After a disagreement, Pate finds himself running for his life.
.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Pate sprinted through the forest undergrowth, desperately looking for someplace to hide. Climbing a tree was out of the question since his armour was too heavy for that, and it wasn't like he could hide behind a bush or anything. Creighton was going to murder him. He just knew it. Who knew the knight could be so damned sensitive?
"I'm going to find you, and I'm going to gut you as if you were one of these beasts here!" Pate heard Creighton bellow. "You think you can run forever?!"
Could the man be any louder? He was going to draw the attention of the undead in the forest. Pate knew the basics of combat, but having to fight off against groups of hollows and a pissed off homicidal maniac wasn't exactly what he'd call enjoyable. It had all started with a harmless joke. Something about Creighton being on the run from the law. Little had he known that his joke was actually the truth, but did Creighton have to take it so hard?
Now he was running away doing his damn best to lose the murderous knight. The man was athletic. He supposed killing everyone in his path kept him in top physical health. He continued to run, ignoring the pain in his ribs. No time to stop now. Up ahead, he saw a bulky undead creature wielding two sickles. He thought about running past it and trying to make the creature chase after Creighton instead, but figured it wasn't worth the risk.
He looked to the east. There were a few prison cells across the bridge. What if… An idea formed in his mind. What if he could trick Creighton into going into a cell? The man wasn't exactly the brightest warrior around. Sure, there was intelligence in that head of his, but he was so consumed with killing Pate, he wouldn't be paying any attention to traps. Or that's what he hoped.
Pate sprinted across the bridge and ran into one of the cells. There were two undead inside, but their legs were broken, and couldn't move. They could keep Creighton company while he hollowed and became one of them. Dropping a hand into his pocket, he withdrew the prison cell key he had looted off a corpse the other day.
Now to make Creighton think he had become trapped inside. All he had to do now was lure Creighton inside the cell, hope the undead did the job then lock him inside. Only then could he laugh at his former partner's misery. Pate walked to the centre of the cell and waited for Creighton to arrive. "This had better work…" he told himself.
Creighton arrived several minutes later, blood splatters on his clothes. Naturally he had killed a few undead on the way here. That explained the grin on his face. "There you are!" Creighton said, moving forwards, wielding his axe with both hands. "You're not getting away this time." He stepped inside the cell.
"So you finally caught up with me," Pate said, strafing the man, keeping his shield raised and ready. "Was wondering when you'd show up."
"We had a deal, Pate. That ring belongs to me."
Pate raised his hand, revealing the ring of thorns on his left middle finger. "What, this one? I was the one who tracked him down."
"And who was the one who put the axe in his head?" Creighton retorted.
Creighton, naturally. The man always did the killing. Pate would find the treasure, and Creighton would kill anyone guarding it. It had worked for a few months, but Creighton demanded more, claiming he deserved it since he did all the fighting. Pate disagreed, and thus the first argument had happened.
"I found it first. You know what they say here in Drangleic, finders keepers," Pate taunted.
Creighton growled, and shook his axe. "I'm coming to take it off you."
"Then you'll just have to kill me then."
"That can be arranged." The man lunged. Pate raised his shield and deflected the blow. He kicked a leg forward, hoping to throw his opponent off balance, but Creighton read him well and evaded it. He swung his axe. Pate stepped back then thrust his spear forward. "Hiding behind a shield, Pate? Once a coward, always a coward."
He lunged again. Pate stepped back, thrusting his spear forward once again, but Creighton stepped to the side. The plan wasn't to kill him – where would the fun be in that? No – all he needed to do was continue pushing him back as he made his way outside. The man was so determined to kill him that he probably hadn't even noticed the two undead in the corner.
"A coward? I call it being cautious. You never know what sort of creature awaits you around a dark corner," Pate replied, slowly moving backwards, keeping his eyes trained on his rival. So close now. Just a little bit more…
"I just want the damn ring, Pate. It's mine," Creighton snarled, swinging his axe.
Pate raised his shield, deflecting the blow. "You really think I'd give this to you? It's my finest treasure." He thrust the spear again. Creighton edged closer to the hollows. One more thrust should do the trick. "Like I said earlier… I found him first." Before Creighton could react, Pate thrust the spear once again, forcing Creighton within grabbing range of the hollows.
"What the-"
A hollow grabbed his left leg. The other hollow grabbed his other one. Now temporarily distracted, Pate fled out of the prison cell, and slammed the gate shut. He jammed the key inside and locked the door, then winked. "Have fun with your new playmates, Creighton!" he jeered.
Creighton turned around, and swung his axe at the arms restraining them, chopping them off with little effort. Once freed, he charged at the gate, and slammed a fist against it. "Release me at once!" he bellowed.
Pate smirked. "You should be thanking me. At least you're safe inside there."
He slammed a fist against the gate again. "I will find a way to get out and I will come for you! You'll have nowhere to hide, Pate! Do you hear me?! I will find you and I will kill you!"
Rolling his eyes, he shrugged. "That's it. Keep on dreaming. Hey – you never know. Some poor soul might find it within their heart to release you, but I'd say you'll be hollowed before that ever happens." To further rub the salt in the wound, Pate brought out the key and dangled it in his face. "Goodbye old friend! I hope to never see you again!" Turning his back, he walked away, chuckling at the excessive string of curses coming from Creighton's mouth. At last, he had defeated his rival.
It was going to odd travelling without his psychopathic ex-friend. The man might be a murderous fool, but he had his uses. But he was sure someone else would fill in the void. Some lonesome traveller he could prey on and take advantage of. He'd carry on with life as per normal. Trick people. Lead them into traps then loot the corpse. That was the life of a treasure hunter. The thrill of the hunt.