Scratching the Surface
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.