[hr][hr][h3][color=39b54a][center]Ƀᵾɍn ɨŧ đøwn. Ƀᵾɍn Ⱥłł øf ŧħɇm đøwn. Ŧħɇɨɍ wȺɍđs wɨłł nøŧ ᵽɍøŧɇȼŧ ŧħɇm. Wɇ wɨłł nøŧ ƀɇ ȼȺǥɇđ ȺǥȺɨn.[/center][/color][/h3][hr][hr]

It was the light touch against his arm that broke him. Karlus was standing bolt upright, lurching away from the hands that clawed at him. It all came flooding back. The hands in the night that took him and bound him. The dark cells beneath the college. Those same hands again, etching pain and misery in every inch of his skin. Never again. His eyes rolled in their sockets, staring widely at the array of unfamiliar and hostile faces that surrounded him. His breath was already in short frantic pants. His nostrils were flared out. He could feel the urge rising up in him.

[color=39b54a][b]"Do. Not. TOUCH. Me."[/b][/color] Karlus hissed through his clenched teeth. But it didn't sound like his usual mild tones. There was a rawness in there, a burning smoke choked rasp that was deeper and louder than it had any right to be. The candlelight from the chandelier guttered and flickered as if blown through by a gust of unseen wind. The logs crackling away in hearth spat a glut of fat sparks.

Annabella pursed her lips almost imperceptibly. She was reconsidering her choice to speak in Caracan. Yes, definitely a mistake to not include him in the plan. She said none of this and smiled gently at Karlus but refrained from touching him.

[color=fff79a][b]"It's alright. I was just explaining to the captain about how the minstrel lied. They seem to think you're with the League of Magic but, knowing you for as long as I have, I know that's not true. Show them your arms and chest to prove you're not a blood mage and everything will be just fine."[/b][/color]

Karlus began to laugh.

Her face was the picture of calm, but internally she was sweating boulders. She knew full well what the symbol he flashed at the mistrel meant. At this point she could only pray he was mostly clean. But the only answer to her prayer was the sound of metal scraping against steel. It sang with a wild whistling as Captain Armonte drew his blade. The three soldiers behind him were less quick, and seemed shaken by the sudden outburst. 

[b]“Try anything mage, and I’ll carve through you like paella. This time, I’ll forego the pleasantries, the lot of you are under arrest. Surrender your weapons and come quietly.”[/b]

Before he knew what he was doing, Karlus watched as his hands twisted in the air before him. Drawing out those so familiar shapes. He didn't even have to really think about it anymore. Second nature. Next came the words. Spoken in an ancient tongue so long dead it had no name. His voice crackled with arcane energy, turning the harsh guttural syllables into something more. Something greater. Power, pure power.

[b][color=39b54a]"F̡͡ ̵̸L̸ ̨҉̷Y̷̛҉  "[/color][/b]

The table flew across the room at a frightening speed, slamming into the foremost of the group of armed guards gathered by the door. The drinks and other detritus across it span off and crashed against the stone flagged floor, bouncing and rolling across the tavern. But Karlus didn't stop to watch. His blood was up. The pain was already blossoming all over the left side of his body. That was more just a little fire play, and there was more to come. He would pay for this dearly come the morning.

He wedged his pack under the crook of one arm and spun about to face the narrow snug to the right of the fireplace that was behind them and the faces of the shocked patrons that inhabited it still.

[b][color=39b54a]"Get out of my way!"[/color][/b] They scrambled to do so. 

He sprung towards the nook and in a few strides Karlus leapt up onto the hastily abandoned table, his feet kicking aside half emptied flagons of ale and jugs of wine. At the back of the snug was a window. One that did not look out upon the crowded dockside, but instead a quiet alleyway that led up the side of the La Resplenda. He raised his free hand out towards it and stretched his palm wide.

[color=39b54a][b]"O̸̵͝ ̷̡͢͞P̷̷̀͜ ҉̵͜͜E͞҉ ͏̡̡N͟͏̡͏ "[/b][/color]

The window exploded outwards in a shower of broken glass. 

And then he was out, his feet pounding on the cobbled alley, a wild grin painted across his face. He tried to stifle a laugh and failed. The harsh barking sound rang off the confined always of the alleyway. He let his feet carry him away from the influence of the erasure ward. One more spell. Once he was beyond its grasp. One more spell, and he would be done. 

[hr]

[i]Collaboration between [@Kassarock], [@Famotill] & [@Jarl Coolgruuf]

[/i]