Chief Flame Sergeant Osric Melkire paced back and forth atop the stoneworks of the Eastern Watchtower, and stared out into the frigid cold night air, hoping to catch a glimpse through the fog... a glimpse of something... from the direction of Castrum Meridianum.
Â
Soon. This all ends very, very soon.
Â
His sister was out there, somewhere. Not his own; Askier's.That was the man's ransom price for Ul'dah: one for thousands. That was his price, and gods damn them both, Osric couldn't blame him.
Â
We're going to bring her home.
Â
He stopped in his tracks and blinked, listening. Not a sound but for the shrill whistle of the night air... where was Private Dawn? She'd been up here just a moment ago. He walked over to the east end of the tower and looked down. No one there, either. No Blades, no Flames... no one.
Â
A freezing drop of certainty chilled his heart just as a single large, burly arm coiled itself around his neck and pulled up and back, cutting off his air and hoisting him bodily off the ground, leaving his feet flailing. His eyes went wide, and his first gut reaction sent his hands scrambling for his neck, desperately trying to free himself...
Â
Knife.
Â
He dropped his right hand to his jerkin... and recalled that he'd given his best blade to her. He curled up his right leg, hand dropping to the boot... as another burly arm grabbed his and held it out at full extension, just as a third grabbed his left arm and did the same.
Â
"Watch your back," she had said.
"And you don't agree?" the other had asked.
Â
"We saw you there, with her," said the deep, ugly voice belonging to the man cutting off his air. "At the 'sand. What, you thinkin' we were blind? Stupid, or somethin'? She ought've decked you. She didn't. So we knew. Worthless piece o' trash what can't even do his job. You're dead."
Â
Someone slipped something brown, rough, and scraggly down his face and around his neck. His eyes widened further as it tightened 'til it was choking him, too.
Â
A noose.
No.Â
"Syndicate says goodbye."
Â
And with that, the arms released him, and a boot planted himself on his spine and pushed out, sending him careening towards the edge, through the gap in the merlons, and his legs hit the stonework....
Â
Daphine. Raandal. Kiest. Mialyre. Kahn'a. D'lyhhia. Nanamo. Andralyn. Ma. Dani. Cori. Thomys. Kanaria.
Â
No. No.
Â
He went over.
Â
The rope snapped taut.
Â
Soon. This all ends very, very soon.
Â
His sister was out there, somewhere. Not his own; Askier's.That was the man's ransom price for Ul'dah: one for thousands. That was his price, and gods damn them both, Osric couldn't blame him.
Â
We're going to bring her home.
Â
He stopped in his tracks and blinked, listening. Not a sound but for the shrill whistle of the night air... where was Private Dawn? She'd been up here just a moment ago. He walked over to the east end of the tower and looked down. No one there, either. No Blades, no Flames... no one.
Â
A freezing drop of certainty chilled his heart just as a single large, burly arm coiled itself around his neck and pulled up and back, cutting off his air and hoisting him bodily off the ground, leaving his feet flailing. His eyes went wide, and his first gut reaction sent his hands scrambling for his neck, desperately trying to free himself...
Â
Knife.
Â
He dropped his right hand to his jerkin... and recalled that he'd given his best blade to her. He curled up his right leg, hand dropping to the boot... as another burly arm grabbed his and held it out at full extension, just as a third grabbed his left arm and did the same.
Â
"Watch your back," she had said.
"And you don't agree?" the other had asked.
Â
"We saw you there, with her," said the deep, ugly voice belonging to the man cutting off his air. "At the 'sand. What, you thinkin' we were blind? Stupid, or somethin'? She ought've decked you. She didn't. So we knew. Worthless piece o' trash what can't even do his job. You're dead."
Â
Someone slipped something brown, rough, and scraggly down his face and around his neck. His eyes widened further as it tightened 'til it was choking him, too.
Â
A noose.
No.Â
"Syndicate says goodbye."
Â
And with that, the arms released him, and a boot planted himself on his spine and pushed out, sending him careening towards the edge, through the gap in the merlons, and his legs hit the stonework....
Â
Daphine. Raandal. Kiest. Mialyre. Kahn'a. D'lyhhia. Nanamo. Andralyn. Ma. Dani. Cori. Thomys. Kanaria.
Â
No. No.
Â
He went over.
Â
The rope snapped taut.
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
