the pink vial

Desperation takes control as Clayr's fingers clasp over the smooth glass tube. It was an object he had taken in haste. Whether the potion would grant him some super power or render him dead, that was a chance he wanted to take. Left in the care of "justice", life would be worse than it already was. A small grin plays at his lips, "as if that's possible..." he mutters.

The barrel-chested watchman roars as he takes in the scene. His mace raised high, the man charges Clayr with intent to kill. The thief reels backward, bringing the bottle to his lips. The cork pops free as Clayr rips at it with his teeth and the contents are emptied into his throat.

Nothing changes...

Clayr feels the same fear, sees the guard promising doom, but then he sees himself. Supine and limp, the young man's body is still on the ground. Yet here he is, watching himself. The guard skids to a stop sends his mace heavily into Clayr's stomach. Yet from where he stands, the thief can't feel anything, not even his surroundings. Just as he is about to investigate his situation, blackness envelopes him.