Just a Slap on the Wrist? (Saxani)

On her guard duties the Constrictor Guard hears a scintillating rumor about someone owing the Fence money, what's the real story and how will Saxani deal with it?

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The unassuming den of the Constrictor Dhani, it is truly a pit of snakes. Travelers should take care, because the Dhani are always hungry... [Lore]

Just a Slap on the Wrist? (Saxani)

Postby Traverse on November 13th, 2013, 7:19 pm

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Just a Slap on the Wrist?
12th of Fall, 513 A.V.


The day began as one simple and rather uneventful. A simple patrol of the lower tunnels, checking on some snakelings to make sure none of the larger salamanders threatened Zinrah's precious next generation, making sure nothing uncouth by Dhani standards was going on in the Distillery. Nothing Saxani hadn't done before, and nothing she wouldn't do again.

The trouble first appeared when she was about to leave the Distillery, maybe stop by the steam baths, take a short break before getting back to it when a particularly drunk male decided to let his drink talk for him.

"You here about that idiot Dhani, Nestra? Kilyss says she's in deep with the Fence and Melissent's out for blood." He chuckled shaking his head. "And that female's a psycopath, even by Dhani standards, I'd hate to be her right now." Another female merely shrugged, tail coiled around the base of the stone table, another one chuckling in agreement.

It wasn't often Dhani took the risk of troubling each other, word traveled fast than a Myrian arrow in the tunnels, but it seemed as if the guard had stumbled in at precisely the right time. Now precisely what was she going to do with this information?
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Just a Slap on the Wrist? (Saxani)

Postby Sashisaxani on November 15th, 2013, 2:47 am

The patrol through the lower tunnels was lax. Though the dark tunnels spanned on with the echoing drip seeming to come from a dark depth never seen, there was no sign of life, save the Dhani making his or her way through on errands of their own. Crossing back into the main network, though, Saxani snagged a hiccup of a moment that could have been disastrous. There had been a snakling, a sly hunter for his age, ready to strike at a salamander. Whether he was eager or dumb was not clear, so Saxani quickly drew her bow and sniped the salamander from his range, the quivering body rolling feet through the cave before it stopped dead. The snakelings present returned their stares directly at Saxani, local fauna scattered back into cave recesses. She moved close and grabbed the arrow by the end and showed the snakelings.

"Do you see this color," she asked. While most snakelings seemed to understand him clearly, this one seemed dumb, for he said no. Saxani was unaware if her own kind could be colorblind in inbreeding and such. She played it off as the little one's inaptitude, and instructed he hunt smaller ones, or not hunt salamanders at all. The dead one was tossed away for bugs to destroy, though she pocketed the arrow.

The Distillery was next to check. She found the location insulting, for it reflected much of what she knew of eastern culture. Such revelry should be preserved and kept for only the most sacred occasions like the coming sacrifice to Siku, not ready on the day-to-day basis. Zinrah's common folk surely knew they'd be thrown out if all they did would lunge about drinking, that is if they didn't starve first. Saxani did what she could to stay near the exit, out of sight, and be brief if possible. Eavesdropping was a specialty she sought to train, just not with such common and boring conversation, as if who was messing around with whom in the hot baths was of her concern. This bar was a lie to their reality, a necessary one some might argue, but Saxani could not deny the truth of her world. Who could if they were immersed in the danger and blood shed every day?

"Idiot" and "Dhani" together seemed typical enough for any boastful fool, but the latest bit of the rumor was getting interesting. Saxani made mental notes of the names and faces she may have known. It was coming to a point where she needed to be familiar with everyone as a guard. It made spotting alien faces easier. She expected to see such at the Solstice near mid-season. From what Saxani gathered so far, it seemed Nestra, the "Idiot" had stolen something pretty from Melissent, the "Fence". Kilyss was either a witness or gossiper in the situation, as well as a lead if she was nearby. From the sound of things though, and bare rumor of the Fence's own instability, Saxani might need to move very soon to make sure this Fence wasn't going to kill anyone before action could be taken. Hopefully the Fence could see reason in letting the guard handle this.

Saxani waited patiently for the man to finish his telling of the tale before jumping forward with fifty questions. He was on a roll, and did not want to interrupt his story. There might be more he was willing to tell a friendly face over a guard anyway. She'd give him a few chimes before moving directly over to him to ask the following – the questions seemed standard and would provide some direction:

"I thought I had just overheard something about theft, but was not sure. Would you be so kind as to tell me who had stolen what from whom? The guard would be most pleased with your cooperation. The more detail you can provide the better, of course. Also, my apologies for interrupting your conversation; duty calls, however…" Saxani was infinitely irritated by the lounging of these Dhani, regardless of status. She remained polite and seemingly sincere in her apology however, a liar and a trickster. Her tolerance for stupidity was minimal, and she learned to strike at such things. The loud Myrian does not live long. Saxani viewed herself as an opportunist in this respect.

The man replied, "Melissent is out for Nestra's head. Might have stolen something. That's about all I know."

Saxani asked in reply, "What of Kilyss? How does she fit into all of this?"

"Word got around through her, though I doubt she knew anything else. You know how it is." The customers went back about their business when Saxani left with her lead. She figured she ought to find Melissent first before the psycho did in fact kill someone. Saxani thought it was funny how people got quieter when guards asked questions. Like he said, word gets around sooner or later.
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Just a Slap on the Wrist? (Saxani)

Postby Sashisaxani on December 3rd, 2013, 2:06 am

Saxani drew near Melissent's cave and it was not a moment later that she heard the wrath of the Fence, fiery as ever. The Fence was screaming about theft of the property, and quite near violently reprimanded her underling, Jillisyntlesse, for not taking notice. That might have been the money owed. Saxani was relieved it was more of a simple transaction than some gambling feud, or perhaps not so simple.

"I'm going to rip his petching head off and feed it to the next Myrian I run into. I'm going to slit his every joint and tie him to a leash and feed him mashed Dhani! Mushed up petching thief face and his petching fingers, all beaten to a petching pulp on the petching floor! I'm going to feed his petching d—to his stupid mother and…" Melissent was roaring, the echo of her voice carrying far into the dark caverns. Saxani did not even come close before she started on what she'd do next. She spewed more insults and threats, none of which held much weight given the circumstance. She was still in her shop, so Saxani was not too worried.

"I dare that petching petch head to petching show the petch up, petching coward, disgrace, thief. I'm going to…" She was in her shop, rearranging every weapon, military or antique as if to form her own blockade. The shop keep was in the back, quiet, timid, but working. Saxani tried to keep some distance between herself and the forming barricade.

"Simelissentyllyss, Melissentyllyss…"

"What the petch do you want, you petching b…" Melissent was eager to reply, for certain, and very dedicated to her work and berating of the would-be thief. Saxani was hardly fazed by the blows; she had felt deeper cuts.

"Melissentyllyss –"

"Simelissentylyss, to you, you petching harpy. What the petch do you want, petching shyke-bag?"

"On behalf of the guard, I've come to resolve your issue…"
"Of for petch's sake, now you show the petch up, you dimwitted shyke-eater. Siku be praised, the jar-head guard have finally showed up. Weren't here when that petching thief was lurking around, like that stupid worthless idiot," screamed Melissent, throwing some obtuse, but surely heavy object at her shop keep, who merely side stepped. "For petch's sake, don't let the petching thing hit the wall!"

"Then don't throw it!"

"The petch did you say! I wouldn't have to petching do all this petching work if you did your petching job mother-petcher! Petching shyke…I'll kill that little…"

"For Siku's sake, I get it," exploded the shop keep, "and it shall not happen again!"

"You're damn right it will never petching happen again you idiot. I'll rip your petching head off too."

Saxani intervened what she could, begging for some sense of the situation, "What did he steal? I will retrieve it."

"And the guard is still putting around saving the day! Oh save us, pretty guard-thing. What do you want?"

"May I come in?"

"Fine, but don't hit your fat ass on the way. Petch…petching…" Saxani maneuvered through the wreck and came to the keep to meet him. He seemed more sensible of the matter, if anything at all. "You petching shyke stabber, keep an eye on this one."

Saxani proceeded through to the back of the shop with a raised brow. The keep just gave her an exhausted look. They had some talking to do.
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