Bradwynne early awaited the results of the appeal that he had lodged with the arraigning body. This was the last chance that he had to prove his innocence. If the appeal went through, he would ask the girl to testify for him. She definitely knew that he was just fighting the bandits, whatever faction they were, and not fighting any other faction just for rooting them out and removing the competition, which the bandits were trying to insinuate. And also, regardless of the girl's decision, there were many other witnesses that should describe what he did to the bandits. He had helped a lot of people, and maybe if he got them to testify, he would prove to these people that he was innocent of all the charges heaped about him. And so he would be set free. All of his should rely on the appeal that he lodged on the arraigning body. It was his fervent hope that the appeal would be considered, so that every misunderstanding about his intentions of trying to teach a lesson on these bandits would be smoothened. His reputation in turn would not be put to doubt anymore, and he could return to his job of making Vintergard a better place for merchants and tourists alike. After a couple of hours, the guards moved towards Bradwynne's cell and opened the door. Bradwynne fully expected that his appeal was considered, and these guards were the harbingers of this good news, but as he felt the guards hold his arm to latch manacles on them, he knew his fate was sealed. More so when he had heard the sentence that the guard evoked, reading from a scroll, "Bradwynne Lambert, leader of the so-called Sputnik group of bandits is declared guilty of masterminding and committing numerous acts of highway robbery and murder. He is hereby sentenced to suffer from one hundred lashes before being hanged publicly in the plaza of the main market of Vintergard. Guards, escort the criminal to the plaza." As he was removed from the cell, Bradwynne was thinking abut the absurdity of his situation. He had been saving the populace from the bandit attacks that were preying upon their sustenance, he had been saving the guards a lot of time by doing part of their jobs, and now here he was, framed for something that he did not do, and being spurned for being some sort of a bandit leader. And Sputnik, really? He had only heard the word once, being the name of the first artificial satellite launched into space, and the name did not stick with him that much. Wait... that was a strange enough name. And why the hell was his case decided in a very fast manner? Even in America cases were decided within a number of weeks or months, and here this case was decided within hours? Even the rejection of his appeal seemed fishy. It was as if someone within the government of Vintergard was connected one way or another with the bandits. And maybe there was a player involved in all this outrage. Enraged by all this shit going on, he now decided to do whatever he can to escape these guards. Fortunately he had hid his katana in his inventory for it not to be confiscated, and by mistake the guards left his rosary tied on his left wrist, thinking that it was there for his religious purposes. He now planned to find a situation where he would be quite loosely guarded to execute his magic. That way he could escape and find a way to prove his innocence. Appeal for reconsideration Roll 20 + 5 = 25
Sneaking about in the evidence storage, Temperance found some... old execution forms? Well, whatever. They could be investigated and put to better use later, she decided, as she stuffed them away in her inventory. As she continued to dig about in the room, she found less and less of interest, ultimately deciding to just abandon the room altogether. Her initial hunt had gone well, but those strange old forms had been the cream of the crop for this place. Keeping up her guise, she left the evidence storage and began to head deeper into the fortress, walking past guards and going about her treasure hunt. She overheard some sort of... trial... involving the blonde kid, who was apparently just screwed at this point. Oh well, thems was the breaks! Nothing of interest... Nothing of interest... maybe she should find an armory, next?
The clamor of footsteps and shouts echoed through the halls as Alpha rushed past. If one took the time to peek into the multitude of rooms, they would find the most peculiar sights. Some rooms were, thankfully, covered with shutters. Most rooms weren't. "Oh, Ricardo!" a voice shot through the bleak, unlit foyer. Alpha tried to ignore the shrill voice, concentrating on finding Hector. Unfortunately, the universal forces that command this world seemed to be intent on annoying her as much as possible. A few seconds after the woman's shout, a gruff voice called back: "Mi amor!" There was the sound of a desk clanging against something hard (a human body, a lamp, a table?). "My darling, we mustn't!" the woman protested, albeit it didn't sound like she particularly wanted to stop whatever it was they were doing. As Alpha took some effort to widen the ever-growing distance between her and this affair going on, the pair didn't seem to catch on. Their screams and declarations of love grew louder. Alpha shook her head. Hector. Gotta find Hector. Ignore all distractio— "Josephine, what is the meaning of this?!" a brand new figure seemed to have caught on from the sound of a door clanging open. "R-Ricardo?" the lady cried, confused. Alpha could imagine the scene going on in her mind. "Juan-Polo!" the man, who was apparently Ricardo, accused. His surprise and anger was apparent in his voice. "What the fudgecakes?" Alpha whispered under her breath as the telenovela continued on despite her mental objections. Find Hector. Gotta find Hector. Ignore all... There was the sound of a fist breaking through wood. "My love, Josephine! That is not me who you are locking lips with! That is my evil twin brother, Juan-Polo!" the new intruder exclaimed and, in response, the gruff man replied: "Ricardo!" "How dare you, brother," Ricardo spat out the last word like it was poison. "I was away to take care of national business and I come back to find you seducing my wife!" Alpha tried to tune everything out. And, for awhile, it worked. As she passed by a few courtyards, in her desperate search to find Hector, the voices drowned out into the background...until there was the sound of a slap echoing through the prison compound. "Ricardo! Juan-Polo! I'm sorry, but I cannot do this any longer!" Josephine cried and, judging from the sound of retreating steps, she must've left that hell-hole. Alpha sighed in relief, happy that she didn't have to hear that monstrosity anymor— "Bork bark bork!" "I don't wanna hear your nasty romance triangle!" Alpha shouted on the top of her lungs, startling a few birds out of the bush they were lurking in. A vein was throbbing at the forefront of Alpha's temple and, for a minute, she seriously contemplated running back and socking the disgusting trio in the eyes. "Wait, Hector?" her eyes widened and she craned her head back to where the barking at originated from and there, in all his glory, was Hector's ugly, frowning muzzle. She sighed. "You should've called out earlier, you jerkface!" Alpha shouted as she ran, managing to loosen the rope that collared his neck. The other end, which was tied to the tree, quickly fell to Hector's wild pulls and, as Hector shrugged the offending object off, he tossed Alpha the dirtiest look a wolf could muster. She glared back at him. "Hey! Don't give me that face, mister! Remember who saved your butt!" she said angrily to no effect as Hector merely looked away, rolling his eyes as he pushed her away with his front paw. He walked away from her, completely disinterested. "Ooooh! Is this the infamous rebellious phase that's happening?! I fed you! I clothed you! I raised you since you were a pup!" Other than the first claim, none of her words were true. Hector scoffed and trotted along. Alpha's eye twitched. "I should've brought Potato along; at least he's a gentleman!" she shouted. As he showed no signs of listening or turning back, she merely buried her face in her hands and trailed after him, groaning. "Urgh, I should've saved the blonde-guy first. He's gonna be part of my crew, y'know? At least he's not an emo, angsty teenager like you, Hector!" she whined. (Roll) The Bandits' Marked Man
A sound of snare drums were heard as Bradwynne was being escorted to the market plaza. As he was hearing it, he wondered why. Was he that of a high-profile criminal that they had to parade him after that mockery of a trial? He felt a pent-up anger swelling from his mind. He wanted to yell at those who arraigned him. He wanted to yell at the guards who were escorting him right now. But he can't. Not until he had escaped here. Then he could yell whenever he wanted, and could try to chase those bastards who imprisoned him for something that he did not do. Yeah, they should pay for this, once he escaped from this hell. After a short while, the entourage had reached the place where Bradwynne would be whipped and then hanged. He could see from his left the rack where he would be strapped to be whipped a hundred times, and on his right the gallows where he would be hanged to lose his life. As one of the guards were reading his sentence to the populace, he then saw the opportunity to plead his case to the people, and so as not to interrupt the announcer in order not to provoke the guards and for his lips not to be sealed, he waited for him to conclude, and then said in a loud voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, I am accused wrongly. Remember when I had saved your family member or friend when bandits attacked them. You should see I am innocent from what they try to punish me on. I AM NEVER A BANDIT LEADER!" As he said those words, he was punched at the gut by one of the soldiers, and then he was stripped of his upper clothes, revealing his milky skin and slightly muscular body which should be fit for an underwear model. He was then strapped to the rack, and then hell started for Bradwynne. The first strike of the whip had struck, and Bradwynne groaned in pain. It did not help him that the whip that was being used was a barbed cat-o'-nine-tails, and so the 100 lashes should feel like 900. For Bradwynne it hurt so bad as was evident by the clenching of his fists and the sudden kick of his legs. It had seemed for him that some of his flesh was torn away by the whip, and he thought, as he glanced at his HP meter, that he had lost a lot of HP. Yes, the suffering should be short since it hurt so bad he had expected quite a huge chunk of HP to be shaved away by the whip. But as he saw his HP meter, it was just decreased by 0.5. "ZERO POINT FIVE?! AAAAAAHHHHH!!!" More than the pain on his back, he was agonized by the number of HP shaved away by the whip. What kind of a lame person handled the whip? And so he had to endure the hundred lashes before his true death should appear? By the angels, it really hurt. It hurt so hard it was agonizing, and it is only for fucking 0.5 HP?! And so from that moment on, after every whip that had landed on his body, he was screaming and flailing really hard. It hurt. It really hurt. ((Would edit in the roll when I get to my laptop.))
