(( This is the final part of this story thread, been meaning to come to this for a LONG time now and hadn’t gotten around to it, or felt like writing it till now. After this is written there will be a full on collective version that will be put up here and on the guild RP blog thing. For those of you just joining into this, this is the previous version. You can follow that until the beginning otherwise just wait for the full collective one. ))
Dawn broke over the horizon as Rasmot stirred from his concussion induced sleep. His head rubbed the front of his skull where the pommel of a blade hit and knocked him out. A few small glances indicated exactly where he didn’t want to find himself. In a jail cell. Stumbling to the bars his body collided with them as he glanced up to the desk where a guard stirred and walked up to the cell. The guard was chewing on a sprig of Bloodthistle with a slight grin, he was obviously working on a high. Rasmot groaned and shook his head, he had heard some stories from the row about the city guard. He just chose to not believe they were this horrid. Perhaps not all of them were, but at least this one was.
“Well well, look what the hawkstrider woke up. Mornin’ princess, you look like shit.”
A large scowl lined Rasmot’s lips. “Come closer and we’ll see how pretty you look.”
“Oooooh ho ho, feisty ain’tcha. Well you’re gonna have time to be plenty feisty later. You’re gonna swing today.” The guard laughed and leaned against the wall opposite of the cell with a wide grin. “Looks like you’ve been naughty and played with too many toys. Got one of the big boys all worked up. Turns out you’re not the man we were lookin’ for. But when Lord Sori’Thas showed up . . . ooooh he was mighty pleased that we found him.”
Rasmot’s eyes widened as he gripped the bar. “Do you realize what you’re doing? you’re letting a mad man control this city!!”
“Tsk tsk. See, that’s what got ya in trouble buddy.” A sudden shift in the dilation of the guard’s pupils changed the attitude. “Yeeeaaaaaaah, that’s riiiiight haha. See if you didn’t torch the man’s house, maaaan you wouldn’t be here. But settin’ fire to a Noble’s house? oooooh we can’t have thaaaaat.” The guard was giddy. “You’re gonna hang maaaaaan, best pray while you can.”
Laughing loudly the Guard plopped back down behind the large oaken desk observing his hands as Rasmot smacked his head against one of the bars. It was no use trying to fight. These guards were on Ranathan’s payroll. And already Rasmot knew too much so there’d be no point in letting him live. He slammed his head on the bars twice before turning away with his new found headache. There had to be a way out of this mess, at least to get out of the hanging alive. His mind examined all of the facts and started to try and churn out solutions while waiting for the inevitable. Then, something hit him. The guard had thrown a wrapped satchel of dried food stuffs at his head. Impeccable aim for a stoner.
After the laughter died down an idea sprung from half remembered strands of the city. He had seen Belyndrae a few days ago. And he knew for a fact that he gave her one of Searton’s many assorted children to look after her. Maybe the little pup would remember the signal? Rasmot had to try ANYTHING at this point. He glanced up and thanked whatever Gods of the Nether that decided to play nice that there was a simple barred window. Rasmot grabbed the bars and wrestled himself up with his strength before calling to the outside. The guard burst into laughter as soon as he heard Rasmot making almost mewling sounds to the outside. Another pack of dried food hit Rasmot’s back and forced him to quiet the mewling down.
It took longer than he liked but finally a fox wearing a pretty bow stepped out of the shadows, wagging it’s tail. Rasmot again thanked the Gods of the Nether and took this moment to formulate a plan.
“Okay look, it’s been a while. But i need your help.” He whispered down to the fox. “While i would like to call on Belyndrae, i don’t think this is the trouble she needs right?”
The fox shook it’s head.
“Good we agree, i want you to find a man. He’s tall. Has a beard on his chin, wears an eyepatch.” Rasmot paused before snapping his finger. “He works with Dragonhawks. His name is Lenathil. Can you remember that?”
Nodding it’s head quickly the fox barked twice.
“Fantastic . . . i would give you some chicken but just get his attention . . . in fact.” Rasmot took off his hat and tossed it out the bars after shoving it through. “Give this to him. And then INSIST on his arriving here. And hurry.”
The Fox ran away with the hat clenched in it’s jaw as Rasmot lowered himself from the bars. Now he just had to wait. Having had everything confiscated, all he had to tell the time with was the movement of the sun on the jail walls as he sat near the wall with the bars. He picked up one package of dried food and instantly frowned. It was of course gilnean dried turkey. The one type of jerky that he absolutely despised. Rasmot repackaged it and threw it at the Stoner, grinning as the guard yelped and fell back in the chair with a loud “not funny maaaan!”. He tried his luck and grunted. Crackers were definitely better than Gilnean turkey, no matter how dry they were. After a few crackers he finally heard a voice outside of the bars.
“Alright little fox, you dragged me out this far with his hat. What are you trying to tell me.”
Rasmot clambered up and pushed his face to the bars. “That i need some help old man.”
“Wait . . . Rasmot? how the hell did you wind up in there?” Putting both hands on his hips, Lenathil blinked at Rasmot. “Do i even want to know?”
Shaking his head Rasmot got a better grip on the bars. “Long story. They’re going to hang me.”
“Hang?? You?? Now i REALLY want to know what in the world got you into this heap of trouble.” Sighing deeply, Lenathil shook his head. “I’ll go talk to the guards-”
“I wouldn’t.” Rasmot stopped Lenathil dead in his tracks. “They’ll toss you in here too, they don’t seem too keen on listening without the right amount of “coin” per say.”
Lenathil creased his brows in concern. “Did you piss off a No- . . . waaaaait a minute!” He glared at Rasmot with a large frown set into his face. “I TOLD you, not to fuck with that family. And what did you go and do-”
“The exact opposite of what you said, i know. But at least i’m not dead . . . yet.” The offer of an apologetic smile got him nothing in return so Rasmot grunted. “Look i need your help. I’ll pay you back however i can, but i just need-”
“Stop. You know what they would do if they were to find out i helped you.” Lenathil started before shaking his head. “And even then what’s to stop you from doing this again-”
“Lenathil, he’s playing everyone like a marionette.”
“. . . what?”
Rasmot sighed. “He’s got the city under his thumb, or as much of it as he can get right now. The guard watching me? high off his ass and soaring fast. He’s controlling large portions of the city with a drug. It’s already made damage in the row, it’s called “Dreamer’s Gaze”.”
“Of course . . . the gaze.” Lenathil nodded a few times. “The drug is bad news, how did you find out about all of this?”
Narrowing his eyes, Rasmot tried his hardest to prop his head on one hand. “I get locked behind bars, by a corrupt city guard, after having entered the home of a maniacal megalomaniac who loves to hear himself speak and you wonder how i found out about this. Really?”
“. . . Touche’“
Shaking his head Rasmot took a glance to the desk before looking to Lenathil. “I need two things. I want you to get back my weapons at the very least. And for the second i want your help in making sure i SURVIVE this encounter. Do we have an accord?”
“Alright . . . but you owe me. And i mean big.”
“Thank yo-”
A sudden bang on the bars broke Rasmot’s attention as he slowly turned. Instead of the Stoner there was a large guard flanked by two others. It was an Orc, probably on loan from the Horde and he didn’t look too happy with his new job.
“I sure hope you weren’t planning an escape attempt.”
Rasmot frowned. “Wouldn’t think anything of it . . . sir.”
“Good, because you’re hanging, now.” The Orc looked to the other guards. “Cuff him.”
The door sprung open as the guards grabbed Rasmot and forced him down onto his knees before clasping heavy iron manacles to his wrists behind his back. Having finished the Guards each took a few turns kicking their defenseless prisoner in the stomach. After four or five kicks the Orc signaled them off.
“Don’t think i don’t know you. I don’t see what the others saw in you during the Cataclysm.” Sneering the Orc stepped forwards. “You’re just a washed up sailor with no more war to go to. The 118th should’ve all drowned for the good they did to the Kor’Kron. Every last one of you.”
Rasmot lifted his head up with a glare. “What company-”
“46th, Hell Hounds we were called.” Grinning the Orc hefted Rasmot up to his feet and got close to the Fel-touched elf’s face. “I’m going to enjoy watching you hang.”
Nodding slowly Rasmot turned to look at the Orc. “46th . . . i think i remember your company yes. In fact I owe them something.” Rasmot reared his head back and slammed the platelete of where one horn used to be on the Orc’s nose. “THAT is for not covering our asses in the Twilight Highlands.”
Roaring loudly, the Orc backhanded Rasmot before punching him across the jaw. Walking out the cell, the Orc gestured to the guards for them to take him as the three walked out the door. Fine black blood trickled from the Orc’s nose as he pinched and tried to correct the damage from Rasmot’s sudden attack. Rasmot smirked even though his jaw hurt like it was on fire as the guards dragged him away. The sunlight stung his eyes as he squinted and was walked through the city and past the gates.
---
Anyone who was anyone and awake, gathered and crowded around the tree as the rope with the noose was tossed over one thick branch. Rasmot was not the only one to be hung. They actually found the thief that they were looking for, and since his crime was pettier they decided to test the rope. The man was helped up onto a Hawkstrider, both feet firmly planted on the Bird’s back as they pushed the man’s head through the noose and tightened. A few words were said by a priest. Although the priest was an honest one, the fact that she was out here to say a few hollow words for men about to hang made her feel guilty. Rasmot could see it on her face as plain as day before the woman tore her head away.
One of the guards spanked the rear end of the Hawkstrider hard and sent it running away. The sudden loss of ground made the rope crack with a sick snap as the man hung. Rasmot grimaced as he saw the man kick twice before the rope dug in too deep into the larynx and crushed it through the helpful tug of gravity. It took them a while to find another Hawkstrider, and when they set it up the Orc he head butted kicked him in the back. Rasmot was thrust face first against the Hawkstrider with a muffled groan, the guards quickly lifting him up onto the bird and pushing his head through the noose.
“Brothers and Sisters of the Light, we are gathered here today-”
“Lady.” Rasmot interrupted looking down at the priest. “Save the sermon would you? Man’s about to be hung and you’re sprinkling words for people who don’t give a shit, and guards who give even less of a shit.”
The priest blinked twice and looked up at Rasmot. “Wh-what makes you say that?”
“Cause i know, when there’s murder in the eyes. Look around you.” Rasmot scowled. “Bunch of hungry wolves waiting for the kill. But it ain’t going to come, you want to know why?”
Standing horribly confused she clutched a large book to her chest before speaking. “Why?”
“When you kill someone lady. You make sure they’re dead.” He took a glance to the guards and crowd. “They won’t make sure. Even if i do end up dead.”
Her entire body shook as she looked up at Rasmot, she was about to cry. “Is . . . is there anything i can do?”
“If i do die, then you can cremate my body and scatter my ashes to the wind.” Rasmot looked down at the lady. “If i don’t die? Then you’d better run for cover.”
The Orc rolled his eyes. “Are we going to hold this up any longer?”
“. . .” The priest looked at Rasmot before stepping away. “May the light save your soul.”
Rasmot laughed. “That’ll piss off the Gods of the Nether surely. But i’ll send them your regards if i head that way.”
It all happened in an instant. Rasmot barely had time to react to it all after he heard the smack on the Bird’s flank. His body suddenly shifted as the bird ran off and gravity started pulling down. He had watched the motions of the man before, how he didn’t tuck his chin into the rope. So Rasmot tried the opposite, tucking his chin in and keeping it tucked until he was pulled all the way down. He managed to survive the snapping motion of the rope. Now came the hard part, the struggle.
The entire crowd became furious as they watched the Fel-touched Elf struggle for his life on the rope trying to elevate himself to gasp a small breath of air before falling again into the embrace of gravity. Trying to force him down, the guards grabbed his feet. Which gave Rasmot an advantage. He kicked off with both feet on a pair of hands and kicked the two guards in the face, pushing off with his full foot on either face. That was a few moments more of air but it was still not enough. The rope was digging into his neck, rubbing and tearing at his skin with each struggling motion. Blood trickled down from the now open wound on the rope.
Roaring with anger, the Orc lunged for Rasmot’s feet. Using the approach and angle Rasmot lifted his legs up enough for the Orc to dive under and then kick off of the brutes back for a bit more air. Everyone in the crowd was now restless while Rasmot was fighting for air, the priest from before clasping her hands as she watched Rasmot fight for life. Everyone was screaming and yelling. It was only a matter of time before the cowed masses took justice into their own hands and killed Rasmot themselves. The screaming came to a stop as a loud “BRAMM” echoed out through the forest and the shot hit the stone wall of the gates.
Rasmot could only guess where the shot came from but he had a good hunch. There was another shot and that one flew wide from the target. Everyone had their gaze fixed on the hill where each shot came from. The third shot was what finally cut the tension as Rasmot landed flat on his back. Anger creased every line of the Orc’s face as he came after Rasmot with an axe before he was kicked with both feet in the nose again, this time possibly breaking it. Quickly scrambling onto his belly and feet, Rasmot bolted to the hill. The entire mob followed after him and was stopped by several more wide gunshots. Rasmot panted for breath before looking up at his savior, Lenathil with one of Rasmot’s revolvers.
“Did . . . you lose . . . your depth perception!?” Rasmot managed to make out after deep ragged breaths.
Lenathil rolled his eye. “I missed your head, you’re welcome.”
“How . . . are you fucking . . . good with a bow . . . and piss poor with a revolver!?”
A deep frown creased the Ranger’s face. “Well with a bow you don’t have to worry about your weapon slamming into your face.”
“Just . . . get me the fuck out of here, Dragonflame.”
Grunting Lenathil went to the Dragonhawk resting nearby. “You don’t have to use my nickname.”
“I nearly just died . . . i think that give me some head room to use your damn nickname.” Rasmot shook his head. “Let’s go before you shoot a Hawkstrider in the ass with my gun.”
A wide smirk lit up Lenathil’s face. “Half the time i wonder if you were there back then. There was one kid who hit a Hawkstrider in the ass with an arrow, several miles away from the target.”
“Yeah must’ve been your prized student.” Rasmot grunted as he got on the Dragonhawk.
There was a shrug. “Not sure about prized, but he was stubborn.”
The two rode off on the Dragonhawk putting several miles worth of distance before attempting to free Rasmot from his bindings. Rasmot and Lenathil parted ways shortly after as Rasmot wanted nothing more but to return to Draenor and his bar and have a few shots to forget this terrible day. When he returned to Draenor it became several magnitudes worse as he stared at the new poster on the bar top.
Wanted: Dead or Alive
The following fugitive is wanted by the order of Nobles
Any who take on this contract will have legal jurisdiction and right to kill the fugitive on sight. However the Bounty will be doubled if the fugitive is brought back to Silvermoon alive.
Below the fine print was a very rough picture of Rasmot, not too accurate but close enough.
The fugitive is known by these Aliases: Rasmot, Rasmot Hajra Aresh’Felo, The Red Storm, Shadow Flame, Rasmot Hawkcrest
The reward for his death is 20,000 gold. Double if he is brought back alive.
Half of him wanted to instantly tear it up. Another part of him wanted to break down and cry. Instead he ignored both, picked up the poster and a nail and hammered it into a nearby pole that connected next to the Bar with the bottom of his revolver. After he was finished, he took a bottle from behind the bar and tossed the cork away after pulling it off. He was going to have to close early today, of that he was sure. And for now he wouldn’t be able to do anything about his predicament. So ended for the moment, the suite of Hawkcrest on a bitter note.
