RP:A Morning Of Not-So-Subtle Escape Planning

Synopsis: Krystan and Lanara wake up in the inn of the Cenril Tavern, feeling slightly awkward from their emotional night, the previous evening. Dagon enters, and the two men devise a plan to help Krys and Lana escape Cenril, and run to safety, before the gangs are on the lookout.

Lanara stirs, though her eyes remain closed, as she clings to the pillow and tugs the covers over her chest, for comfort. The woman didn’t get much sleep, though the little bit she did get, was peaceful. Not a single nightmare! Though she was waking up to a nightmare, as flashbacks of the previous evening flash through her mind. Krystan and her were on the run from multiple gangs, and they had to flee Cenril, quickly and quietly. Refusing to open her eyes, she prays he doesn’t realize that she’s awake, as she mulls over the aspect of being a couple, in her mind. Wait… Couple? No, she didn’t –think- they were a couple. Weren’t they supposed to declare their love? Or wasn’t he supposed to ask her to be his lady? Did she have to sign a consent form? It all had happened so fast, and she was uncertain of the next step. A sigh escapes her, as she desperately tries to slow both her breathing, and her heart rate. The whole aspect of a relationship threw her for a loop, more so than the death threat that was quickly escalating. Maybe he just found her pretty and all of the attraction would be gone, once they were safe? He was an assassin, perhaps she was a target and this was all some ploy? No, he hadn’t harmed her yet, and she was literally lying in his bed in a barely-there bikini. Plus, he gave her an adorable red panda cub, and she felt some of his emotions last night. Was he even in the room?! It was so eerily quiet, and sometime during the night she had turned away from him, to rest on her other side. He could still be asleep for all she knew, or across the room, or maybe he had left her, altogether. He was too much to gaze upon… The urge to kiss him again was so strong, and the elf was terrified that their passion would turn into more than a kiss. She heard stories from her sibling, who had been with more than one man, on what could occur in the midnight hours. That was why she turned over, and why she had cried herself to sleep. She was growing attached, and that was –very- bad. Everyone that Lanara had ever grown close to had kicked her to the curb. Even her own father. Best not to get too close, and put your walls back up, she thinks. At least until whatever was supposed to happen happened. Thank the Goddess that she was strong enough to turn her empath powers off, because she couldn’t deal with sensing another’s emotions right now, as hers were a sordid mess. Digging her nails into the pillow, she bites her lower lip and stifles the urge to scream, as the multitude of emotions was coming to a boil. Pretending to sleep, she remains silent and still, hoping he wouldn’t notice that she was not in a deep slumber, and praying that he would just forget about her and leave her to die. It would be more honorable, then breaking her heart at a later date.

Krystan wasn't in the bed. But he wasn't gone either. In the early hours of the morning he awoke, needing only a little sleep to function at his peak, the man was already up and about. Maybe it’s the years in the trade, or maybe a very good guess, but he assumed she would awaken soon and had already made her breakfast. The plate of eggs, bacon and fresh veggies sits next to the bed with a tall glass of milk and freshly squeezed orange juice. As for the assassin himself, he was deep into his morning workout routine. Sit ups, push-ups, crunches, curls, and even some advanced yoga all help him warm up, before he goes into an intense regiment of martial arts. He has several training aids in the rather spacious room, which is more of a studio apartment than anything. In nothing but his pants, the man continues his workout. It’s a series of events to push his body to the max. Thirty pushups, thirty sit-ups, thirty leg raises, followed by him unleashing a series of blows upon the first training dummy which is wrapped by thick rope. This absorbs the blow and protects the aid, while numbing the nerves on his arms and legs, making him more immune to the pain of martial combat. Kicking and punching people doesn't feel good, after all. He continues this intense regiment in a relentless manner. Again, and again and again. He moves faster, he hits harder. Each round increases, pushing him to his absolute physical limits. There is a reason he is one of the best killers in the port city.

Lanara sniffs as the unmistakable smell of bacon assaults her senses, her stomach giving her away, with a hungry growl. Sighing, she feigns a yawn, and lazily stretches, while kicking the covers from her form. Turning over, she stretches once more, not caring if he was eyeing her, as she peeks at him from the corner of her eye. How did he manage to look smoking hot, this early in the morning? The male had some stamina; she had to give him that, as she stretches cat-like on the bed. The empath was sore and her muscles were tight, as she spent most of the night hunched over in a tight ball, allowing her anxiety ridden nature to overcome her senses. She definitely needed to stretch, though in a bikini, she wasn’t going to prance around. Still, the moves she was capable of doing would be ridiculously arousing to most males, though she would remain oblivious of any sex appeal. That’s what happens when you were an ugly duckling growing up; she never quite saw the transition into the lovely swan. If Krystan were to eye her flawless figure, he would spy a nice curvy bosom and rear, a slender body, a belly button piercing, and three tattoos. One was on her inner left wrist, one on her lower back, and the third on her right ankle. All three were elegant and spiritual. She turns her head, and runs her fingers through her bed head hair, and fixes him with a faint smile. “Sorry… I must look like a mess. Again.” That’s all she says, as she sits up and takes a sip of the juice, while forking eggs into her mouth.

Krystan finishes up his morning workout as the witch rises from her slumber. Sweat glistens on his body, which due to his intense regiment looks even more ripped than it did last night. Every muscle is honed, sculpted and serves a purpose. The man's body seems almost like a marble statue than living flesh. Grabbing a nearby towel, he tosses it over his shoulder as he makes his way to a large bowl filled with water, which he uses to clean himself off. Oh yes, he looks at her. And she is stunning. He follows her curves for several moments, smirking to himself before he looks away. No need to be too forward right now and he didn't need distractions this early. He points to the clothes he got her. Leggings, boots, a shirt with a leather vest and a cloak. Simple, but a dress will be impractical for the things to come. "I'm sure they will fit." He was good at guessing sizes; part of his job was to analyze his prey so he was good at noticing body types. "You should eat; I made a salve for your foot, as well as I'll make a tea to give you some strength too." He goes about cleaning himself off with the water and towel, taking his time as he does. "I'll start cleaning up, things are already packed." He nods to the bags near the door, one for him and one for her.

Lanara swallows hard, nearly choking on the bacon and eggs as she studies his muscular form. Sweating was often gross to witness, though on him, it enhanced his features. That perfectly sculpted physique was dying to be touched by her fingertips, at least in her mind, though she shakes her head. Not today, Lanara. Today they were all business, and she still had so many doubts and questions that would remain unanswered. The witch was somber this morning, a sweet sadness evident in her chocolate brown hues, as she finishes the remainder of her breakfast, before rising to her feet. The foot was much better, and she was able to walk fairly well on it, though there was still a slight limp. Running would be a challenge, at least for a few days, though she was relieved that her foot could bear her one hundred and twenty-five pound weight. Walking over to the cot, she greets Taylor and Crimson with a quick kiss on their noses, and gives them her first real smile of the morning. A brief glance was given to the ‘his’ and ‘her’ bags near the door, and her smile fades. “Right… I’m going to get dressed. I’m so sick of being in a bikini! I can’t wait to wash up and actually comb my hair.” Lana was careful as she walked around the room, making certain not to touch the male, or get in his way. There was a small closet attached to the room, where she squeezed in and emerged wearing her new attire, thankful that the clothing fit her, even if it wasn’t her style. Wearing solid black, she tugs on the boots, right over her injured foot, and raises a dismissive hand. “I will be fine, though thank you for the salve. Blood magic will mend me… Thank you for breakfast, too…”

Dagon walked into the hotel and looked at the note in his hand. Deeply confused by the message the mage moved to stand in front of the innkeeper, looking over the paper he recites poorly "It's awfully..." he looks outside to the night sky ".... bright today" he then watches and follows the hotel patron as was described in the note unsure of what exactly was going on.

Krystan :: The innkeeper is an older looking man, dressed in fine clothes that represent a successful businessman in the City of Cenril. His eyes, a golden brown that seem to hold hidden power within their depths, looks over the newest patron to his fine Inn. He waits, knowing how business is done, and nods as the proper code is said. "Right this way, sir." The innkeeper makes his way from behind the desk, and leads the mage down a long hallway, taking a single turn that seems to lead to a dead end. Continuing on like this isn't weird in the slightest; the innkeeper knocks on the wall, and says. “Housekeeping." While knocking twice, pausing, and then knocking twice again. It is within these moments that Krystan was listening to Lanara in the hidden room. Smirking as the witch goes to getting dressed, emerging a few moments later in the attire that seems to indeed fit as guessed. "If you need more of my blood, take it, I need you at-" The message of housekeeping, followed by the proper knocks, can be heard, and he returns three quick knocks back, to signal it’s ok to come in. Rising from his leaning position on the desk he rests on, the assassin waits for the door to open. Back outside, the innkeeper hear the three quick knocks, and raises a hand, muttering verses of arcane magic with practiced ease to dissolve the illusionary barriers that hides the door to the room. The wall shifts, melding back into a large metal-framed wooden-door. After a moment, Krystan unlatches the various locking mechanisms and the large portal swings open. The innkeeper moves to the side to allow Dagon through, while calling to Krystan. “All preparations for your trip have been secured, sir. It’s been a pleasure." Nodding to one another, Krystan looks at the pyromancer, then to Lanara. "It’s almost time."

Lanara doesn’t know what to expect from Krystan, let alone what to expect from this journey. Was the plan to escape Cenril, and lay low for a long time? Were they to remain in hiding together? Apart? Would she ever even see him again, once this was all over? With a sigh at all the secrecy, she shifts her gaze from the male to Dagon, and narrows her eyes. Ah, the pyromancer. The one who played some darts with her at the tavern in Frostmaw. And then slipped out of the tavern, after causing damage and not paying his tab. The shady character was regarded with a lingering once over, wondering what his part was in all of this madness. The witch seems to be at a loss for words, as she rises to her feet and shakes her head at Krystan. No, she didn’t want his blood. Turning her back to both men and dropping to her knees, she lifts the red panda cub into her arms and hugs him tight, while stroking Taylor, who was now in black panther form. “You two know what to do, right? Taylor… Let him ride your back. I –know- you will find me again… If I’m… If I’m no longer alive, you go and stay with Tally, okay? She will take good care of you all. I love you, my babies…” That said the witch kisses both of her beloved animal companions, before rising to her feet. She was ready.

Dagon enters into the room, and looks around. The mage lofts a brow as he gathers the room taking in the surroundings. He give a once over to both Krystan and Lanara, as he shrugs at the narrowed eyes. Then looks at Krystan. "So, given by her little act, I take it you're taking off which is why I’m here." He nods. "Which way are you two heading and how many do you think are coming?"

Krystan said to Dagon, "Word is they are on the lookout for my alter ego. My face has never been shown, but the main gate and the docks will on lock down. I need a distraction, a way to divert eyes so we can slip through the main gate with little opposition. I've people running interference, but it'll still be really tight if I try it without a damn good distraction." Lanara raps her nails on the end table, beside the bed, glaring at Dagon. “My little act? Really. Really? Really?! I don’t need your sh-“ The woman’s voice trails off as she shakes her head, and combs her long hair with a clean fork, as there wasn’t any brushes to be found. She would be done with all of this, soon enough. “I’m so done.”

Krystan said to Dagon, "I need you, and your skills, to start quite the scene down towards the docks. Make it big, so they have to draw forces down that way, but... make sure you've an out as well. Edwin, the Innkeeper, can offer aid in this, give you a good disguise so your face doesn't become a target. Just... don't underestimate these gangs. Some of them have power, -real- power."

Dagon hid a smirk at Lanara's retort. He looks back to Krystan and gives a nod. "I'm sure I can find a decent distraction." he ponders for a moment. "If you head to the west, get ready to go out the main gate... give me a few..." he pauses a moment "Actually, I think it'll be easy enough to see when it's you're time to go. Have fun kids." his voice then trails up a few octaves "They are so cute when they grow up to elope."

Lanara shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at both men now. Elope?! They haven’t even discussed the first kiss! And like hell was she going to be ordered around by the red eyed male. Sighing heavily, she holds her tongue, wanting to scream. The scenario continued to advance as of late, and she was craving the outdoors. So she plasters a faux smile on her gorgeous face and rises to her feet. “Ready.”

Krystan nods once to Dagon, signaling they are ready before he makes his way over to Lanara as he says. "Soon this chaos will be behind -us-, and we can focus on matters I know are on your mind, but until then, just... stay the course, ok?" Dagon nods stroking his chin as he pondered the spell he'd use. The thought struck him and a sick sadistic smile crosses his face as he moves to allow the two to depart. He would prepare to follow reaching into his robes to pull out a selection of components. He then asks the inn keeper for a match, an odd request for a pyromancer but one that would be needed for the upcoming move.

Lanara grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder, wanting to stomp but knowing that would likely exacerbate her injury. So instead, she stares straight ahead and steps from the room, annoyed. Hopefully, things would work in their favor.

Dagon turns and looks behind his back, looking at the witch. "You'll be fine, Krystan knows a thing or two and I'll make sure those after you, turn their attention onto me. Until you're long out of the city.

Krystan listens to the pyromancer as he tries to ease Lanara's worried mind. The mage was doing him a solid favor, so he says. "I'll owe you one now, and I don't take that lightly." With that said, he looks over to the witch, and nods, saying. " Its time." Before he looks back to Dagon, and says. " Give us ten minutes, and we'll be set."

Lanara doesn’t meet Krystan’s gaze, though she does meet Dagon’s, and gives the male a curt nod. “Thank you…” She murmurs, her jaw no longer clenched. It was all the petite witch could manage right now, as the last twenty-four hours were more than trying. Not knowing what the assassin needed another ten minutes for, she stands still and remains quiet. As her two beloved pets escape the tavern, she watches them until they fade from view, worried.

Dagon smiles and heads out the door lifting a vial of liquid and pouring it over himself. He starts to head east, the magical words already being said aloud as he makes his way from the city toward the docks.

The Distraction:

Dagon approaches the docks in making sure the ship was still there. The added men guarding the vessel caused for yet another sick smile to cross the high elf's visage. It was there that he completed the spell taking the wooden match given to him by the inn keeper of the hotel, Dagon strikes the match and puts his hand on the flame. In an instant the complex spell comes to fruition.

What had caught the guards attention was not Dagon himself but the initial scream of pain that had rang forth from the mage, they looked over the man and began to charge quickly realizing that he wasn't one of theirs.

Dagon hurled over and the thought of what if he had prepped the spell wrong, what if he forgotten something, surly this pain wasn't part of it His blood began to boil, his skin as burning the fire was attacking him, until it had gone quiet and silent. The fire no longer attacking him, but morphing him. Transforming him into a new creature. Fire engulfed his form, warping his image into that of a burning man, the fire so intense that it was nearly impossible to see through the hungry flames.

It was glorious, no longer was he controlling fire, he was no longer it's master, but he WAS fire. And it is with that realization that he sets forth on his mission. The first attacking thugs were the fist to meet his wrath. He thrust forward his “arm” and like a hose, a stream of fire rushes forth and engulfs the group.

Having caught this... no other word to describe it, Living fire attacking the ship, the person holding the bell sounds the alarm at an alert rate calling all gangs to full alert and to defend the ship.

Paying no mind to the bell, Dagon continues his stream of fire aiming at the base of the ship, and like putting a lighter to a sheet of paper, the ship slowly begins to catch flame until the wood of the vessel fuels the blaze. It was seconds after the flames engulfed the bulk of the ship that he had heard the in coming people.

Unbelieving what they were witnissing the men paused and it was all the distraction Dagon needed taking to the air, his new form allowing him flight for the first time he flew up high zipping around and sending waves of flame zipping around avoiding the arrows being shot at him, and returning fire with fire. It was at this that the fire alarms for the city began to ring out.