elloran: (buddies?)
[personal profile] elloran
“Bloody hell, Loreh!” Karakael shouted as he dodged around a flailing paw. The Pergators were not pleased with these intruders.

“It’s not my fault, Karakael. If the community hadn’t taken our shimmercloaks…” The normally passive flying cats had chased both of them through the doors of the palace, which was in an unusual state of panic.

“Bull. Your damn psychotic guards are to blame, and you know it.” Moving fast, Karakael ducked between two wall screens, not pausing to let Elloran realize he knew the palace better than Elloran did.

“Just because they are loyal –“

Fanatically loyal, you mean. There are guards crawling all over the place!”

“I never thought they would be this cautious! They merely think we are imposters…”

Karakael clicked his tongue in response as another contingent of armed guards ran by. His palace was coded to accept his genetics, not the frilly pink cloaks all Inquestors wore. And if Elloran wasn’t behind him, then breaking into this palace would have been easy…

“Surely if we simply explain, or ask to be taken to my throne room, everything will resolve itself. Sajit and my advisors will recognize me, even without my shimmer cloak.” Elloran was getting winded with all the running, and he paused to lean on a wall while catching his breath.

“How naïve can you be?” Karakael snapped. Unlike Elloran, he kept himself well fit, for just this kind of circumstance. His friend might not go running through slums and palaces late at night, but it was something Karakael was all too familiar with. “Criminals like us will be executed long before we are brought to the attention of anyone so important as an Inquestor. They think us thieves or assassins, your guards would be idiotic to let us go any further into the palace.”

“And your guards would do any different?” Elloran protested before being shoved through another door as Karakael caught sight of another patrol.

“I have very few guards and fewer visitors. But even if I did need someone to protect me, my guards would know well enough to bring me any criminal caught on the grounds. After all, I’d enjoy the sports…”

“Most of my servants are artists and crafts people. Forgive me for employing people devoted to creation rather than destruction!”

“Artists…” Karakael paused, glancing at the workstation he’d over turned to block the door. “Tell me, is there anyone which works with paints close to here?”

“One cell-block over is a color-witch. But why –“

But Karakael was already gone, dragging Elloran through another quick run through the corridors, stopping only when they had evaded the guards and found the witch's workroom. Luckily, the woman herself had hidden far from the commotion, leaving the room free.

“Guard the door.” He ordered, before grabbing a set of paints and pulling the mask from his face.

“You couldn’t possibly fool anyone with –“

“Silence.” The Masked Inquestor worked fast, turning the blue and silver mask brown in an instant. This mask was already life-like, a boon to what he was doing. But it wasn’t just the face that he had to change, and as he quickly dabbed paint on the rest of his outfit he took the steps to mentally transform himself. He wasn’t called the Master of Illusion for nothing, after all.

“Kaaree…”

“I said, silence!” The mask clicked into place, and he was at Elloran’s side in an instant. The flash of relief on his friends face was quickly replaced with shock as a backhanded blow sent Elloran tumbling out into the hallway...and into the path of the guards.

“There he is! The one who looks like Lord Elloran!”

“Stop.” The word fell out of Karakael’s mouth with quiet authority, halting the guards advance for just long enough that he could stride into the corridor and cart Elloran to his feet. “This is my captive, and I will do with him what I see fit. Now, take me to your master, so we can discipline him – and you incompetent fools - appropriately.”

Elloran’s mouth nearly dropped open in shock. Gone was the façade he was so used to in his friend, replaced with the image of a battle-hardened mercenary. The exact sort of person Karakael would hire… The illusion wouldn’t hold close scrutiny, but the firefur kilt, the gold striping on his shirt cuffs and tattoos spiraling under his clothing, the face with badly healed scars, all backed up by the presence Karakael brought into any role he played – yes, it was enough to fool the simple guards of the lower palace levels. They stumbled back and bowed, all but the bravest of the lot, who didn’t seem to be buying the act.

“Who are you? How dare you claim this interloper as captive?”

The painted mask seemed to smirk. “I was sent here by Lord Karakael to apprehend the criminal who dared to take his name. A pity that I’ve only captured his cowardly little accomplice, but he will have to do until I can bait his master out. If you want to dispute my claim, then I suggest you try to take him from me.”

Without another word, the guard attacked, flinging his cloak aside to reveal an arsenal of weapons at his disposal. Karakael just laughed and dodged the first bullet before easily taking the weapon from his assailant and silencing him with a single bullet to the head. He tossed the gun aside and forced Elloran back onto the floor.

“Anyone else disagree with me?”

They shook their heads, and Ellorans heart ceased beating so strongly.

Don’t think too highly of me yet Karakael sub-voced to him, the smile still on the masks face. Had they been your guards from the upper floors, that never would have worked. Somehow, that made Elloran far more comfortable. Karakael wasn’t some strange overpowered fighting machine. Just a man with some skill who could use surprise and emotions to his advantage. Not all that different from Elloran himself, really.

The journey through the rest of the palace was short, taken using dispersal plates. Elloran’s throne room was empty but for one adviser and the ever present Sajit, who immediately rushed to Elloran’s side, throwing caution to the wind as he wrestled his friend from the grip of the presumed guard.

“How could you treat your Master so?” The frail musician glared down the guards, then turned on the man who had captured his liege. “And you! How dare you come here, cause such a scandal, and then claim it was done on Ton Karakael’s orders. Lord Karakael is foolish indeed if he believes Elloran would allow himself to be used in such a way!”

The tirade was about to continue, but Karakael laughed, and flicked off his over-mask, silencing the musician. “Oh, your loyalty is almost as great as your innocence, Sen Sajit. I merely meant to teach my dear friend a lesson – one he has learned rather well, I imagine.”

“What do you mean?”

“He trusted his own guards so much – and now look. They nearly killed him, simply because they did not recognize his face. And you – you would dare to insult and Inquestor merely because he does not wear the seals of office. Who is the insolent cur, now?” Another laugh, and Sajit dropped his hands, horrified. “Come, Elloran. I believe you owe me something for your side of the bet.”

So saying, Karakael dropped the mask he’d used to get through the palace, and strode with every sign of confidence into Elloran’s private rooms.
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