Meanwhile, a shorter cloaked figure calmly shouldered his way through the rising chaos in the square. "'Scuse me...Pardon me...Good day, madame...Oh, my apologies, sir- allow me to assist you...Yes, pardon me..." After what seemed like an eternity, Kjan was finally free of the suffocating crowd. Shaking himself as though to cast off any lingering sensations of claustrophobia, he cast a last glance toward where the Phantom stood before ducking into one of the larger buildings.

While freeing the prisoners most imminently due to be executed was the first priority, Kjan intended to use the guards' momentary distraction to get a few other things done as well. He strode through the corridors as if he owned the building, pausing only once to quickly sling a small sack of potatoes over his shoulder and help himself to the purse of coins left sitting on a table. After all, nothing wrong with doing a bit of re-stocking.

He continued to navigate his way through the winding hallways, relying solely on hazy memories to get him to his destination. It could be worse, he thought to himself as he turned yet another corner. The guards could be... The thought abruptly trailed off, never to be completed, as Kjan found himself standing face-to-face with three guards and a dead end. "Oh..." he said quietly, a trapped grin plastered on his face. "Hey...guys...I was just...delivering this, and..." He slowly started to back away, but the guards weren't buying it. Still smiling nervously, Kjan began glancing from side to side as he continued backing up. "Catch!" he suddenly shouted, flinging the sack of potatoes into the guards and taking off running.


Inside the jail, a group of prisoners sat inside cramped cells. Men and women, young and old-- the crown had been indiscriminate concerning who it thrust into captivity. Some were younger than seven, and some were well into their eighties or nineties. None one spoke, save a few hushed whispers, and those stopped immediately upon hearing a loud crash in the distance. Moments later, a slightly out-of-breath man rounded the corner and hurried over to the cells.

"Ladies and gentlemen, due to unfortunate circumstances, I'm afraid I must order a mandatory evacuation of this building, effective immediately," Kjan announced as he quickly unlocked the cell doors. He stepped aside as the prisoners hurried out of the cells, ushering them toward the door opposite the one through which he'd entered. "Quickly, quickly, right this way, my good people. There is a wagon waiting outside. Yes, yes, you're welcome. I assure you, the pleasure is all mine. Oops-- watch your step, milady. That's right, this way, folks."

After making sure that everyone got safely into the cart, Kjan swung himself up onto the driver's seat and grasped the reins. Flicking his wrists expertly, he spurred the horses forward and out into the crowd. If it had been chaotic before, it was now about to become a madhouse.

Ounce for ounce, pound for pound, compared to all other animals, the human body was weak. An ant could carry up to 20 times thier body wieght. A leopard could drag a full grown antelope up a tree. A crocodile's bite could crush a zebra's skull. The blows these orcs were dealing could easily break his weak body into a bag of flesh. There were ways, however, through ingenuity, that a human could defeat a larger opponent with his own body. Amaran had trained almost his whole life in this art. The orc didn't stand a chance.

Amaran rushed in, slamming a foot into the orc's belly. The orc stumbled, but recovered with a speed that should not accompany a being with his mass. The large arc sliced out with his blade, catching Amaran in the belly.

Okay, so maybe the orc had a chance.

A wave of pain hit Amaran hard, but luckily a wave of adrenneline compensated for the pain. This time, when he rushed the orc, he ducked the heavy blade and, praying orcish anatomy was similar to human's, jabbed his opponent at a pressure point, right in front of the armpit. The orc, temporarily immobile, fell flat on his back. Amaran wasted no time indealing the"death blow", a powerful blow to the chest that stopped the heart.

Ow.

The orc was wearing chest plate armor. Go figure. Time for plan two.

Amaran shifted to his wolf shape and dealt the orc a bite to the unprotected throat. He spit out the orc blood as best he could (it was rather hard to spit in wolf form) and leaped up to take down his next opponent.