Made this because Lautrec is cool, and let's be honest... he's a bit of psycho too. So here it is.

It had been nearly two days since his incarceration. He could admit without any pride lost that his attentions could only have been centered on so many opponents before he would be overwhelmed, and like any fellow with proper sense, he was wise to an ambush… He had expected a sneak attack from the hollowed dead. However, what he had not foreseen was the presence of a Channeler in the Parish. He had not encountered one before, but had heard enough word of mouth to remember the description of the supposedly decadent creature.

Had it been anyone else, they would have died swiftly at the hands of the Berenike knight standing over the alter… but he did not, and their battle had drawn out long enough for the opportunist to attack.

Now he sat waiting.

His cell was strong and well concealed. He knew that this place must have housed others before him not so long ago to be kept in working condition. What other reason could there be for a hidden cell in the parish that was still in use?

The Channeler had obviously left him here on purpose… he had no idea why, of course. But he wondered. It intended to turn him hollow most likely… and command what was left.

With nothing left to thinking about, he seethed for a moment. This had happened to him, not a weakling, or a fool! He spoiled fools. Had he not been prepared…? He sighed. In these lands preparation could only take a traveller so far… Though someone like himself should not have taken the ambush to heart- because with the right incentive he would have employ similar tactic. He felt a rotten anger about his situation. What he would have done unto others had been done to him.

When the time came he would scratch and claw till nothing was left before allowing the creature to take him. Probably wouldn't happen quite like that, he'd end up getting blasted before his cell door opened. He sneered behind his helm. The way he saw it, only a miracle could free him from this cage, or else the Channeler returns with whatever ill intentions he had.

He must have sat idle for less than five minutes when all of a sudden he heard something. It took him moment to realise that it was the flimsy barrier that kept anyone from investigating being broken. He thought it might have been the Channeler... but no, the footsteps were light and too apprehensive...

He felt an idea forming. It would be his only hope.

Whoever had come would be his means of getting free, he'd make sure of that. Of course, it would mean owing this person... but a debt's value would only weigh as much as it accords to one's own perspective...

Even as the individul finally revealed himself, he sat still not moving from his position. In fact, he felt a calmness that was out of place for someone in his position.

What he saw surprised him. The fellow was slight, and wore no armour, only heavy looking rags and a tattered hood. During his once over, he also noticed that his rescuer was ill-equipped, only carry a single unimpressive looking knife. He frowned. How in Lordan had this unexceptional soul gotten here alive? No one could have gotten through all those hollows unnoticed. In his baffled hesitation, he realised that the silence was starting to become awkward and quickly sought to rectify it.

"Oh, still human are you? Then I am in luck." He spoke with a well-practiced imitation of good-natured emotion, as to sounds more appealing. "Could you help me? As you can see I am stuck, without recourse."

The fellow said nothing, only tilted his head in what could have been curiosity, or maybe nervousness. He nearly huffed at the lack of a real answer. He didn't resent the man's vigilance, unless he carried something of worth on him... he would done less than look at his saviour had their roles been reversed. He tried again. "I entreat you, have pity on this powerless knight. Surely you can imagine the depth of such dejection," he pleaded. The hooded man failed to respond again; instead he took a careful glance back the way he came. "Please! I have duties to fulfil, and will reward you handsomely."

His confidence was slipping. The contemplative silence may not have been in his favour, this worried him. His freedom was flaunted in front of him, yet just out of reach. What did the fellow want him to do, beg?


He all but flinched at the single softly spoken word, and not because the person had finally spoken, but because the one in front of him... was not truly a man. It made sense now...

He got to his feet as the woman fumbled at the lock. Somehow she also had the key. How she had acquired it was a mystry. It would not have taken vast wisdom to understand any lack of trust in this... An armed man, trapped in cage. From the eyes of another, the picture would all but cry out danger. He was thankful that this one's better nature had won out. Unthinkingly, he eyed her hands, taking note of her skin, which was pristine, wholesome. This one... had her share of-

The shrill groan of his cell door jolted his attention back. She took a step back allowing him room to finally leave the dank cell.

"Thank you. Yes, sincerely." He contemplated offering his hand, but decided that it would be unwise to overstep the rather tense vibe she exerted. Ignoring her wary regard toward him, he bowed. "I am knight, Lautrec of Carim. I truly appreciate this, and I promise a reward, only... later."

She reeled back slightly, and he wondered if she expected recompense now. "You... a knight?"

The appropriate response eluded him since couldn't gauge her true feelings, courtesy of that hood she wore. "I am, indeed."

She straightened. He felt a change in the air. It seemed that all the wariness that he imposed on her disappeared with the confirmation. Odd, but he would not waste his scepticism on that which would gain the favour of his savour.

"I'm sorry I hesitated to let you out, but there are monsters everywhere. One can't too careful," she told him.

He practically heard the smile in her voice. He scoffed inwardly. Though grateful, he found her newly placed trust in him quite foolish... and merely on the basis that he was a knight. What if he took pleasure in harrying wide-eyed fillies... "Oh, no! Your apology is completely unnecessary. Had our roles been reversed, I would have shown far more suspicion. I am only happy that you saw through the suggestion of caged prisoner, and saw me for what I truly am," he replied pleasantly.

She nodded. "Well, alright. In that case we should leave. I'd say neither of us wants to linger here any longer."

"Oh yes, I have no desire to linger here."

So he allowed her to lead him back through the parish, and didn't fail to notice the trail of bodies that littered their path back to the ground level. They were all burnt... even the Channeler. His helm hid the wide eyed expression he knew he had. This girl... truly was a hidden dragon; her appearance unimpressive, but secretly keeping her true lethality from sight. He knew that now.

They had reach the bottom of the stairs; she led him to the elevator and waited for him to enter before stepping on the pressure pad. He walked in. They descended. Conspicuously, he watched her pull at one of her ragged sleeves. She gave a sudden glance at him, then seemed to take interest in anything not in his general direction.

This girl was useful to him. Beyond setting him free, he knew that she could help him reach above the walls. By himself it could take months before he found the way, but with the right help he could overcome the more tricky obstacles he would doubtlessly encounter. This would save him so much time- if she was as skilled as she seemed.

By the time they had reached the bottom he had come to a decision.

He stopped her before she left the elevator. She turned to him questionably. "You and I are both undead, perhaps we could help one another." He made sure that her full attention was on him before continuing. "I have trekked throughout this hostile land for to long, always cautious, and yet even the most cunning warrior will inevitably fall when standing alone. This is why I suggest that we could... work together perhaps. After all, I am indebted to you. Whether you agree or not, as a knight, I would aid you until the life debt is repaid... I'm sure our goals are not so dissimilar. So, what say you?" He asked, the very definition of goodwill.

No immediate answer was given. Again, he wished to her face.

"Your right, I can't keep count of all the times I've almost died." She sounded rueful.

He tilted his head. "So... is that yes?" He asked coyly.

Now he knew she was smiling. He afford his hand, she accepted. So foolish...

He took it high with both hands. "I'm glad that my misfortune has taken such a turn. Now, would my saviour tell me her name?"

From her sudden stiffness he could tell he'd overstepped himself, but she answered. "... Aisling."