Lia chuckles, and sways merrilly. “Yup, pretty big huh.”
James nods. “Holy fuck, so I just, sort through these, and figure out what is what, and mark it done in a official document?”
Lia confirms, “Yup, but remember to put price, effects of use, and what you personally believe should be the punishment for possession, or distribution of these substances, as well as the level of security they should be kept under.”
James nods tepidly. “Okie, dokie. I guess we should get these back to the guards office?”
Lia nods. “We have secured rooms for magical items, or stuff like that so people can't steal them, we’ll put those in there as well.”
James nods, “Good, let's go, and I'll start cataloging.”
- Later that day
I sigh, and lay lazily on the table next to James, while flipping through some dry book about spellcasting.
James sighs, and scribbles something aggressively on his notepad, before separating out the batch of whatever he was testing, onto its own shelf.
I turn my attention lazily back to my book, my legs swinging, back and forth, back and forth.
I hear a boom in the distance but I don't worry about it. How can you when you know it's just Lysander?
I hear another boom, but this one sounds closer. I frown.
“Did that one sound closer to us?” I ask, my voice drifting through the wind, catching rides on the currents of dust.
James sighs. “I don't know. Maybe? Just let me work.”
I shrug, and swing my body upwards, and off of the table, before dropping down, and onto the floor.
Then I hear another boom. I frown. “That one was nearby.”
Then, with a screeching boom, and a rush of wind, the wall blows open, spraying bricks through the air like a child throwing their toys in a fit of rage.
There, standing in the doorway, are a group of 3 men. 2 of them stand at the back, while one stands near the front, his hands obscured by the smoke. He's the only mage, the other two are not mages.
One of the men near the back, dressed in tight fitting business clothing, he’s overweight, pale, pasty, and overall disgusting, but he begins to speak, his jowls shaking with every movement. “Get em Miguel.”
The man near the front raises his head up, revealing a tan complexion with a handsome face, a loose mop of sandy brown hair. He’s clean shaven, and is wearing a loose mess of clothing, a T-shirt, with some obscure Mexican singer's name scrawled across it, and a loose pair of cargo pants, bulging with things in the pockets.
He steps forward. “I'm sorry dude.”
Then he swings his hand, his fingers curled into a claw, as if he's an animal of some sort. I chuckle. “Throw a real punch you sissy bitch!” I jump backwards, and avoid his clawing motion, which trails a toxic smelling smoke.
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My belt spikes forward, teeth wide, and tries to take a bite out of his belly, but he slaps it aside, singing the flesh on the neck of my belt.
The man in the back sighs. “Jon told us the only people here were newbies, or completely non-cultivators. Why the fuck is this so hard. Miguel.”
Miguel sighs. “That's because I'm a newbie as well.”
The fat man growls. “Well, fucking deal with it!”
Miguel pounces forward, swinging his arms wildly, and without direction, I backpedal repeatedly, pushing myself up against a wall, until James bursts out from under a desk, swinging a brick in his right hand, it smacks into Miguel's ribs, who crumples down, clutching his midsection.
I step forward, and throw a kick forward, smashing into Miguel's handsome face, curled over, an easy target.
Miguel bounces backwards, before with renewed vigour bursts forward, he grabs onto my shoulders, and with a crackling noise, my shoulders begin to cook. I scream, and my belt bites into his midsection, he screams as well, as the needle-like teeth slip between his ribs, and the room begins to smell like burnt flesh.
Then with a crack Tom's foot hits Miguel's shoulder, and throws him sideways, slamming him against a shelf, his midsection bleeding, broken ribs, and a possibly broken shoulder.
I sigh, and collapse to the ground, my vision blurry from the pain, the skin on my shoulder sloughs off to reveal the blackened flesh below.
Tom reaches down, his massive gray pay throws me over his shoulder. “Don't worry buddy, I'll get you to a healer.” He steps forward, my body trembling over his shoulder, and he ties Miguel's hands together before tossing him over his shoulder as well. “Let's get going, the attack on the walls just calmed down, so people are headed home.”
Miguel
When I wake up, I feel a lot better. It still hurts, but they clearly healed me up a little to help with that. I glance around to find a gargantuan gray man sitting next to me on a chair. “Hey, you are being charged for your crimes. This room is in an anti-magic ward, so we can keep you here to heal up without you using your magic to escape.”
I sigh, and glance around the room. It's just like a hospital at home, but a little less sterile, more brick, and wood. But they even got the bright overhead lights right, probably using mana of some sort.
The gargantuan man rises to his feet, and says. “Stay put, I'll bring you your dinner.” He drags open the door, before ducking his head down to leave.
I quickly throw the covers off of me, and scramble onto the floor. My hands are tied. I search the room for anything I can use to cut the rope, I scramble through the corners, looking through drawers, until I find it. A loose nail on the bed frame. I press my bindings onto it, frantically scratching them back, and forth over the sharp bits, the twine gradually degrading. I keep working on this even as my arms burn, until quietly, with no fanfare they pull apart.
I tear my hands apart, and turn to the window. It has wooden shutters, and surprisingly well made glass. I tap at it, and even try to punch it, but find it very sturdy.
I turn back to the nail, and I plant my foot on the head of it, and try to pull it out, with a grunt, and a fall I rank the nail free, resulting in me falling to the floor. I pull the nail out, and hold it in my hand. I wrap my hand with the torn up rope, and place the nail in my hand, the sharp part sticking out between my fingers, and the flat of it, cushioned by the rope separating it from the palm of my hand. With a grunt, I swing my hand, slamming the sharp point of the nail into the glass, and with a crack the whole thing shatters.
I swing my hand back, and forth, the whole thing coated in painful glass shards, which I wipe off, grunting at the painful cuts.
I toss the nail onto the ground and climb my way out of the window. I glance down, at the 3 story drop, and up, at the several stories above me. I clamber to the side, my feet clutching dangerously on the window seal. I reach over, and grasp at the window frame of my neighbor, and I sidle over.
I continue like this for a while, my feet shaking dangerously, until I arrive, at the corner of the building, I jump to the side, and onto the roof of the neighboring building, I take off, hopping over narrow alleyways, and from roof to roof. I reach a balcony, and I hop down onto it. I open the door, and tear through this house, peaking out into a hallway, I head down two more flights of stairs, and I'm at ground level.
I take off towards the dungeon. I don't know how good they are at identifying people here, but I would rather not risk it, so I head to the dungeon, with the plan of heading down into the lower levels.