Starting Date and Time: Jadeyan 28th, 301 DM, Shortly after sunrise

Starting Location: Docks near Graakt's Gadgets

CS URLs: Graakt Softhammer & Cecielle & terrorbubble's character upon creation

Graakt just finished his breakfast, after offering the last of his sausage to Shkara. The metallic and wooden cat munched on it happily, as the bits and chunks of it fell away to the table. He didn't care that she couldn't actually eat it, he enjoyed the company of her. He rubbed her head between the ears, before cleaning up.

He stepped out of the shop and locked up, Shkara already out and about, protecting her rather large slice of neighborhood from other cats and rodents. As usual, Graakt was in his ragged leather pants and cotton long sleeve, both worn and dirty from his work. As he walked along the docks, admiring the small fishing schooners and other small ships. There were rumors that other civilizations existed, so maybe one day soon large ships would start coming here. Trade would breathe some life into this village.

The various dock workers, teamsters, and other laborers were all in their own forlorn discussions, faces grim. And understandably so, tensions between the Knights and the various criminal gangs, and the regular citizens, were quite high. Ever since Inola was slain, it had been getting uglier and uglier. She was the niece of one of the crime lords, and daughter of the only baker. A sweet girl, kind to everyone. The story that was circulating that she saw a pretty coat that she liked, and took it, only to be seen by a Knight. The knight had been a pretty aggressive guy and had scared the 8 year old to tears. She tried running, and he chased, and during that, the girl ended up dead on his dagger.

Her death hit the community hard, her father shuttering his business while he mourned. Her uncle on the other hand was angry, so very angry. He'd offered to pay anyone that made difficult the lives of the few Knights' that were stationed in their village. The village being filled with the poor and the criminally inclined, the citizens did a fantastic job of making them miserable.

Then someone took it a bit further. A masked man had kidnapped the Lieutenant Knight that had killed little Inola. He tied him up, dragged him to the top of the Knights' Depot, and executed him before a crowded street, before dumping his body unceremoniously. The Knights' had been unable to capture the man and he disappeared. This led the Knights' to detaining random citizens and interrogating them. Men, women, children, none were exempt it seemed. The entire situation was volatile, and it seemed it wouldn't be long until full out war in the streets erupted.

Graakt walked away from the docks toward the market, where a human man on a crate was shouting. The locals knew him as Virgil, the right hand man to one of the local crime lords.

"Shopkeepers, merchants, craftsmen, anyone with a few silvers or more to spare. There will be an auction in three stretches, at the old Skivven warehouse on the docks. Entry is one silver, and all things will be sold. You can trust me and mine that you can always find something you want or need here. This is a private event, so no black hearts will be there."

With that, the man stepped down into the crowd and disappeared. Anyone local could read between the lines of what was said. Black hearts was the nickname given to the knights. The one silver entry meant the goods were stolen. Trusting them meant they were providing security. Graakt figured he'd be there, standing there a head taller than most as people babbled excitedly amongst themselves. He turned to head back to his shop, absentmindedly bumping into a few people and giving them a small apology. Graakt had never delved into the criminal realm here, but it was a near essential way of life to have some minor involvement.

He bumped into yet someone else, "Sorry, my mind is just wandering today," reaching down to help up whoever he'd knocked down, only just now seeing them.

What the hell happened to this place? Everyone's on edge, and the entire city feels like it's going to go up in flames. These, and several similar thoughts, traveled through the young harpy's mind as she entered the city of Azure Strand for the first time in more than a season. The entire vibe of the city made her usually-ruffled feathers stiff, as if she was preparing for the worst. She had known this city was renowned for it's criminal activity, and that's why she trusted it as easily as she did, at least when it came to holding her cart and horse. Money spoke the loudest in this town, and she was a somewhat-known merchant (among merchants) who had always been good to her word, so, payment was all-but assured, so long as they kept her stuff safe.

It wasn't the condition of her horse and cart that bothered her, though. She had yet to go pick it up. No, the very air of the city seemed stiff, the shadows, darker, and everyone seemed to keep to themselves even more than usual. What's more, the Knights seemed to be getting the worst of it all, so, she assumed that they had done something to cause it. Could they have tightened the laws of the place? she wondered, gazing at a group of Knights walking perpendicular to her own path, watching as everyone seemed to avoid them like the plague. It was at this point that her ears picked up the sound of a crowd gathering, and her attention was turned to a man standing atop a crate. Even though she was some ways away from the crowd, she could see and hear him clearly. Sometimes, it paid to be who she was.

After he finished his speech, she checked what coin she had on her, not including that special sealed box she kept for emergencies only, and shrugged. It would be nice to get back into the market with a bulk auction, especially if it was going to be private. Privacy meant discounted goods for special buyers, and that was something she was more than willing to take part in. It wasn't like she was going to go after anything specific, or anything particularly dangerous, but auctions generally sold bulk for less than street vendors, assuming competition wasn't ridiculous. Besides, worst case scenario, she could always dip out and buy from a standard merchant, and a single silver was a small price to pay to potentially find a great deal.

In fact, her own business-centered mind had distracted her, that she didn't notice the crowd scatter about her, some avoiding her simply because of what she was, though, most just seemed to be moving back to their own individual tasks. In particular, a rather large man bumped into her, an orc, it seemed, and knocked her back. She would have fallen completely over, but caught herself with a flap of her wings, the updraft pushing her back, and her talons catching the stone paving underneath her, straightening her to an upright position, and she smiled, somewhat embarrassed, to the man that had ran into her.

"Oh no, I should be the one apologizing," she said, her voice, while somewhat bashful, was quite melodious in nature, "I shouldn't have been just standing here. I should have gotten out of the flow, or gone with it."

To say the least, Cole wasn't much of an experienced traveler. For the eighteen years he'd spent in the Underdark, he had been quite content to fly around in the darkness, considering his eyes were accustomed to the low lighting. There were but a few times he could recall leaving the Underdark with his blind mother, though he couldn't tell the names of the places they visited. However, he fondly remembered the locations being thick with grass and trees. He remembered everything being so colorful compared to his birthplace, and the trees. He adored trees. This was one of the reasons he'd chosen to reside in Green Fall - it was abundant in surrounding trees and forest, particularly the Chartric Forest.

However, Azure Strand was not a place that he could remember visiting before recently. He knew that the city was revolved around fishing, and that it had a reputation of being infested with criminals. It didn't intimidate him or upset his psyche - he was quite confident that he could take care of himself. Strapped to either side were his daggers, and he was satisfied with his ability to use them, however dull or measly they were. He reminded himself that he was here on strict business...but he'd forgotten who he was supposed to be meeting. It had been such a long journey here. Grach, was it? He remembered a grrr sound in the name. Nonetheless, he guessed it shouldn't have been too hard to find an orc with a grrr name, as long as he asked around and hoped people didn't assume he'd gone mad.

Azure Strand, although being a foreign place, did not fail to give off an unusual, tense vibe. As if the city was more on edge than it normally was - not that Cole would have known. It was just a feeling that he had. Still, he shrugged it off. The well-being of the residents of this city wasn't his concern. His concern was to speak to the grrr orc about a "revolutionary fletching gadget" for the Woodwork Market in Green Fall, his boss Angela's words.

Then there was a crowd that would have been blocking his path had he known where he was going. For the confused state he was in, it was a miracle. Someone here had to know how to point him in the right direction. The crowd was gathered around a crate, upon which a man stood, announcing the location and time of an upcoming auction. For a moment, Cole was distracted by him. It sounded interesting-

Focus, he reminded himself. Business.

As the people parted, so did he, only to nearly run into someone who had run into someone else and knocked them over. A wing fluttered slightly before folding securely against his back. A race he was not yet comfortably acquainted with, and an orc.

"Er," his voice was soft and rough. The two before him exchanged apologies and paused, giving him a chance to speak up. "Gra- uh, Grach? Grak?"

Suddenly, the name came to him. "Oh! Are you Graakt?"

Graakt was now looking down at two winged people, one he'd bowled over, the other had nearly met the same fate. He didn't seem to recognize either of them, so he immediately assumed that they weren't locals, even if one knew him by name. If they weren't locals, and they weren't Knights, then that meant only one thing. Traders. Only merchants visited. Family and friends stayed away, no one came for vacation, so those looking for coin was the only answer.

Though why one knew him by name was beyond him.

He saw some knights eyeballing their little grouping suspiciously. "Perhaps we should move somewhere a bit more... private. My shop is close." He nodded in the direction of the docks, and started that way, shooting a casual glance at the Knights. Yes, they were definitely interested in them. "Don't run, we'll be fine."

Graakt was taking the lead, moving down the dirt road, hoping his companions would take the hint. The trio of knights were pushing through the crowd, eyes locked on the group. Once Graakt reached the dock road, he turned westward. If his companions joined him, he would pull them into the first door, which was a small smithy. He looked up at the proprietor, a large human man named Treton, "Tret, we have footsteps, mind if we stock some shelves?" This was all local lingo for being followed by knights, and hanging out until they are gone. The smithy nodded, smiling, and gestured to the back of the office. Graakt went in and sat on a crate labeled horseshoes, looking at eyelevel at his companions, before settling on the man, "So how do you know my name, and what brings you here?"

Cecielle was confused, to say the least, especially by the distrust of guards. Something had -definitely- transpired here, as to what exactly that was, though, she couldn't say. This orc, though, was extending her a hand of aid in evading the guard, even though she had nothing to hide, and had done nothing run from, so, she decided to go against her natural trust of the guard, and move with them. She avoided visibly noticing the guard as she moved with them, staying silent, though, so she could hear whatever the guards were discussing, if they were discussing anything at all. What's more, the strange bat-winged man who had appeared seemed to know who the orc was, so, staying with them, if offered, seemed to be her best bet to survive whatever was going on.

She had moved as unassumingly as possible, not really saying much as she was led into a blacksmith's shop, and then into the back offices of a blacksmiths shop, after which, she simply placed her leg against a nearby wall, and leaned against it, still trying to process everything that was happening, and why she, as someone who was just returning to the town to pick up her stuff, would have been targeted by the guards.

"If you don't mind me asking, and interrupting, sir, why am I being chased by guards? I haven't done anything, and just arrived back in this city to pick up a few things, and make my way on my yearly merchant route. I'm just a peddler."

Against his better judgement, Cole had followed the orc and stranger upon noticing the suspicious knights paying attention to them. There was nothing that Cole had to hide. There was nothing he'd done or said that could get him in trouble. However, he still needed the mystery gadget from the orc, and he wasn't about to let him slip away after finally finding him. Graakt warned him and the stranger not to run, which Cole had no intention of doing initially, but now had the sudden urge to do. He mentally shook the urge away.

With Graakt leading and the stranger just ahead of him, he followed them into what appeared to be an obvious smith-shop near the docks. The knights seemed to track them until they entered and were led into a back room. Cole felt stiff with caution and concern, but by no means was he afraid. Nope. He wouldn't let himself be afraid.

The orc inquired as to how Cole knew his name, and what exactly was he doing here. But just as Cole was about to speak, the strange woman interrupted, asking why she was being chased by guards. His first reaction was to roll his eyes. But he suppressed it.

"I come from Green Fall, from the Woodwork Market," he said, blatantly ignoring the stranger's questioning of the orc. "My boss, Angela Box, said you had an item for her. She sent me here, told me to take some time to look around the city, get the mystery item, and head home."

Shrugging, Cole spread his hands, "That's all she said before sending me on my way."

Graakt looked at the harpy, his face showing his tired nature at this situation in their town. "The knights are trying to find anyone connected to a public assassination. This entire season has been a back and forth between the knights who think they have power, and the groups here that actually have power. The knights, they are desperate. They are rounding up everyone, interrogating them, hurting them. Most people come back, some don't. The city is reaching a boiling point."

He leaned back against the wall behind him sighing. He'd been lucky so far, having avoided interrogation. He didn't know anything, hell, it seemed no one did. When the strange looking man spoke, it definitely warranted a new bout of attention. "You came all this way for a knick knack, one you don't even know about?" He chuckled slightly at the ridiculousness of it. "Did you upset your master and she sent you on a fool's errand to get you out of her hair for a while?"

Then he heard the door to the shop open, hearing several thumps of boots on wood. He held a thick, green finger to his lips, and listened in. "Well hello again, Tret. It is nice to see you've healed up nicely, though I personally think your face was prettier all black and blue. Have you seen a group of people? An orc, a bird, and some blasted, winged bastard child? We have a few... questions for them, and they were seen heading this way."

The man's voice was stubborn, "No one comes by here cept those wanting hooks and spearheads. And idiots asking stupid questions."

There was thud, the sound of a fist colliding into Tret's stomach, and a gasp of air, "You best mind your manners next time, or I may just find you needing questioned, again." With that, the boots turned and left.

After giving plenty of time, Tret entered the back, "You're good to go, but they went toward your shop. May want to go somewhere else for a while." Graakt nodded, clasping the man on the shoulder, "Shall we head to the auction a bit early? I do always enjoy speaking with merchants."

Graakt moved out of the shop, leading the way through the streets. "You all picked a great time to visit." Looking over his shoulder at the harpy, "So what wares did you bring to town?" He'd listen for a while, leading them down back alleys and side roads, until they were outside the warehouse. Surprisingly there were no knights anywhere in sight, though he suspected that the hosts had made sure knights were turned away, distracted, or beaten down before ever coming close.

Graakt walked up, presenting a silver coin to the small, human woman at the door, she nodded and smiled, speaking to all of them, "I am to search you and peace tie any weapons. If your weapons are seen untied during this auction, you will be executed on sight. If you make a bid, but fail to pay at the end of the auction, you will be enslaved. Happy bidding." Any weapons would be tied to belts, sheathes, whatever was available by leather straps, deep purple in hue.

Gesturing inside, they would see a large wooden stage set in the center of the warehouse, many people bustling about. Around the edges of the warehouse, seemed to be individuals selling goods, some even selling food and drink. There was a lot of money changing hands here. Graakt spoke to his new companions, "Looking for anything in particular?"

The harpy listened to the orc's explanation with interest, though, she had no context as to why someone was assassinated, or why the Knights were using it as a vie for power. Marking it as an example of human strangeness certainly didn't seem to be applicable, simply because this was the first she had ever heard of such a thing, let alone experienced it. She was even further confused when the Knight threatened to interrogate the blacksmith, who had so kindly granted them sanctuary, in a more violent manner than previous. The way that Knight acted was both unbecoming and undeserving of the title of Knight, and she knew full well that, whoever that man was, he was a Knight by title alone, and, despite her usual willingness to cooperate and aid the human law, she would not help him in his cruel endeavors, and, to ensure such a thing, Cecielle made a mental note of his voice, and all it's nuances, just in case.

However, her worries seemed to melt away the moment a talk of business and mercantilism was introduced into the conversation, and she turned to the orc, a smile plastered along her naturally alluring face as her eyes ignited with an almost-frightening passion, explaining, "You see, Mr. Orc, I'm not actually bringing anything by this season, I'm starting my rounds here. At the beginning of last season, I traded away the salt I had gotten from Stonecrest, a preservative that was in high demand during the colder months, when fish were scarce, and the need for keeping food from spoiling was far greater than it would be otherwise, for the money to begin again this year. I actually just got back from visiting my family in the mountains, taking a season off from the civilized world, and spending it with family. It was also the first time I didn't trade in some form of credit, so, I've got plenty of coin to start this year with."

She was careful not to reveal to much information about her route, as to not garner even further competition, but, other than that, Cecielle was happy to discuss the nuances of her travels, from her horse's favorite food, to the things she had seen across the lands of the Kingdom of Ebonfort. As they walked, she told them, rather excitedly, of the time a few years back when she had nearly lost everything during a crash in the tools market, where she had gotten greedy and believed the tales of the incredible harvest, which turned out to be mediocre at best, and how she was able to bring herself out of debt by a doing a trade which took her, not along the known roads, but through hunter and bandit trails between Ebonfort and Green Falls. It was her first trade in gold alone, and the first time she had played debtor. All in all, she loved the experience, but quickly informed them that, despite her enjoyment, she much rather preferred being a merchant.

Once they had arrived at the auction house, Cecielle's lack of non-talon weaponry would have been fairly apparent, though, she did allow them to check her pack, only to find a tightly-sealed lockbox with a master-crafted lock, and a few other mercantilistic devices, such as a scale, a ledger, several blank and signed contracts, a magnifying glass, a mirror, and so-on. Nothing that could be used as a weapon of any effectiveness. She paid her own silver as well, entering the auction hall, letting the sound and smell of business cascade across her, all the while sighing with the content of someone who had just arrived home. Her trance, though, was broken by the orc's question.

"Particular? No, not really. If I find any really good deals, then I'll probably pounce, but, if not, I'm still debating my next move. If the quality of the live fish market is good, I'll probably capitalize on that for the springtime fish markets in the capital, but, if it's lackluster, I might just skip Azure Strand. I got some good insight from my former master when I visited him last year about a great starting point. And, I still need to get my horse and cart from the place I paid to keep them. Dancing Goat, if the contract and I remember correctly. This auction, for me, anyway, is just a wonderful little detour, as I've never been to an underground auction before."

Cole's face showed surprise when Graakt informed them of the assassination that had recently taken place, and the measures the knights were taking to find out who was the culprit. The words most people come back, some don't seemed to settle on his mind, as he didn't see the point of making someone disappear, killed or not, if they were not responsible for any crime. This new information agitated him, and he became conscious that he was fidgeting and twiddling his thumbs. He immediately stopped, and the orc continued speaking, of Cole having traveled so far for one seemingly simple item. Cole rubbed the back of his neck, somewhat awkwardly, because he hadn't given it much thought - it didn't seem like he'd upset Angela when or before he'd left, but she was a very strange individual. There was no telling what he may have accidentally said or done that had ticked her off. Not that he spoke much around her anyway.

"I- Well, I mean, I guess that's a possibility, but I don't think-" his stuttering was interrupted, with a silent thanks from himself, by the spat that was going on in the next room. By the time it was over, and the kind man had assured them that they were safe, Cole found himself being led around again by the orc, while he wondered why it was necessary to be moving so much. He was a bit sore from alternating between flying and walking the entire way here (with nightly breaks, of course), and longed only to take a seat and talk and then get going after retrieving the item that he'd been sent to retrieve.

When they arrived at the place of the auction in question, the daggers strapped to Cole's sides were bound by the deep purple leather. He listened quietly to the woman speak after Graakt asked if they were looking for anything in particular. As a matter of fact, Cole was not, but he wouldn't hesitate to look around. However, he had to keep reminding himself that he was here on business, business, business. But it was a place he'd never explored, and even with the danger going on around, he was still excited. The woman expressed that she herself was not in search of anything, but had the same idea as Cole, willing to settle on a good deal for an interesting item.

"Yes," Cole spoke up. "She's got the right idea. Well, the same as mine, anyway. Not really looking for anything, but if I see something worth grabbing, I'm going to grab it." He smiled sideways, a modest, almost shy smile. "But other than that, I...don't really know what I'm going to do."

He raised an eyebrow at Graakt and asked, "But what is that gadget that Angela has sent me to get? She claims you already know."

Graakt smiled listening to them talk, especially when asked about the gadget he'd had in mind. It had taken a while to come up with anything worthwhile, most fletchers just needed their carving sets, and rarely did innovation beat out good honest training. But he thought he had something decent.

Looking at the harpy, "Skip our fair village? That would be the mistake of a lifetime. Especially with that pompous guy building that massive ship down in the harbor. I've heard he intends to locate a distant city, in a desert people have only heard rumors about. He's been buying goods from every village and stockpiling. He's also taking on other merchants that are willing to travel with him, good honest work. Lots of people will be wealthy on their return, I'm sure. Should be ready next season. Check out the harbor sometime, its rather obvious which ship is his."

He looked up as a woman in a ragged tophat and a frilly suit. She looked ridiculous. Clearly a woman of wealth without taste. Her attire was worth more than many people of this village would make in a lifetime. Leaning over to Cole, "So my gadget will make it a lot easier to feather arrows. It doesn't affect the skill in the making of the arrow, but increases the speed. Should help quite a bit with those big orders I've heard fletchers complain about."

The woman on the stage raised her hands and everyone fell quiet, eyes fell on her. "We have plenty of goods for today. As you know, everything here comes with a risk, and that is a risk you purchase with it. I have something extra special for the end." The talking began anew, for every local knew this woman. Her name was Sylvaria, and she ran the Darts, one of the bigger crime gangs in the village. They specialized in high value smash and grabs, mostly knight caravans. Several men and women in skimpy outfits walked out on stage, bringing various goods with them.

Gem encrusted swords taken from knights, artifacts from ruins, many incredibly valuable items, which surprisingly all got sold. Then came the final sale. Sylvaria stepped forward, smiling, [color=7ea7d8]"These next items are special. There will be two types of bidding. Life or death."[/color

She stepped back as several knights, in nothing more than their undergarments were dragged on stage in chains. Most had the black pins that signified unranked stuck into their chests, blood lightly dripping down, but one large human man had a crimson sash around his arm, showing his rank as Captain.

Suddenly everyone realized what they different style of bidding meant, especially when the first slave was sold under death. Sylvaria stepped forward, her trademark bladed whip in hand. She raised her hands as if she were dancing, smiling wide, before snapping her arm down. The whip cracked like thunder and the man's head rolled from his neck. This continued onward, some being bought with life and thus becoming slaves, and some death. Finally the captain was brought forward.

The highest bidder chose death.

The whip was about to come down when the doors from the front entrance shattered inward in splinters and dust. Knights poured in, weapons in hand, killing the first people they reached. It was a raid, and they weren't here to arrest, they were here for blood and vengeance.

Cecielle smiled, saying, "I don't really know if leaving the country is comfortable enough for me. I rather like my route. However, if there is such a wondrous chance for trade, I will have to speak with him about it. After all, a merchant must follow her instincts."

She went silent as the auction started, and watched, with both wonder and curiosity, at all the things flying away from the house, with bids being far more unpredictable than she was used to seeing. This certainly was an interesting auction house, and she would have probably taken part. However, she had wanted absolutely no part in the barbarism that had begun towards the end of it. No matter what had happened, no matter what the justification, the execution of guards, and the bidding on whether they lived or died, disgusted her. It was an intrinsic, guttural feeling of disdain, and she would have began making her way out of the establishment the moment such activities had begun. However, with the crowd that had gathered, such a task would not be easy for her.

Unfortunately for her, she did not get out before the raid began, however, also fortunately for her, she was not quite at the door when it had begun, meaning that, instead of being instantly killed, she put her wings to use, and flew up towards the ceiling, hovering above the door, waiting for an opportunity to duck out behind the wave of guards. She wanted nothing to do with any of this, and was going to leave the moment such a thing was allowed. For now, though, hiding in the rafters above the door seemed like the most intelligent decision.

Graakt leaned over and explained to Cole the intent of the gadget he was to retrieve, and immediately Cole's face twisted into a scowl. To think he had traveled this whole way just for something to speed up the feathering of arrows. His poor, aching wings had worked so tirelessly to get here so quickly - well, then again, Angela had said there was no big rush. Cole began to wonder if perhaps she really had just sent him on a meaningless quest to get him out of her hair. But Cole's mouth sometimes yearned to work faster than its filter, and he began with, "You mean I came all this way-" but then was quieted by the woman on the stage. His attention turned, silently, to her, as did everyone else's.

The beginning seemed normal enough - even the odd comment of special ending surprise appeared innocent. Cole watched with curious eyes as items were sold left and right, his mind making guesses on what the special products could have possibly been. Neither Graakt nor Cecielle seemed to speak much, and likewise, Cole stayed quiet.

Then the ending came. The Life or Death "items." Cole's gaze of curiosity instantly became one of horror and disgust as he watched seemingly innocent people being slaughtered or enslaved for sport. Just as he'd turned to voice his being appalled, the doors of the warehouse burst as Knights began to fill the cracks between bodies. The moment that Cecielle took flight, Cole was behind her, wings spread and flapping anxiously. He sped directly toward the door behind her, only to realize that neither of them could immediately escape. As Cecielle took to cowering between the rafters, Cole perched himself upon the ledge of the doorframe, pulling at the daggers strapped to his sides. The leather strap that bound them to his belt released, and he held onto the one in his right hand defensively, peering down at the crowd of panicking bodies with wide eyes.

Graakt watched as the Knights poured in, and immediately turned his back away from them, keeping his eyes on them. He watched his winged companions flutter up to safety, as he brought his heavy fists up. Many people drew their weapons and fought the Knights in direct combat, but that was bound to lead to their deaths. Knights needed fought from the shadows. Graakt looked over his shoulder and saw a doorway in the back. He slowly crept back, watching the knights cut people down like the mass of weapons and armor they were.

Several knights with heavy crossbows entered, and with a shout, they noticed Cole over the doorway, though Cecielle had picked a more ideal hiding spot. The swarm of knights fought their way to the center of the hall, with more outside the front door, cutting down any that may attempt to escape that way. Graakt hustled back through the rear door way, into a storage room, presumably for the goods. He watched the knights rush the stage and set up the crossbowmen. More and more of the gang members rushed in from the back and the entire place turned into a bloody mess. But the crossbowmen were the deciding factor as bolt after bolt was loosed into the crowd and rafters. Graakt ran down the long storage room to the opposite door that led to the stage. It was locked, and heavy, and he doubted he could break it down.

His eyes fell on the hinges. They were rusted and old. He looked around the storage room, and found a set of heavy chained manacles. He picked them up, and hefted their weight, swinging them, testing them. It took many attempts but he managed to smash the upper hinges off. He lowered his shoulder and bashed his weigh through the weakened door. The lower hinge calved off, and the door fell hard onto the stage, Graakt atop it. From his prone position he threw his chain at the nearest of the three crossbowmen. It struck the main in his unarmored hands, breaking several bones. Graakt was up on his feet as he charged toward the other two, clearly distracted by the large orc. He threw a sloppy right hook at the injured man, catching him in the side of the face, throwing him to the ground, sending pain up his hand and wrist. He kept his momentum as he reached down and picked up his chain, turning swiftly to one side as he swung it, catching the second in the crossbow, knocking it heavily from his hands. Graakt kept charging as he tackled into the man, knocking him into the third.

They fell into a pile and Graak took that time to rain blows of fist and chains upon the men's faces. His hands hurt something fierce as he stood, more knights heading toward him, swords drawn.