Exact Words (Noven)

[Nathaniel Ankah]

They never knew his name, nor did they care for his story. They never knew that his wife called him "Pumpkin", before she died, and he had a son that lived on the Docks and a daughter he'd buried years before. His hopes for his son to take over his business selling fruit and mushrooms he collected from the Wildlands, they were of no interest to the ones that killed him.

Jackals have no truck with the dreams of rabbits.

Nate saw the flurry of movement and feral ferocity from the shadows. He'd seen it before. Long ago, he would have been one of those starved, raw-boned and rag-clad wraiths who fell on the tottering man like animals. He watched with cold rage steaming in his eyes as he begged, just once, before it turned to a gurgle and there was a flash of steel-

A single arc of scarlet in the darkness. Then just twitching meat and a ribbon of blood leading to the gutters.

Nate touched Noven on the shoulder, jerked his chin towards the other side of the alley, and then moved away. They both knew the drill: attack from both sides, squeeze them between their ambush. Chaotic as Sunberth was, it was an odd fact that robbers never expected to be robbed... at least not while they were that young.

Nate unlimbered his mace and any other night he might have felt a knot of regret or shame for what he was to do, when he saw the wide eyes of the child closest to him. There were maybe half a dozen of them, all far too young by any other stretch of civilization to be experienced thieves and unrepentant murderers.

The curse of this city. It never even gives you time to be a child.

Wide Eyes heard something behind him, and turned fast, good reflexes-

-but not good enough.

There is something hideously final in the sound of a skull cracking. Some deep part of the mind just knows that break can never be mended, and shudders at the will and power to lay that blow. It crunched around the confines of the alley like a thunderclap and in that tick, all bodies froze and all eyes turned.

The child's mouth worked mechanically for a moment, trying to catch up to the fact its brains were beaten out of its ears... and then he toppled over.

Nate knew he had to make a quick impression. Then he set laying about with less lethal purpose.

It was chaos. Between the two of them, veteran brawlers and killers, the clutch of urchins never stood a chance. With two firm, low blows, Nate broke the leg of one and shattered the arm of another. Forearm bent unnaturally, he screamed out and Nate's tight fist knocked half his teeth out and sent him sprawling.

The others tried to break. They didn't get far. Noven saw to that, and ensured that the one with the dagger lost the fingers holding it before he tasted the mud.

Mere ticks later, predators had become quivering prey and Nate loomed over them. Without a word he placed his foot on the broken leg of one sobbing child and just... leaned.

Another scream. A howl, a shriek that modulated and fled from a wide, agonized mouth until the lungs were empty. Nate swept his gaze about the rest and nodded to himself.

Good. Now they're ready.

"A house was robbed in Sunset yesterday. A woman was beaten... almot to death-"

More pressure. More pain. More whimpering and sobbing and shuddering and Nate cared for none of it. All the Berth save for the one who he truly wanted was an outlet for his rage now, as per his promise. He was in no frame to temper it, even among children.

Even? Especially. For one of them did this to her.

"-and ransacked the house. I am of these streets. I know how gossip and whispers travel faster than wind and pox. One of you has a name for me. Or knows a name who does. You will tell us and live. Or..."

Face set like an executioner's cowl, he leveled his arm... and pointed the bloody mace to the child of not even thirteen Summers, laying still as fallen stone, with half his head dashed away.

"Speak."

[Noven]

Teeth clamped and expression hard, Nov watched that telltale spray of crimson. Heard the dying gurgle of the unfortunate soul who had decided, in that moment, to stumble out, alone, in a drunken stupor.

Some people just had no luck.

There wasn't much use in trying to save the poor sod. The urchins were too fast, and a rescue attempt would only scare the nimble rats back into their mystery hiding holes. So a sacrificial lamb of sorts the boozer had to be, keeping their targets distracted and in one spot so that the two mercs could get into position.

A touch to the shoulder and jerk of the chin was all the signal Nov needed. Both men fell into old habits as easily as if they were shucking on their favorite shirts, no hesitance or deliberating required.

Even for an orphanage worker like Noven who, try as he might, could not deny a certain soft spot for children, street gangs were nasty little buggers. Most of them had lost their innocence in whatever trash heap or alleyway they'd been picked from. Those who weren't fortunate enough to find sanctuary under Calyn's legendary care--and there were enough to keep the old girl awake several nights in a row--ended up left to their own devices.

Like all discarded things lying around in the Berth, these unwanted, flea-bitten youths were collected to somehow turn profit for their enterprising masters. And there were many, many such masters prowling for new recruits on the daily.

He could've been one of them. Nate, too, for all they knew. The only reasons standing between them living a hard life and a hellish one were either dead or lying on some horse doctor's table, beaten within an inch of her life. Those reasons had taken the forms of matronly, no-nonsense women who possessed enough heart, even in a shithole like the one they remained trapped in, to raise two wild boys into the living, breathing men they were now.

Someone had to pay for almost eliminating yet another one of those reasons.

Nov knew neither of their caretakers would have approved. If she could, Nona would be beating his ass right back to Sunset from beyond the grave. But thinking of her painful absence, still so fresh in his tortured mind, only made his resolve grow colder and harder.

Enough injustices had gone by unchecked, and they were going to right the wrong visited upon Kay before the night was over.

He grimaced as Nate killed the first one, but there was no time to balk. As soon as the bigger man had come charging in, smashing street rats left and right, the others tried to flee. Nov tripped the first one, snatched another with the crook of his arm around its skinny neck, and caught the third in a foolish attempt to knife someone twice his size and infinite times in skill.

With one urchin still wriggling furiously betwixt his arm and side, the cook grabbed his attacker's dexterous hand by the wrist. A look of panicked realization flashed across the young boy's grimy face before Nov twisted. Crack! A howl of pain bounced off the cold, indifferent walls, followed by two thunks in quick succession of boy and dagger sinking into mud. The merc felt his own stomach knot at what he was about to do next, but he didn't have much of a choice.

He raised his foot and smashed all of Dagger Boy's fingers. A dry howl was the only thing his victim could manage, having screamed himself rather hoarse the first time around. Didn't take long for the pain to knock him out. By now, the other kid choked under Nov's arm had lost consciousness as well, so the merc let him slide limply into the mud to join his crippled comrade.

That left one target still able to talk. Nov trudged over, picked the kid up by his scruffy collar before he could get any more bright ideas about escaping, and tossed him in with Nate's howling, broken mix. One look at how his brethren had fared got the boy properly stricken with fear. Some small part of Nov was grateful he wouldn't have to use his mark; their brutality ought to have been enough.

Nate began the interrogation without much further ado, and all surviving, conscious thieves stared up at him with naked terror.

"Sometime today," Nov added, trying to sound as bored as he could manage before the pulpy remains of a dead urchin, "or we might decide you lot aren't worth our time and move onto a more talkative bunch."

"A-Alright!" one of them squeaked. It was the only kid who hadn't been injured--the one he'd tripped. Looked like this one was particularly keen on not ending up like his fellow rats. The others didn't look at him, only at either Nate's bloodied mace or fearfully at the ground. "H-He's a new guy...we...we dunno his name y-yet. Made a m-mistake picking on that old lady."

The boy darted his dilated pupils between Nate and Nov, as if expecting one of them to lash out in a sudden fit of violence. When neither did, he gulped and continued with a modicum of extra confidence.

"He broke the rules. 'S plain stupid to go into someone's home yer first night, on account of--of folk like you wantin' revenge or sommit. Too easy t'get caught and causes the Master all manner of trouble. Everyone knows that."

This was nothing new to either merc and Nov snarled in impatience.

"Get to the point, kid."

"I am!" the boy retorted, some of his street bred wise-assery peeking through the fog of fear. "Point is he's in trouble with the M-Master. Got himself locked up...locked up in The Hole..."

A renewed wave of horror seemed to roll up the kid's spine. Whatever this Hole was had to be a damned pretty nightmare to have Sunberth's slummiest lot shivering in terror. "Names," Nov reminded, anxious now more than ever to get moving again, "we need names."

The boy gulped again and after a handful of silent ticks, said, "If I tell you, I'll have no where else to go." He paused for another moment, Nov assumed to wallow in self pity as his own fate. Turned out, much to his surprise, that the merc was wrong.

"I didn't want to kill that man...tried to tell 'em not to...could have just knocked him out..."

The other boys seemed to take on a similar expression of remorse. Clearly none of them had been feeling up to the task. Real question was then, who ended up doing the deed?

"Give us a name and I swear on my life you won't have to worry about that," Nov assured. "And if you didn't kill that drunk, who did?"

All the boys pointed at the kid with the smashed fingers. Made sense, given his belligerent choice in fight over flight. As a show of faith, Nov strode over to the two unconscious children, dragged the non-lethal one over to his companions, and returned to crouch over the murderer. Then he took out his own Tamo and sank it into the kid's skull.

A collective intake of air came from the group of urchins but none seemed genuinely sorry to see their leader gone. "No one's going to rat you guys out. You can go straight to Calyn, tell her Nov and Nate sent you guys, she'll let you in no questions asked. But first thing's first--names."

The relief that washed over the boys was palpable. Living at an orphanage wasn't exactly the most dignified thing a born and bred gang of pickpockets could think of, but it beat the hell out of going back to their Master.

"The Runnin' Wench," their little informant finally coughed up. "That's where our Master is right now, and where he most like locked up the poor idiot who robbed that old lady."

Nov shared a look with Nate, then glanced back at the boy.

"What's your name, kid?"

A moment of hesitance, then, "Thomas."

The younger merc nodded once in mild approval. "You boys get your asses to Sunset now. No telling how long before one of your wounds starts festering."

They looked at the two mercenaries, completely dumbfounded, as if unable to believe they were not only going to be allowed to live, but also sent to the safety and care of Calyn's well known kindness and hospitality.

"I said scram!" Nov shouted.

That got them moving faster than chickens at feeding time, the infirm and unconscious propped up between those able to run on both feet.

Nov scratched at the side of his head, trying his best not to look at the two dead children they'd just butchered, and sighed in defeat as he turned to face Nate. "I got no petching idea where this Runnin' Whore place is. You?"

[Nathaniel Ankah]

He should have felt something more. Afterwards, when he was more himself and the red-black curtain had risen from his eyes, Nate would wonder on that. He stood like some blood-slick golem, still and silent and unblinking, listening to the torrent of panicked words and choked sobs.

They wouldn't let him see them cry. Not those kids, born of the same streets as him. Never. Not even after seeing him all but decapitate one of their friends and cripple another.

Noven spoke in words both ruthless and... almost conciliatory. He'd the same stain on his soul as Nate had, but he hadn't lost himself to that cold, unfettered anger. He got what he wanted and then went that extra mile that matters so much.

Offered safety. Sanctuary. Some other option than thieving for some brutal taskmaster who'd sell them all to the knackers the moment the profit in that was more than in pretending to care for them.

Kay would have been ashamed of them both that night, but Noven at least tried to wring some goodness, some hope from that whole debacle.

Nate just watched them gather their wounded and flee into the shadows, all they needed imparted. It was a few ticks before Noven's question registered and he blinked. One problem solved, and a trail found. Now for the next. His mind ticked over with all the cold practicality of a machine before he answered.

"Wench." He said, voice as barren as it had been before they'd committed murder against minors. He wiped his mace clean on the rags at his feet then sheathed it. "And yes, I do."

It was a swift walk: most of the cutpurses and child-thieves didn't stray far from their patches. Too many unknowns. Rival gangs, syndicate enforcers they wouldn't recognize and a syndicate lookouts for every one of them. Streets and alleys unfamiliar to them, punters and targets not so easy to pin down...

Thus it was for us, so it is for them. That's good. Makes it easier to track.

Not it, he corrected himself as they turned a corner and saw the blaze of light from behind dirty windows, drunks or just simply corpses sprawled out just beyond the filthy glow on the cobbles. Him. "The Master". Gods, were the touts and pimps and third-cut villains really so full of themselves in our day, too?

"Ol' Levi runs the place," Nate said bluntly, observing from a doorway, "Don't think he's this "Master", though, but if he's still punting on stolen goods, he'll know him. Probably rents him a room..."

His eyes narrowed slightly. A room wouldn't be enough for a whole gang. More like...

"Or a basement."

He was moving again before Noven could reply, flitting from shadow to shadow, sound of his boots crunching stone giving him away but fast, determined. Raucous laughter and creative curses sprang from behind the window at them but they slid by without a glance inside. Nate made a note of it, though.

Nice and noisy. Give us some cover.

They stopped at the mouth of the alley and Nate slowly peeked around the corner...

Something overweight and slovenly wallowed in a chair next to a handful of stairs leading down. There was a flare of flame and smoke and the scent of something pungent and narcotic wafter over to them. Any other night, Nate would have shook his head at the sheer sloppiness.

Keys to the backdoor and he's already petched up. Great help you have there, Master. Then again, you lord over children, don't you?

His kukri slid from its sheath without even a sigh. It glinted once and then was gone, tucked close to his side. He jutted his chin towards the opposite end of the alley, words coming out terse and sharp.

"Go round the other way, let him see you. Steal his eyes while I get behind him."

Hesitation. Nate could feel the faint aura of uncertainty from his friend; you hardly needed to command djed to do so, not on these streets. He didn't doubt the boy's iron, but to barge in so suddenly, with no plan and apparently no care for what would follow-

"I know what I'm doing." He muttered with a quick glance at his partner. "We need him to open the door and perhaps tell us where this "Master" is. After that he's meat. So lets make this quick..."

[Noven]

He followed Nate with habitual silence, making sure to keep his head ducked under the scruffy hood of his coat and gloved hands stuffed into even scruffier pockets. The gloves were new additions; Nov had only just recently acquired the strange burden of Krysus's favor. At first, he'd thought it a great boon, the ability to inflict so much pain upon another. But when he learned of the cost it came with, his elation quickly soured into dread.

These days he kept a tighter lid than ever on his dark secret and the daily trials it came with. Nov had been somewhat worried at first at his own decision not to use his mark on those grimy urchins in the alley. He didn't have the times down to an exact art yet, but the young man knew well enough the tell tale signs of a headache.

There'd best be some heads to bash in at this master's dingy hideout. Nov really, really didn't like stage two of his curse.

At some point they stopped, right in the mouth of an alley. He let Nate do the scanning as he kept a close eye on their backs, caustic eyes darting left and right for any signs of premature trouble.

The sharp sound of Nate's kukri sliding out of its sheath stole Nov's attention away from sentry duty. When the older man gave his order, the younger only stared. Five years ago, he would have obeyed without a shred of hesitance. Willingly and excitedly so, too, like a pup eager to please. But this was now, and now was a different matter altogether. Was Nate even the same man to be trusted in that fashion? Was Nov himself, for that matter?

But then his friend explained himself, and something about it...Nov shook his head, as if trying to clear away the cobwebs that had formed over all those silent years between them. The plan made sense and they were indeed short on time. Best just to get this thing over with.

"Alright," he agreed, unsheathing his own Tamos as a kind of answer unto themselves. "Just make sure you show up. Not like that time at Pig's Foot when I had four angry mugs on me while you were out back with that restless little minx, Lina... "

Nov made a crude gesture to illustrate the rest of his point, grinned, and left before Nate could argue otherwise.

Tamos out, glinting under Leth's pale light, and frayed expression turned manic by the night's events, Sunset's only male cook waltzed around the corner with nothing short of a death wish written across his features.

"Oy," Nov greeted the man-sized hog on guard duty. He could smell the incompetence on this one. It took a moment for the poor idiot, who was half way to the land of highs by then, to realize that this intruder was armed.

"What the--'ey, fuck off!" the flabby guard threatened. And not very successfully, from Nov's standpoint, but the guy kept going anyway. "Get out of here 'fore I make you wish you'd never set foot on the Master's property!"

The cook did his best impression of the brats he served almost every day.

"Make me."

That got the old bastard going. Leisurely activities forgotten, the bouncer heaved himself to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. Nov tried to keep a straight face as the man huffed and puffed his way to an erect position, stumpy legs struggling for balance. "Why I oughta..."

[Jashkataal]

“Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen. A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever; a happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story.” ― Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

 

Nathanial Ankah

If you return, all that needs be done is get your ledger up to date and PM me to post your grades. Great thread!

 

Noven

Experience

• Dagger: Tamo +1
• Intelligence +5
• Intimidation +3
• Investigation +1
• Observation +5
• Socialization +5
• Stealth +1
• Tactics +2
• Unarmed Combat +1
• Wrestling +1

Lores

• Reflection: the pride of youth
• Nostalgia: Old time with Nate
• Kayleigh Ankah: True Mettle
• In Another Life: street urchin
• Tamo technique: Coup de grace
• Thomas: spared urchin
• Location: Runnin' Whore

What a wonderful thread. In just one thread I found myself invested in the characters you wrote, it was like I could feel their anguish.

If you have any concerns, please do not hesitate to send a PM. Please remember to delete your grade request. The pleasure was all mine.

Regards,
~Jashkataal