"Torin... Torin Valhart... that's quite a peculiar name," a low voice echoed through the dilapidated building, stirring the heavy silence. They stood amidst the ruins of what appeared to be an ancient structure, its walls composed of crumbling bricks, clearly long abandoned. Facing Torin was the man who had been chained up only hours before. The dried blood on his face was now flaking off, revealing more clearly the rough features of a man in his late thirties. His prominent double chin wobbled slightly, lending a comical contrast to the otherwise grim scars and wounds that spoke of his harsh experiences.
The day was just beginning to break. The events of the previous night played back in Torin's mind: feigning unconsciousness, he had signaled to Peter—the man now revealed—to scream and draw the guards. Despite his lack of experience with violence, the desperate situation had forced Torin's hand, leading to a calculated assault that left two guards unconscious.
Their escape was swift, unlocking Peter's chains, they had opened every cell they could, unleashing chaos as a diversion. While Torin had spared the guards from fatal harm, the other prisoners, fueled by pent-up rage and desperation, had not shown the same restraint.
Now, hidden in the shadows of the derelict building as dawn crept over the city, Torin was learning more about his unexpected ally. Peter, once was a man with many allies once he led a failed rebellion, once been a prominent leader against the city's tyrannical ruler. All his fellow rebels had been captured and executed, branded as sinners, leaving Peter as the sole survivor.
Currently, they found themselves cornered, they all known that most likely exits from the city would be heavily guarded or sealed off. As they lay low, waiting for an opportunity to move, Torin and Peter needed to plan their next steps carefully. The weight of their predicament was clear: they were trapped in a city that showed no mercy to outsiders or dissenters.
They waited in silence until the sun climbed high into the sky, heralding the new day. Suddenly, the resonant sound of a bell pierced the still air, ringing out insistently: "DING DING DING DING DING." Its echoes reverberated throughout the city, summoning all citizens toward the center.
"Sinners must die! Sinners must die! Sinners must die!" The chant swelled as a crowd formed, their voices merging into a relentless tide that flowed toward the city square.
"It's time to move," Peter whispered, observing as the populace drifted away from their neighborhoods, their attention fixed on the impending spectacle. With fewer eyes to notice them, it was the perfect moment to emerge from hiding.
"…Alright," Torin replied, his voice tinged with reluctance. He had wanted to believe that not all city dwellers supported the lord's cruel decree, but the fervor of their chants was undeniable. These people truly believed their ruler was divinely ordained.
With the last of his hesitation shed, Torin followed Peter out of the abandoned building, moving stealthily from one shadow to the next. They scavenged what they could from the houses they passed—fortunately, many were empty, their occupants having joined the throng headed for the square. They even managed to find clothes that were hanging outside to dry to change and some clean water which they used to clean the grime and blood from their faces and body.
From that moment on, as long as they maintained their guise and acted inconspicuously, they would blend in seamlessly with the other residents, indistinguishable from any other person in the city.
Certainly, the anonymity that Torin enjoyed was a double-edged sword. While it offered him a certain degree of freedom within the city, it also marked him as a clear outsider, a status that could easily arouse suspicion if he were to seek directions or assistance on his own. On the other hand, Peter, with his all-too-familiar face, was a known entity—a dangerous liability in their quest for escape, yet indispensable due to his knowledge of the city.
Together, the unlikely duo navigated the increasingly crowded streets. As they moved, the throng of city dwellers continued to swell, all converging towards the central square for the ritual condemnation of the sinners. To blend in and avoid drawing attention to themselves, Torin and Peter wrapped pieces of cloth around their faces, mimicking the local custom of shielding oneself from the scorching, dry air—a practice that had become all the more common since the catastrophic event that had altered their world.
Their route was strategically chosen to pass by the city center, allowing them to gauge the security situation and adjust their plan accordingly. As they approached, they could see that many were distracted by the event, which played to their advantage. The guards' attention, primarily focused on the ceremony, would be less stringent around the peripheries.
The plan was clear: reach the less-guarded exit during the height of the distraction and then, once past the city walls, it would be every man for himself. This was their best chance. If they could just manage to slip past the guards and the edge of the chaos, freedom might be within reach.
As the fervent chants of "Sinners must die! Sinners must die!" filled the air, Torin and Peter cautiously navigated through the throng of people gathering for the grim spectacle. To blend in and avoid drawing any unwanted attention, they occasionally joined in the chanting, their voices mingling with those of the fervent crowd. In the distance, Torin could see a stage, at the center of which stood an altar. The ground around it was stained a dark black, a chilling testament to the countless lives extinguished there, their blood long since dried into the earth.
"Make way for the lord!" The command cut sharply through the noise, heralding the approach of a group clad in armor. They moved deliberately through the crowd, which parted like a sea before them. Upon hearing the command, everyone, including Torin and Peter, quickly knelt and bowed their heads in a display of reverence.
"Long live the lord!" The crowd's chant grew louder as more people joined in, their voices echoing through the square.
At the center of the armored group, one figure stood out distinctly. He seems fail and old as his gray hair fluttering in the wind. Yet, look can be very deceiving. He was dressed in a luxurious white robe adorned with intricate patterns, but his identity was obscured by a blood-red wooden mask that covered his face, denying any glimpse of his expression. This was Lord Victor Ristoria, the ruler of the city, whose presence commanded awe and fear in equal measure.
As the procession drew closer, Torin and Peter remained crouched among the masses, their hearts racing with the urgency of their situation. They knew they needed to move swiftly and carefully to avoid detection and seize the opportunity to escape amidst the chaos.
Lord Victor Ristoria passed through the crowd without acknowledging anyone, his imposing presence followed by guards who dragged along prisoners in chains. Torin and Peter, kneeling among the crowd, risked a glance upwards and recognized the prisoners. They were the same ones who had attempted to escape the night before. It appeared that most had been recaptured; those missing were likely already executed, leaving only these battered survivors.
The prisoners were in a dire state, their bodies covered in wounds and many barely clinging to life. This was clearly retribution for the previous night's escape attempt.
A pained groan echoed through the square as one prisoner, unable to endure his injuries, collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud. This act of weakness visibly displeased the city lord. With a swift motion, he grabbed a sword from one of his guards and approached the fallen man.
"YOU DAMN SINNER!!!" Lord Ristoria bellowed as he raised the sword and brutally decapitated the dying man. The prisoner's head rolled away, his eyes still reflecting the agony and regret of his final moments. Blood spurted from the neck, staining the lord's white robes a deep red. Unfazed, Lord Ristoria picked up the severed head, lifting it high as blood dripped down onto his hair and face, mingling with the mask.
"ALL SINNERS MUST DIE!" he roared, his voice thunderous and filled with vehemence.
"ALL SINNERS MUST DIE! ALL SINNERS MUST DIE!" The crowd took up the chant, their voices rising in a frenzied echo of their ruler's call. The square became a theater of horror as the populace celebrated the gruesome spectacle, united in their bloodlust under the tyrannical rule of Lord Ristoria.
As Torin witnessed the brutal execution, a shudder ran through him, but he managed to maintain his composure. Beside him, Peter's eyes blazed with suppressed fury, yet he, too, restrained any outward display of emotion.
After the grisly spectacle, the procession, led by Lord Ristoria and his guards, continued its march towards the altar at the center of the square. Torin and Peter waited for the crowd to begin rising before they too stood, seizing the moment to blend in and then subtly diverge from the main group, aiming to distance themselves from the horror.
"Friends, where are you going?" a voice suddenly called out, halting them in their tracks. A collective gaze from several bystanders turned towards them, heightening the tension.
Torin turned, his heart pounding, and faced the inquirer. "Oh, we're returning home... we've forgotten to... do something," he stammered, trying to sound casual and unbothered.
"Oh, alright..." The man seemed satisfied with the answer or perhaps was too distracted by the ongoing ritual to probe any further. He nodded, and the watchful eyes of the onlookers soon drifted back to the procession advancing towards the altar.
Relieved, Torin and Peter quickened their pace, keen to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the square. They knew they had narrowly avoided suspicion, and every moment in the crowd was a risk they couldn't afford. With cautious steps and wary glances, they continued towards the city's outskirts, hopeful yet anxious about finding a safe passage out.
Peter and Torin maintained a brisk pace, their hearts pounding with a mix of fear and adrenaline. Fortuitously, their earlier response had not raised any suspicions, and they managed to diverge from the main crowd without further scrutiny. The city's architecture blurred around them as they focused solely on reaching the exit. As they neared the city walls, they noticed fewer guards than usual, likely due to the majority being mobilized for the public execution.
However, their relief was short-lived. As they approached the city gates, a guard spotted them and barked, "Halt! All those who venture outside need a permit from the city lord! If you do not have the permit, you may not leave!" His voice carried the authority and suspicion characteristic of Ristoria's stringent control.
Thinking quickly, Torin stepped forward with an air of urgency. "This... brother... actually, we have something to report," he said as they neared the guard stationed at the exit. Adopting a tone of grave concern, he continued, "We found the criminal who escaped from last night hiding in an abandoned building!"
This fabrication was part of a desperate plan they had devised while hiding the previous night. By presenting themselves as loyal citizens who had uncovered a fugitive, they hoped to manipulate the situation to their advantage.
Torin's calculated words instantly drew the full attention of the guards, all five of whom had been on high alert since the escape from the Sinner Prison. They were eager for any lead that could redeem their vigilance.
"So, they're hiding in..." Torin began, his voice deliberately dropping to a whisper as the guards leaned in, straining to catch every word. It's a common human instinct to move closer when something significant is being said softly.
At that critical moment, as the guards' focus was entirely on catching Torin's every word, Peter made his move. With a swift, practiced motion, he flung a handful of dirt he had discreetly gathered. The dirt flew straight into the guards' faces.
"Ahhhh!!! My eyes!" they screamed in unison. Blinded and disoriented by the sudden assault, they clawed at their eyes, trying to clear the painful grit that clouded their vision. Through their blurred sight, they could just make out the figures of Torin and Peter dashing towards the city gates.
"After them!" bellowed the leader of the guards, his voice thick with anger and urgency. They surged forward, but without horses, they were limited to a desperate foot chase.
The guards hurled insults and threats as they pursued, but Torin and Peter had already gained a significant head start. Now, the escape was a pure test of endurance — a race where stamina would determine their fate.