake, had better be headed away from my island, Al Sadr. Back to Roque, to somewhere else in the Seven Isles, wherever…it had just better be away from this desert I call home,” Rakhash said, finally, his voice still low, his anger still only slightly apparent. “You are not absolved from your crimes, but your words are useful, so I will let you leave Amun Rah. Not just this fine city, but the entire island. Maybe, if you’re far enough away, I can be made to overlook your previous transgressions, and you can weave your miserable craft into some other region of this world.” Rakhash did not have the power at the moment to pursue this man anywhere across the desert, let alone the sea, but there was no reason that Al Sadr had to know that. The young man acted the part of the judge residing over this man’s life, and the enforcer of his own judgement in so many way, whether or not the resolution that the gavel punctuated was truly his to enforce.

[Ashari]

"Nah, it wasn't too detailed, I doubt you have to worry much. You look about the same as any other guy from Abu`Sahir, and that's how I described ya." He replied quickly.

Truthfully Al Sadr had no idea how powerful this boy infront of him was, especially once he started raffling off threats of making sure to keep his mouth shut, and to make sure to get off his island with speed lest he may never get the chance. He had already been hurt badly, he didn't need another run in, as it was he was dying, though he didn't quite realize it at that moment aside from the burning pain from his stomach acid oozing into his bloodstream. Al Sadr was not an intelligent man, nor was he schooled in anatomy to realize that a gut wound was among the slowest and most painful deaths known to man. Of course, his original attacker had known this.

Rakash's soliloqy to the kidnapper was done, and now he stood staring dumbly up at him, silence befell the pair, which was dutifully cut by a hollar from behind where Rakhash stood. "What in the name of Uphuron is going on here?!" A deep man's baritone queried. "Sir, are you hurt?" It was one of the city guards, and he was looking at Al Sadr, who instinctually realized that this situation was going in his benefit.

"Yes! He attacked me. He wanted my money!" He yelled out like a proper rat, his beady eyes turning to Rakhash with a particular superior glint in them. I won, I won, I won... His eyes screamed, but he said nothing, and at this point his injury was making him look the part of one on borderline death, his skin had take on a horrible yellowish paleness.

"Boy!" The guard called out. "Step away from that man, you are being remanded into the custody of the Rafao." He reached to his side and grabbed hold of a curved blade scimitar which it appeared he would know how to use. The guard was an exact image of every other guard the young man had seen in his life. Blade, shaved head, pale baggy breeches that gathered at the ankle, a red sash at the waist to signify he was of medium rank, and a white sleeveless shirt, sometimes with vest, but he was missing such an accoutriment. It seemed, Rakhash was no longer Al Sadr's judge.

[Guest]

Rakhash breathed an inward sigh of relief as the man explained that his description was lacking in too many details for it to be of much use to the Rafao’s men. He stood, continuing to glare at Al Sadr with fiery eyes, before opening his mouth to speak. The words that were forthcoming, however, found their passage blocked by the entrance of a new one to the situation. Turning rapidly as the guard behind him spoke, Rakhash swore under his breath.

As the armed man questioned Al Sadr on his state, Rakhash could only remain silent, urgently trying to find some way out of this situation. Almost instantly, the confidence he had felt standing before a broken enemy lay itself shattered at his feet, leaving him to feel at once overwhelmed by the sudden surrounding of him by two opponents. Glancing back and forth between the two, Rakhash’s gaze froze on Al Sadr, intensity raring up once more in his eyes. This one has taken it too far. The next time I meet him, he will pay for all of this. I swear it.

Turning back to the guard, he found the situation within himself oddly reversed. Rather than having his determination conquer his anger, and tame his behavior, Rakhash found himself utilizing his anger to smelt together the broken pieces of his confidence into something remotely resembling his previous feeling. He had been merciful to the street urchin, and he found his payment as a veritable knife in his back. Shaking his head softly, he met the guard’s gaze unwaveringly, and took a few slow, steps back.

“Good guardsman, you’ve got the situation all wrong. I simply noticed the man skulking into this alley, and aimed to observe what it was he was up to in such a conspicuous manner! I came back, only to realize that the man was in fact injured, and gravely in need of a healer,” he began, his voice one of horrified shock. If he got out of this situation in one piece, Rakhash sarcastically decided that it might be a wise investment to look into lucrative opportunities for his acting ability. If Al Sadr is going to lie, then by all rights, I’m justified in saying this.

“I meant only, initially, to uphold the Rafao’s law, as a good citizen, and little more where this man was concerned. Certainly, I would never steal from him!” He paused, and shook his head fervently, as if bewildered at what the man behind him was doing. “Of course, perhaps my position on him should change, given his betrayal…but in any case, it was my intent to help him get the healing he so dearly needs.”

Thoughts raced through Rakhash’s mind as he thought of some way to prove his innocence to the guard, or at the very least, to sew some seed of doubt, and better his position. Slowly, a thought dawned on him, and he raised his hands. “I mean look at his gut, he’s been stabbed with a blade! Search me all you want, good sir, and you’ll find no blade, nor any blood on my hands. Clearly, I can not be responsible for harming this man.” Sighing, Rakhash silently decided that fighting the man as a last resort would gain him little. Obviously, the guard was skilled with his blade and a veteran of more than a few scuffles, and Rakhash had no weapon on him with which to meet his blows.

“If you must, then remand me to the custody of your lord. I am sure, as Uphuron’s anointed, he will deliver justice where it is due, and perhaps deal out some manner of it to his officials, who care not for facts, but instead bring innocent men to question,” Rakhash said, in as somber a tone as he could muster. Inside, he had to stifle a sneer, and fight off the urge to laugh at his own comment. Why would anyone as detached from the people, and as cold-hearted as the Rafao, bring justice? Did Uphuron even truly choose the man for his position? And to think, with what reverence he held his liege only days prior to this.

In silence, his hands still raised as if challenging the guard to find a weapon on him, he awaited the man’s decision.

[Ashari]

"Ha, as if I haven't heard that before..." The guard said looking at Rakhash. It truthfully was the oldest excuse, to turn it on the other. In this case, however, the urchin had been the first to speak, and had seeded the simple guard with is version of the truth. With purposeful movements the guardsman stepped forward and eyed him. "No blood or weapon..." He glanced around quickly in the alley to see if maybe he had stowed the weapon away.

Al Sadr, noticing his oppertunity was slipping away looked around hesitantantly. "Officer.." He began, followed by a death rattle of a cough. "I must take my leave to a healer."

The guard paused. "Go on then. Do not leave the isle, understand?" Al Sadr nodded in understanding and then slinked out of the alley.

"I have to bring you in under suspicion of wrong doing. That one is a well known serpent of the underground, whatever you did to him was probably deserved, but these are the laws of our land, I'm sure you understand." The guard honestly said to Rakhash before moving forward. "Now, if you will just turn, so I can make sure all formalities are taken care of.." He reached to his side and grabbed ropecuffs made of strong hemp to bind the young man with. Once that was taken care of the guard pointed Rakhash forward. "To the dungeon for now then."

It was a long walk between the market and the palace where he was to be held for questioning, not only for the distance, but for the shame. Everyone he passed on the streets gave him the strongest look of hate. He was a criminal in their eyes, and each woman grasped the hand of her child that much closer when they saw his tied hands and blade to his back. The hot desert air beat down on him as the two walked, past Anurith's Golden Hand and then beyond it to finally reach the Palace, where his guard spoke to another guard who was taking an incoming tally.

"He was found with Al Sadr, Tedrin's man, he had a deep stomach wound. I think it was an inside job, this kid couldn't possibly work for him though. -- He's not a good enough liar." He jokingly glanced over to Rakhash. "Anyway, we can hold him for a few marks, question him, and then it'll be done. Assuming he is cooperative, that is." They spoke a bit on where to put him.

The dungeon was a cold and damply dark place. Wetness hung in the air as well as mold and musk. Men had been kept in this place for yahren upon yahren, slowly waiting for their deaths, others had merely spent their last few tides here awaiting a quick beheading. Truely, death was in the air. Down the long corridor of closed cells, behind stone and wood, there were callings of innocence. Some called this dungeon the place Uphuron forgot, for it never recieved sunlight within, and the prisoners were lucky if they could keep a torch burning with all the drafts that blew through the masonry.

Another guardsman came from the length of the corrider and took hold of Rakhash to bring him to a cell. They began passing cell after cell, each with a small window looking into their tiny chamber. Some of the windows were closed, leaving him to imagine what might be behind the heavy wooden door.

The yelling rose as they continued and the prisoners saw a guard. "Help me! I didn't do it. The girl was dead when I got there!" One shouted. "I ne'er stole a thin' in my life!" Called another. There were murmerings of all kinds of crimes, but through it all, a single voice cut through in his mind. "Rakhash!" It was Lianelle from his dream, his nightmare really. Pleading for him. "Help me, please!" Her voice trembled as her body had when he first found her.

Was it merely a memory?

"Rahkash, please..." There was a desperation in the female's tone, followed by surprise. "Rakhash?" The young man was dragged by a cell into which he could see only a set of familiarly exotic eyes and small hands holding onto the bars of the window to the outside world of the hallway. Quickly he was stuffed into the next chamber and the door shut behind him solidly, leaving him a chilled stone room. A straw thatch mattress and a chamber-pot were the only two items. It was not those that stood out though, writings on the walls by hundreds of prisoners screamed confessions and notes to loved ones.

[Guest]

Rakhash could only stand in hidden shock and masked rage as the man he had finally cornered slunk into the depths of the darkness that encompassed the alleyway. For flickers, the young man completely ignored the guard, instead keeping his gaze absolutely focused on the street urchin and his relatively expeditious retreat. The guardsman, however, finally spoke, and pried his gaze from the dark figure forcibly, demanding Rakhash’s absolute attention. Somberly, the enraged man nodded, finding no words fitting for the situation, or the emotions he was feeling. Slowly, he worked his shoulders in circles, and then placed his hands behind his back.

As the pair strode through the streets, Rakhash started staring at the ground, finding himself unable to meet the heated gazes of the surround crowd. Each step was small torture, Uphuron’s harsh gaze beating down on the back of his neck, judging all equally, and the gazes of the people about him, judging only him. His knees felt like rubber, and at one point, he almost felt sick to his stomach. He persevered, however, and after a while, found that anger replaced his sorrow. By the time the crowd had begun to thin, and make way for the last part of his voyage to the palace, Rakhash was meeting gazes with intensity and conviction in his innocence. He had done nothing wrong, and they had no right to judge that he had.

Soon after, Rakhash was being led down into the darkness once again, and with each passing flicker found himself despairing more and more. He gazed around at the sources of the voices screaming out with a great amount of discomfort. I don’t belong in this place… I hope that Uphuron truly does have a sense of justice, and that I’ll get out of here soon. Sighing, he continued his slow march to the cell he was about to become acquainted with.

Thoughts of Lianelle flashed before him, and all he could do was lament that he would not be returning to her that day, and sink deeper and deeper into a dark pit of despair within himself. It was funny, in a way, that she seemed so real, so unlike the fuzzy substitute for reality provided by his dreams. Perhaps it was some kind of madness brought on by the extremity of the emotions he felt. He blinked, willing the image away, finding that perhaps it hurt too much to be faced with a monument to failure on his part. I promised to come back to her. The image refused to move, however, and silently, he mouthed Lianelle’s name in surprise at the figure standing at the window. Rapidly, he found that the guard had placed him in his own cell, and slammed the door behind him, leaving him in a slight state of shock at what he had just seen. Could it really be her?

Suddenly, he surged into action, scrambling to grasp the bars of the window into the hallway. “Lianelle!” he cried, not caring whether any of the other prisoners heard him. “Lianelle!” He slumped back, shaking his head in disbelief and sorrow. His fist quickly came to the door, pounding on it with all the might he could muster. Roaring, he turned and slammed his fist into the side wall, before grunting in pain and sliding into the wall behind him. Gingerly, he nursed his sore hand with the one that lacked pain, and wiped the blood that was spilling from wounds on his injured hand away.

Beaten, falling deeper every moment into the embrace of dark emotions, Rakhash slid to the straw mattress on the ground, and slumped his back against it, awaiting the decision of the mortal authorities, and the gods. Perhaps, if he could be here for doing what’s right, Uphuron’s true cruelty had been understated. Perhaps Anasis was not so kind as he once believed. Perhaps… Well, what was the use in questioning beliefs that had already been shaken to a point he had never before experienced? If the chosen of a God could be corrupt and unjust, then why couldn’t a deity like Uphuron or Anasis be themselves lacking in compassion? No, he would render no judgement on his deities just yet. Perhaps there was a reason for all of this. All in all, however, his uncertainty only added to the anxiety he felt, as he lay there, awaiting something to occur.

[Ashari]

OOC: Sorry for the delay, hon. I'm back in action though. ^_~

IC:

"Rahkash?" There was a soft muffled voice from the otherside of the thick stone wall. A few of the sandstone bricks had been removed, leaving a window between the separate cells. Lianelle peeked at him through the few inches of space.

"I'm sorry..." She added. "They caught me. I was heading back to Yabal's, but then I turned the corner and there was this guard there, and he grabbed be and dragged me off here." The princess paused. "It's really cold here, I'm scared." Her voice sounded strained, as if she had been yelling for a good while before he arrived.

The chill was heightened by the dampness that hung in the air and the droplets of water that clung to each groove in the stonework. "They said the Rafao has been looking for me for a while. I think they are going to kill me." As dramatic of a statement as that was to make, she said it proudly with little fear ebbing into her voice. "I wish you hadn't gotten caught. I really am sorry I brought you into all of this. If it weren't for me you'd probably be off studying or something, not stuck in a cell."

[Guest]

OOC: It is SO not okay. Sheesh, I can’t believe how offended I am that you would take so long! Just kidding, of course. As with every other time something like this has occurred, there is absolutely no need to apologize, it happens to all of us. Yes, even *gasp* me!

IC:

Rakhash felt the blanket of darkness being forcibly pulled off of him as he lay on his mattress. Lianelle’s voice, music to his ears even when hoarse from being forced to endure, provided something that the young man’s reeling mind needed to latch on to, something with which to pull himself from the roiling dark sea within him. Slowly, he pressed his back against the wall, and slid up, still nursing his sore hand, and winced softly in pain.

Glancing up, he noticed Lianelle staring at him, and finally, as though her voice were not enough, realized that he wasn’t simply going mad from strain. “Lianelle…” he said softly, working his mouth about the word as if it were something possessed of a heavenly taste. “I…You’re here…” Shaking his head softly, Rakhash felt guilt build up within him. Somehow, in some way, this all had to be his fault. He had said he would protect her, not lead her down here.

Compassion filled him as the desert princess, so out of place in somewhere like this, confessed her discomfort and fear. As she continued, however, Rakhash could not interrupt her to tell her to stop, and instead he simply took in her words with some manner of resignation. Whatever she was feeling, how could he comfort her from the other side of a stone wall? The situation was beginning to seem even more hopeless with something so dear to him so close, and yet unreachable.

“Lianelle!” he cried suddenly, his voice louder and with more strength than before. “Don’t apologize to me about this. Ever.” The young man was in the midst of despair, and he would not allow his friend to apologize for being a person that he trusted, and cared about. “Whatever happens here, there is no reason to say sorry to me for anything you’ve done to me thus far. If I die here, then at the very least I can take some solace in knowing that perhaps I meant a little something to someone not obligated to care. At the very least I can say to myself that I tried to help someone, to do something meaningful. I…that makes it worth any risk I took in helping you.” He didn’t know what more to say from there, and instead just shook his head, forcibly lowering the tone of his voice.

“If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I said I’d protect you, and yet here you are. Here we both are. I am sorry. I know it’s not enough, but I am.” Every word he said was stated with absolute confidence, if drenched in despair and sadness. “If they come to question me, I won’t deny that I was trying to help you. Better to face an end, and a chance to look to someone with authority over all of this in defiance, than to live remembering you and this situation, and regretting what I could not do if they come for you.” He paused, as if pondering something. “Perhaps they can be reasoned with… they attacked your home and your family, why would they harm you any more? Surely, not even the Rafao could be that cruel.” Sighing, he felt as though he were whispering hopes without hopes, the kind that existed only in the wind to those desperate enough to hear them.

Slowly, he pressed his back to the wall, and slid to the floor again. “Forgive me,” he said, almost pleadingly, and barely loud enough for Lianelle to hear. Silently, he awaited the inevitable coming of the guards, and perhaps a few more words from his friend.

[Ashari]

OOC: ::cries:: You're so mean to me! ::whines like a proper 4 year old::

IC:

Almost at the same time as Rakhash, Lianelle pressed her back against the stone wall, exactly opposite of where he was. Were the wall to suddenly fall away they would need to lean against one another for support, as it was, they were already depending on eachother for emotional stability. Silently Lianelle considered his words, and his pleading of forgiveness.

"Of course I forgive you.." She replied, slowly. "I'm lucky to've me you at all, and something as little as some time in a cold prison cell won't change the way I feel." It was humerous, in a way, but she was being honest. Pulling her legs up to her chest she wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees, trying her best to conserve heat as around them the noises of other prisoners died down. The guards had gone to the other end of the corridor, and they didn't have anyone to shout at except for one another, and even that got tiring.

Lianelle, even in this situation, found a piece of coal from a torch that at one time had been lit over her head, now it was completely burned out. She scribbled on the sandstone and thought of kissing Rakhash. Closing her eyes she tried to hold onto that feeling as she leaned back and rested her head against the stone.

It was difficult to say how much time had passed, Lia tried counting her heartbeats as a way of keeping track, but the number rose so high, she lost count and then tried tallies, but even that got confusing. All she knew, was that however long it was, it was way more than one thousand thumps of her heart. Time always stretched longer when secluded like this. And it always seemed shorter when in good company, for as she recalled, it seemed she and Rakhash had gotten no time together.

Around them the cacauphony of sound errupted, as a tell-tale sign that someone was approaching. The door to Lianelle's cell swung open, squeaking on it's hinges. A guard came in and lifted her to her feet, she barely fought back, it seemed pointless. Rakhash could hear the shuffling of feet, and then the door to his cell opened as well. "Get up, rat." It was a different guard than the one from before.

Lianelle was ushered past the opening, her head hanging low, and her hands bound. One of the guards pushed her as she slowed down a bit, "Keep on moving, whore." He practically spat out the words and she turned her head slightly, as if to say something in response, but then didn't, and just raised her head and continued walking.

[Guest]

Time for Rakhash seemed slow as well, his bleak thoughts and the memory of Lianelle sitting juxtaposed to him behind the wall the only things keeping him company. If good company truly did make for an expeditious passage of time, then certainly his low spirits did not provide much of that. Sighing, the young man rested his head against the wall, and blew out a long breath between his lips. As dark as he felt, and as menacing as the return of the guards seemed, Rakhash imagined that it would almost definitely be better than the act of sitting in this cell and simply waiting for fate to play out.

Lianelle’s protector drew some comfort from the acceptance of his apology, resting at least a little easier with the realization that he would not end up with his only true friend lost by his doing, or rather, lack of doing. Working his shoulders in small circles against the stone of the wall behind him, Rakhash lost himself in a silent reverie once more. There had to be some way to extradite his friend and himself from this situation. There just had to be. Fate had seemed to conspire to place the two of them together, to direct his path to this point in time. It only seemed fair that fate would provide them with an escape as well.

Rakhash’s faith, in the gods and in destiny itself, however, had been faced with too many questions for him to place much on the idea of fairness here. Perhaps there was some measure of balance to be had in this world, but sitting in the dungeon of a corrupt leader that had proven unworthy of his devotion did not seem like much of a place to ferment an example of fair and balanced circumstances.

The explosion of sound where silence reigned only moments before hit Rakhash in as tangible a manner as any physical one would. Instantly, he found his private world torn down, and reality flooding in around him. As the door to his cell came crashing open, the young man stared at the guards who had come to take him away. Standing at their order, he went along without struggle, deciding that, ultimately, it was better to be walking to some destination than to remain in that cell. Glancing ahead, Rakhash felt compassion for his friend as the guards treated her poorly, and of course, a desire to help her, but knew that now was neither the time nor the place to pick a fight.

Rakhash steeled himself in the face of this new development, and marched forward to meet his fate, and his enemies, in as powerful a manner as he could manage. Whatever the Rafao’s men believed they were about to receive, he would not provide them with a beaten opponent yet.

[Ashari]

Skills:

Advances:
Empathy: Basic + * (addition of one star)
Intimidation/Thuggery: Basic + *** (addition of three stars)
Streetwise: Basic + * (addition of one star)
Counseling: Apprentice + * (addition of two stars)
Persuade: Basic + ** (addition of two stars)

New:
Resolve: Basic
Inner Calm: Basic

IM/PM me if there is anything missing. I am ever accomodating.