With his mask on, Jonathan looked like a strange hybrid of armor and monster, some half formed creature out of the shadowy depths of the underworld. The lines and curves of his mask accentuated the darkness of his armor, and he looked like nothing more than a splotch of darkness in the night. In fact, it seemed that this was what he manifested as to those passing by, as nobody spared him a second glance again, after he put on his mask.
Soon he was standing in the wall district, right in front of the hulking monstrosity of a fortification that separated the city proper from the abode of Granath. He could see it over the buildings, and he quickly realized why none of the mundane buildings in the larger part of the city were taller than fifty feet. It was likely so that nobody would use them to scale the walls and access Granath’s compound. However, Jonathan was here to enter, and he could not let such a thing as a mere wall deter him.
He strode purposefully through the darkness of the side streets, avoiding the patrols that he could hear circling the walls. The entire city was on high alert now from his little escapade earlier, and he had only waited this long in order for it to die down a little bit before he tried to enter the citadel again. It was in the early hours of the morning now, and the night was still dark, but there was a tiny shred of light on the horizon. If he did not hurry up, it would eventually be day.
Within the citadel itself, Edgar hid within the shadow of a building, as a troop of guards stomped by. In his many years of life, Edgar had never experienced such abject terror as he did in the present moment. He was within a city that was out to kill him, and he was being hunted by beings who could destroy him in a matter of seconds. However, despite all of this, he was no coward, and he didn't let his fear paralyze him. It was only down to sheer luck that he had not been caught yet, and he had been using the alleyways and mansions as hiding spots. He was not well versed in the ways of espionage, but he was intelligent enough to recognize the sounds of a patrol coming his way, and to find where the optimal place was to escape. In this way, he had spent the last while flitting around the city, staying ahead of death by a few feet in some cases.
He could not escape the place, as the wall was now far more heavily manned than before and no patrols were coming in and out. The entire citadel had been placed on lockdown after Jonathan had escaped, and Edgar knew that the man was most likely never coming back for him. He was only postponing the inevitable here in trying to escape his fate. All souls eventually died upon coming to the Hells. Why would it be any different? Still, if he died here, he was content with his lot. He had at least tried to make a stand for what was right in the world, and although he had ended up failing utterly, confronted with the impossible strength of Granath, he was still content with what he had achieved. It was too bad that he would never be able to join Jonathan on his grand quest to destroy the Hells, but he still knew that he had played a role, no matter how small, in the life of one destined for far greater things than himself.
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It was a morose, but also somewhat comforting thought, and it was the only thing that was letting him get by. He suspected that the patrols were far less assiduous in their search for him than they would have been had Jonathan still been here, and he knew that he was only seen as nothing more than a lackey of Jonathan’s. If the full forces of the Ashen Citadel had been directed his way, he would probably have been dead by now. However, he was still among the living at the moment, and he did not intend to go easily into the embrace of death. If he lingered here, he could buy time for Jonathan to escape the city, which was all that really mattered.
At that moment, Jonathan was lurking outside of one of the gates leading into the citadel, watching out for a patrol of guards to come tramping through. However, as the minutes stretched on, he realized that the entire inner city had been shut down, and the walls bristled with soldiers. Spotlights of mana shone down into the nearby streets every now and again, and Jonathan could see a few mages standing on the top of the battlements, holding wands and other magical foci. There was no way in, and no way out for Edgar.
Jonathan pursed his lips as he looked at the defenses. He was still in rough shape from using Smite, and he knew that a head on fight would not go well for him. In addition, his amulet was now gone, and the mysterious protection that it had extended when he had fought Granath was also gone. He knew that if he met the monstrous worm again, it would spell his demise.
The memory of the impossible strength of that monster still lingered within his mind, as well as the feeling of having his soul sucked out of his body. That would be something that he would remember for a long time. Jonathan ducked as he saw one of the spotlights change its trajectory, heading uncomfortably close to his position. He was relatively safe in his position, but he was wary of the light making a shadow of his figure, exposing himself to the watchers on the wall. Knowing the levels of those guarding the Ashen Citadel, they would notice immediately. All of the Tier 2 guards were basically guaranteed to have the advanced versions of their races, meaning that they had the enhanced senses that Jonathan had. If so much as a hair was out of place, they would notice it.
The spotlight glanced over the top of the building, fading away after a few moments. Jonathan kept moving in the interim, heading closer and closer to the wall. There was little to no shelter the nearer one got to the wall, which was a clever security feature. No cover meant that nobody could get near it easily, and with the lockdown that the citadel was under, there was no way that he would go unnoticed. At least the cloud of eyes had disappeared, thwarted by his mask. The constructs had been too weak to peer through his disguise, and they had left, presumably evaporating into the ether. The mysterious entity, or entities, living within that tower had not shown themselves as of yet, and Jonathan was still unsure of who exactly had sent the spell construct, as well as the beam of light, after him. It was clearly someone of great magical power, but he was too unfamiliar with the layout of the city and the hierarchies of the Ash Heaps to know who it was.