[u][h3][center][b]Paric
Sometime around 9PM[/b][/center][/h3][/u]

Paric watched another drop of water as it trickled down the wall of his cheap apartment. In his hand was a small, long dried flask. He had not the money to replenish the spirits that had once swished around inside it. Under him was a wooden chair, each leg had obviously been broke at one point. The Eldi had sat like this for awhile, pondering what brought him to a place ran by a gang. Perhaps it was the cheap liquor, perhaps it was the isolation a place like this could provide to a directionless soul. Either way, he needed to leave. He did not want to get involved with this gang, or worse, get forced into servitude to the filth that this town called a town guard. 

It was the faint shouting in the distance that forced his frozen frame into motion, bringing to him the urgent need to relinquish his growing thirst. He slowly stood up and went to his coin bag, only to find it was empty. With a sign he made his way to the apartment door, grimacing at the loud screeching sound the hinges made. He duly noted that night had already landed, meaning he had been sitting in that chair for hours. Paric made his way down his apartment's hallway and to the stone steps leading into a narrow ally. It was at the bottom of the steps that he realized the yelling he had heard previously was quickly approaching. It was not unusual to hear the guard chasing down a thief. However, this was different. Whoever was running was giving the guards some trouble, almost as if this person had been on the run before. 

Paric, from the entrance of his little alley, could see the figure in question as it made its way towards him, running furiously through the streets. He had been in this situation before, only to see the runner tackled, shackled, and dumped into some rotting prison cell. This runner was different, however. There was a certain aura to him... or not him even, but to something that he carried. 

A few heartbeats later and Ayer was on him. Paric's hands raised. Then night turned to day in this section of street as a conjured, gold colored flare flew past Ayer and at the guards. Within moments Paric had his hands Ayer, pulling the man into the narrow alley in which Paric had been waiting. He figured that the man he had just saved would be just as blind as the guards, so he kept hold of him as they disappeared up the stairs Paric just came from. [b]"Come on, friend, we're going to the roof! It'll lead us near the walls."[/b] He said in a deep, rough voice. Paric knew the flare would hardly last. He didn't exactly have the strongest control over his mana. Once expired, the flare would explode in a deafening blast, telling Paric and the man he was helping when the guards would be back on their trail.