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The officer's right arm now glowed with the red energy and he stopped, punching the arm into the ground. The red energy shot into the ground and lanced ahead of the thief where it then arched up, carying rock with it, and forming the rock into a solid wall, blocking the thief from escaping. Now he had no way to run except towards the officer...

Alright now... Why don't you just give up the jar, and come on down with me to the station?

His voice was semi-threatening, but had a slight aura of playfullness to it, almost as if he dared the crook to try something.

The Officer was taken aback for a moment, before running over and handcuffing the thief. He then turned to Vanessa.

Seems we got your man eh?

He then picked up the kid .

Come on now, on your feet. You and I have an appointment at the station. Miss, take care of yourself.

Thats said, he then turned and began walking towards the station, his rock wall forming back into the ground.

-:The Obsidian Mines:-

A wheezing breathe echoed through the darkness, created by a hunched over figure which slowly shambled through the mine. Heavily cloaked, the man two dirty hands wrapped around a plain wooden staff, gaunt fingers with large knuckled gripping the wood so tightly they were white. It acted almost as a crutch, each step the man made accompanied by a small foreward movement of the gnarled wooden pole.

And then he stopped, a coughing fit racking his body as he hunched over and coughed hard into his left hand, which of course, left the staff to cover his mouth. Echoes of his muffled coughes resonated into the surrounding tunnels while he calmed himself and took large breathes of the dank cavernous air.

Of course, it must be odd for a sickly old man, facts derived from the hunched posture, the boney fingers, and the dry coughs, to be in a mine in such a place. But then again, why not?

The tunnel networks in the Mithral Mountains were certainly extensive enough for anything. Perhaps a traveller that had gotten lost in one of the caves of the mountainrange and found himself here. Perhaps someone important running away and hiding from assassins. Who knows? There is easily a large chance that the miners would dig and break through the stone walls, cutting into another tunnel, so anything could be possible underneath the massive mountain range.

It was odd that he would appear at such a time, especially since the mines were the heart and soul of the city. And surprisingly enough, it appeared that none of the miners he encountered, if there were any at all at such an hour, didnt even notice him, otherwise, there would surely be some sort of escort to help him find his way out and back into the city.

And so, the man moved through the mines, unhindered by anyone, surrounded by the darkness of the caves.

Until he moved towards the mouth of the cave which led into the mines, right at the side of the underground part of the city. The minimal lighting in the area was enough. Enough to show his face, enough for chaos to ensue.

Though in the dim lighting, part of the man's face could be seen. Though his eyes may be hidden by the overhanging hood of the many layers of thick cloth, the lower portion of the face was a horror. His very flesh appeared to be rotting off as fluid glistened in the light, boils covering parts of his face.

And with him, there were more.

Dropping from the ceiling of the cave mouth, creeping from the darkness around the hunched man, they came. What were once people, now monsters, arrivedwith the sickly diseased man. Their bodies twisted into sinuous frames, their faces replaced by blank expressions in the eyes with their skin stretched over the bones of the skull.

And with a low moan, the hunter-ghouls had moved out from the underground, rushing through the streets of the slums. The reapers had arrived, and it was harvesting season.

Some leapt, some were shred by gunfire, and some fried and burned from an elemental assault. But that did little to stop them. Those who were ripped apart by bullets rose from the ground, chest and abdomen torn where coagulated clots of blood dropped off their rotting flesh. Those who were smoking from the elemental assault got up, their bodies blackened and smoking as they too began to move.

With hisses and ragged roars, the ghouls rushed, moving much faster than a man could, dodging some of the attacks while firing off berrages of needles from their wrists with a slight clicking sound. These needles were coated by a powerful nerve poison which travels through the blood and spinal fluids to the brain, whick quickly paralyzes the victims.

Those other ghouls which had leaped into the air and towards the walls of the underground cavern, began to quickly scurry up it's sides like spiders, clearing the area quickly from a different route as their bretheren eleiminated the guards on duty, falling upon them in a swarm of tearing and firing.

And while the ghouls fed breifly, the deseased man began to shuffle out the gates slowly, the ghouls following along when they had a temporary fill. Like all ghouls, those killed by these ghouls and uneaten, will eventally rise to be one of them, their bodies mutating into twisted versions of their former selves.

Little did they know, that the unknown tunnel would lead down further and further into the depths of the earth, maze-like tunnels going every way. If they were to follow the raiders, they would have to traverse the dark depths of the world known as the Underdark, the place where nightmares were made of.

Damrius awoke with a start in a cold sweat. He had been having a nightmare, one that he had been having ever since his father started to enter him into the tournaments at 5 years of age.

This nightmare meant little to him, and but it was the only dream he would ever have. He looked around him, and saw the plains. They were dark, and some light was shining through the clouds about a mile ahead of him. His long sword lay next to him, his short sword on top of it. His Battle Gloves were on his hands, ready for use.

The grass had acted as a soft bed, better than the trees. He had no Idea how long he had been traveling, but he ended up here. He saw what looked like a giant pillar from this distance about a mile and a half ahead.

He pushed himself off the grass, yawning. He stretched, and once finished, bent down to pick up his weapons. He beltd the short sword to his right hip, and then belted the long sword to his back. He cracked his neck, and then started off towards the structure that lay ahead. Maybe he could get directions to any near by towns.

A young man popped his head out from the top of the tower and looked down towards Damrius. He had black hair, like most Lamentians, and blue eyes. He wore the black uniform of the King's Military, and held what looked like an automatic rifle in his arms.

"State your name, business, and purpose in Lament traveler."

This was not a highly friendly tone, but one of order and sternness. This was not a request, this was an order. And the gun in his arms showed he meant business.