The peaceful town had always held some suspicion of underlying troubles, for that is what always happened between the poor and the rich. The poor were subject to live in the slums, within wooden huts with thatched, muddy roofs, while the rich lived in huge buildings that had way too many rooms for their own needs. One group ate from gold plates and silver spoons, while the others scrounged around in the trashed back alleyways of inns and bars. It was a horrible injustice, but everything had always managed to remain somewhat calm. It was a city, it had a guard, it had Veronna, it had everything needed to keep it in order.

Sadly enough, evil would always find a way, if not to defeat the good, then to simply evade it.

It was in the richer district of Taras, and it was evil. Towering mansions stood to either side of onlookers, gold and silver actually enlade into some of the buildings, jewels forged into the doors and sidewalks. It was amazing how much wealth had been spent of petty things such as this, and it was amazing that no one had ever noted this fact. If jewels could be used on sidewalks, then why couldn't they be used to feed the ones who were truly starving?

This particular street had been barricaded, what looked to be wagons soaked down with some substance piled on the end of each street, preventing entry and exit from those two points. They had just been rolled to block the entries and exits moments ago, perhaps so the occupants could have some privacy. One side street had a guard posted there, probably someone paid off by the ringleaders of this spectacle, and a manhole cover to sewers below had been given little to no attention. People stood by with torches, both for light as the sun dipped down to provide a beautiful sunset, and also to only fuel the voilence that would take place. A diverse crowd stood here, from a few nobles with rings on their fingers, to more paid off guards who had very ugly looks about their faces, and quick sword hands, and a few straggling beggars who barely had clothes on their backs. Every eye was focused, however, not on the exits, which is what one would normally worry about. They had gotten in, now how were they to get out, when the real guards eventually came? That is what they should be wondering.

Every eye was too focused on the hangman's noose in the middle of the scene.

Xendral was leaning against one wall, bright blue eyes serious for once in his life, calculating, cool. He was wearing a long black cloak, pulled around him tight, a hood drawn over his face to hide it from viewers. He could recogonize some of the nobles here, and he was sure if they saw his face, they would be able to realize who he was too. He had stolen from them quite a few times in his life, after all. He hadn't meant to be here in the first place, he had simply got pulled up along in the crowd as it had rushed to this area, and now he was barricaded inside, having to watch. Not that he cared. That is what he kept trying to convince himself. But the hard look in his eyes, and part of his past kept screaming at him to take action. It wasn't that he was actually completely compassionate, no. He was a thief, you couldn't have compassion and be a thief. It was the fact that he had grown up poor, just as poor or poorer then some of the people around him, and the one that was being hung, as the murmers and whispers around him told.

Why are you standing idle?

His eyes narrowed, and he whispered to himself, under his breath.

"He was stupid enough to get caught."

Why are you simply standing by?

"It isn't my fight."

That is what he told himself, and the voice in his head.

Dante weaved in and out of streets, occasionally looking behind him to see the guards still running after him. He wished things had gone different; usually he was able to get by and do things like this without getting caught, this instance being the exception. He wasn’t thinking of himself once again, he was concerned, knowing that he had gone an entire week without sending money back to his sister and that scared him enough to attempt to steal from one of the rich nobles. He rounded a corner and sighed hopelessly at the sight of a dead end; he turned to see a guard staring him in the face, a huge grin slapped on him. Dante turned and looked up at the sky as the guard raised his fist, “Mercy…”

Dante didn’t remember much after that; he knew that it was over an hour ago when it happened. He knew that now, he was underneath a great scaffold set up just for his demise. All he felt was the horrific grasp of despair, and he almost wished for his death to come sooner. He wrung his hands, fruitlessly attempting to rearrange his hands so that the ropes that bound him didn’t dig into his skin as much. Dante felt a sharp object dig into his back and a hand push him up the steps to the top of the scaffold. Dante squinted and looked at the crowd and sighed heavily; he had never thought that this many people would have come. He looked at the blockade and frowned; people were going to watch him die, whether they wanted to or not. He looked over the crowd, knowing that he had no one, and that no one would come to watch him die because they cared. With Death’s hand so close, his thoughts became mad with hopelessness.

A noble walked forward and grinned at him, as though he were happy to see Dante in the hands of Death. Dante recognized him as the man he had stolen from, and a smile came to his own face, one that completely destroyed the composure of the noble. After that, Dante spoke quietly, only to the noble, and perhaps anyone else who heard; he ignored the people, he ignored the noble, he ignored everything and imagined himself on the stage, “You think me a menace?” He smirked and added, “I swear Divines will have more pity on my soul than yours. That is all I have to say.” He felt the hangman’s noose touch his skin, wrap around his neck, and he looked up into the purple and red sky, “Raine, forgive me…”

Finally, he was to the point where he could see the one being hung. He was being prodded along by one of the defect guards, a noble quite close by smirking all the while. It was fairly easy to deduct that this was going to be simple and painless for the one being punished. A simple push off the scaffold would cause the man to break his neck, all they had to do was secure the rope onto a solid...

Oh.

They were actually going to just yank him up in the air and strangle him. Not so quick and painless after all.

With a growl, Xendral pushed himself off the wall and started to stomp toward one of the sides of the streets, to the barricaded area. He didn't want to see this, and he didn't need his good conscience bearing down on him all the while. Best to simply get out while he could, and forget everything he saw. He couldn't stomach this primative scene any longer. He wasn't quite sure if anyone would let him out, but he was going to try. As he neared the wooden barricade, the sudden smell of oil hit him, and he paused in his steps, lifting one hand to his mouth to muffle the coughing. One of the nearby guards took notice of him, stepping closer and shoving the torch in his face, peering under the hood.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Glancing from the torch to the wooden barricade, he blinked, not yet answering. They had really thought out this plot of theirs. If anyone dared to try and come in, or get out, they were planning to simply set the oil-soaked wood on fire, creating flaming barricades for both exits. It wouldn't keep the people out forever, but it would give the noble enough time to hang the man who had done him wrong.

You should be stopping this. The man on that scaffold could have been you.

He growled once again, his eyes flashing, staring at the torch but not really seeing it.

"Shut UP."

The guard raised one eyebrow and stepped forward, clearing his throat, flexing his muscles.

"What did you just say to me?"

If you shall not deliver justice...

Xendral blinked.

Then I myself will.

When his eyes slid back open, they were not the blue of before. They did not even have pupils like they did before. Only the guard would see this, the light of the torch aiding him. He would take in a quick breath, a quick gasp, one puff of air that would prove to be his last.

Xendral's foot snapped up in an amazingly swift and high snap kick, the toe of his boot catching the guard under his chin, sending him stumbling back on his bottom and falling over his own feet into the oil-soaked wood. Unlucky for him, he still kept hold of the torch, and the minute the flame and oil connected, everything went to hell. The flames burst up, and the man's horrid scream echoed out across the square as he was burned alive. Every head in the arena turned to see what had happened, the noble, even the man who was about to hang Dante. They had just about been to pull him up in the air when the flames had caught their attention, along with this cloaked man who was now making a beeline straight for the scaffold, and no one was bothering to stop him. They were all still in shock. The flames in the blockade raised high, alerting any surrounding guards to danger. It would be no time at all until the city guard was here.

Now for the one to be hung. He had an opening. He better take it.

Alone, in a dark, dank, cold room, a young boy sat staring at nothing in the darkness. Time stood and after what seemed like forever, a little boy looked up at the sound of the door opening. He squinted his eyes at the large figure that entered the room and leaned against the doorway. The silence remained as the man continued to stare at the boy, who had become uninterested in his visitor and had return his gaze a snake lying dead on the floor. After a few more moments, the man spoke:

"We're letting you go free boy, do something stupid like this again and you may not be so lucky. I don't care what the circumstances are, you are a dirty little thief and you will never amount to anything if you keep doing mess like this. Now get out of here!"

The boy stood and glared at his captor, after leaving the room he turned and spat, "Next time I pull something like this, you'll never catch me." He turned and ran away as the man stood shaking his head, "Dante, Dante, Dante, will you ever learn?"

Dante's eyes snapped open as the noose loosened a bit around his neck. He stared directly at a fire that had just erupted and now his eyes caught sight of the man making his way towards the scaffold. Dante raised and eyebrow and turned to the executioner who was staring, with his mouth wide open at the flames. 'Great, I get to live for a few more seconds, this is beautiful' Dante thought to himself. He looked now at the noble who was screaming angrily at the executioner:

"Hang him! Damn you, HANG HIM!"

Dante smiled hopefully; perhaps the Divines had something better in store than for him to die as an example. Though as it looked right now, he could do nothing to save himself, he was frozen in position along with the executioner. He could only hope that this man had some other sort of plan to get him away, if it was meant to be. Because the window of opportunity was steadily closing, and the man had to reach the scaffold in time. Dante looked around at the people, they were all staring away from him, and that was comforting; this whole ordeal was an evolution of despair into hope. This thought made him smile.

(OOC: I am soooo sorry that took so long... I kept getting distracted with it and all...)

Justice.

He was fast. He moved with grace, yes, but that was beside the point. For a human being, he was a quick little rodent, and he moved through the throng of people with ease. In mere seconds he was to the scaffold, but he didn't break pace to try and climb up it. Using one of the nearby bystanders, who were still recovering from the recent shock, he grabbed the shoulders of this particularly tall citzen and used it to propel himself into the air. The man stumbled, and let out a yell, causing attention to fly not from the fire to the man who had just hopped up on the scaffolding, black cloak and hood hiding any features from eyes.

I will deliver it.

Both the executioner and the noble were staring at Xendral, stunned, but the nobleman was the first to recover. With a curse and a growl, he made a move toward the dangling end of the rope that the excutioner was failing to grab, looking as if he was going to do the dirty deed himself. Xendral, as if expecting it, took a step forward hiomself. Out from under his cloak, a hand flashed out and then back in, and a dagger imbedded itself into the right leg of the noble. With a sharp scream of pain, he collapsed, both hands going to that leg. The executioner was still apparently trying to recover, his eyes flashing to his downed lord. He hesitated for a moment, staring at the bleeding body and the yelling man, and then turned his sight back to Xendral.

He was met with a knee to the face, the flying knee catching him right in the temple and sending him stumbling backwards, and off of the scaffolding and to the ground below.

"We need to hurry."

This was directed at Dante. The crowd had recovered from the shock, and were now mostly watching the scene unfold, doing nothing to help. The paid guards in the area, about five, heavily armed, were quickly heading toward the scaffold. They only had two exits now, the unlit pile of wood at the other end of the street, and the side street that had a guard positioned in the entrance. This was getting complicated. Muttering to himself, Xendral crossed to the downed noble, kneeling down and taking ahold of his dagger. The noble gave a sharp intake of breath, and then let out another scream as Xendral twisted and yanked the blade from the flesh, standing and craning his hood toward Dante, as if expecting him to make the next move.

"I need you to follow me. We are heading for that flaming pile of wood."

Apparently he had the next move planned. Even if it was insane.