Sfein : fugitive

[wyrdgirluk]

Sfein and Dorian stood on the ridge of the building, overlooking the jail; in the street below a mob pointed and shouted at them, and a few threw missiles that clattered on the tiles beside them.

Dorian pursed his lips; "Not a lot we can do for your lady friend, old horse," he said sympathetically. "But we can do something for ourselves. I think we should leave, don't you?" He turned his head slowly, as if taking his bearings, then pointed; "That way. Over the roofs, and then down. I have friends. They will give us food and shelter. Come with me."

[Guest]

For a moment he stood as if frozen by a Throthgardian Freeze that suddenly can break an early springtime thaw in that barren place that he called home.

"I'll find something Airedell!" he shouted.
Then he followed this Dorian.

[wyrdgirluk]

Dorian clambered along the ridge, until he reached the gap between the house they were on and the houses across the street. Thetimbered houses of Dort were built in a staggered fashion, so that the upper storeys jutting out towards their counterparts on the opposite side of the street. It was a simple matter of crossing from one house to another... as long as you were careful.

Some of the crowd that had gathered outside the prison tried to follow Sfein and Dorian as they moved deftly from one roof to the next, but it was easier to cross empty rooftops than to try and follow by busy streets, and they soon lost their pursuers.

Eventaully Dorian drew to a halt, breathing slightly, then pointed to a large, semi-derelict building; "That's where we're going to, old horse. Now, stay close, and let me do the talking, there's a good fellow."

Dorian made a final jump a flat section of roof that lead on to the semi derelict warehouse. There was a heavy iron grille in the roof; Dorian nodded towards it. "Be a good fellow, and lift that up, will you? Don't want to put my back out, y'know."

[Guest]

"So that is what I am, a bunch of muscles that better remains silent eh?" he grunted while grabbing the iron grille. He positioned his feet as much as possible each on one side of the grille, as the strongest lift would have to come from his legs.
After a deep breath, he pulled.

[wyrdgirluk]

"Haven't seen anything to suggest otherwise," Dorian replied with a grin. The heavy iron grille lifted out with surprising ease; Dorian lowered himself down into the resultant hole, and lowered himself into darkness. There was a muffled thump, a muttered curse, and then Sfein heard him; "Come on down. There's a bit of a drop to the bottom - nothing you can't handle, though..."

[Guest]

Bryn lowered himself into the hole after Dorian, but before he let go, he asked:
"A drop. Deep enough so that I can't put this grille back in place from there?"

[wyrdgirluk]

"Indeed," Dorian called back up. "Leave the grille in place, there's a good fellow. We'll have someone put it back in place later."

Removing the grille allowed Sfein's keen eyes to make out some of what he was lowering himself into; a small chamber, with a worn wooden floor. Other than that, and Dorian's face grinning back up at him, it was difficult to tell what lay beyond. It was either a matter of finding out, or taking his chances on the rooftops of Dort...

[Guest]

Since he had followed Dorian so far, he lowered himself into the dark space, next to his strange companion.

[wyrdgirluk]

It was a small drop - maybe the length of a man's arm - to the floor of the room. Once down, it took a flicker for his eyes to adjust fully.

It was a small, worn chamber, empty aprt from Dorian - and another man, almost as tall as Sfein, and easily as broad. He was shaven headed, with a face as lined and as pitted as the wooden floorboards on which he stood. A leather cosh lay in one hand as he eyed the Trothgardian.

"Who are you?" he enquired in an unfriendly voice. Dorian made to answer, and the shaven headed man growled him down. "He's got a tongue in his head, ain't he? Now let him use it."

[Vanadius]

OOC: Archived due to player inactivity and retirement.