Hector was disgusted. Not because of the deplorable state the city was in, or the fact that Fireblade Mercenaries waltzed through the streets like mini lords, doing whatever they wanted to whomever it pleased them to do it to. Those type of things he could deal with. After all, it was only a little worse than what the lords and ladies of the world tended to do with their own power, and their own guardsmen. His former comrades were just a little more blatant about it. What disgusted him was the fact that it was so easy to get into the castle that housed Dragonmaw. The headquarters of the [i]entire mercenary group[/i] for crying out loud! The main camp for all intents and purposes. Even without his magical ability to become smoke and move, it would have been easy to sneak in, and sneak out. The guards had become complacent. Ten years of ruling with an iron fist, no one daring to challenge them, had made them lazy. Hector remembered a time when if he wanted to sneak in and out of camp, he had to use his smoke form liberally, often puking after he had slipped away. That sensation of being taken apart and put back together on the smallest level imaginable was one thing he would never get used to. Regardless, the castle’s defenses might be loosely guarded. Getting to Dragonmaw, on the other hand, was an entirely different beast. 

Hector scowled from behind the helm he had stolen off of another mercenary’s corpse (a corpse that was currently residing in a closet. What? He hadn’t had much time to hide the body and switch the gear that was tight in all the wrong places.) at the sight of the men guarding Dragonmaw’s rooms. They were on their guard. Alert enough to notice smoke approaching and sliding unnaturally under the door, certainly. And he couldn’t very well just shoot the both of them with his bow and be done with it, as every other mercenary walking about his business in the castle would notice the commotion, and come running. Not to mention any other guards the traitorous bastard might have beyond that door would be alerted immediately. And Hector wanted to live after he gutted the tyrant like a fish and strangled him with his own intestines. So, a suicidal charge was out of the question. [i]Now, the only other real question I suppose is, what now?[/i] Hector mused, walking away from the area before his staring became a cause for suspicion. He wasn’t going to leave without hurting Dragonmaw in some way. The armory was too large to actually consider damaging it. He didn’t know where gunpowder was kept to blow something important looking up. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Hector realized that there was pretty much nothing he could really do to hurt Dragonmaw. Or at least, tweak his nose really good. 

The ex-mercenary was about to start killing important looking people at random, when he overheard a Fireblade thug calling to his friend. “Thanks for the keys. Now, I’ll just go take that turn at [i]Sir[/i] Isam of the kingdom of filth and rats.” Hector paused as his friend called back. “If he hasn’t said anything about the prince for this long, it’s doubtful he’ll say anything to [i]you.[/i] Still, break his nose again for me.” Hector smiled. [i]So, the gods do actually give out good luck now and then.[/i] 

Following the thug was easy. He was whistling merrily as he walked towards wherever this Isam was being kept. Hector shook his head in disgust once more. [i]Over confident. Complacent. Soon to be dead.[/i] The thug opened the door to the dungeons with a set of keys, presumably given to him by his friend. Walking down the steps he began to call loudly to Isam. “Oh, Sir Knight! I’ve come to talk to you!” Hector closed the door behind them, ignoring the continued taunting of the thug. The door safely shut, muffling all noise, he drew his knife and caught up to his target. The man was cut of mid taunt by the blade entering the side of his throat. While he gurgled and clawed at Hector’s arm, his murderer said, amicably, “Do try not to make so much fucking noise. I don’t want all of your little bastard friends to come down here and turn this entire thing into one big fucking mess.” His only response was a gurgle. “Good.” Ripping his knife out of the soon-to-be corpse, Hector let the man fall to the ground, crashing down the stairs. He winced, “Okay, I didn’t mean to do that.”

Quickly, he picked the keys from the ground where they had been dropped, and practically skipped down the stairs, grabbing a torch from along the walls, glancing in every cell until he found Isam. “Seeing as you’re the only prisoner, and the only person here who looks the part, I’m assuming your Isam. I don’t know what you have that Dragonmaw wants bad enough not to just shove your head on a pike or a sword up your ass, but if Dragonmaw wants you locked up, I want you free.” He leaned closer with the torch, whistling as he saw the damage done to the former knight. “Damn. They sure beat the living hell out of you, didn’t they?” He unlocked the gate and went to help Isam up. “My name is Hector. Currently I’m your rescuer and your best friend in the world right now. All you need to know, right now, is that I want to kill Dragonmaw. Preferably slowly, with the dullest, rustiest, knife I can find, so I can hear the bastard scream for fucking [i]days[/i]. And I know it hurts like hell. And I know you feel like shit. Believe me, I’ve been there. But, I really need you to come with me so we can strip the stupid bastard I just killed of his armor so I don’t have to do much fancy lying to get us out of here.”

Just then, in the distance, an alarm could be heard being raised. Hector looked over at the doorway out of the dungeons. “Fuck. Fuckety fucking fuck. I know the hiding place for the body was bad, but I didn’t expect them to find it this soon.” He looked back at Isam. “We really need to get you in that armor. Now. Like, a few minutes ago now.”