Steel and stone (Revised)

Gorman prison loomed above the rest of town, a huge, squat, stone building looking like some medieval crustacean. Inside, it wasn't much better. Dark hallways lined with damp prison cells led up twisting stairs to the towers above. One side was reserved for the guard keep, large enough for 300 guards, although currently it had a mere 50. In full capacity the prison could hold 800 prisoners with the 300 guards alternating between doing rounds, guard posts, and staying in the keep.

Today was a quiet day without much going on. barely 100 prisoners filled the cells and the guards spent their time between playing dice and sleeping when they weren't on duty. Very few guards were doing anything and as far as they knew, everything was fine.

Everything was going perfectly, although they probably wouldn't have said so if they knew what was happening. One of the prisoners was an elderly man arrested for being unable to afford his taxes. However, what was unknown was that the elderly man they thought they had arrested was currently sitting at home napping in his easy chair. In his cell was a dirty, smelly man who'd been there for 3 weeks now. He wore a long grey wig that fell over his eyes and was starting to fall apart in the damp nasty environment and a long sackcloth that covered his lean muscled frame. And he had just decided that he was done being in prison.

Rising to his feet, he removed the wig to reveal straggly matted blonde hair. He knew it was almost certainly infested with lice now, but he chose to ignore that. Instead, he worked slowly, moving his head from side to side, arms in circles, working all his joints loose after his extended confinement. As he did so, he ran though what he was about to do and his goals.

Get out.

Leave a trail.

Get to the keep.

Make a mess.

Get out suddenly and this time WITHOUT leaving a trail.

Step one was going to be pretty easy. Usually his goal was stealth, he would have just picked the lock. But..... he was supposed to leave a trail. This was going to be an insult to his training, but he'd do what he needed to.

Two steps to the door was all it took, and all he had in the small space anyway. Throwing his weight into his fist, he slammed it into the lock. The whole door, inch and a half iron, caved in and fell into the hallway with a clang. The noise would attract the guards, which was the plan, but it did mean he had to move fast to get to the keep before the hallway got clogged with soldiers.

The keep hallways were designed to be two people wide, so that two guards would never be outnumbered against any escaping prisoners. Unfortunately, it also meant that it was hard to avoid a prisoner sprinting recklessly down the hall towards you.

The first two guards went quickly, they turned a corner right as the prisoner did. Neither had their weapons out, and one went flying as the prisoner shoulder checked him, smashing his rib cage and slamming him into the wall. The second had time to shout in surprise before a fist to the face drove his nose into his brain.

Having lost surprise, the prisoner slowed down slightly, changing his pace from a full out run to a slower, silent lope, like a wraith descending through the dark hallways. The second pair of guards came through much more prepared, spears up, shields in front of them, full armor on. The guards in Gorman were not the best fighters in the world, but you weren't around very long if you weren't good at your job. And their job was stopping escapes, usually by force.

Both guards lunged as one, working together in a teamwork born from years training together. Spears towards the prisoners midsection, shining iron tips seeking blood.

Time seemed to slow as the prisoner reacted with near super-human speed. He dodged around the first spear, moving towards the guards, and grabbed the second behind its head. Placing his foot in the center of the guards shield, he kicked off of it and tore the spear from his grasp. Flipping it around, he speared the other guard in the thigh and shoved him to the side. Advancing, he threw punches into the shield of the other guard, hammering away at the now unarmed man. He took it brutally, trying to stand his ground even as splinters flew from his shield at the powerful blows.

More guards were coming. The prisoner had to hurry if he wanted to complete his goals. Even though he was loathe to do so, he resorted to drastic measures. Stepping back, he threw his hands backwards as if pulling a rope towards himself. The guard gave a shout of alarm as he was thrown off his feet directly into waiting hands. Making short work of him, the prisoner turned his attention to the wounded guard on the floor. He normally wouldn't go further than incapacitating a wounded opponent, but he couldn't have witnesses this time.

A minute later he was speeding down the halls again towards the guards keep. This time he carried a spear and shield with him as he knew the next group he ran into wouldn't just be two men caught by surprise.

Sure enough, he rounded the corner to see 6 men prepared for him. This area had multiple hallways join together so there enough space for all 6 to come at him.

The faster to die.

The next few seconds were a blur of motion as the guards rushed in. The prisoner ran the first man through the midsection then dropped the spear to take a blow from a sword on his shield. Rolling to dodge a spear, he smashed his shield into an unfortunate set of kneecaps. Jumped to his feet just in time to avoid a mace to the face.

And stepped right into a sword strike.

The blow came from behind, straight for his neck. A blow designed to sever head from shoulders. The guard wielding the blade was a big hefty man. A fully armored man would have been blessed by the gods to survive.

Which is probably why the prisoner considered himself a god.

The blow slammed directly into his neck like an executioners blade, where it shattered like ice against his skin. Silence reigned supreme for several heartbeats. Then all hell broke loose.

Guards bolted, not willing to fight a man whose very skin broke their weapons. What had been a melee mere seconds before turned into a massacre as the prisoner stopped restraining himself. A quick flick of his wrist sent a discarded sword directly into the shoulder blades of a retreating guard and another gesture brought a shield into his hands. Three guards remained in running condition, and they took full advantage of it as they bolted down the hall towards the guards rooms. Two of them never made it, brought down by the shield thrown at them. The third guard made it into the keep screaming at the others to leave while they still lived.

Two guards bolted and locked the door, some grabbed weapons, some merely ran, no one knew where to go. Fifteen guards remained in the room when the silence started. Somewhere out there the prisoner stalked. No one had faced such a terrible monster as this. The keep had seven mages on call at most times, but recent events had called most mages to war, and only one remained in the keep at the time. They looked to him for guidance, obviously only someone magically imbued could stop this monstrosity.

The mage cursed himself silently in his head. He'd had his powers barely a year, and using his abilities against something like this was completely different than unarmed prisoners. But somehow he was in charge.

"Prepare to open the doors."

He whispered to the men. From both sides of the room he pulled water from the cisterns towards him. It trickled through the air and formed spheres around his waiting hands. When he felt he'd pulled enough to him he took a deep breath to steady his nerves.

That breath took just a second too long. The door blasted inwards towards the guards and took the mage out. The prisoner strode in, allowing the guards a few extra seconds of live as he knelt on the body of the mage to ensure he was dead. Then he turned to the group of guards clustered in the corner, weapons towards him. This in turn gave the guards a startling and terrifying discovery.

The man had no eyes.

His face was covered with burn scars, scars he had been covering with his wig for weeks. In the middle of his face was a twisted nose, obviously having been broken many times, and whatever incident he'd had had melted the skin on it till he looked like something straight from the pits of hell.

In his mind the prisoner didn't see, per se, he also was a mage, a powerful on at that. He was one of a very few people in the world who held the title of Elemental. The meaning of being an Elemental was deep, sacred, and worth devoting life times of study to. The prisoner didn't care. To him, being an Elemental meant that he was stronger, faster, would live longer, and as far as he cared, made him a god. It also meant that after losing his eyes, he could sense metal around him so he could continue living, and fighting, with his odd sixth sense.

It was this sixth sense that he utilized as he dove into the middle of the guards. Weapons came at him from all directions as he struck. He could sense the sword coming at him from behind, the mace above him, the armor that told him where each person was, even a necklace a superstitious guard was wearing.

He caught a sword with his hands and ran through its owner. Spun and put his fist in a man's chest, sending him crashing against the wall. Two men went down when he threw them across the room using their armor. The necklace came in handy as he pulled it off the man's neck, pulling him off balance and sending it into another man's forehead.

A disadvantage of having larger numbers, the guards got in each other's way trying to escape or to attack. One man tripped over the body of the mage and went down, just to die as a mace flew across the room into him. Three went to run, and the prisoner let them nearly get to the door before crumpling their helmets with them still in it.

A few minutes later the prisoner alone was still standing. He surveyed the room with his powers, feeling intently for any signs of movement in the metal around him. Breastplates had ceased to move, swords lay still, helmets were motionless. Just in case, he started crumpling every helmet one by one to......

Fire erupted in his side. a deep stabbing pain just under his ribcage on the left side. Screaming, he reacted. Any piece of metal he could find he launched across the room, scattering deadly shrapnel to all corners as he fell to his knees. Grabbing at his side he felt it, a stone knife. He couldn't sense stone like he could metal, he also couldn't stop it from stabbing him, and someone had used that to their advantage.

He sent the metal in a deadly cyclone around the room for a full three minutes in his rage while blood pooled at his feet. He'd survived worse wounds before, but it still hurt and would prevent him from fighting anytime soon.

He finally ceased the storm around him. Who ever had stabbed him wouldn't be wearing metal, or he'd have sensed them, and no one without armor would have survived that outburst, mage or not.

Behind him he sensed metal approaching. He pulled a sword towards him to prepare before he recognized what it was. He had specifically crafted metal armbands for each of his teammates in the last couple months. Kar was finally here, just behind the wall.

A hole appeared in the wall as a giant of a man stepped in. The bands crafted to fit his forearms could have fit most men's thighs. His thick gruttal accent filled the room and seemed to rumble stone.

"Ah, Steel, you got yourself hurt over again. Why do you decide to break your body doing these things?"

Despite his words, he didn't seem too concerned about the blood spilling across the floor. There was enough of it that wasn't Steel's that Kar probably figured it was a fair trade.

"You have not immortality, why do you live like it?''

Steel gritted his teeth against the pain and struggled towards the hole in the wall.

"It doesn't matter, whatever idiot dared stab me is dead now, there's now way he survived."

Kar took a glance around the room at the carnage left there.

"Did that foolish mage really choose to stand in the middle of the room, across from the entrance?"

A deep throated chuckle filled the room.

"Let's get out of here before Ayric sends someone competent. I just ate my very large meal and don't feel like fighting and carrying you at the same time."

"I don't need carried, I can walk fine."

"You speak truth, but I want to be faster than an injured cripple who thinks he is invincible. Someone will be here soon."

Kar gave a full belly laugh at the scowl Steel gave him, but grabbed him like a child before turning and starting his run towards the edge of the city.

Kar had been right. It was less than twenty minutes later when the Night Guard reached Gorman prison.

Steel had been wrong. There was one survivor from the prison, found half dead. If Steel had known what that young man would accomplish in his life, he would have razed the city to the ground rather than allow him to live. But all he was worried about at the moment, was cleaning the knife wound in his side.

Funny how a man who considers himself a god, can make a small oversight that will destroy his life.