Athradien Sorgie - Marketplace, Alabar, Branchwood

GET HIM!

A group of Alabarian Guards brandished their pikes, swords, and what not as they chased after a cloaked figured, tearing down the street like a bat out of hell. "IN THE NAME OF THE KINGDOM THAT MAN IS TO BE KILLED! STOP HIM THIS INSTANT!" The leading guard roared again, but people only looked back from the guard to the cloaked figure as one grew larger as the other grew smaller and away from their sight.

"Wont and can't catch me..." Athradien panted under his breath, beginning to ware down as the chase continued for at least an hour. Athradien brought his head up, the hood of his cloak catching wind and flying back away from his head. The wind caught his shaggy blond hair, making it dance around in intricate ways. The sapphire blue eyes darted this way and that, trying to find an obstacle which he could set in front of the guards which would give him a ridiculous advantage.

"THERE HE IS! I CAN SEE HIM!"

The yelling brought him back to reality, and he darted down an alley way, finding his ticket out of this mess.

10 guards pilled into the small alleyway, all with their mouths agape as their prey had escaped them indefinitely. "Wha' in the bloody hell..." One of the big bad bruisers let out in an astonished, deep voice. "Spread out... he couldn't have gone too far..." The captain mumbled, his order being answered by a unanimous "Aye". The group left, though the Captain lingered for a faint second, though finally finding no use in standing there anymore and left the area.

Athradien sucked in some air from a hole in a large keg, waiting a good 5 minutes after the last grieved foot step left the immediate area. He popped up out of a wine keg, covered in a merlot. With his breathing sporadic, he looked down at his once white cloak, now a deep purple. "Sun of a..." He mumbled, sighing, "I just got this from mum and pa too..." His voice was sarcastic in a way, caring about something no where near as valuable as his life. He flipped open a part of his cloak, revealing a long scabbard which held a black hilt to a sword, the blade being roughly 4 foot in length. He unsheathed the sword, tipping the metal scabbard upside down to let the wine drain from the inside. Athradien would be worried about a rust forming on his blade, though he had already enchanted it years ago to never rust.

The slowly got out of the keg, flinging his arms and legs in a fashion to try and rid himself of the intoxicating smell of various fruits and spices, namely smelling like a vat of grapes. He put his hand to his clothes, mumbling a few words, and only a half second later, the bleached white was returning to his cloak, the wine pouring out on the ground. "There... better..." He mumbled before looking up, "Now where in the hell are Aerandir and Evie...?" He asked no one but himself. He put his hand to his clothes again, and the color began to change, along with all of his others, now a crimson red.

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