In a flash, Judoc comprehends the entirety of this laughable farce. One man was tasked with luring Judoc out, pulling him into this mousetrap.  The other man was to come behind and seal him off, then knock him out with whatever was on that rag.  Frustrating.  If these buffoons had been better at their job, he wouldn't need to rough them up.  Of course, they could just be planning to dump his body in the lake and be done with it.

"Trying to sneak up behind me?  How brave of you,"  Judoc says and turns to meet the man creeping up on him.  What is in that bundle of rags?  Chemicals, no doubt, meant to render him unconscious.  "Can we talk about this like reasonable men?"

OOC:  Turn to fully face the other man trying to sneak up behind Judoc.  Edge toward the street if possible for more room to maneuver.   All-out Defense.

Barreling towards Judoc, the new man grasps wildly for Judoc's face, which Judoc easily avoids with a simple step backwards into the street behind him.  The man whirls about, half expecting to be surprised with a swat from Judoc's staff although the strike never comes.  The man adjusts his movement, trying to circle around to the right.

"Just want to talk to Thresher eh?  We've heard about you!"  The man nearly spits, looking for an opening to reach out to Judoc again.

Ahead down the alleyway, the bald man is running toward him as well, and Judoc has little time to act if he wishes to continue only facing one man...

OOC:  If you wish to try and continue to talk your way out of this engagement, you may roll against diplomacy...  Your base modifier is going to be a -2, but you may be penalized or given a bonus based on how good your argument is.  I realize that this probably wouldn't fit into 2 seconds of conversation, but who said everything had to be accurate?  Give two rounds of combat action as well even if you do want to try diplomacy just in case your argument doesn't stick.  You have your back to the side of the street which is 2 yards away.  The new man is at your left 11 o'clock for 2 yards, the bald man is at your 12 o'clock for 10 yards and closing quickly.

"I hope you've heard of me.  I could have killed him in the arena.  That's what they wanted.  But I didn't."  Judoc does his best to keep both men in front of him.  If he needs to, he can just take to the air again, but they might flee, intimidated of Judoc the Vengeful.  This is the closest he's gotten to Thresher so far, and he doesn't want to waste this opportunity to draw the man out of hiding, stage his assassination attempt, and really sell it.  Graves probably doesn't give a grade for effort, though.  The Templar no doubt wants results.  Well, Judoc doesn't intend to be the man's executioner unless he has no other option.

And where is Thresher while all this is going down?  No doubt these two's job was to overwhelm Judoc, restrain him.  Would they have killed him?  Nah, he would have figured otu some way to get away.  Judoc bets Thresher is somewhere nearby.  If he can only get Tweedledee and Tweedledum here to show him the way, he'll be set.

OOC:  Take a step back toward the street.  Try Diplomacy.

Judoc tries his hand at staying the violence, attempting to talk the other men down, though his efforts do little to ease their fighting stance.

"Arena?"  The man with the leather jacket snorts, bewildered.  Stepping around again to the right trying to gain a corner on Judoc, forcing Judoc to turn and retreat yet again.  "You've been found out fighting man.  Some snitch already let on that you want to kill Thresher!"

The man reaches out with his left hand, trying to grab Judoc by the arm, though he manages to jerk his hand back just in time to avoid the snare.

"Watch out!"  The bald man adds, slowing as he gets close to Judoc's range with the staff.  "He's a mage."

OOC:  I gave you a retreating dodge which managed to stave off the grapple attempt by Leather Jacket.  You are now directly aligned with the street, with your back facing the way you ran from earlier.  Leather Jacket is at 1 yard range at your left 11 o'clock and bald man is at 2 yards at your right 1 o'clock.  Diplomacy did not seem to work, but nothing says you can't continue your arguments.

Sneering, Judoc says, "The Templars have been trying to recruit people to kill Thresher.  One kid went into hiding rather than do it.  Believe me, I don't want to kill the man."  He continues to back up.

What he says is true - Judoc would rather not kill Thresher if he can help it.  It would render everything that transpired in the arena moot.  He had magnanimously spared the other man's life, and to take it now seems absurd.  Still, if there is no other way, then Thresher might have to be sacrificed for Judoc's future.  There's always another way, he thinks.  Perhaps it is time for a different plan.

OOC:  Give ground back into the street as needed.  Talk, and then begin to cast.

Judoc has little tolerance for these cretins, spitting his words at them even as they close.  The bald man reaches out to grab and Judoc and deftly he swings his body away, giving more ground back into the street to keep the men from encircling him.  Leather jacket too, reaches out to grab him and Judoc neatly swats away the greedy hand with a swat of his staff.  The blow cracks against the man's knuckles hard, and though the man winces with pain he seems little the worse for wear.

Now Judoc releases the staff with his left hand bringing the surrounding mana close in to him and gesturing mildly with his fingers as he speaks the words of power.

"Don't you dare!"  The bald man shrieks, coming at Judoc with both hands as if to shove him hard in the chest.  Judoc again manages to stave off the attack with a twisting of his body, though this time he is not so lucky against his second foe.

The man with the leather jacket reaches out with both hands, knocking Judoc's staff aside with his left as he wraps one arm around the shoulder and the other one, the one bearing the heavy cloth, around Judocs face!

OOC:  Sorry for the lag, here's the summary of action.  On turn 1 you successfully did a retreating dodge against bald man, and had a successful parry against leather jacket (resulting in some damage to his hand).  On your turn you took your left hand off the staff (to cast flight) and failed your will roll to cast the spell.  On turn two (noticing you were casting) both combatants took an all out attack to try and disrupt you, you dodged one, but couldn't fend off the second.  You are currently grappled about the shoulders (his left hand) and face (his right hand) and he has maneuvered to behind you in the process.  Note that you may not cast any spells you know at less than a 15 skill without speaking.  If you wish to keep from breathing in, you may roll against HT to hold your breath (just once).  If you want, you can give me your general intentions and I will keep the fight moving until there is a significant change or we can keep working it out in two turn increments, up to you.

This is why battle mages travel with soldiers.  Here Judoc is, out in the middle of the city, looking for a man Graves wants dead because the Templar can't be arsed to do it himself, his staff out of his hands, and these idiots messing about with jackets.   He shouts in anger, but his cries are muffled in the garment's cloth.  He twists his body, trying to get free of the grapple.  He jabs backward with his elbows, trying to hurt his assailant enough for the man to let go.

OOC:  Try to break free!  Keep trying to break free, interspersed with random elbow swings, kicks, or knee jabs.  No need to play this out in 2-second increments.

Judoc thrashes about wildly to remove the dry rag from his face, trying to thrust his hips forward while rolling his body, smashing the man behind him with his elbows, or stomping down viciously with his heels, but the man with the leather jacket only slides his left arm about Judoc's neck, completing the hold and the vicelike grip.  The bald man in front of him seems to mostly avoid the conflict, only grabbing for Judoc's staff to remove the weapon from the equation.

It is several seconds of struggle before Judoc's lungs burn and his eyes are popping various dots of purples and green that flee to the edge of his vision whenever he attempts to focus on something else.  Desperate for air, his lungs burning and his diaphragm convulsing in ineffective spasms, Judoc makes one last valiant attempt to tear the man's grip from his face, inadvertently sucking for a breath of air with the effort.  As the pastel dots in his vision swell to the size of cantaloupes, he can only think that all he tastes on the kerchief is sweat...

The last thing Judoc remembers is his hands only inches from his face, grasping about his cheekbones with slow and easy movements as everything plummets into a gray void...

---

Taste is the sensation that first affects Judoc as he comes to consciousness.  Not the throbbing headache reverberating between his temples (although he would notice that soon enough) nor the dim light cast upon the back of his eyelids nor the wisp of smoke that dances about the room, but the budding pressure on the back of his throat and tongue, the salty tang dancing about the edges of his mouth, and the cold burning of his dry, cracked, lips.

A single breath in causes several more reactions...  As he attempts to reposition his tongue he dry coughs, though the shock of the air is muffled and stilled by the fistful of cloth made damp by his own saliva.  Judoc's jaw aches dully, having been forced open and leveraged that way for some unknown time, stoppered by the gag flooding Judoc's mouth.

The movement kicks Judoc's brain back into wakefulness, though it only throws the sharp pains arcing through his head into sharp relief.  Involuntarily, Judoc's whole body winces to find several more inconveniences.  He is sitting - on something.  His arms sinched behind him and fixed close to his body while his legs are also tied to some base.  His forarms are tied together savagely from midway all the way to the wrist, the thin ropes already digging into his skin uncomfortably.  Aside from that, he is blindfolded.

The short coughing fit garners attention, and Judoc can hear heavy footsteps approaching.

"Well, I suppose he had to eventually come around."  Judoc hears a familiar voice - though he can't place it...  "I'm going to remove your blindfold and gag, I wouldn't make any attempts to get up or cast spells, it won't go well for you.  Nod your head if you understand."

OOC:  The above settled out over about 12 turns of action.  You came devilishly close, but never managed to break the grapple and eventually succumbed to unconsciousness.  I disagreed somewhat the rules on the matter, and decided you were not required to get to -HP (through loss of FP) before falling unconscious and simply had you do so when you missed your first will roll to take an action.  You have just come back to consciousness and though you feel highly uncomfortable you have regained all lost fatigue and suffered no damage.  Your wrists are tied together and then tied to the back of your chair, it seems your legs are also fixed to the legs of your seat.  You are gagged and blindfolded and have a splitting headache which is putting you at -1 to DX and IQ while it remains.  Note that you will be under a penalty to cast any spells you do not know at 16 skill (-1 for temporary loss of IQ to make 15 effective skill) due to your restrained arms, though your fingers are somewhat free to move.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 22:47, Thu 30 Mar 2017.

What - what happened?  The thought comes sluggishly, as if from a great distance.  Judoc can't see anything.  His throat hurts.   Salt.  Cold.  He had been looking for Thresher, he thinks.  Had he found him?  What had happened next?  Judoc finds that he does not know.

Something in his mouth.  A cloth, a gag.  The men!  They did this to him!  He strains to move, but he cannot.  His arms, his legs.   He strains again, and pain is the only response.  A blindfold covers his face.

Someone's coming.  Heavy footsteps.  A man?  Someone familiar.  Threats.  He nods his head.  Better to see who has him first.  He'll need to be free.   What happens next will be interesting.

OOC:  Cooperate for now.

With a fluid motion the blindfold comes off first, although Judoc's vision is still cast in a painfully bright blur that causes him to squint his eyes and shudder slightly to the left away from the source.  The gag is also pulled which let's Judoc close his mouth to find the full, sticky extent of his dehydration.  His jaw aches dully and he moves the joint forward, letting the muscle stretch somewhat, though he would rather rub the sore spots with his fingers...

Slowly, his vision comes back to focus as his eyes adjust to the light...  He wonders how long he has been unconscious.

"Odd thing."  The man standing in front of Judoc starts even before Judoc can entirely place himself, or recognize the speaker.  "A few days ago we found a small slip of paper, wedged in the door of one of our safehouses, telling us there was a student out to kill a friend of mine..."

Even before the world completely materialized before him he places the voice with the match in his memory.  It was months ago, tucked into an alley, he had been cut off by a youth whom he had thought was there to attack him...

"All the more odd because I'm pretty there is only one place where a student was would want to kill Thresher and I can't think of many friends we have there...  In fact, I can only think of one maybe.  This starting to sound familiar to you Judoc?  Cause I was pretty damn sure it was you that left the note, at least until tonight."

The stranger stands in front of him, slightly stooped with his hands on his knees as he looks down upon Judoc.  A cloth shirt and leather vest hang off his lean body, his shaggy brown hair and unkempt stubble offset by shocking blue eyes.  Behind him, in the far corner of the room sits the bald man from earlier this evening, leaning forward on a chair like a noble peering down from his box onto the floor of the arena, his eyes focused and attentive.

"So why do I hear that it is you who is one who is seeking him out if you were so keen to help in the first place?"

OOC:  You are in an 9' by 9' room with very little in it.  If you imagine yourself in the bottom left corner facing up, the stranger is right in front of you in a semi crouched position.  The bald man is on the north wall sitting in his chair, about a foot or two away from the door which is on the east wall.  Hanging from the east wall next to the door is a gas lantern providing all the light.  There are no windows.  Please make a reaction roll, or a social skill (fast talk / diplomacy) roll of your choice.  While there are a few modifiers, they pretty much end up canceling each other out.  Also, I think I mentioned this last time, but if you desire to cast a spell, you may cast spells you know at 16 and above with only the -1 for lost IQ (headache).  Spells you know at 15 or less will be further penalized since you don't have the full use of your hands and fingers, so please don't post any results of spells if you choose to cast them.

More memories flood back to Judoc now.  He remembers the tavern, and the chase.  He remembers the jacket pulled over his head, not doused with chemicals to knock him out as he had thought, but with a similar effect.  And he remembers this man.  The alley.  It all comes together now.

Judoc looks stupidly at his interrogator for a moment as his brain catches up to speed.  He licks his dry lips.  "Ah, can I get - can I get something to drink?  Please."  He blinks his eyes, still not used to the light, and looks from the interlocuter to the bald man, the bait in the trap that has caught one young mage.

"Yes, well.  About all that."  Judoc's throat is parched, his lips dry.   "Yes, the note was from me.  I was, ah, warning you about me, yes.  And others they might send."  He licks his lips, tasting the salt.  "See, they want Thresher dead.  So I told them I'd do it."  He tests his bonds, still tight, his arms behind me.  "Looks like I didn't succeed."

All of this was going according to plan, he thinks.  Well, he hadn't planned on being captured, of course, but they hadn't killed him yet.  The note had done its work.  Thresher's crew had been put on alert, they had taken Judoc, and now, here, they are grilling him, trying to understand the conundrum Judoc has placed before them.  Why save Thresher's life and then hunt for him to kill him?  Why leave a warning and sabotage his own efforts?  Is Judoc nuts?  "I had to sell it.  I had to make it look like I was hunting him.  But I don't actually want him dead."  Not if there are other options, anyway.  And there's always another way.

OOC:  Roll vs. Diplomacy.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:10, Fri 31 Mar 2017.

As Judoc asks for water, the stranger looks over his shoulder at the bald man.  "Baccus, get it."  The bald man stands from his seat and leaves the room through the door, revealing the small corner of another room beside, and the north wall continuing in the same fashion until it disappears behind the doorpost.

Judoc begins his story in snippets and half sentences, it only takes the stranger a moment to wrinkle his face like he sucked on a lemon, and when Judoc finishes, he closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly as if batting away a pesky fly.

"Stop," He cuts Judoc off, though the young mage had really already finished for the moment.  "Just stop, they wanted him dead so you told them you would do it?"  His face and eyebrows raise slightly, creating wide creases in his forehead.  "What the fuck were you doing skulking around like that?  You are lucky it was Baccus who found you and not someone else, you could have easily been killed!  What the fuck is this all for if you don't actually want to kill him?"

The bald man, Baccus, walks back in the room with a water skin that he hands to the stranger who tips the drink back into Judoc's mouth for a lengthy pull.

OOC:  Lucky for you Diplomacy doesn't hurt you if you fail like fast talk or sex appeal.  Still, you are far from out of the woods.

Swallowing the water greedily, Judoc slakes his thirst.  In hindsight, it had been a pretty odd plan, and its genius probably seemed incomprehensible to an outside observer.

When he finishes swallowing, he says, "It was supposed to be my final test of the year.  Graves ordered me to kill Thresher.  Another student had been asked before, and he left to go to the Jesuits rather than go through with it."

"The way I saw it, I had a few different options.  I could have left school altogether and my training, or I could have agreed to do it and killed Thresher.   I wanted Graves to think that I had tried by failed."  What would that mean for his education?  The worst that could happen as he saw it was that he'd be dismissed from the College.  Was that worth sparing a life?  He doesn't know Thresher, not really.  He's heard the Templars' stories, and this friend of Thresher's, but he doesn't know the complete story.  Maybe Thresher is worthy of death.  Maybe he's killed and robbed and raped.  But if he is simply a thorn in the Templars' side, an adversary to Graves's ambitions of power, then why should Judoc kill him?

"What I hoped to happen was for me to come across Thresher, to attack him, but to have him escape.  I would have failed my test, but I would have given what looked like my best attempt.  Perhaps I could have stayed on with my training at that point."  This current outcome wasn't terrible, all things considered.  Judoc had searched for Thresher, had found people connected to him, but had been ambushed and captured.  He had tried and failed.  "But it's better that I took this assignment than someone less principled.  There are other students who are almost as talented as I am at the College, students with less qualms about following orders.  Graves wants Thresher dead for his own reasons.  After I fail, he will send others."

As it dawns upon the stranger what has actually transpired - the meeting with Graves, the order of murder, the implied threat of violence or displacement - he places a single hand on his face as he exhales heavily.  "We should have seen this coming.  They used students as murderers in the arena, why wouldn't they use them as murderers out in town?"

The stranger thinks for several moments, before he simply gives up.  "I have to tell the master."  He mentions over his shoulder to Baccus.  "I'm leaving you with him for now.  Don't let him leave until I get back."  And with that stranger whisks around and heads out the door, closing it behind him.

"Don't think I'm not watching you!"  Baccus threatens, leaning back in his chair as he folds his arms tersely across his upper belly.

OOC:  You are now alone in the room with Baccus.  If you wish, you may roll vs. Escape skill to try and slip your ropes (either on your hands, or on either foot)  You may also attempt to cast spells, although there will most likely be a penalty to anything you cast below skill 16, so please do not post results of the spell if you roll.  You can also attempt to talk to Baccus and use influence rolls as appropriate.  Alternative you can wait for the stranger to come back, or anything else you can think of.

Judoc watches Thresher's pal leave and resigns himself to the fact that he's going to be here for a while.  They'll no doubt come back and try to recruit him into their organization.  Why not?  A brilliant young mage such as himself would be an ideal asset to whatever group these guys represent.  Not that it would make sense for Judoc to join them, however.  Why should he?  He'll go back to the College, explain what happened, conveniently leave out the bit where he told Thresher's gang why he was hunting for Thresher, and continue in his studies, chastened, humbled, appropriately contrite for his failure here.

Or Graves could cut him loose.  Well, Judoc will cross that brook when he comes to it.

Now, however, there's the matter of these bonds.  He doesn't fancy staying trussed up like this until the man returns, so he says, "Listen, Baccus, I'm not going anywhere until he comes back.  If you untie me, I give you my word that I won't try to escape or attempt to use magic until you say I can.  I didn't want to hurt you in the alley, and I wouldn't dream of doing so now."

OOC:  Try Diplomacy again if it's allowed, or Fast Talk if Judoc's already used Diplomacy as much as he can on Baccus.

Baccus sneers at Judoc's words seeming to take especial offence at Judoc's claim that he didn't want to hurt Baccus in the alley.  "You was castin!  We saw you.  An they said you threw all sorts of fireballs at Thresher in the arena."  Baccus settles in, his arms still crossed as he makes himself, if possible, even more comfortable in his reclined pose.

Judoc is incensed, he doesn't know how the words are coming to him, only that he knows he is saying the right thing.

"Listen, Baccus.  I think they mentioned that I've been here for a little bit?  Well, my right hand has been numb since I woke up, and my left feels like it has a thousand needles stabbing it from all directions.  Now, I think they told you to take care of me?  How do you think they are going to treat you if they find out my hands have both have nerve damage from lack of blood flow?"  Judoc ends his diatribe with a short jerk of his chin as if to say it's your funeral.

Baccus seems shocked by the words and it takes him several seconds to try and form a counter argument in his head.  Of course, Judoc was lying, his hands were decidedly not going numb, but he had a feeling that Baccus wasn't the brightest man this organization had to offer.

"Fine, I'll loosen your ropes up, but that's it!"  Baccus seems uncertain of even this, so for the moment, Judoc does not press the subject.  He works his way around Judoc, sliding his chair forward just enough to get at the ropes binding Judoc's hands and slowly but surely he works the ropes to loosen the bonds...

OOC:  I had you roll a default against fast talk (this is basically what that skill is built for) and you smoke checked it, but I still thought it realistic that he wouldn't entirely untie you.  So this is my compromise.  I took some liberties with your character that I don't normally like doing, so let me know if you feel it is out of character and I will change it if needed.  I left it here because you didn't specifically say you were going to wait until the stranger got back.  Consider all escape rolls at +3 due to the loosened ropes, and spells known at 13+ are now at no penalty (other than the -1 for your headache).  If you plan on taking further action feel free to post it, otherwise please let me know you are waiting.

Smiling in what Judoc hopes is his most agreeable manner, Judoc tries to make himself more comfortable, as comfortable as a mage can who is still restrained.  "You have nothing to fear from me, Baccus," he says placatingly.  "Yes, it is true that I am an incredibly gifted mage, but on my honor, I won't try to escape."

Not that Judoc wouldn't try if he could, but he's curious to see what happens next.  Thresher's friend had mentioned a master.  Was this these guys' ringleader?  Who might he be?  Trying to escape now isn't going to earn him any more points with Graves, and it would certainly piss off these guys more.  Besides, Judoc wants to see who this master of theirs is.  Maybe he'll have some insight into why Graves is so hot on having an ordinary thug like Thresher killed.

OOC:  Fully cooperate for the present.

Judoc waits.  He waits longer than he had expected.  The times passes in slow, viscous drops as Judoc battles both his discomfort and boredom.  At moments he attempts to talk again to Baccus, though the bald man seems ardently avoiding any more contact as if he is second guessing his decision to loosen the man's ropes already.  Judoc's head nods in tiredness and the tugging ropes on his forearms are the only things that keep him from falling asleep in his chair.

He does not know how long it is he waits, but he is sure they are well into the night.

The thudding of footsteps brings Judoc to alertness once again.  Judoc can hear voices outside the doorway...  Though the muffled walls of the room obscure the details, it is not difficult to know that most of the words are spat in anger.   But the voices pass nearer, and he begins to pick up the first hints of conversation...

"...This is bullshit Caana!  How can they expect me..."

"It is out of my hands Thresher!"  Another voice cuts off the first.  Baccus's eyes flash open as he straightens himself in his chair, looking at the doorway to his left.  "Now Enough!"  Judoc jumps in his seat as the door is thrown open roughly, Baccus vaults backwards, nearly tipping himself over with surprise.

The stranger is back, whipping through the door with a crackling haste, his body is rigid and his eyes burning.  Only a few steps behind him, Thresher walks into the doorway though he stops with only half of his body exposed.  Like his friend, Judoc's arena foe is tense, his jaw clenched and jutting out violently as his eyes sweep from his friend directly towards Judoc where they stay, staring him down with an unblinking, steely expression.

"I told you to reach us if you needed a favor."  The stranger starts, cutting off any festering argument Thresher may have been planning.  "Well you need it.  Here are your options.  We hide Thresher, you look like you have done your job and everything goes back to normal.  But now you work for us - you do what you are told and you thank us for our generosity."  The words are clipped, though as he pauses he shifts his gaze to Thresher, rather than keeping yours.

"Or you leave now, never to return.  We will not hide Thresher, though you can say with honesty that you tried at your task and failed.  Make your choice now, we do not have time to waste...  We believe that we are already being watched."

OOC:  If you had to guess you would say that over an hour has passed since you initially woke up...  Adding that to whatever amount of time you were unconscious, you would say it is late, though you aren't sure exactly what time it is.

Time drags on.  What could they be discussing?  The solution seems obvious to Judoc.  Return, thank him profusely for not killing murdering Thresher as he had been told to do, apologize for the rough treatment, make arrangements for Thresher to disappear, and then let him go.  Obviously this was the best course of action, unless these folks are idiots.

Judoc thinks back to the brief discussion in the alley.  He's fairly sure these men are what's left of Murderers' Row, which was apparently an unlicensed guild that eventually was eliminated by the Templars, among others.  Judoc is hazy on the details, but from what he's seen so far of this organization, they don't seem terribly organized or much of a threat to Graves.  It's beyond him why he was tasked with finishing off Thresher.  The man hadn't been that impressive a fighter in the arena.  Judoc figures Thresher is just a low-level member in this gang, and his execution was meant to be more symbolic than anything else.

Baccus proves less than sparkling a conversation partner.  Judoc asks him how long it will be, can he go take a piss, how about some more water, but the man seems to have clammed up.  Well, his loss.

Finally, voices.  Angry ones.  Caana.  Thresher.  The two burst back into the room, and in spite of himself, Judoc tenses up.  This doesn't seem to be the prelude to expressions of gratitude.

The options are bullshit, of course.  Judoc to work for these clowns?  They can't even keep their own people safe, not without Judoc's intervention.  And show them gratitude?  Judoc tries to remain outwardly neutral, but inside he is seething.

But the other option is failure.  Thresher still goes free; Judoc goes back, chastened.  The Templars surely won't dismiss a student as gifted as Judoc, but the thought of going to so much trouble, of warning these ingrates, and then getting tossed out without so much as a by your leave rankles him.  They should be thanking him.

But he's their prisoner now.  He would have been better off just striking Thresher down in the streets rather than going through this rigamarole.

Too, Judoc doesn't fancy the idea of working for a band of criminals.  How the hell is this supposed to help him attain his goals?  They have nothing in common, nothing.

Grunting, he says, "I like the sound of option number 1 better.  But working for you?  What's that going to entail?  I'm a student, and when I finish up at the college, I'm going to join the Megalan army.  I'm having a hard time seeing how your goals and mine overlap at all, but it would be good not to have to return like a whipped cur with my tail between my legs."

For now the stranger, the man called Canaa if his senses are to be believed, ignores Judoc's questions but instead turns directly to Thresher.  The older and more wizened figure at the back of the room flexes his jaw in maddening repetition, a vein pulses in his forehead as his eyes glare hate-filled contempt directly at Judoc.

"It's done.  There is nothing we can do."  Canaa's voice is cold but even, injecting the first moment of calm since the men burst in the door to begin with.  "Take some time, lay low, you know there are ways we can use you to the west.  Six months, that's all you need."

Thresher seems ill consoled.

"Gudrod!  Get me his staff and the oil!"  Canaa pulls a hand sized blade from under his belt, slashing his friend gently across the arm, though blood spurts out and then collects in heavy driblets clinging to his bicep.  Thresher does not wince, but continues to stare in Judoc's direction, his face draining into emptiness.  Another man with short cropped blonde hair and a rotund belly brings in a staff and a glass vial, handing the staff to Canaa.

It takes but a moment for the young man to swipe the staff across the wound in a slick swipe, transferring a bloody swath onto the wood.

He tosses the staff against the wall and it clatters to a stand, leaning its red stain against the back corner of the room.

"Everyone,"  Canaa continues, still mostly ignoring Judoc.  "We're on an evac, you know your routes, don't worry about anyone else, we have other people on damage control.  Just take care of yourself."  Most of the heads in the room nod, the new face, Gudrod immediately turns about and heads back out the door.  Baccus follows him and after a moment of pause, Thresher does as well.

Canaa walks with brisk steps over to Judoc, finally talking directly to him.  "For now it entails nothing.  Go about your classes as if you accomplished your task."  He cuts the chords binding Judoc's hands, then slashes the back of the chair legs, loosening the bonds tying his legs as well.  "But at some point you will be contacted, and you will know it is us.  For now we are the thorn in Graves's side.  Our goals are to keep him from devouring this city... and to survive.  If you speak truly then at least you can understand our goals even if you don't share them."

He stands, making his way back towards the center of the room even as Judoc shakes the hands from his wrists, rubbing the red and chafed skin.  "Give us one minute, then make your way out.  There is no need to follow anyone and please don't try."

Canaa continues on and towards the door, his boots clacking against the hard floor with each step.  Echoing from beyond the recesses of this dark room, Judoc makes out the tinkling sounds of broken glass.

OOC:  Ok, you have been untied and have full use of your facilities.  Your headache has subsided enough that you no longer suffer a -1 to IQ and DX rolls.  Your staff is leaning against the northwest corner of the room, about 6 feet away from you (you are in the southwest corner).  The door is in the northeast corner, which is about 9 feet or so away.  You are in a sitting position still on the chair you were tied to.  Canaa is just now whipping through the doorway, the door of which remains open into the room.

That's two times Judoc has saved Thresher's life, and that fetcher hadn't even had the decency to thank him.  And these are the people he has to work with?  Unbelievable.  That look Thresher had thrown him?  Yeah, he clearly hates Judoc's guts.  Such ingratitude!  And six months?  Bloody hell.  Yes, Thresher shows up alive and well, and who hangs for it?  Judoc, that's who.  He is already regretting this unbelievably bad decision.

Right.  So the story is going to be Judoc bludgeoned Thresher to death with his staff.  Yeah, that's a likely one.  Judoc, possibly the greatest young talent in the College presently, bashing some poor schmuck to death with his staff.  No incineration, or turning Thresher's body inside out, or summoning a horde of centipedes to burrow out the man's eyeballs.  No.  Hit guy with stick.  Me real smart fella.  They're going to be calling him Judoc the Basher now.   Judoc the Common Cutpurse.  Judoc the Hit and Run.

He holds still while Canaa slices through his bonds, and then he stands, rubbing his wrists, moving his arms, gingerly moving his legs in an attempt to restore circulation to his limbs.

"That's it?  Blood on my staff?  What the hell am I supposed to tell Graves, that I bashed Thresher's brains in?"  But Canaa is already gone.  God and all the saints.  And he's supposed to be working with these amateurs?

He retrieves his staff and mentally counts to 60 in his head.  Yeah, ok.  He'll show the staff to Graves as proof - of what?  That he got some blood on it?  He figures there's probably a spell to tell whose blood is on the staff, but he shudders as he realizes there's also a spell that can recall an item's immediate history.  Oh, bloody hell.  He is so screwed.

At the end of 60 seconds, he collects his wits and hurries out of the building.

As Canaa is leaving the room, Judoc calls out after him, the building frustration and exhaustion of the night betrayed in his anger.  Though he does not expect the young man to answer back, he hears the clunking of feet on stairs and the call of the other man's voice as if shouting out back over his shoulder.

"Oh, I think you'll be able to come up with a better story than that!"

Though he yearns to shout and scream back at the man, his blood nearly boiling in his veins, Judoc manages to repress the urge, instead, walking over to his staff as he inspects it for any defects besides the blood.

29... 30...  The numbers work their way through his head as he mentally prepares himself to leave, downstairs he continues to hear the intermittent shattering noises, though he pays little attention.  That is, until he hears the sounds of a knife on flint.

What the?

Before he can even make his way to the door, Judoc already knows that there will soon be a raging fire in the building.  Time slows as the sounds beat individually against his ears, first the sucking sound as the flames spiderweb rapidly from the point of ignition, the crackle of the fires first breaths, then the slow whistle of air being squeezed from every pour of the building to feed the baby inferno.  The glow of the flames has already crept up on the wall just outside the doorway and though he cannot see any yet, Judoc can already smell the thick tang of smoke.

Running to the doorway, Judoc takes in the scene down below.

He stands on a short balcony that continues on to his right.  Aread, a hip high railing makes it's way along the balcony, leading to a short staircase down to the lower level.  On the first floor, Judoc can already see the signs of the fire building, though it is merely shin high in most places, it has already started to catch a rug below and has started seeping to the walls, in some places already starting it's climb.

Judoc coughs forcefully, the acrid small now stinging at his nostrils...

OOC:  Stick figure drawing below
 _____________________________________
|         W             W          D |
|                                    |
W                                    |
|                                    |
|                                    |
|                                    |
|RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR    |
|                        SSSSSSSSS   |
|_D_______D______________SSSSSSSSS___|
| J     |                            |
|       |                            |
|_______|____________________________|
D=Doorway
W=Window (first and second story)
S=Stair
R=Railing
J=Judoc

The glass shattering hadn't registered to Judoc before, but then, unmistakably, he hears the sounds of someone starting a fire.  So this is their plan, hoping an inferno will obscure whatever occurred here.  He races for the doorway, giving up the counting to 60.  Had they hoped to burn him up in the conflagration?  It seemed unlikely.

Wait, is this supposed to be his work?  His fire had roasted Thresher in the Arena.  Were they intending that he use his spells now in such a grandiose manner?

With no time to think, he heads for the stairs.  With luck, he can make it to a door or window and make his escape from the burning building.

OOC:  Run for the door, then the stairs.  Avoid the fire.  Head for the nearest exit.

Judoc whispers a few choice words, weaving the mana with his finger as he approaches the blaze.  Though he could easily extinguish the whole blaze, he decides instead to simply maneuver its forces, creating a narrow path for him to run through on his way to the door.  Judoc finds his way unobstructed and pushes his way out to the street.

Breathing the fresh air of the night again as he whips out the open doorway, Judoc does not pause but runs for the cover of the nearest building.  While he does not fear the blaze, he does not want to be the only mage, or indeed only person last seen evacuating a burning building.  As he reaches the cover of an open alleyway he turns to assess the situation.  Several things were apparent...  Firstly, the house was quickly being engulfed.  He could already see the flames licking upwards of the windows on the first floor and the reflections flickering off the second story windows as well.  It was hard to determine how much danger was present for the surrounding buildings.  The wooden structure only shared one wall, which was with a building that climbed several stories higher and was built of stone.  The other walls were adjacent to street corners or alleyways that were large enough to avoid spreading the flames so long as the fire did not jump the six feet across.  Judoc cannot see any one else around him now, not Thresher, Canaa, or any of their cronies but he knows the longer he sits here, the more he has to fear of many more people showing up.

He isn't sure the outcome but he has a foreboding feeling it would be foolish to be a recognizable fire mage found as the only person next to an engulfed or incinerated building...

The heat of the flames is intense, but what is fire to a mage who can shape it at will?  With a gesture and a few words of power, Judoc the Merciful creates a path for himself out of the conflagration and hurries outside.  Once free of the building, he keeps running, looking back to see if he can spot anyone else escaping, but he sees no one.

Deciding to trust his intuition, he walks quickly away in a random direction.  Had anyone seen him?  A building burned to the ground is the perfect cover for this masquerade, and his well-known skill in the Fire college makes him a prime suspect should he stick around.  Six months.  Not nearly enough time.  Judoc suspects Graves will not bother to tell him to kill Thresher a third time.

He reflects on the title he earned in the sands.  The Merciful.  Once again, Judoc has spared a life, and once again, he wonders if the price will be too high once the accounts come due.

OOC:  Leave in a random direction, and after five minutes, change course and head back to the College.