A Hopefully Unusual Evening (Mok, Antar, Bob)

by **Antar** on October 10th, 2011, 10:19 am

For the first few minutes of the thugs treatment out in the alley, Noth had been quietly munching away, looking on with a disinterested gaze as if the events of pressing the thug for information was as common a sight as seeing a bird flying away. Or perhaps birds were more interesting to him, at least they'd provide feathers for fletching arrows. He'd merely nodded at the young woman Mok had been flirting with to see if she wanted to follow them all out of the tavern to see what was going on. Whether she did or not, well that was her own business to decide. The same with Bob.

If they had followed Mok and him out then after the first three minutes they might have seen a small smile grace the corner of his lips as he noticed what Mok was doing. Waterboarding. It was truly great fun to be sure and could be achieved by a variety of methods, first and foremost was the straight dunking into the water he saw Mok using. He preferred a second method, but one that required a bit more setup: tying a man to a chair and using a shirt or a rag as a tool to assist you. One started by draping it over a man's face when they were tied down was an exquisite means of ensuring they would have fear of not being able to see, or smell. Especially when you began the second step, which was pouring water over and over down upon their head and into their mouth. The draping rag would make them feel like they were choking, and drowning. It's soaked presence reminding them though they really couldn't drown they'd feel like they were, and fear was a powerful tool of gaining information. Along with pain, pain worked sometimes just as well.

Setting down his last gulp of redberry, Antar looked at the man, and Bob as they both asked to wonder if it was a nice thing for the man to be speaking to him. Bob was right, Antar would be the last thing the sordid sot would want to take over his questioning. Moreover, it was a matter of pride to him to ensure he got what he wanted sometimes. In all honestly it would probably have been better for the man if he hadn't chosen to speak to Noth.

But it was already too late for that, the gang banger had made his choice. Since the direct - dunk method hadn't worked it was time to get a little... creative.

It was time to switch the method from mere water to pain.

Plastering a small smile on his lips he walked slowly towards the man, letting his robe cloud his face as he stood over the man. He said nothing, did nothing for a single moment as the man's eyes widened a little imperceptibly. Finally deciding to begin he lowered a gauntleted hand towards the man's tied up hands and encircled a finger in an iron grip with his right hand. His left hand reached up to yank upon the man's hair with a savage tug to force him to look upwards. Not enough for him to fully see Antar's face through the hood of the robes he wore, but enough for him to see his lips moving.

"I will ask you this before the unpleasantness starts; know that this will not stop the pain from coming. I will indeed have to cause you pain to ensure you are telling me the truth. Eventually, no matter how hard you struggle, you will tell me what I want to know. The only question you have to ask yourself is how much pain you're willing to endure until then. Now, where is your little gang's hideout? And what are they named?"

Noth knew there were two things the man could do here; he would either capitulate or offer some small sign of bravado in order to save face. That was just a facet of human nature. He was hopeful for the first, but figured upon the second."Go to he-"

A quick triggering of the hidden mechanism in his gauntlet caused the blade to be unsheathed. The cold iron stilleto sprang into existence behind the man's ear with a small audible shiiiink. This was another tenet of torture, or interrogation. The ability to create fear in a subject by engaging all their senses at once. The man went silent mid-utterance as he trembling nerves began to give his state of mind away and he would have smiled further, save that would have had the opposite effect to strengthen the man's resolve. So he kept his face placid, just with the small confident crook at the edge of his lips.

He was succeeding in his purpose as he brought the blade into view at the corner of the man's eye and slowly traced the point lightly across the skin, and left the edge hovering horizontally over the jugular to the adam's apple. Leaving only a small line of scarlet to mark its passing. This was necessary, he knew he had to bombard the subject's senses with all forms of intimidating sounds and sensations.

He gripped the man's shirt in his hands, using it as a focal point to control his movement backwards to lean against the trough as he crouched down, his right hand still encircling the finger. Taking his bladed gauntlet back a little from the man, he pressed the cold iron tip against the wood of the horse trough and pushed, resetting the springblade back into its recess as a small audible click told him it was rearmed.

Keeping his voice low, with an almost velvety tone, he allowed his words to caress their captive's ears. "Now... I already told you my friend. I was going to hurt you. I meant it. I think you should learn this quickly: I mean what I say; and I say what I mean. Now... I'll ask again: Now, where is your little gang's hideout? And what are they named?"

"The Yellow Canaries... Petch you. You'll pay for this-"

Noth punched the edge of the trough with a gauntletted fist. The dull thud of the impact forced the man to flinch. He could smell the fear on him now, growing stronger as his eyes closed shut reflexively. After a moment, Noth merely removed his hands a short distance away to lightly stroke the beads wound against his right wrist as he leaned closer to whisper. "Good, goood, that was a good start there. You told me their name. Now what is yours?"
"T-T-Thomas."
"Good... Thomas. That is a good name. I must say that however I'm a little disappointed in you. You only have answered one of my questions. Not the other. Where is your little gang's hideout located, these 'canaries.' "

Thomas looked from one side to the other, before muttering ,"Petch yo-"

Antar didn't give him a chance to finish as he bent a finger backwards on the hand, and twisted it savagely. Dislocating the joint. The man howled in pain and reflexively jerked his tied hands away. But Noth was prepared. His left hand traversed from the front of the neck down to the man's wrists, holding them and the injured digit against the ground as he finished the next step. He brought his right iron gauntlet down, breaking the bones of the injured finger.

The pain brought tears to the man's eyes as he howled, and jerked in pain. Noth let him alone for a few moments, glancing around casually towards the others, giving a little shrug before turning his attention back to the man being questioned. He uprighted the man and shoved him audibly against the water trough again, keeping him pinned with his left gauntlet, and the injured finger in his right one.

He spoke just as easily as if he was ordering something from a barwench."Thomas. Thomas. You disappoint me again. I asked you a question."
"Go Fugarghhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

At the first sign of the man's unwillingness to answer, Noth used his righ hand to work the broken finger, manipulating the fragments of bone into the base joint. It was a bit of nerve pain, excruciating to feel, even worse as adrenaline could not dampen the pain. A useful thing to note. It was all in how you worked the joints you see...

Antar leaned closer and asked Thomas again, only to get a weaker answer. That answer in turn caused him to break another finger and work it in the same fashion. Again the rogue leaned closer, asking, speaking softer out of the hearing of the others. A reply brought a repeat of the process, but finally Noth stood and nodded to unwind the prayer beads around the base of his right guantlet.

In one fluid motion he encircled the man's neck with the wire inside and began to squeeze, letting the seconds go by as the man's face began to turn red. Finally he untwisted the line, to crouch down and whisper something in Thomas' ear and then lean forwards. The other's might spy Thomas's lips moving as he said something, broken, and defeated and Noth nodded quietly to himself before speaking in a loud enough whisper for the others to hear. "His gang's hideout is in the Wolf's Den, just off Gramercie street in a large white bricked house."

Standing up to let the crying Thomas breathe and sputter, Noth looked at the rest before looking at Mok. "Of course, if we let him go... then they'll know we will be coming for them." He let the rest remain unsaid as he paused to continue. If Zandelia was there, he'd look at her to say. "Perhaps this might be the best time that we agree to part ways for the night. I'm sure we might get together later to pay these "canaries'' a visit."

He looked at Mok, knowing the man would stay just in order to help dispose of the corpse. But whether Bob or Zandelia would would be a different matter altogether.

by **Zandelia** on October 10th, 2011, 7:39 pm

Zandelia merely sat at the table for a good number of minutes, trying to recover her consciousness fully, her vision clearing and looking around the odd group of assorted temporary comrades in brawling for the evening. They had truly been a mixed sort, one woman, one short man, one giant and a man who looked nothing like a fighter at all – though the tabernacle of broken teeth had proven otherwise. She was grateful for the fading pain upon her face, the alcohol combining with her gentle rubbing motions to bring the flaring web of fire to more of a dull ache as she noticed Mok staring at her, anger building in his eyes. She was not sure what for, but she did not like the idea it could be for something she had said, or some similar offence.

Akajia, bring me peace now please, rest she thought to herself, giving Mok a tentatively friendly smile that caused her to wince – which only seemed to incense the giant further. She lapsed into silence, draining the rest of her watery ale and closing her eye for a moment, feeling the inebriating effects flood across her skin, through her veins and into her stomach.

Her brief respite was interrupted, however, by Mok’s words. She took them in, only managing to give the barbarian a dulled nod and another wincing smile that cause a cut on her lip to spring open once more. She groaned a little as the taste of blood wet her tongue, the tang of metallic water flooding her senses in a nauseating ripple. She stumbled up, using the chair to keep herself steady and supported before making her way cautiously to the bar, her movement bringing to light pains she had not been aware she had had. He grunted to the barmaid to give her another ale, placing the mizas upon the counter in front of her, watching them being whisked away to be replaced with molten painkiller. She took in all but half of it in one long series of swallows, letting it dull the pain further. Leaning upon the bra now she watched as the others dragged a man out of the door and into the night.

“Damned if I’m staying in here to get taken care of by this lot” she muttered to herself as she finished the rest of her purchased inebriation and set the clay mug down where it had come from.

On her way to the door of The Pig’s Foot she set herself about the task of gathering the belt pouches of the hooligan’s that were still unconscious, deftly pulling them off of their respective belts with a firm tug. She was not sure they would contain much – if anything – but she thought it only fair they were compensated for the fight’s damages. She threw one onto the bar, pot luck as to what it contained, in front of the owner and he nodded to her as she left through the door.

The cold hit her hard, causing shivers to break out across her entire body, her cheeks going numb as inner-warmth met with frigid cold atmosphere. She puffed through her lips a few times, looking around to see the others a way off to the side of the tavern. Turning jerkily, she made her slow way to them and watched what unfolded with a growing sense of fascinating self-meted justice. She could not help but smile viciously as the man they had dragged out was slowly, and very painfully, tortured. She had never had much taste for committing such acts herself, however she understood its uses and usefulness. She wished to build a name in intelligence services after all, and torture and interrogation were merely the brutal fists that were hid by the satin gloves that were investigation and assassination. The information industry was paramount in Sunberth, and pain, fear and manipulation were commonplace.

Serves the bastard right at any rate she thought to herself, too weary to become involved with the spectacle.

Still, she preferred to use tactics that were less heavy-handed and more elegant in her mind. You didn’t need to break fingers and crunch joints – rendering them forever useless – to lever out information. It was surprising how much punishment a human could take – especially with knives. Cuts were better than thrusts she had been taught, long ago now, as they not only caused pain but made the subject think about how much more canvas was left of their skin to experience thousands of other small lacerations. Not only that, but Grubber had told her that the depth was all important. It was best to start shallow, do several of them, and then re-cut open an older shallow cut – going deeper the second time. Such treatment wore down not only their body, but their mind. However, her musings on days past were ended at Antar’s words of parting, her ears registering them but her mind not formulating a response immediately.

“Right, I’ll just leave you big boys to dump his body. You seem eager enough at that,” she spoke out, her words slurred slightly, “but first I have a present for him” she stated, limping up to the prone and sobbing man and landing a kick squarely between his legs with force enough to make her stumble and Mok having to steady her. “Bastard deserved it” she stated before spitting some blood in her mouth onto the figure.

“Before I go though, you can have these. One each, one from each body. I don’t know what’s in them so it could be anything. Still, thought we could do with a little compensation – after a fashion. The pouches are useable at least” she finished, throwing one pouch to each of the three others.

“When you find the petching thugs then come find me if you can. I’ve got some things to repay upon them” she nodded at them all before turning and making her slow, unsteady way back towards her tent abode.

What a night she thought to herself as the last vestiges of alcohol began to kick in a fully numb her body.

by **Antar** on October 11th, 2011, 1:31 pm

oocI think she just finished things up nicely

.

Nodding once in farewell to both Bob, and Zandelia, Noth waited for them to leave. When the pair had exited, Antar waited a few moments for Mok who was sitting and muttering to the man and getting answers in return.

When things were over he picked the staggering man up and began to walk, away down a few side alleys towards the bay before they came down to the railing of one of the piers. Antar stopped to throw Thomas against the wall. He motioned for Mok to hold the man still It was unfortunate what he had to do next, but it was just a facet of business in sunberth. Leaning close to the man and took out his kukri in his right hand as he grabbed the man's hair in his left. In one swift motion, he stabbed it forwards into the man's chest, sinking it into the heart and twisting it about to puree the heart.

Wrenching the blade out he motioned to mok to cut Thomas' throat. And the myrian did so just to make it an even quicker death. The gruesome second smile a tenement to the myrian's own bloodthirsty means.

For a few seconds the man sputtered and died, as the blood rushed from his veins and soon, all light faded from his eyes. Noth turned to mok and muttered that it was best they both throw the man over the side, and soon the corpse smashed down into the waves. Taking a moment to check the blood hadn't spattered his new armor or robes , Noth nodded once to himself in satisfaction before turning towards the slums and the outskirts where the camp waited.

Clapping the myrian on the arm, he said. "Let's go home mok it's been a long day."

~Fin.

Zandelia's skills request: :

Mok's skills request: :

Bob's skills request: :

Antar's skills request: :

by **Cachet** on October 12th, 2011, 5:59 pm

Zandelia :

Mok :

Bob :

Antar :

LOOT :

Conclusion: Zand if you hate creative and entertaining barfights this gang is totally not your group of people. I love grading your guys threads. They entertain me almost more than South Park re-runs.

Anything seem out of place? Any questions please feel free to contact me ASAP.