"The greatest outlaw, and he can't even stand a single day here..."
On the top of an immense fortress, five men surrounded one. The odds were further distinguished by clothing, the five wearing the same black armor in uniform, each carrying a short sword, while the one wore ragged brown pants, armed only with his infamous luck; the failure of which got him here. His bare feet were one more retreating step from breaching the line between stone and air.
"This isn't just another pussy jailcell like you've slipped from before."
" 'The thief of women's innocence.' 'The man who kills with a smirk on his face.' Us here at Condemned have been waiting for your infamous ass. You could at least entertain us and live up to your name."
The guards used his reputation, the tales of which had passed along the lips of anyone able to hear it, to mock him now. The outlaw looked down at his arms, barred tightly with iron, a single chain in unequal portions hanging from each enclosed wrist. Along the inside of his forearm, a tattoo completed by shaking hands read one word: RUN.
"The pansy still has all that hair. It isn't cut off until the second day. For him of all people to die now would be a disgrace to the rest of the prisoners."
"Proof none of them are worth a shit and a half."
This produced boisterous laughter from the simple guards. Find and kill was pretty much the height of their intellect. The smile the cornered man gave them was unsettling; the calm in his bold black eyes unnerving. But the scum in their sights didn't notice, they couldn't; thunder was outside the comprehension of ants.
Without a word, the prisoner leapt for his freedom, a mad flip backwards breaking him for a moment from the chains of gravity. The laws of the world took over the graceful flight, and headfirst he dove toward the earth again, shaken from his exaltation.
The twelve foot wall of pure stone that served as the edge of existance to the other prisoners was first to attempt to swallow the higher being. His face smacked against its tall surface, his face an explosion of blood and bone as his entire body flailed backwards from the impact, the price for crossing this realm.
Twelve feet of air rose from him quickly, his body didn't have time to rotate all the way. With a sickening spinal crack, his body crumpled to the ground, his face in the earth and his butt on top of it, his legs and arms overlapping eachother in a disgusting amalgamation of human limbs.
As laughter rained down from the mortals above, the outlaw's legs shot forward (or backward, depending on your perspective) in an arc, his toes digging into the earth now instead of facing the sky. His arms pressed against the earth, raising himself up with the sound of human bone shattering. As he struggled to raise, he shook his head furiously, blood painting the grass before him in ugly splatter. He rose, looked back at the highest point of the fortress, his face still a skull wrapped unevenly in broken flesh.
He looked down at his arms, his hands opening and closing as if he were testing their being. One word left his lips.
Run...
And he did.
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