Of Blood and Honor

[Kaden Asen]

Standing just beside the entrance to the stage, Thedran waited silently for the battle that would take place. With his heart hammering, he waited all the while his mind went through the mental exercise of checking and rechecking the details. He had the ribbons ready for the guests, and his sword of his prey.

"Lad, ye have our trust, but ye have to be damn sure no nobles are hurt in this trap."
The parting words of Captain Norton.

He had planned for every eventuality, he had gone so far as to suggest should the battle go poorly The Fist should destroy The White Mask, and everyone within, to ensure that the creature wouldn't survive. Short of his own personal preparations, there was little more he could manage. Now it was time for. . . Decency

The signal was given. . .

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as his adrenaline kicked in, and a more primal side of his nature took over. This was a call for killing, and the killer he once was resurfaced to handle the business.. . His slow and measured steps took him into the center stage, to his left stood a performer, with the crowd scattered through the theater in front of him.

The shock of seeing a fully armed, more so openly drawn sword lost it's shock quickly as the heavy drapes lining the theater were pulled free. Exposed were rows, upon rows of mirrors. Again time slowed and Thedran observed his prey, one of the men covered himself in his cloak. . .and did not reflect, the second remained calm in the confusion and made no sign of panic.

"Vampire!"

The word exploded through his mind, for weeks he had quietly hunted the beast. Had watched all but helplessly as he people were butchered like cattle, had lived in fear of the beast's presence looming over his home and the dozens of people he couldn't protect. A lord of it's kind, rumored to be all but invincible to mortal men. Thedran's eyes locked the man, who reflected in the mirror, and who returned what seemed to be an almost mocking stare. . . .

- - - - -

Hours later, Thedran sat in one of the many cells he had often used as a guardsman. Except this time he sat as a prisoner. His failure had been complete, not only had the beast escaped it had left many dead in it's wake and those deaths fell heavy on his heart. He had striven with all he had to spare as many as he could, yet with all his prowess he had saved only one man, and gods only knew what his condition would be when the sun rose.

He sat silently on the edge of the worn bunk, the look upon Duke Eltan's face. . .the realities that Duke Silvershield had revealed were crushing. Not only had he failed, he had betrayed his word, -and- put his city in jeopardy of going hungry through an already impossible winter. The trade with Tethyr was vital to keep Baldur's Gate from starving through the winter, he was aware of it and what it would mean if things could not be squared with the once friendly nation.

As he sat reflecting, he couldn't hold back the bitter tears of shame that started to fall down his cheeks. He prayed to Helm for death, he would accept damnation if it ment never facing The Lord General's disappointment ever again. Shortly after he lost control he heard the lock of his cell click. . .and came instantly to his feet, in a attempt to regain his composure.

"Commander" He offered, Scar a curt nod, and blinked his bloodshot eyes repeatedly to stop the tears.

Scar motioned him outside of the cell, and Thedran quickly spoke on a impossible method by which the court could prove their innocence in killing a noble. Scar smiled slightly, and shook his head.

"I believe ye bo and more importantly so does the Old Man. Still, ye know we can't use that to prove it. . . Scar's face fell The Dukes are gonna sell ya down the river lad, they are gonna lay the blame on you, and let the others go free.

Thedran's heart sank, and he started to speak before he was cut off quickly.
Put these on. . .

Thedran stared at the drab, and common street clothes that seemed to appear from behind Scar's back.

Your gonna run boy, get away from here. The guards are distracted and you will have a clear path to the sewer grates. Go south, to Amn. Hells I hear Cormyr is nice this time of year.

Thedran could only stare at him wordlessly, and choke back the cry of pain that rushed to try and escape his lips.

-This- won't show you a kind reception next we see you. . .
Scar motioned to the mark of The Flaming Fist on his uniform

All he could do was nod silently, still in a state of shock as he quickly changed. Scar had stopped speaking, and watched him silently. After he had finished and stood garbed in common clothing, Thedran found his voice.

No. . . .I'll find it Commander, and I'll -finish- it. I 'd. . .

Scar cut him off with another strained smile
I know lad. . . but before ye go, you have to make me look pretty. . . If you make it look good, perhaps The Old Man will give me a day off!

Scar went through the motions of putting up his fists as if to fight Thedran. . . .it took several gentle "requests" before Thedran could bring himself to strike, Scar.

"Ye bleeding Bastard! After all I've done!
With that Thedran swung, measuring his might so he didn't injure Scar. The shout echoed down the hall, to be heard by any close.

After striking one of the few men that had cared for him . . .Thedran turned, and ran down the dark jail corridor, his hot tears falling behind him. He knew the way well, he had used it before. He found the appropriate grate and slide down into the darkness.