The #Broken_Dagger Forum

"I'm gonna find her! I will! I'm going to find her and kill her! Her and that other bastard with that damned sword! As soon as I get out of here, they are dead!"

Shouts came down the hall, as they always did in the Gaol before the criminals were hauled to their proper places pending their charges. The guardsman on duty, a younger fellow who had been with the Order for a year and a half now shook his head, remarking to his partner while they sat on watch.

"He's a noisy fellow."

His partner nodded. "Aren't they always?"

"I suppose. Did you read what that guy's in for?"

"Yeah. All sorts of things."

"...who in their right mind tries to hold up the Broken Dagger, anyway? Both of his buddies got killed. He's lucky he only managed a headwound."

"Who brought him in?"

"Oh, a new patrol. I don't remember his name. M-something. Sounds like a nut."

The young guardsman's partner produced the report from a stack on the desk between them, skimming it over. "Seymor Smith."

The young guardsman chuckled. "They don't even try to fake their names creatively anymore, do they?"

"Nope."

"Well, he'll be in there for a while. Let's hope he calms down..."

* * * *

The tall thug continued pounding on the metal bars caging him in, yelling about the folks he'd encountered in the Broken Dagger. The gypsy and that katana-weilding fellow, mostly, as they were the only two he could remember. He did not tire himself with the noisemaking, resting every so often. Just enough to keep the guards under the impression that they were.

...it would make future events that much more surprising for them.

The Gypsy wouldn't be hard to find..Either at the place in question or the Waystation...Which was where she was at the moment, in the back office listening as a young boy told her about the surviving member of the would be Robbers from the previous night. She wasn't all to concerned but she likes to keep tabs on those who got away....And thanks to those blasted Guards he has for the moment fallen into that catagory.

A nod her and there, as she is again surprised at the boys knack for gaining information....But then again most people don't notice childern about, nor do they usual take the time to watch what they say around them...

The usual payment is handed off to him, and as he departs she makes a note to track down Jirai, she has a feeling she could convince the Drowess to keep an eye on the Gaol, for the right price of course..

She wants to know the moment something happens in reguards to their newest "guest"...

Its no small matter when soeone simply walks away from a fight with the Gypsy..After all she has a reputation to protect...

Seymor, as the name he had given them, waited patiently in his cell. He'd stopped slamming on the bars a day or so ago, having no more reason to do so; the guards had him profiled, boxed and wrapped with a nice little bowtie identification. For that, they were unawares. Which is what he needed.

Footsteps approached; Seymor felt a pull to stand at the bars and see who was coming, but he held himself in check. The sound grew louder, and finally the bronze-skinned guardsman came into view. Masaccio never even glanced at the thug when he tossed him the small needle-esk dagger shaving; nor did the thug thank or give any acknowledgement for it. That's not what they were here for; for no reason was this any act of compassion or friendship.

Masaccio continued down the hall, and Seymor waited for him to disappear around a corner before working on his cell's lock. They were tough locks, by relative standards, but Seymor was well-trained with them in mind. It wouldn't take him long; and once the lock was no longer locked, Seymor hid the shard and waited for the next guardsman to patrol.

* * *

It would be no more than ten minutes when somebody would find the bodies, two of them at the desk with their throats cut and another laying next to the thug's open cell. It would be fairly doubtless as to whom to put the blame. But that was none of Seymor's concern; dodging and dipping into the shadows, and using his lack of recognition to feign himself a victim to gain access to the Barracks, Seymor eventually came to a door clearly marked Captain Thomas Daniels.

Captain Thomas Daniels lay in a cot in the Edificium Rememdium, staring up at the ceiling. The blonde guardsman was wrapped up considerably in bandage materials, as he was for a few days, now. Feeling was beginning to return to his right arm, albeit slowly; the doctor was surprised the captain was doing so well in recovery. Evidentially, the bolt and struck several important...somethings. Thomas couldn't remember. It didn't matter much, now, anyway; on the one hand, Thomas would get his arm back, but on the other, he wouldn't be able to fight with it for a long time. Not that this fact so much distressed the captain.

What distressed him is the directness in the prisoner's assault. The man had to not only escape from his cell, but kill three guards and move to an entirely new building without detection.

Suffice to say, it was pretty clear the criminal had an agenda. And equally clear that he was not working alone.

* * *

Seymor sat upright against the cold, stone wall. There was no escape for him after his attack on the captain; he'd barely even fired the bolt before he was tackled to the floor, ruffed up some, dragged back into the cell, beaten a little, and locked up once more. It was ironic that the guardsman Masaccio was the one to cut him open in several places on his face, many of which had dried by now.

The two men standing outside his cell were unknown to him, but their Straka uniforms were all the thug really saw, anyway. All he needed to see. The two stood, turned away and speaking in quiet tones. Seymor knew; they figured, as Daniels had, that he was not working alone. He made no attempt to hide it. When, finally, the pair turned to him, he met their gaze without hesitation.

"Finally figured out what you're going to say?" Seymor asked, mockingly.

"We want to know why you went after the captain."

"I was told to."

"Oh? By whom?"

"You should know, by now."

"Indulge me."

"You call yourselves the protector of Myrken Wood? Listen, it's pretty obvious. Three of five of the council are dead or assumed so; the captain is shot, and a wall is currently being built around Myrkentown. Aided by whom?"

The two guardsmen looked to each other, contemplating. They had not pushed the idea from their minds, but now the thug was certainly pushing towards it.

"You know. The Baron of Almark, Kerrak al'Nerun."

"He had you assassinate the captain?"

Seymor smiled. He was unsure up until now that he had successfully killed the captain. The guard's careless words proved it. In this, the thug underestimated the guards interrogating him.

"Yes. More room for him, don't you think?"

"That seems much too obvious. And why are you telling us all that?"

"He betrayed me. I wasn't supposed to be caught again; there was supposed to be people in place to help me escape. What good can money do me in here? I'm a dead man. I might as well bring the bastard responsible for it down with me."

The interrogation went on without revealing much more of importance. It was, of course, recorded by one of the guardsman word for word.