Name: Charisse Race: Human

Ht: 5’6, Wt: 130, Sex: Female,

Archetype: Rogue

HP: 7 / 7 Mana: 0 / 0

Stats:

Physical: 2, Moxie : 3, Spiritual: 2, Luck : 3,

Agility : 3, Magic : 2, Mental : 2, Energy : 2.

Relevant Skills: Agility - Climb, Agility - Dodge, Archetype - Opportunistic Strike, Archetype - Awareness, Melee - Knife, Mental - Intuitive Logic Leap, Physical - Run, Stealth - Hide, Stealth - Move Silent

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“I think we lost them,” Reggie said between pants as he leaned against a wall in a small alley. His eyes darted between watching the entrance and the roofs above.

“I’m not sure,” Charisse said. She inched closer to the street and scanned the surroundings. With no pursuer visible, she moved next to Reggie and leaned against the wall. Then, taking a moment, she pulled up her combat log, reviewed the roll, and popped back into reality.

“I didn’t see anyone, but I only got 2 successes,” Charisse said.

Reggie shrugged and replied, “I got 2 as well.”

Henderson looked confused before stepping near the exit and scanning for himself. He quickly pulled back in and looked at Reggie and then Charisse.

“Not sure what you are talking about, but I don’t see anyone,” Henderson said.

“We’ll explain later; let's find a place to hide until daytime, then meet up with the rest of the group,” Charisse said. She beckoned them to follow her as she headed deeper into the alley; through the gloom and darkness, the open street on the other side awaited.

“We could just wait here,” Henderson said. “Doubtful any inn will be open, and breaking into a place is probably not the best option either.”

“Yeah, but the lack of homeless people here, at least me, would indicate there are frequent patrols.” Charisse waved a hand toward the exit that opened to rows of shops. “At least on the poorer side of the town, we can blend in.”

Henderson and Reggie nodded in agreement. Reggie stood up straight and took a step before pausing.

“What if we take refuge in a church?” Reggie said.

“As long as I don’t burst into flames when I step inside, sure,” Charisse said. “Do you know where one is near?”

Reggie shook his head, as did Henderson. Charisse looked around, she didn’t see any visible markers indicating which way to a place of worship. The few signs denoted the street they were on was High Market Street. She jogged over to it when she spotted a nearby building with a roof near a tree.

With a running start, she could climb the first few feet easily. Once one hand grabbed onto the edge of the roof, she could pull herself up. Reggie and Henderson stood at the bottom, looking for guidance on if they should follow.

“Stay there, just looking for churches,” Charisse said before she ran up to the peak of the building.

The building wasn’t very high, only two stories at its highest. A nearby building arched higher, offering the lure of a better view. Charisse ran across the roof and leaped to reach the higher roof.

She managed to grasp the roof's edge and started pulling herself up, but a dark shadow loomed over her. The figure flashed a dagger but didn’t swing toward her or her hands.

“You are not welcome here,” a male voice said as he lowered the dagger toward one of her hands.

Charisse swung the hand away and grabbed it elsewhere on the roof. Before she could, however, a boot pressed against the hand, still holding onto the top.

“Fuuck!” Charisse screamed as her grip slipped, and she started falling.

She landed square on her back on the roof below. She threw her arms wide to prevent herself from rolling off the roof. Then, keeping an eye on the shadow above, she palmed a dagger as she carefully moved down the roof. Once she was at the roof's edge, the shadow figure moved back and out of her view.

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She looked around and didn’t see any buildings that noted a church, but she did see the castle and that they were maybe a few blocks from its walls. So carefully, she lowered herself back down to her friends.

“Which way are we going?” Reggie said.

“Not sure,” Charisse winced as pain from an ice pick stabbed her back as she spoke. “Away from the castle, so that way,” Charisse said.

The pain lessened to almost nothing as Reggie realized she was injured and healed. As concern crossed his face, Charisse pointed to the roofs. “We are not welcome.”

Reggie glanced to the roofs, and looked like he spotted someone or something up there. Charisse grabbed his armor and pulled him toward her.

“Nothing we can do; let's move,” Charisse said. She started running away from the castle, barely waiting for the sound of her friend's footsteps to echo behind hers.

Three blocks and two streets over, Charisse paused to ensure Henderson and Reggie kept up. Both were a few paces behind her, with Henderson breathing a little heavier than Reggie.

In the distance, a large group of people marching in unison echoed through the streets. Charisse turned around, cupping a hand to an ear to figure out which direction the sound seemed to be coming from, the way they had come and the way they were going.

“Shit, I’m hearing them from both directions.” Charisse pointed in the two directions. “Side street?”

“Not sure it will work; at some point, we have to pass through one of the major gates to get out of the merchant district,” Reggie said.

“We can try hiding,” Charisse scanned the buildings nearby; most were upscale homes that looked well-maintained. She moved down to the end of the block and peered down a surprisingly well-lit alley. Then, beckoning her friends, she walked down it slowly.

Each house had a back door that had metal bars covering it to further prevent entry. Every third door, there was a smaller wooden door that was recessed and locked. Charisse cursed at the lack of options and carefully scanned down both alleys, looking for something.

One of the little recessed doors did not have a lock on it. Charisse barely stopped herself from crying out in joy as she ran toward it.

The little door had a place for a lock, but it looked like whoever last entered or used it forgot to replace the lock. Charisse opened the door at their salvation into a small closet partially stuffed with wood. Reggie and Henderson arrived before Charisse could close the door.

“Maybe we could fit in?” Henderson said.

“One, at most, two of us,” Reggie said.

“How about you two, and I’ll sneak past the troops,” Charisse said.

“No, what if,” Reggie was interrupted by Charisse.

“They won't see me, but you two; a blind mouse would trip over you,” Charisse said.

“No time to argue; may the gods hide you from their eyes and ears,” Reggie waved a hand over Charisse’s head.

“I have a lock I can put on the door. Hopefully, you’ll have no trouble breaking the door open in the morning.” Charisse said. A quick nod from her friends was the only acknowledgment she needed.

Reggie and Henderson quickly piled into the wood closet. Charisse closed the door and pulled out a cheap lock she’d picked a few weeks ago. Putting it on the door and hearing the click, she whispered goodbye before running back down the alley.

As she ran, she attempted to be as quiet as possible. Stepping on big solid stones, avoiding any gravel or visibly loose rocks, carefully moving around a small puddle just in case. Each step still echoed, just not as much. Then, turning a corner, she spotted a group of guards coming down the other way toward her. She sprinted across the road as fast as she could, running down a side street, hoping if they did follow, she’d have enough lead to lose them.

The side street had a slight rise in the stone, allowing a small gutter for rainwater to follow. Charisse’s right foot caught the edge of the rock, causing her to tumble head over heels down the side street. Stone scraped against her arms and hands as she tried to cushion her fall. As pain throbbed in her now bleeding palms, she pushed herself up and resumed running.

She’d made it to the next street over as the guards rounded the corner. Not wanting to get shot in the back, she turned down another road. This street had a couple of trees lining the street. Each trimmed to look perfect, like little round balls of green on top of a ten-foot wooden pole. With a burst of speed, she leaped onto the tree.

Using the tree trunk as a springboard, she pushed against it, allowing her to reach the lowest branch. Grabbing it with both hands, she pulled herself up and onto it. She quickly moved to the side of the tree to put the trunk between her and the following guard.

As she forced her breathing to quiet, she realized she would not have run; they probably wouldn’t have given her chase. She bit her lip to stop cursing aloud while she waited for the footsteps to get louder.

Holding still, she waited as the armored group turned down her street and ran under her tree. It took every ounce of her willpower to not turn around and watch them leave as their footsteps diminished in the night. To give herself something to do while waiting, she started counting. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, she forced a slow breath between each number; when she reached twenty, she paused but resumed counting.

At forty-eight, she heard footsteps coming down the street, not from the direction the guards ran down, but from the way they had come. In the dark, she couldn’t distinguish who the two figures were; one was much taller and had blond hair. The shorter figure was dressed in all black.

“I saw her run down this way, but no one saw her exit the street.” The shorter man said. The voice trigging a sense of familiarity in Charisse’s mind.

“The guards didn’t see her, nor any of their friends.” Another familiar voice as Charisse’s mind tried to work out where she’d heard it before.

As the figures got closer, some of the leaves in the tree started to droop, quickly wilting and hanging limp from the branch.

As her memory matched the hair and the voice, a few wilted leaves fell from the tree, passing in front of Bartholo’s face. The King looked up at Charisse as she instinctively drew a dagger out and readied herself to drop down and stab the man in the face.

Bartholo stopped in his tracks as surprise spread across his face in the form of a smile. Charisse threw a dagger down; it glanced off the King’s shoulders as if the cloak he was wearing was made of metal. Then, pulling out a second dagger, she lept at the man, the blade held with both hands.

With the King’s head looking upward, the space where his neck met his sternum was exposed. As she came down, she drove the dagger into the man's chest with both hands. The blade sank deep into the man's chest, wrenching it from her grasp.

A shortsword swung through the air from the man in black walking with the King. Charisse managed to step to the side and avoid it as her hands searched for another dagger.

An armored fist from the King smacked Charisse across the cheek. The world spun a little, but she managed to keep on her feet and put a few feet between her and the King. Her dagger still poked out of the man’s chest, and he acted as if it wasn’t there. The man in black moved a little to flank Charisse.

“I want her alive; death doesn’t seem to want her and her friends; I wish to study it,” Bartholo said.

Charisse’s eyes widened as the man in black dropped his shortsword and pulled out a crossbow with a bunched-up net on the bolt's tip. Her hand finally located a dagger, raising it to her neck.

The feeling of oil seeping into her body and coating everything inside caused her to pause. Pain disappeared, and she felt her skin stretching to seal her wound. She closed her eyes and quickly slid her knife across her throat, hoping her friends would understand. Pain erupted as blood spewed out.

A strong hand closed in over her own, a strength beyond hers pulled her arm away from her neck, as the feeling of oil filled her, and magically her neck closed as it healed.

“No,” Charissse gasped.