Night had fallen over Ul'dah, the cool glow of the night sky enveloping the Jewel like a blanket. A Brass Blade walked briskly through it, tugging on the cover of his turban over his eyes. The sound of mailed boots clicking on the cobbled streets sounded too loud in this quiet corner of the city. While the warm glow of lights and the festive shouts of people still echoed from the Sapphire Avenue, the area in front of the Brass Blade headquarters was relatively still. Inside was a token force of Blades, but many of them were out and about, enjoying Ul'dah's street life.
The lip of the Brass Blade curled somewhat as he entered the headquarters and made a straight line to the gaol. No one questioned him. It was generally true that if you act like you belong somewhere, most people won't stop you out of fear of raising a fuss. It was rather gratifying to know that that principle held true even in places of authority. The area in front of the entrance to the dungeons was empty save for a single Highlander Hyur standing watch. Things were going just as planned.
The first Brass Blade made a small gesture as he approached the door to the dungeons. He wasn't wearing the traditional bronze mitts but was instead wearing gauntlets that allowed him to extend his right thumb and index finger forward. The Highlander Hyur nodded and swung the door open. As the first Brass Blade entered the gaol, he passed a small pouch to the Highlander with his left hand.
The farther one descended into the dungeons, the fouler the stench became. It wasn't just sweat, blood, and excrement; it was desperation, and fear. The Brass Blade gave cursory glances to each of the cells until he found the mark he was looking for. The sight gave him pause.
The Elezen's sack trousers were covered in blood stains and the cell reeked of sweat and fecal matter. What was once a spindly, if reasonably alive Wildwood had thinned and shrunk into a mere skeleton covered in taut, pasty skin. Darkened bruises encased his wrists where manacles held them and were only defeated in hue by the bruises on his face and body. His chest heaved with laboured breathing.
The Brass Blade opened his mouth to say something before stopping and wordlessly swinging open the cell door. The Elezen seemed to barely lift his head up as if to acknowledge this new torturer before his neck went slack. The Brass Blade then withdrew a small vial from his belt, uncorking it. The vial was filled with a translucent, viscous liquid, and driven through the cork was a small golden needle. He knelt down to the Elezen with the needle covered in the almost gelatin-like substance, glancing his head up.
What a wretched place to be in.
The Brass Blade looked down and examined the Elezen's calf. It was easy to see the blue veins against the stretched skin. With a careful motion, he pricked the Elezen's calf with the needle; the hole was minuscule but was surrounded by just the barest visible purple tinge. The Elezen did not react to it at all.
He corked the bottle and sighed, standing up. It would only take a few hours for the substance to take effect. Perhaps even less, given the Wildwood's pitiful state. The Brass Blade corked the vial and walked out, double checking to make sure the turban covered any notable features of his face.
The Brass Blade walked out of the dungeons and back into the streets of Ul'dah with nary a word.
The night went on.
The lip of the Brass Blade curled somewhat as he entered the headquarters and made a straight line to the gaol. No one questioned him. It was generally true that if you act like you belong somewhere, most people won't stop you out of fear of raising a fuss. It was rather gratifying to know that that principle held true even in places of authority. The area in front of the entrance to the dungeons was empty save for a single Highlander Hyur standing watch. Things were going just as planned.
The first Brass Blade made a small gesture as he approached the door to the dungeons. He wasn't wearing the traditional bronze mitts but was instead wearing gauntlets that allowed him to extend his right thumb and index finger forward. The Highlander Hyur nodded and swung the door open. As the first Brass Blade entered the gaol, he passed a small pouch to the Highlander with his left hand.
The farther one descended into the dungeons, the fouler the stench became. It wasn't just sweat, blood, and excrement; it was desperation, and fear. The Brass Blade gave cursory glances to each of the cells until he found the mark he was looking for. The sight gave him pause.
The Elezen's sack trousers were covered in blood stains and the cell reeked of sweat and fecal matter. What was once a spindly, if reasonably alive Wildwood had thinned and shrunk into a mere skeleton covered in taut, pasty skin. Darkened bruises encased his wrists where manacles held them and were only defeated in hue by the bruises on his face and body. His chest heaved with laboured breathing.
The Brass Blade opened his mouth to say something before stopping and wordlessly swinging open the cell door. The Elezen seemed to barely lift his head up as if to acknowledge this new torturer before his neck went slack. The Brass Blade then withdrew a small vial from his belt, uncorking it. The vial was filled with a translucent, viscous liquid, and driven through the cork was a small golden needle. He knelt down to the Elezen with the needle covered in the almost gelatin-like substance, glancing his head up.
What a wretched place to be in.
The Brass Blade looked down and examined the Elezen's calf. It was easy to see the blue veins against the stretched skin. With a careful motion, he pricked the Elezen's calf with the needle; the hole was minuscule but was surrounded by just the barest visible purple tinge. The Elezen did not react to it at all.
He corked the bottle and sighed, standing up. It would only take a few hours for the substance to take effect. Perhaps even less, given the Wildwood's pitiful state. The Brass Blade corked the vial and walked out, double checking to make sure the turban covered any notable features of his face.
The Brass Blade walked out of the dungeons and back into the streets of Ul'dah with nary a word.
The night went on.
