Legacy: Blood of the Moonborn in Dantooine Theatre Company Posted December 19, 2013 "Your impulsiveness never ceases to amaze me," Graham Jones grumbled, readjusting his black mask as he stalked quietly beside his partner. "Do you even know where we are?" She, in her green and gold getup, smiled back at him. "I don't need to since I have you with me," she said arily, though the slightest tremor in her voice told him she was out of her comfort zone. That took some doing. "Ah yes, your personal roadmap," he muttered. "Quiet," their guide hissed. Graham glanced at the guide, then at the four burly guards that trailed behind them. There were many things about this situation that were not good. Outnumbered, certainly. And the men were carrying guns. Not the surest advantage yet, but their craftsmanship was impressive, to be sure. And they were loaded, could be fired before he could put an arrow to his bow. Which was currently strapped to the back of one of the big guys, along with Adara's. And their hands were tied. Well... had been tied. Graham had got his hands free little more than five minutes into the walk. When they searched him for weapons, they'd definitely been thorough on him. Less so on Adara. Strange to find such gentlemanly behavior amongst common street thugs, but the longer the walk continued, the less common they seemed. At any rate, there had been a small knife in Adara's hair, and through a few subtle movements, Graham had obtained it. Now, as they walked, he held the ropes tightly around his wrists, waiting for his best shot at getting them out of here. At length, their guide stopped and turned to face them. "What's with letting us keep the masks?" Adara asked him. "Most people seem hellbent on finding out who we are." The guide smirked. "What matters is your deaths," he said, snatching lightly at the fabric of her cloak. "High quality stuff, this. Yes, I think we'll know who you are in the morning when two rich children are discovered to be missing from their homes." "If you wanted us dead," Graham said quietly, "you should've killed us when you first got the drop on us." The guide grinned at him. "Ah, the quiet one speaks." He held up a finger. "But, o Silent Archer, you assume I and my men are the ones you'll be facing. We are not. Only an act of God will save you now." He glanced nervously over his shoulder and Graham held up his unbound hands. "Like this?" he asked. But the other man was already moving. Away from Graham and Adara. At a glance, Graham realized the others were doing the same. "Your hands will not save you this time," the guide said, breaking into a run. He called over his shoulder, "Do you know how near the edge of the city you are?" "Loony," Adara said with a laugh. "C'mon, get me untied. We can still catch them." But Graham wasn't looking after their former captors. As he brought the knife in his hand down on the rope around Adara's wrists, he said quietly, "Do you hear how quiet the streets are?" "So it's not a party district," Adara said dismissively. "Ssh," Graham hissed. "What?" Adara rubbed her wrists. "Quiet," Graham ordered, his eyes narrowing. The streets weren't just quiet. They were nearly abandoned. What few people Graham saw seemed in a hurry to get indoors. In his youth, he'd seen similar behavior, but if he asked about it, his mentor would only ever tell him, "When you're ready, you'll understand." "Okay, silence is creeping me out," Adara whispered loudly. "Can we go now?" "I think we'd better," Graham answered softly. Abruptly, Adara clutched his arm and pointed to a dark alley. A form lurked there, half standing, barely visible in the low light. As if sensing it was being watched, it turned toward them. "What is that?" Adara whispered. Eyes glittered in the darkness. A low growl rumbled out from it. "Something we're not trained to handle," Graham answered softly. "Run!" They did. The beast followed.