Convict

[A Dragonian]

Deep within the moon of Lunos, there exists a colony unbeknown to the Dragonian race; when a Dragonian looked at the moon, they would have never guessed that for nearly a century, a species had been able to habitat, colonize, and establish a metropolis. Of course, when hidden on the moon's dark half, one would be unable to see it from the satellite encircling the luscious planet.

How the Saiyans survived over the years on a barren rock is a phenomenon to all, but they had somehow found a way. One of their greatest discoveries was a spring of frozen water enriched with minerals and vitamins essential for survival. That, along with the heat provided from the rock's core gave the Saiyans plenty to survive on; their actual food source remains unknown, but in order to survive for over a century, a large city would have had to find some way, somehow.

The Saiyans lived with two of the deadly sins filling their hearts and minds: pride and envy. Their pride existed from many, many years of survival-- three generations worth! The first generations that had colonized the planet years ago were slowly growing gray in age, the younger generations taking role over the planet in place of their elders. This nationalism beamed in the pride of every Saiyan.

However, as the generations passed on to the next, their pride diminished and grew to nothing. The Saiyans knew what they had, but the Dragonians had so much more: a developed ecosystem, the ability to move out of their city, freedom. The envy they held in their mind was to the Dragonians.

Only two Dragonians had ever stepped foot into the Saiyan colony, but you could ask a Saiyan of the factuality of this statement, and they would tell you that you are lying; governments like to hide the horrible truth of life from civilians, just so they can retain the peace. The Saiyan population know nothing of the Dragonians that invaded their territory. The first had been an explorer, a Dragonian astronaut that discovered the city without a single attempt to. Upon discovering this technological masterpiece, the Dragonian wanted to know more; a small squadron of Saiyans quickly took care of the man before he stepped inside the planet.

The second Dragonian lives to tell the tale, but he lives in a life of bondage; a life of chains. This man had not intentionally tried to find the colony, nor had he ever known of the hidden world behind his planet's only satellite. The only thing he had ever done was protect the home he knew and loved. When the Saiyans invaded, he took to arms to protect the city in Rues. He fought with both tooth and claw, slaying Saiyan upon Saiyan with a mighty sweep from his hands. Fatigue slowly possessed him as he fought, but he resisted the urge to sleep. Before long, his weakness became his defeat, and it took nearly a score of Saiyans to bring the man to his knees.

Normally, a man such as this would have died as soon as he was brought down, but something about this Dragonian allured to the Saiyan commander as he watched the Dragonian struggle to fight for his cause. "You will never conquer Dragonia," shouted the Dragonian to the Saiyan commander, struggling against the soldiers that held him to the ground. "As long as there are fighters who know the honor of death, and men who recognize the true horrors of your disgusting breed, there will be a resistance against you!" He sparked his aura, and he would have broken free if a Saiyan hadn't brought his fist against the boy's spinal column.

In fact, this boy only appeared in his middle teens, yet he had the finesse and ability to bring his own against a Saiyan army. Only luck stopped him from a victory against their soldiers. This was what appealed to the Saiyan commander. With a smirk, he ordered to his soldiers, "I want taken back to Lunos. Make sure to keep him alive; Turgor will want to see this boy for sure..."

When he awoke, his body was aching in pain. His arms were stretched in an awkward position, a pressure pulling them to the point where his joints might pop out of socket, or his bones shatter; he could feel the shackles that held his hands together, the source of his pain coming from his wrists. His legs were levitated off the ground, how far from the ground he did not know; a cold metal wrapped around both legs, and he could not move them in any form. His chestnut hair cascaded over his sapphire eyes, dry blood sticking it against his forehead. His head throbbed in agony, and trying to shake it to move the hair only brought out a deeper pain. The air hung with the pungent stench of sweat and dried blood.

Though he could not see directly from his eyes, he closed them to concentrate and let his senses absorb everything around him. He used a similar effect to a bat's sonar, bouncing off of the walls and returning back to the caster, where his perception would give him any knowledge he would need. The mental projection of the room he received portrayed a man with his head bowed in shame. He wore an outfit of shredded blue material, stained with blood and sweat. Without the tiny strand of cloth that wrapped his right shoulder, his top would have fallen off of his body. Under the cloth, he could see the battle scars that adorned his figure. His hair was a wreck, and his feet were bare.

His body was positioned in a way that would prevent most from escaping. A long metal pole connected from one end of the room to the other, supported at about half-way up the room's height. The man's arms were forced behind his back, his armpits against the cold metal surface of the pole. His wrists were handcuffed, the chain in the middle connected to two other chains. The first chain reached up and connected to the ceiling, preventing the young Dragonian from moving them down. The other chain connected to a heavy weight that suspended from the ground. The only way it would ever touch the ground was if he either removed the handcuffs, he dislocated or broke his arms, or if the chain would happen to break-- all unlikely options. His feet also connected to a weight, a strenuous pain pulling on his legs as well as his hands. They were shackled in a tougher brace than that on his hands, preventing him from moving his legs below his ankles; they felt like they had been put in cement and allowed to dry.

The boy struggled to break free, or redistribute the pain, but no position either felt better or allowed him some pain. Even as he tried to use ki, he found two receptors on his hands absorbed any ki he might use. "The 'ol Crucifixion technique," he muttered to himself. "How original..." The true beauty of the crucifixion was that the person embedded on the cross would have to endure the pain, or they would waste their strength in preventing the pain. The body would slowly drain and die from lack of strength; it would take days for a man to die in this fashion. The more he struggled to prevent the pain, however, the more pain wrought at his body. Eventually, he quit, and returned to his original position-- one of the most painful.

How could he escape from such a prison? In the corner rested his three weapons: a sword hilt and a pair of twin revolvers; these were a taunt against him had he been able to see them. His sword hilt could have easily been used to break the cords that bound him together. His guns would have also come in handy to shoot the chains loose. But, alas, he knew how useless they would really be. He could not sense a bullet inside of either of his handguns, and he would not be able to summon a ki bullet. Plus, with his hands in an awkward position, they would not have helped. Without the ability to use ki, he would not be able to form a blade for his sword, and could not use it to break anything. But the easiest point of their uselessness was that he could not reach them; his telekinesis was useless, and his hands could not attract them, either.

"Leave it to a hairless monkeys to come up with one of the deadliest tortures ever thought up by man," he mused to himself. It was the only thing that the boy could do at a time like this: try and be light-hearted on a bad situation. There was no escape from the shackles that bound his wrists together. The pressure threatened to pull his wrists out of his sockets...

An idea struck him! It was so simple, yet it would easily give him leverage to escape from his prison. "Time to see how much sympathy these Saiyans really have..." The boy knew that if they had been willing to keep him alive for this long, then he would have some relevance to what the Saiyans were after. They wouldn't want any harm to overcome the figure. And when the idea struck, it made perfect sense for what he was going to do.

He closed his eyes and took a hefty breath. He took his hands and forced them against the bar; slowly, he levered his body into the air, the weights that pulled him down coming up with each movement. He raised his body higher and higher, taking a second now and then to regain position on the bar; to do so, he squeezed his hands and back against the bar. He raised himself higher and higher, feeling the pressure and force against his body as he staggered higher. Soon, he stood almost a foot higher in the sky than he had about a minute before.

He took another breath, feeling his arms buckling against the pressure under his hands; he must have been in the position before for at least half a day; his body ached all over. Dear God, I just hope this works...

And with that, the Dragonian let go of the bar; the gravity and pressure of the weights came crashing down on his body. In a second, he had come back into the same position they had before. However, from the change in dropping, the pressure still fell from the weights, and the momentum transferred into his arms. With two positions pulling downward, his shoulders were like a wishbone. The pressure was too much for the arms; as soon as they hit the iron bar, the ball of the joint shattered.

He knew of the pain that was about to come, but he did not know how intense the pain would course through his body. Now, he had two shattered shoulder joints, pressure still being applied to the broken bones, and the pain shot through his body like a bullet. Even when he braced for it, the cry that left his mouth was a shriek of pain. The nerve joints in his upper body had severed, and the ripping fervor of pain spread through every nerve in his body; even had he wanted to, he would have cried from the intense pain. He just had to make it realistic, so the Saiyans knew he was not crying wolf.

Now, all he needed was a sympathetic ear to hear his cries of pain, and the soldiers would be there soon enough...

[Ryan - Loki]

“I hate having scum on our home world…” a somewhat shrill voice spat, echoing out down a dark and somewhat dirty corridor.
“I know the feeling…” a more gruff voice replied. “You think we can let him go?”
“You what?!” the shrill voice shouted in response, turning toward the over man.
“You know, let him go so we can say he escaped…follow my drift?” the gruff speaking man slowly said, hushing his voice somewhat not to draw attention to himself.
“Hah…your smarter than you look,” said the shrill voiced man. “But that’s one of the oldest tricks in the book, and its been done so many times its beginning to become cliché…I thought you would have thought of something more original…plus, Lord Turgor order us simply to guard the Dragonian and to make sure he comes to no more harm…” he finished, looking back away from his comrade.
“If Lord Turgor hadn’t order us to keep that Dragonian alive I swear-”
“You swear what Bathemous?” the other guard quickly interrupted, turning toward the other man.
The taller of the two, Bathemous, simply turned toward his counterpart. “I swear I’d have ripped him apart, bit by bit.”
“Hah…apparently this scum was said to have taken out nearly an entire squad of our army in the country of Rues…”
“Oh really old man? I thought you knew better than to believe rumours spreading through the ranks, Dnal?” Bathemous retorted, reverting his eyesight away from Dnal, them both returning to their guarding position of looking straight ahead at the wall in front of them once more.

Dnal was an elder of the Saiyan’s upon Lunos, elder meaning one of the first generation of Saiyan to arrive upon the planet, which caused him to be somewhat a little proud, that being a huge exaggeration. Although his age is unknown to all but himself, being that all of his close friends had already long ago died, Dnal has what many would call a stereotypical appearance for an older man, considering the fact that he’s a Saiyan also. Receding long grey hair, almost reaching down to the bottom of his spine, with a thick moustache to match. The colour of his eyes had darkened so much over the years that it had become almost impossible to tell whether they were black or an extremely dark colour, although its thought they are black. Much like any other elderly person his skin was slightly more wrinkled than your average youth, yet his body was still in relatively good condition; muscle bound, at a height of five feet and ten inches.

Bathemous on the other hand was almost the complete opposite from Dnal, being that he was young and his hairline was still in place. Bathemous was part of the latest generation of Saiyan and as so wasn’t taken too seriously when it came to abilities or duties; that respect came with age, with experience. Standing at a height of six feet and three inches Bathemous’ body was a powerhouse, built to the brim with muscles. His hair, black also, had been shaped into a buzz cut, military style short, yet like Dnal his eyes were also black. Although proud, like Dnal, Bathemous was more cocky of his abilities and youth than anything else, which was mostly seen as disrespectful to the elder Saiyan’s of the colony; not that it stopped him.

So a veteran Saiyan elder, trying to reclaim past glories, and a cocky inexperience Saiyan soldier now stood together, either side of a doorway, following the orders from their Lord; keep the Dragonian alive. They had no reason to why they had been given these orders, and no reason to why their Lord had tainted their planet with the likes of a worthless Dragonian, but they would follow their orders nevertheless; Dnal would make sure of this.

Silence had fallen within the corridor, a certain amount of bad blood drifting back and forth in-between both Dnal and Bathemous, until a loud scream of pain came exploding out from within the cell that they were guarding, it seemingly echoing throughout the entire area. Instantly both Dnal and Bathemous glanced off in each other direction. Had anyone managed to somehow infiltrate the cell that the Dragonian was within, the cell that they were guarding, and damage him? Impossible, there was no logical way of that happening.

Quickly turning toward the door Dnal moved to open it but his hand was stopped by that of Bathemous’, him instead moving toward the door; a great sign of disrespect. Opening the door Bathemous quickly made his way inside, Dnal following on behind to inspect the situation. Moving inside the room Dnal brought his fists up in front of him, readying himself for any form of attack that may come his way; Bathemous snorted at the sight of this. “Hah…scared old man?” Bathemous quickly spat. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing in here except this scum…” he continued, moving over toward the Dragonian and standing in front of him.

Taking a deep breath Dnal had to control his temper, reminding himself that the Saiyan’s were indeed at war with the Dragonian’s and this was not a time for civil wars; no matter how personal or hate filled they were. Brushing the comments off from the young Saiyan Dnal barged past him and knelt down in front of the Dragonian, giving him the once over to understand better the reason for his cries of anguish. Instantly the problem became apparent. “His broke his shoulders…probably trying to escape…” Dnal said softly, his voice barely noticeable over the Dragonian’s cries of pain.
“Serves him right for trying to escape,” Bathemous quickly spat. “And shut up already!” he screamed, stepping forward onto his right foot and sending a thunderous blow, in the form of a clenched fist, into the injured prisoner.
Dnal quickly jumped up, pushing Bathemous back away from the Dragonian. “No! Our orders are to make sure he’s not injured any further Bathemous!” Dnal protested, almost ordered. He did not like the Dragonian anymore than Bathemous did, hell they all had their reasons for hating the Dragonian’s, but a prisoner of war snapping their own bones in an attempt to escape? That showed courage and honour, and that Dnal could respect.

[A Dragonian]

(OOC: Since they're NPC's, you don't have any problem with me controlling them slightly, do you?)

While the boy had anticipated some of the pain from the attack that hit him hard-- after all, he had his share of broken bones now and again-- this had taken the prize. His shriek of pain had not been improvised in the slightest. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate the pain on something else, but to no avail: the pain of shattered bones ripped through every fiber, every thought, every shread of his being. Tears trickled down his face from the pain.

The plan had worked, however, for the two Saiyan guards, Bathemous and Dnal, had opened the lock to his room and their footsteps filled the room. He could not see either of the figures behind the viel of hair over his eyes, but he could estimate their ages by the sounds of their voices; Dnal had the older sound of a sage, while Bathemous the voice of a man in his prime.

"He's broke his shoulders," commented Dnal under the the boy's cries of pain, "probably trying to escape..."

"Serves him right for trying to escape," Bathemous quickly rebuttled. His growl was targeted at the boy, "And shut up already!" He slammed down on his right foot, jerking his shoulders down farther on the pole; this only responded with more pain surging through the body of the young boy. Bathemous responded with a thunderous blow, in the form of his clenched fist, into the injured prisoner's stomach.

Dnal quickly jumped up, pushing Bathemous back away from the Dragonian. "No! Our orders are to make sure he’s not injured any further Bathemous!" Dnal's voice had the tiniest glimpse of admiration, which Bathemous could not conceive under the circumstances.

The boy smiled to himself, glancing up at the two figures before him. Between his pain, he made out his first line of insult towards the Saiyans. "I see at least...one of you...understands...pride!" He gritted his teeth, seething air through his mouth like a filter. "Not like either of you have ever shown an ounce of honor in your lives."

"That's it!" Bathemous pulled his fist back, ready to aim another blow into the Dragonian's face, but Dnal stopped him before he could launch the blow; the last thing they needed was to add another injury to the Dragonian's increasing list.

The boy smirked and glanced his attention on the two Saiyans-- that is, if he could have seen them under his viel of hair.

"So...how much longer do you think it'll take until the skin around my arms rip?" The boy knew what he was talking about: With his joints shattered and a weight pulling them farther down, his hands could rip right from the bone; the ligaments would be removed with no chance of ever replacing with modern technology. "You know, they won't last too long; that won't make your commander happy, now would it? If he knew about this, he'd probably say, 'Remove the boy from those shackles, chop chop!'...of course, minus the whole 'chop chop' crack..."

Even in all of his pain, the boy cracked a smile to the two soldiers; he was clearly amused by the whole situation.

[Ryan - Loki]

The boy suddenly forced himself to speak, informing the two Saiyan’s of his current situation and what would happen if it continued. The sound of his voice, knowing that it had been directed toward Dnal and Bathemous, had instantly caught their attention, causing them to listen to his every word. The boy seemed amused, although clearly in excruciating pain, at the situation that he had forced his two captors into. As he finished speaking both Dnal and Bathemous had different expressions upon their faces as they rolled around their prisoners words within their heads, and these expressions clearly showed what type of people they were.

Dnal looked thoughtful, running the situation and the boy’s words through his head to verify if any truth stood behind them or whether or not this was in fact a bid for freedom. Bathemous on the other hand instantly gave a short, and rather loud, laugh and he barged past Dnal and bent down in front of the boy, lowering his head so as to look underneath the hair that was falling down the boys face. “…Do you honestly think I’m going to fall for that?” whispered Bathemous. “Personally I don’t care what our Lord ordered…I’d rather see you in pain.”

It was at this point that Dnal finally snapped out from his train of thought, thanks to hearing Bathemous speak, and turned to look down toward the two of them. He had concluded that the boy was telling the truth and if he was to come under anymore harm, even if it was cleverly self-inflicted, would displease their Lord greatly. There was only one thing for it, he had to release the prisoner from his current shackles and replace them with ones that could not cause him anymore harm.

“Bathemous,” said Dnal, but Bathemous refused to acknowledge his comrade. “Bathemous!” snapped Dnal, but still he was ignored.
“You Dragonian scum…” Bathemous muttered into the boys face. “Living far below us on your fancy planet, with your fancy life’s…you make me sick!” he barked, spitting in the boys face.
“That’s enough Bathemous!” shouted Dnal, finally stepping forward and pushing him backwards. With Bathemous out of the way Dnal slowly bent down and released the boy from his shackles, allowing him to flop down upon the floor and reducing the pain he would have been feeling somewhat.
Bathemous hadn’t expected that from Dnal, the small push being enough to knock him off his balance and fall onto his behind. Somewhat embarrassed Bathemous quickly jumped to his feet and squared off with Dnal, stepping right into his face; Dnal did the same, expecting no less from his younger comrade.

“Who do you think you are old man!” Bathemous yelled, ordering a reply from Dnal; Dnal remained completely silence. “What authority do you have to release the prisoner?”
“I have more authority than you could ever wish to have command over!” Dnal suddenly retorted, screaming up into young Saiyan’s face. The sudden outburst from Dnal had shocked Bathemous somewhat, causing him to step backwards to create a space between the two. “If he stayed like that then Lord Turgor would have been extremely pissed off with us for allowing the prisoner to come to more harm than was necessary, no, pissed doesn’t even come close!” Dnal continued. “Now I suggest you find some other method of shackling this prisoner that will not cause his arms to be ripped off, and I suggest you do this quickly Bathemous!”

[A Dragonian]

And so Bathemous and Dnal had begun their bickering. The two Saiyans were in a predicament, where neither knew an exact answer of what to do. On one hand, they had a Dragonian with broken arms. He could not easily defend himself without giving himself along excrutiating pain; on the other hand, leaving him alive was a high priority-- otherwise, the Dragonian scum would have been dealt with as soon as he had been captured.

Bathemous showed no sign of caring about the boy before him. He walked up to him, placing a hand on the forehead of the young Dragonian, wiping the blood-dried hair from his young blue eyes. They were sharply cut at the man who looked down at him, returning the same mutual hatrid between Dragonians and Saiyans. "...Do you honestly think I’m going to fall for that?" softly whispered Bathemous. "Personally, I don’t care what our Lord ordered...I'd rather see you in pain."

The boy's eyes kept their concentration on the Saiyan soldier above him. They never deterred, giving the ominous stare to him with every nerve in his body. "Well, let's just say that the feeling's mutual, my hairy friend..." With his words silenced, the Dragonian haucked a wad of spit in his mouth, exasporating up in the face of the Saiyan.

Bathemous quickly wiped the wad from his face, glaring down at the amused Dragonian. "You may have my body shackled down so that I cannot move a muscle, but you sure as hell cannot control my will!" Even with his body writhing in pain, his pride refused to let him be bettered by the Saiyans in any way, shape, or form.

His anger showed through his face, and Bathemous could no longer keep control of his anger. "Bathemous," curtailed Dnal, the elder Saiyan, trying to stop his partner from making a stupid move, but his warnings fell on deaf ears. The younger Saiyan, in a moment of anger, launched a hefty blow to the Dragonian's right cheek. The hit nailed him, and his head was knocked to the side; instantly, the red mark swelled on his face; it would leave a bruise when it settled down. "Bathemous!" shouted Dnal again, but his cries were still ignored; Bathemous had entered a large rage, and he would not be deterred.

"You Dragonian scum..." Bathemous growled to the Dragonian's face. "Living far below us on your fancy planet, with your fancy lives...you make me sick!" He spat back ioto the boy's face, and unable to wipe it from his face, it only trailed down his face.

Dnal shouted, "That's enough, Bathemous!" towards his younger on several generations, but the boy could not concentrate on the exact words that he heard. In his current situation, the boy's arms were still being pulled from their shattered sockets. They were slowly being bent in a way that they should not have been, and he could not hear every word from the Saiyan's throat. However, when Bathemous pushed his hair to the side, he finally could see the two men in front of him clearly. The boy smiled as the elder Saiyan pushed his younger backward. Bathemous stumbled backward as Dnal released the locks on the boy's arms, giving him some freedom.

Dnal backed up from the Dragonian before he fell to a pile on the ground; the weights on his arms were free, but his legs were still weighed down with the same pressure they had before. When Dnal moved, the imbalance in weight brought the chains to the ground. With the fall, the Dragonian's arms were raised over his back and slid down the iron pole; a jolt of pain ran through him, but it felt better to know that he would soon be relieved of all the pain.

When the boy fell to the ground, his head landed with a thud on the ground; the pain that instantly throbbed through it told him that it had slightly rifted, if not cracked open. He could also feel the fresh flow of blood from his forehead; the stench of it reeked through his nostrils...Just another notch on his belt.

Now that his body was free of the strenious pain, he could finally concentrate how bad his body really ached. Every inch of his body was drained of energy-- to breathe was more than enough to tire the poor child. Numerous scathes, gashes, and ki-influenced sores marked his body under the tattered outfit that barely kept him from his birthday suit; the pain from them surfaced any time he moved. His arms were broken, but the pain was nothing compared to the pull on them when they were broken.

The boy, lying on the ground, had only one thing on his mind as the other Saiyans argued of what to do with him: escape-- yet his plans were shot down before they could take flight. He had the power to heal his wounds, his scars, and his broken ligaments, and then start fresh; hell, his Dragonian heritage could count for some of it. But in his current condition, it would take days for the boy to fully recover; even so, his other healing arts would drain him so much they would be worthless. Even if I could heal myself, he thought, knowing well about the wrist bands preventing him from generating ki, It would drain me much faster, and they'd just put me back in the shackles once again... His legs were lodged together in their shackles, so he could not break them free-- even with working arms.

The boy was feeling the fatigue from his long battle from nearly a moon before, and then the strainious pain of his imprisionment. He had not the ability to properly heal under these conditions, and he might soon decline into an inanimate state had the torture continued. All he could concentrate on were his feeble plans of escape, the pain through his body, and the fatigue wearing on his body.

Even for a tough boy of sixteen, a boy can only endure so much before the pains and labors gain control of a feeble body. He could feel his senses failing: The smell of blood grew fainter, the taste of blood in his mouth also growing weak; his eyes blurred softly, the sharp images in his head growing dimmer and darker; his ears concieved the shouts from Bathemous and Dnal, but they were so off key that they sounded like two trombones squaring off (anyone get the reference? ;D).

His eyes began to droop, but he fought to keep them up; but like the torture of the metal bar, it was useless to waste the energy keeping them up. Soon, they closed themself tightly shut. A black cloud shrouded his mind, clearing all thoughts that were in his mind. The boy passed out, and it was only in this mock of sleep did he find peace.

[Ryan - Loki]

For a moment the two Saiyan’s stared down, or up in Dnal’s case, into each other’s faces. It was clear to see that Dnal and Bathemous didn’t see eye-to-eye, not just in a literal sense either, and it seemed that this reason was going to be the cause of a uncivil conflict between the two. The pride and anger that was flying through this room, all at once, was a tremendous amount; even considering the fact that these were two Saiyans who were meant to on the same side. The tension continued to grow with each passing seconds and it was almost a fact that soon enough the tension would reach an explosion point and all hell would break loose.

A sudden THUMP finally caused the tension to fade, in Dnal’s case at least, as he turned in the direction the noise had come from; the boy. The Dragonian had fallen down against the floor in a heap, unconscious. This was bad. With Dnal’s full focus now on the Dragonian prisoner he had no idea what was about to happen, no idea whatsoever. In an instant a sharp pain shot down his back, him falling to the floor just off from the prisoner in immense pain. Rolling over quickly Dnal looked up at his attacker, knowing full well whom it was. “Bathemous…” Bathemous was now standing over Dnal’s body, looking down upon him with fists clenched, not saying a single word; his expression spoke for him. “You idiot!” Dnal screamed as he sprung up from the floor and onto Bathemous.

Bathemous hadn’t expected the old man to move so fast, and with such strength either. With great force Dnal slammed Bathemous into the wall, smashing straight through it in the process, as they both landed upon the floor within the corridor. As the dust and rubble from the decimated concrete wall, the two caught in a struggle of power between each other, a pair of feet stopped directly next to them; both of them slowly turning their heads to their left, Dnal’s right as he was on top of Bathemous.

The feet belonged to none other than one of their superiors, General Solo. “What’s going on here?” he muttered sternly, his authority clearly present. Within a matter of seconds Dnal had jumped up off of Bathemous, and they had both stood to attention.
“The prisoner broke his shoulders in an attempt to escape,” Dnal quickly replied. “I released him from the shackles attached to his arms as to keep the orders Lord Turgor set us, to make sure the no more harm fell upon the prisoner, because his arms would have ripped completely off within a matter of minutes had the shackles stayed on him.” he continued, throwing a glare at Bathemous. “Bathemous then attacked me when my back was turned, his thoughts on the prisoner obviously hostile and against orders. Honestly sir, if I hadn’t been here I fear the Dragonian would be dead by now.”
With Dnal clearly finished with his explanation Solo looked off toward Bathemous. “Anything to add young Bathemous?” he didn’t reply; not only a sign of disrespect but also that Dnal spoke the truth. “I see…” Solo muttered, glancing through the hole in the wall at the prisoner. “Dnal, new orders. I want you to take the prisoner and take him to the laboratory, right now.” he ordered. “As for you Bathemous…I want you to get out of my sight, before I loose my temper with you and snap your neck myself.”

Dnal quickly saluted and moved back within the room to release the rest of the prisoner’s shackles, Bathemous however turned on his heel and made his was down the dark corridor; he had dishonoured himself enough it seemed.