Editing Tale of the Fallen Crusader (section)

===Part Two===

Alric was one of my more preferred towns, nice people, the occasional work, and hey, all the foxes I could hunt sat right outside!  I haven't been back there since the first time I was captured though, by Greyson and his group.  I've heard they're still after me, holding some vendetta or some such nonsense. Doesn't really matter, they won't catch me again.

Blackley was a town full of prospects for people like me.  Nice, urban area, crime abound, and many a man willing to pay to see his belongings back.  No one really noticed me here, even with my face on wanted posters they didn't have a chance at it.  You see, my captors... capturing, taught me a very important lesson about myself.  Holy magic and the flames of Crom were gone to me, though more eldritch means were WELL within my abilities.  Some called it black magic, I prefer to just call it helpful.

My hood covered my eyes, a bandanna over my mouth now, to ensure that no foolhardy 'hero' would see me for who I am.  I've taken to wearing a black, hooded longcoat.  It didn't really serve any purpose, but it certainly made me feel like the monster among man that the cleric saw me as.  A total bad ass.

For all the criminals in its catacombs, Blackley was a rather quiet city.  If anything, I'd guess that would be on purpose, its hard to be loud AND evil without a good laugh.  I stepped into the Bread & Bed inn, a name known round the countryside as a quality place to stay, and in this town, it wasn't bad in comparison.  "Evening, Clarke,"  came the innkeepers voice as I walked by, placing the night's pay for my room in front of him.  I never liked that name, but it was the first to come to mind as an alias.  I made my way for the tavern/main lobby of the Bread & Bed, taking a seat at the bar and motioning for a drink from the bartender.  He wordlessly filled a flagon and slid it in front of me, accepting the few coins I set down for him.  I sighed into my drink.

"Excuse me, sir.  Have we met?  I think I know you from somewhere."  I heard another patron sit next to me, tapping my shoulder with the question.

"Probably not.  I just have that kind of face."

"No, I KNOW you.  Take off that hood so I can get a look at you."  I sighed and prepared to get up to leave, before my hood was jerked from my head, pulling hair with it, the powerful hand twisted me to face its owner.  "Gabriel."  Oh shit.  I looked at the white clothed man, a circle within a square pendant hung from his neck.  The symbol of a paladin of Crom.  OH SHIT.

"I- uh, don't know any Abel, you have the wrong-"

"No, I know your face, Fallen.  I've been looking for you for some time."  He drew the arming sword at his hip, jabbing its point painfully against my chest over my heart.  "And now, Crom will have retribution."

"I've never known Crom to be a very vengeful-"  I was cut off as he twisted and tug his sword into my shirt, tearing the fabric and drawing a trickle of blood.  "Look, just calm down and let me explain."  The entire tavern was cowering at this point, after all, crossing a paladin of Crom in his duties would get them the same treatment.

"Explain what?  Your sickness doesn't concern me.  You murdered a man in cold blood and-"

"And now, you're here to do the same?"  The paladin's sneer contorted in rage.  He drew back, readying to sting forward and take my life.  He thrust his blade, though it reached a sudden stop before it could meet me, caught in my draining flagon.  I twisted the cup away, flinging his sword away from me, though his grip was stronger than I thought.

I kicked him with both legs in the chest, pushing him backwards and flipping myself over the bar.  'God damn that was bad ass.'  I thought, looking for an escape route from my hiding place under the bar's counter.  The paladin's sword pierced the bar, digging itself right beside my hunched form.  I dove from under the counter, making way for the storeroom door at the other end of the bar.

"Don't run, Fallen!"  His voice came from behind me, standing on the bar over where I was hidden.  I grabbed the doorknob to the store room.  I REALLY hope there's a back door in there.  Just as I dragged it open, golden flames brought my grip away, engulfing the door in a holy inferno.  I looked back to the smug paladin, who had retrieved his sword, holding the similarly burning blade ready to smite.

"This is your end.  Don't run again, accept your fate and accept retribution.  Maybe you won't suffer in his wrath for eternity.  Purgatory isn't out of the question..."  I smiled as he stepped in some of the remnants of spilled booze, many bottles having fallen during my 'great escape.'  I sucked in a great breath, his smile fading as I did so.

The fire wasn't hot, I couldn't muster anything lethal, but it was more than enough to ignite such flammable liquid.  He danced back as my breath brought life to the flames, his shoes and bottom of his pants legs catching fire as he did.

"Dragon breath?  You've turned to black magic in desperation?  YOU WILL BURN IN CROM'S WRATH."  He shouted over the crackle of my flames as his holy inferno on his blade and covering the door went out, leaving no burns on the tavern.  I fled into the store room.

As it turns out, the store room has no actual escape routes.  I say ACTUAL escape routes, because it wasn't difficult to make one.  The room I rented in the Bread & Bed actually sat right above the store room.  I shut and locked the storeroom door behind me, hopefully buying a few seconds.  Now I just have to get through the ceiling, and into my room!

Purple sparks glowed at my fingers and I blasted at the ceiling, however I was only rewarded with the sounds of creaking floorboards.  Black magic my ass, this was useless magic!  I looked around panicked, and was finally met with some good luck, a window!  I strained at the window, grunting at its resistance to my efforts.  It simply would not budge.  Thinking quickly, I wrapped my coat around my hand, punching through the glass window with ease, clearing off any remaining shards.  I leaped through the opening, ready to make a run for freedom.

***

The paladin burst through the door, sword once again blazing with his wrath.  It quickly went out as soon as he saw all that remained in the store room.  All he could see, was a pair of wriggling legs attempting to force themselves through the wall, his top half nowhere to be found.  His ass was stuck in the window.  The paladin stifled a chuckle as he exited the Bread & Bed, circling around to where his top half struggled for freedom.  And there he found him, pulling at the long grass as an anchor in an attempt to release his legs, though to no avail.  The paladin stood in front of him, sword resting on his shoulder.

"I thought that you might want to face me head on when I take your life."  He readied his sword again, as a muffled voice came from behind Abel.

'Don't worry, Clarke, I got ya!'  As the paladin's sword came down, it only dug into the grass and earth, Abel pulled inside by his legs, and out of harm's way.  "What the hell were ya doin' in mah window?"  Asked the innkeeper of the Bread & Bed.

"Thank Crom, my friend.  I was attempting to escape, I beat that man out there at cards, and believe you me:  he is a SORE loser."

"Ah, ya need a place tah stay, I got it, I'll move yer room so he can't find ya."  He sneaked Abel upstairs, the paladin busying himself with questioning of bar patrons, all of whom claimed Abel had run out right before he got there. 'Maybe Blackley isn't so bad,' I thought.

***

The sounds of screaming roared in the streets, terror and panic flooding through the roadways.  Abel covered his head with his pillow in an effort to fall back asleep, an attempt in vain, as the screaming only intensified, the sounds of a bestial screech blasting through the air.  After a few minutes enduring the chaos, he sat up, throwing his blanket to the side.  "What's a guy gotta do to get some sleep around here..."

He stepped outside, looking left and right for the source of the commotion, or even the paladin's familiarly murderous face.  No paladin anywhere.  'Probably off screaming with the rest of these blasted peasants,' I thought.  The charred corpse, cooked in its armor, hitting the cobblestone next to me told me otherwise.  He sighed, pulling on his longcoat with an overly theatrical swipe, hoping anyone who saw thought he looked as cool as he did.  He covered his mouth with a bandanna to protect his lungs from smoke, running into the streets to see the cause of the evident destruction.  The cause flew over his head twice now without his notice, however.

A dragon, its scales a golden and red hue in the light from the flames engulfing the buildings.  He was easily fifteen feet long, from nose to tail, its wingspan almost twice that.  Jets of flames spattered against building and into the crowds running from the city, scattering them and collapsing buildings.  Abel sighed again as it spotted him, heading towards the lone figure, flames licking at its maw.  "Looks like I'm done sleeping tonight."  A jet of flame stung towards him.

He leaped aside, flames barely catching the tail of his coat, which he promptly rolled to put out, landing on his stomach.  "Get DOWN here."  He flourished his hand, a spark of smoking purple exploding under the beasts wing, a plume knocking into the membrane.  It struggled in the air, desperate to regain altitude that it was rapidly losing.  However, its floundering efforts only led to it smashing down into the street, tearing the thin membrane that gave the dragon lift.  It looked to its torn appendages and looked almost offended back at Abel, as he casually made his way towards the dragon, stopping off at the well to take the bucket from it.

It roared at him, flames belching lightly into the air.  Abel only responded by sloshing the bucket of water.  It fired a blast to him, and he threw the bucket, a purple energy flowing from his hands into the water, changing the water from a splash into a torrent of electrified purple hose.  It easily dowsed the flames, and forced its way into the dragon's jaws, dowsing its lungs of flame.

It coughed and sputtered, smoke coming in thick black heaves from its mouth and nose.  Abel smiled, trying to think of all the ways he could 'take care of' this dragon.  'Wait,'  he thought.  'I don't KNOW how to kill it!  My fire breath can barely hurt a human, and I only heated up the air under its wing to bring it down, this water had already done all the damage it can do.  I don't even have my old sword, I left it behind when I fell.  I can't even conjure a new one, I can only make cloth!'  A horrid realization hit him like a ton of bricks.  'I don't actually know any lethal spells.'  An idea crossed his rushing mind, and he flourished his hand, a sword appearing there.  The dragon's eyes widened, as he continually stepped menacingly towards it. 

The tail of the dragon snaked its way out of sight into the wilderness around Blackley, and Abel smiled at his effective plan.  'The cloth wrapped in a sword shape made an excellent silhouette in the smokey darkness and firelight!  Good enough to fool a dragon, at least.'  The fires were going out on the homes and stores, and the rising sun did little to stop the looters.  'I think it's about time to get out of Blackley.'