White light so bright he couldn’t blink it out of his eyes dug into his skull. Dizzying pain and freezing cold blocked out everything else.

[i]Why can’t I move? Why can’t I feel anything? Where’s my body? Where is that fucking light coming from?[/i]

After what felt like forever, he could feel  his fingertips. He wiggled them and drug them across cold stone until he was able to throw his arm over his eyes. Feeling spread quickly through his shoulder, torso and unfortunately the rest of his body. The cold, the soreness, and the brutal pressure in his nose and mouth increased tenfold. Everything was spinning. Why was everything spinning? Stop spinning.

Iisska rolled over and curled into a ball on the jail cell floor. He opened his eyes. He could see the stones, mortar and rickety wooden bench all completely out of focus and blurring away to one side.

“Make it stoooop,” he groaned.

“Look who finally came ‘round,” he heard someone say, “Good thing too, was starting to think you went and killed ‘im.”

“Why bother? We’re already in prison,” someone else muttered.

“For illegal gambling. Not murder,” the other one replied, “Much less prison, much less bail, much less getting executed.”

“Eh, starting to wish they would just kill me anyway.”

Their horrible voices were like nails on a chalkboard. A banshee screeching nonsense. They didn’t need to talk. There was no reason to subject him to such a nightmare. 

“Stop talking,” Iisska hissed, “Oh, fff--”

His lungs and stomach rolled around each other with the effort of speaking. He struggled to get himself upright and propped up on his knees and elbows, forehead still planted on the ground.

“Oi, lay down,” one of them said, “You’re concussed, don’t--”

It was too late. Iisska pushed himself back slowly, to sit on his heels and immediately curled back up. His scrambled brain and insides had, had enough and he promptly puked his guts out onto the floor.

“Oh for the love of--!! Not again! Come on with this!” they yelled.

When Iisska was done he managed to drag himself away and slump back onto his butt with his back against the wall. Across the cell he saw two men. The first one was standing. He was well dressed in a long coat and bits of leather armor, had neat, shoulder-length red hair, pulled half up in a clip. He sighed and began to beat his forehead against the bars of the cell while cursing under his breath. The second man was on the ground slouching against the opposite wall so much his back almost touched the ground. His knees were pulled up, his arms were crossed across his stomach. It was the scruffy-looking, punch-throwing, goatee-sporting, pretty boy boxer from… How long ago was that fight? What time was it? How long had they been in here? How did they get here? The only saving grace to Iisska’s onset of bitterness and anger was the fact that his rival was covered in grime and blood and sat next to his own puddle of vomit.

“Don’t yell,” the boxer winced.

“Yeah,” Iisska forced an agreement.

“I’m stuck in here for who knows how long and now it stinks and is a mess,” the one standing up retorted, “I’ll yell as I please. Damn it all, when are they going to bloody let us out of here?”

“We’re in jail?” Iisska asked feebly. 

“And you still have some cognitive ability,” he rolled his eyes, “Congratulations.”

There was a long silence as the man turned away to pace the bars and mumble.

“S- So, we [i]are[/i] in jail then? Did that mean ‘yes?’” Iisska had to clarify.

“Yes! Look with your eyes!” he snapped at him.

“Luke,” the one on the floor groaned, “Calm down. And if you don’t stop that yelling I’m going to cut your voice box.”

Iisska shuddered and curled tighter. He pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes.

“Where’s Cheshik?” he asked.

“Who?” the standing man asked.

“The… my…” Iisska started.

“The other outlander,” the man on the floor answered, “Big lizard guy. Haven’t seen him.”

“That is because I was using winnings to pay off freedom.” The boys heard Cheshik’s voice as he walked around the corner. He had an angsty guard with him that looked like he was ready to pull out his sword and cut somebody for releasing these three. He opened the door to the cell and let the boys go.

“Get of here and don’t let me catch you three in anymore drug rings.” The guard said, barely holding composure.

“And avoid Quin and Nyrette. They were taken too because they know us. They...are not happy.” Cheshik said quietly.

Iisska shot up and stumbled out of the cell door, “You… How!?”

The clean-cut man cleared his throat and bowed slightly, “You have our thanks.”

The group hastily made their way out of the prison as it was starting to get dark out. With nothing left to do, they made their way into a bar to wait out the night.

What they had chosen was a complex of humble buildings including a large inn, a couple small shacks and a mostly open stable with a sort of awning over the stalls and posts. There were a few torches burning on the outside but more warm light filtered out through dingy windows on both the lower and upper floors of the inn. Wagons and beasts of burden were huddled about the stable. Most belonged to travelers and merchants who found the current hustle and bustle of the inner streets of the festive city to be too much for them. There was a strange variety of animals tied and munching away on feed the likes of which the outlanders had never seen before. No wonder Kobel and Snickers had drawn little attention. 

The lower floor was dominated by a large pub, currently full to the brim with travelers. Their voices were boisterous and mugs and cookware clanked and crashed at the tables where drunks were laughing and arguing in their tight groups. Most of them were men and most of them looked more rough around the edges than the city dwelling locals. The heavy, iron hinged double doors creaked open loudly and swung shut with a hard [i]THUD[/i]. Everyone looked toward the entryway and the entire pub went silent aside from a lost cough and a few murmurs. Tristan swallowed and ignored the looks while dragging the outlanders behind him into a corner of the pub.

"OI! The lot of you get back to drinkin'!" a shrill female voice shouted from behind the bar.

The patrons did as they were told and conversation picked back up quickly, albeit a bit more hushed than before. Luke was kicked back at a small table hidden away out of most of the light in the large room. Tristan practically threw himself into the seat next to him and put an "accidental" elbow into his brother's arm.

The four spent a good chunk of the night ordering various drinks and food from the establishment, each having their fill and even getting a little tipsy. Least, Cheshik was from his misunderstanding of the local alcohol. Didn't seem to affect Iisska that much.

At one point, Tristain placed down his mug with understanding.

"So that's pretty much it," Tristan shrugged, "Just decided to walk into the fight?"

"I'd venture to say it's a bit more than that," Luke rolled his eyes.

"Basically." Iisska asked.

"Can't be a mere coincidence," Tristan said.

"Regardless, in the morning we need to get far away from here. We aren't exactly popular in this town and I think the town guards are going to have us under permanent watch after this. I don't suppose I could talk you two into helping us do that," Tristan looked at them expectantly, "We could arrange some sort of payment."

"Eh, well, we can't leave without the crew. We left the girls back in the city," Iisska winced, "And I would much rather they never find out about this."

"There are more of you?" Tristan asked, "Oh, outlanders are a bit... Well with you... you know with us... the guards..."

"They're more than likely fine," Luke interrupted, "I'm sure they'll come looking for you and we can catch them on the road."