Part I: The Frighteners (Annassacaddassenislin)

[Konrad Venger]

23rd Bell - 64th Day of Spring, 516AV - Ship Wreck Beach

Konrad Venger craned his head skyward and beheld Creation raining down in him in silver shafts. The humidity of the day had gratefully receded and he filled his lungs with the cooler air, wafting in from the Suvan Sea tinged with salt. The breeze alone was welcome. The days were nothing like Sunberth. It wasn't a matter of hot or cold, just varying levels of unbearable, stuffy, clothes-sticking-to-you steam room heat that he was guessing he'd takes seasons to get used to.

But he would. He had a position, after all. A patron. Normally Konrad didn't like the idea of yoking his wagon to one horse, but for the moment, his horse was the fastest and strongest in the stable. That might change but, well, thus was the nature of things.

Kenash was no different from Sunberth, in that respect.

"Fine evenin' for it, aye?"

There was a muffled sound behind him, high and squealed and insensible. It ended with a steady, pitiful sound that was most definitely a man sobbing behind a gag. Konrad didn't turn around. He didn't need to. Besides, he liked the view. The Eastern Sea from Sunberth wasn't so much water as a black morass, forever polluted by the slurry and shyke oozing into it from the rivers and canals. Garbage and wreckage bobbed freely and even during the day, the slaughterhouses and tanning yards sent up palls of smoke that killed a sight like this.

Silver on the water. An ocean of it. Wealth and beauty all at once and Konrad wasn't so base he couldn't find something fine meeting his eyes.

But he still had business... and a role to play.

"I mean," he said, as he turned around, taking his hat off and studying the brim idly as he walked. "Suppose there ain't a "good" night for "it", but there could be worse nights. All foggy and bleak. No last sight to remember right before the ax comes down..."

The man behind the gag wailed at the very mention and started to writhe again. Three Eyes, Konrad's tubby gang associate from his Sunberth days, gave him another kick to the gut and the sound died off with a gurgle. The shorter man wiped his brow and looked over to his boss, full-color eye tattoo that covered his bulbous nose seemed to add to his questioning stare.

"Wanna do 'im 'ere? Cut 'im up later?"

Konrad sighed and looked down at the man, curled into a ball and messing his breeches so bad there was a rivulet of yellow slime running from one leg of his breeches. He scratched under his chin and replaced his hat. Instantly the eerie pale light playing off his face, vanishing in his scars, was cast away. Replaced by shadow and a quick glint of gold teeth.

"Got me a soft spot, Eyes," he said in tones that didn't match the words. "Man deserves one last, good sight, aye? Now we've given 'im one."

"So... that's a 'yes'?"

Shhhhkkkk

A fresh gleam entered the silver night. This one was solid, and curved, and honed. Konrad looked beyond Eyes and their hogtied prey; across the beach and at the refined buildings past the grass and shrubbery. He saw no curious onlookers, no drunks or lovers taking a dalliance... and nodded.

"Aye," he said, with a smile that held no lies. "'tis. Geddim' up."

Ronald's eyes bugged above his gag and he started screaming again, begging, pleading, praying, bribing, all of it coming out in a massive burble known to no ears and understood by less. He strained his fat wrists against the ropes binding them, his shins doing the same. Surely the gods would not let this murder take place! Was he not a pious man? Did he not deserve-

The kopis caught the light of Leth and blinded him for a moment. Strong hands jerked him upright by his ermine collar and suddenly he felt no heat, no humidity, nothing but a cold sweat and warm piss in his boots. Three Eyes jerked him up to his knees and the scarred horror in front of him... rested the blade on his shoulder.

"Make yer peace with yer gods, boy. An' don' take petchin' forever."

A Bell or So Previously...

"Candide, my dear, you must realize, one does not need a sword to be a hard man. Why, a fulsome purse and a witty mind? They can be weapons all by themselves. And look what finery they have brought myself... and, thus, you."

Ah, the ladies loved it when Ronald waved poetical about his... assets. This one, a pretty little thing with rouge on her cheeks and little else, simpered for him and bit his lip, just the way he liked. Her voice was soft, just a hint of an accent to make his cock stand to attention, wafting over him like her fingers, smooth and practiced.

"Mmmmm, much better for me, I think. A man of some breeding, not just sellswords and ruffians."

"Oh... Oh, my dear," Ronald continued, voice becoming a little more ragged as those hands went exploring. "You have... mmm... nothing to worry about on that score. I am a tender and... rapacious lover, I do assure you."

Yeah, well, add "generous" to that and we'll be sorted.

Candide - not her real name, of course - kept the smile on her face with little effort. After five years working in the Gilded Cage, she'd come across all sorts of customers and clients. Most the Dynasty types and their ilk, and thank the petching gods that her mother's looks had seen that be so. She had a body composed mostly of delicious curves and full breasts, topped with long black hair and a smile that dazzled white and tempting. She barely even needed the rouge, but...

Customers like it, she thought as she giggled again and mentally sighed at the same time, getting on her knees in that garish, golden room that Ronald loved. Like this preening arse.

"Oh, my... my-my... my dear..."

She took him into her mouth and Ronald let his head roll back, his arse land on the silken sheets and his bell truly begin. Oh, how he had earned it. The city opened back up to the world had set everyone scrambling for their footing, just as the caravans and ships started to flood back in.

That was the right word, too, as far as Ronald could tell. Nearly a year without a peep and yet, all of Mizahar seemed to have been just waiting, straining for the chance to plunder Kenash anew.

Well, he chuckled to himself as he ghosted a hand through that thick, pitch hair. They can damn well pay for the privilege.

And oh, how they paid. The memories alone were enough to send new steel pumping to his cock, never mind the gorgeous creature bobbing up and down around it. His lending company had been doing a business so brisk they'd nearly run out of ink on some days, had to crack open old pots and warm them up in Syna to have them ready for fresh deals, new customers, contracts to be drawn up.

Figures, sums, amounts, interest rates, handling fees, ancillary charges... gods, he could fill her mouth with his fetch just by thinking about what value he brought to the business. He was right to exchange Syliras for Kenash; this place valued his kind of intellect far more than those stuffy, plated fools.

Or they should, anyway.

Candide finished him with a grunt and a curse and wiped her mouth before she dazzled him with another smile. His face was red as a squashed tomato and about as attractive. He managed a languid raise of his head and grinned down at her.

"A mere chime, my dear, and I will be at full force, once again."

"Mmmm... I have no doubt..."

Considerably more than a chime later, Ronald made good on his words, and Candide made good on the promise of a satisfying bell. Three times the satisfaction, actually, which was all Ronald had in him most days. He even kissed the whore's hand as he left, squaring his hat on his head and whistling to himself, cane whipping through the air. Good girl, was Candide. Obviously she was smitten with him, him and his fine words. He'd ask the madam how much she-

"Ronald Drex?"

The voice growled at him from an alley to his side and he stopped, flinched, gripped his cane tighter as if it were a sword. Well, there was a sword inside it, but Ronald admitted it was mostly for show. He expected a dog or a starving slave to lurch out into the light, but what did was scarcely better.

Someone with horrible taste in tattooing stepped out into the street and flicked the cheroot he'd been puffing into the nearest puddle.

"Yer Radacke's man, aren't yeh?"

"Who-Who in the world are you-" Ronald pointed with the cane and summoned every ounce of breeding and contempt he could muster. "-to stop me by name as I walk? Do you know who I am?"

"I just said yer name, din't I?"

"Well... Yes, I... Look, you impertinent little pizzle-"

"Pizzle? Petch is-"

"Quiet!" Ronald was feeling full of himself after fillign Candide, and strode forward a step or two, puffing himself up. Not a hard thing to do when you already resemble a haddock shoved into a doublet. "I'll have you know, that I am a close associate of Magistrate Mica Radacke himself! Harm me, so much as breathe on me, and he'll have you... wait... you already-"

"Aye," Three Eyes said as Ronald heard the fast steps behind him. "We know who y'are. S'why we're here."

Whatever joy and confidence a bell with Candide had given Ronald, it vanished with those words. His ruddy red glow became a whole pallor. His mind and mouth stuttered to a half and the former had to brutally batter his being into reminding him that, hey, there's a noise, behind you-

He looked around just in time to see a man with a ruined face and a half-smile-

-smash his boot between his legs from behind.

Ronald's screech was choked off as it caught in his throat, knees knocking before he slumped to them, the vision of that first tattooed ruffian fuzzy above him. Three Eyes stepped forward and pulled a dagger, flipped it easily in his hand-

-smacked him hard around the temple with the hilt. Leth and warmth and fuzzy man parts became fearful, helpless, cold unconsciousness, and the two Sunberth boys admired their work.

"Right," Konrad said, pulling the rope out of his jacket. "Drag him into the alley."

Back When This All Started...

They'd kept to the alleys, as they'd done all their lived. The byways of urban Kenash were still largely alien to them after less than a season, but Konrad knew well enough the direction to go. Just north, and west a little. Until they reached the beach with the skeletons of ships laying exposed and ignored off the shore. Where the city sort of stopped and the swamp began, just beyond the beach.

Three Eyes had done the carrying, naturally. He wanted to keep his hands free in case they had to... dissuade, any courageous and altruistic onlookers. Fortunately for Konrad, his face was doing its job that night. Maybe the hat was helping, too.

Word gets around, he mused as they tromped across the wet sand, Ronald starting to groan away behind the gag made of his handkerchief. Ugly bastard, black hat, works for The Madge... aye, they're getting to know you.

He'd waited until the man was awake before giving his little speech. Enjoying the view, then the spiel that followed. Personally, he'd have preferred to have taken the bastard's head off with his kopis rather than put his boot in his balls. It was quick, clean, and the street was quiet enough that they could have been away chimes before anyone came along.

But that wasn't the job tonight. This was... what did Radacke call it?

"Nuanced." Aye. That.

Ronald was still yapping madly through his gag and Konrad doubted much of it was "making peace". More like trying to make a deal. Using the tip of the kopis, he pushed down the gag and the man started to beg, plead-

-until he shoved the fat, curved end of the sword against his throat and all noise still, all movement save for his facing Adam's Apple and the stream of tears down his cheeks.

"Shhhhhhh... close yer eyes, Ronald..."

"Please... P-Please..." Ronald opened his eyes, and saw the man draw back his blade. Then he clamped them shut. "Oh g-"

Sssssssssh-!

He heard steel part the air, sigh through it with regret as it came to claim his head. Ronald sent out a final, silent plea to any god who would listen, even as he knew none would. Then he felt it, felt the steel against his neck and gods, it went on forever. Was this his punishment? His hell? To have this final instant of terror before his end become his existence forevermore?

Then he blinked. He blinked again. He smelled the salt and the torches from the houses beyond the beach. He saw Leth and the skies and their swirling counterfeits on the Suvan. He heard his own ragged breathing and distant laughter from happier folks not tied and menaced.

He was alive. For now.

"No more lunches with the Draer."

Ronald's eyes opened and fresh terror filled him. How... How did he-

"No more sweet little meetings with the Zulaca at the park."

The moneylender plunged again into horror, shaking as he wondered who had been watching, for how long, in how much detail?! But he already knew. The man above him spoke the that same low, barely-controlled tone that he knew of another.

"An' no more 'business trips' to the Lorak Estate."

Another son of Sunberth, come out west to burn his name into the swamp. Konrad crouched down until he was Ronald's whole world. He let the men stamp every scar and horror of his features. That cold, detached look in his eyes, a man blind and indifferent to the suffering of all others. Chatting about the view or taking his head, it sound so similar to Ronald. Now he looked closer... and knew there was no simiairty.

There was no difference.

"Remember who brought youse up, Ronald. Remember who gave ya the coin for yer business, vouched for yer name, built youse into a man of... property." Again, that sharp, cold pressure against his neck. Enough to draw blood and peel Konrad's lips back in satisafaction. "Or next time... we won't be chattin'. Ain't that right, Eyes? Eh?"

Nothing. Petch it, he's ruining this-

"Eyes?"

His gaze snapped up and Three Eyes was staring over his head. Jaw slack. Hands fumbling numbly for his daggers, and Konrad's face collapsed into a scowl-

Then he heard something very big crunch a rotting log like it was a twig, as it moved out of the swamp to the side of the beach. He turned to see it, and Three Eyes words seemed very distant a tick later.

"Holy petchin' shyke..."

Phew!Sorry for all that, needed to establish it properly for narrative purposes. Enjoy!

[Ssenislin]

The men stared at the enormous silhouette of a glistening green figure large enough to block the moon with smouldering yellow eyes. Ropes of brackish water poured from its arms that were as thick as any one of their torsos, its shoulders were as wide as all three of them put together and if Konrad stood on Three Eyes' shoulders he'd just barely be able to reach up and touch the top of its head. A belly like a fat boar's flowed into a muscular tail almost as long as its torso that vanished halfway into the water, and its jagged teeth gleamed as a reptilian growl rumbled through the beach.

A tick later, it spoke in a voice that was more crocodile than man. "Well, what do we have here?" it purred mockingly, an uncomfortably wide smile stretching across its face. "A brace of men ready to kill each other?" The beast giggled, a sound more like a broken snarl than any human laugh. "Don't you boysss know thiss isss my ssswamp? Mine, mighty Ssenislin's! Thesse watersss are my domain and you boyss wass fixin' to dirty it! What you got to sssay for yoursselvess about that? Eh?"

Ssenislin's voice shook with delight at the men's shock and terror. Too long circumstance had denied him his river, his home, his fiefdom, but at long last he was back. If the men took longer than three ticks to form a response, the Dhani would frown and let out a short, impatient growl. "C'mon, talk sssnappy!" he'd bark.

[Konrad Venger]

10th Bell - The Midnight Market

"Got something... nuanced, for you today, Venger. You know what that means?"

Janus liked his fancy words, but words couldn't quite cover the ink, though. The tattoos that curled around and about his hands. His hair was neatly cut, every other day.

Well, Konrad thought as he sat at the table of the little grog shop in the Byzantine warren that was The Midnight, clearly he's gonna tell me...

"What's the job?"

Janus grinned and Konrad was instantly reminded of that dire-wolf bastard that nearly killed him, his first few days on the caravan to Kenash. He knocked back the rest of the amber liquid and just glanced at the slave in one corner of the room. Before his eyes had even snapped back to Konrad, the tense little man had zipped over and was pouring again.

"S'what I like about you, Venger," he said, bearing his teeth at Konrad and Three Eyes, fidgeting next to him, trying to ape Konrad's unruffled stance and almost succeeding. "Y'don't ask questions. Y'just want to know who, when and how much. Sellswords, I tell you... y'can always rely on them to be grasping bastards."

Konrad smiled back. Couldn't fault the man's argument, after all. But after his first meeting with Janus, he knew that it was their Sunberth pedigree he appreciated, too. Radacke and his kin were the spawn of a Sunberth slave who'd become free generations ago and through some combination of luck, smarts and sheer brutality, carved his name and blood into a Dynasty.

"Man name of Drex. Ronald Drex. Moneylender, banker, joint stock man... works with coin, is what I mean to say. Came here from Syliras eight years ago. Lasher branded him himself, fronted him gold himself for his business, vouched for him himself!"

Janus' voice rose and lowered at the same point. Got louder, yes, but more feral, it seemed. Less civilized, as if his blood was rebelling against the linen and the room and the laurels, hand tightening around the glass it held.

"And now... now I hear he's cosying up to another family. Maybe a couple of others. Like he doesn't need our patronage anymore, like it isn't worth his time anymore." Mica snorted and finished another cup. "Loyalty. Might as well be a petching cock up my arse, for all it's worth around here."

"Youse want us to send him a message?"

"Aye, that I do," Janus said, head bobbing at Konrad's words. "But the wee sod's still worth coin to Lasher, and a lot of it, every season. No, he don't want blood... leastways not yet. I'll tell ya where to find him, you snatch him up and... have a chat with him. Let him know he's not to go straying. Can you do that, Venger?"

Liquid sloshed and swirled into the cup he held out and Konrad studied the flow of it as he digested the words. He'd been working for Radacke for thirty solid days, now. He'd killed. He'd frightened. He'd wandered into the swamp twenty days before and seen things he'd not forget soon. But that little outburst had told him something much more useful about Janus: he didn't just work for the Radacke, they owned him.

Maybe he didn't have a collar around his neck or a brand on his face, but he considered himself as much a part of the clan as Lasher or Mica or Jaaris. Konrad stared at him for a moment at marveled at how so sharp a man could be so petching deluded, but decided not to voice the opinion.

Deluded, maybe, but the wanker's still useful.

Every time, he'd proven himself. So it was with only a slight, amused pout of his lips he placed his hat back on his head... and nodded.

"Like I can do everythin' else. Aye."

Back On Shipwreck Beach

Petch this, I'm not getting paid to die.

Words that every sellsword could embrace! Fight, kill, loot, rape, plunder, mutilate, just be seen and be frightened of, oh, indeed. But they all drew the line at dying like some zealot for a cause. Their cause was the kind you could buy whores, grog and time at a card table with. That didn't involve petching sacrifice.

"Well, what do we have here?"

Konrad gaped alongside Three Eyes like boned fish at the market. Ronald just pissed himself again, and some corner of Konrad's mind thought, shyke on a stick, that man holds a lot of water. A monster, a nightmare in scales with eyes like burning torches, slithered from the wet trees and fetid earth like the hells could no longer hold it.

Dozens of feet away, still, but Konrad had to look up to see it's yellow eyes. For a hand six-and-a-half-feet tall, that was a new and unnerving experience.

Shyke... Shyke... Shyke...!

"Eyes...? Eyes?! Snap outta it!"

He hissed the words as the monster began speaking again, and petch him, it was speaking. Some intelligence powered it beyond sex and sustenance. Some dark amusement glittered in its eyes like stolen gold when he saw their faces. Every strangled, ssssssstretched syllable it uttered reeked of mirth at their fear... and Konrad could understand that. Had he been of a mind.

"Wh-Wha-"

"Cut him loose an' geddim outta here," Konrad managed to rasp, letting a cold, slow hatred pool in his belly until it spread to his limbs. Another big bastard who liked to petch people up and drink in their agony. Petch. Like that was new to him. "The Madge wants him alive, 'member?"

"What about-"

"You think I'mma petching wait?! Jus' geddim-"

"C'mon, talk sssnappy!"

Konrad didn't look away again. He heard Three Eyes mumbling something like a prayer - though where the hells he'd learned that, Konrad had no idea - and a tick later the sound of metal sawing rope was gnawing at his ears.

Ssenislin. That was his name, and this was his swamp, apparently. Konrad cursed himself thrive and double again for not doing this in some petching alley! But oh, no, he had to be clever. He had to be theatrical-

The thought struck him almost as soon as the words did. Theatrics. Well... he seemed to be in good company for that.

"I say... might be your swamp, ya crawlin' little worm," he said, facing the creature with his kopis held out in one hand, and his other hand held out empty, but his fingers bent, like he was holding a ball. "But it ain't yer city, is it?"

Three Eyes nearly choked on Konrad's behalf as he heard the words and goggled his eyed to see his long-time partner finally, and irrevocably, do his bloody nut. What was he thinking? He was just standing there, breaking slow and steady, arms outstretched like they were back in Fool's Alley in Sunberth, facing down Obeck's Opals that time when they were kids.

"City belongs to us, and yer gettin' in the way of our business."

He had to keep talking. Distract it. Occupy it. No... him. It was a man, a thinking creature, and one that liked to talk. So as Konrad talked, he breathed deep, like his mentor had told him. Ah, Trevin, how useful hed been. Initiating him into this wyrd, teaching him over a handful of long, careful lessons. From sparks to tiny Synas in a tiny room, the carter-cum-mage had schooled him well.

"So why don't youse turn around, and go chase a squirrel fer yer supper."

Not that it stopped him from smashing in his skull and taking his money back, though. Konrad paid a steep price for this new ability. Didn't sit well with him, just letting all that money walk out of town.

"Not in the mood for bullshyke tonight snake, so..."

He could feel it, the more he willed it, and the more he willed, the more he felt. That second skeleton of djed under his bones, beyond them, interwoven with his being. He thought of it traveling down his arm, the only where his empty hand clutched at the air, and as the monster watched... he would see glowing green liquid, scarred with black gashes, pouring from the human's hand, congeal into a ball and-

-Konrad's hat hid a wince as he willed the fireball into life, the size of an apple or larger, twirling above his palm like his own personal inferno.

Then he looked up and his his fatigue under a grin that showed the beast that he wasn't alone when it came to ungodly bloody ugly.

"... how about youse run along, an' I don't cook ya fer dinner?"

He willed his hand not to shake. He breathed normally and focused solely on that ball of flame. He had to; he'd only been casting by himself for a handful of days and never for long. He had ticks, and he knew it. Even if he tried to hurl it... no, it would never reach that far. But could it buy them a window?

Petch them, he thought sourly, awaiting an answer as he heard Eyes and Ronald begin to scramble away back up the beach. Long as it buys me some time to run past 'em. Then he can 'ave the sorry bastards.

Konrad liked doing a good job, but he'd do no work at all being digested.

[Ssenislin]

The smile dropped off Ssenislin's face like a lead anchor the instant Konrad breathed his first belittling barb. His teeth vanished behind his lips as his mouth turned into an incensed slit, eyes flashing dangerously with every fresh insult. If any of the men were particularly observant, they might have seen the Dhani's tail coiling behind him like a spring as a long, perfectly serpentine hiss drowned out Konrad's last words. "Your friendsss have abandoned you." he said coldly. Then, without warning, he pounced.

Ssenislin moved surprisingly quickly for such a large creature, his wound tail launching him skidding across the mud, meaty fingers grasping for Konrad's ankles. His left hand closed around nothing but air as the fireball the mercenary nursed seared through the scales on his back in a cloud of steam and sizzling flesh, but the right found its mark. Immediately he swept it out in a sideways arc to drag the man off his feet, roaring in pain all the while. Birds took flight and small rodents scurried away from the sound as Ssenislin drew himself up to his full height again, the mercenary dangling ten feet off the ground at arm's length.

"Squirrels?" Ssenislin rumbled quietly at Konrad, eyes narrowing. "I eat.. Glasssbeaks." he snapped, painfully enunciating every syllable. "I feassst on granidiles! I ssssnack on grasss bearsss!"
A furious grin cracked across Ssenislin's face and a long forked tongue flicked out from between his teeth as he hissed his next words, "An' ssometimesss, I have a nibble on mouthy humansss who don't know to pay ressspect!"

[Konrad Venger]

"Your friendsss have abandoned you."

Konrad snorted as he let out another breath, face twisting a little more in disdain. He could hear the footsteps behind him growing fainter. Good. Job done. Now he had to just put out a light show and get petching trotting along with them.

"I don't have frien-"

It shouldn't have been able to move that fast. It was bigger than the largest wagon Konrad had seen on the caravan trail, including all the oxen. He was expecting something that lumbered, ungainly and unstoppable in it's vastness, not the flash-of-scale speed that shot towards him-

-in the space of a blink-

"Shyke!"

Whatever strain his body was under, sheer, terrified adrenaline blasted it away, battered it into the realm of the inconsequential as he flung out his arm, just as the huge creature flew across mud and sand like a shark through water-

In that beat, he grinned. Wild and triumphant and colored orange and yellow by the fireball, his fireball - my power - exploding across the back of the Dhani. Searing and singing and scorching rows of scales into blackened memories-

-and it wasn't enough.

Konrad's world went sideways and then reversed entirely as a hand the size of his whole head snatched him up by the ankle and jerked him into the air. His hat went flying off into the mud and that little absurdity seemed to douse the fear that pumped through him-

-at least until the thing started speaking again. Smoke pouring off its back like someone had lit a campfire, but its rage, its sheer, staggering contempt undimmed as it spoke.

"Squirrels? I eat.. Glasssbeaks."

He was still talking. He could have killed Konrad in a tick, one crack of his body, smashed to the ground like a club. A single lunge of its mouth, hinged like the gate to a castle, crunching off his head like a chicken's. But he was talking, he wanted to savor it-

Bastard's gonna kill me. Lost my sword, can't reach my-

No! You don't have just them anymore!

"I feassst on granidiles! I ssssnack on grasss bearsss!"

No. No, he didn't. He'd proved it, just ticks ago, conjuring flame just like Trevin had done, made it a weapon that could immolate and destroy. Hanging upside down like a rabbit in a snare, Konrad drank in the hatred of the Dhani, let it fuel him.

Hate. Like it knew what it was to truly hate.

The creature grinned, rubbery lips splitting like they'd been carved by a knife, exposing teeth sharp and long as daggers. Konrad grinned back, manic menace bleeding out from between filthy teeth, and he willed... he willed and it came faster to him now. Crackling through his veins and into his fingers-

-redirected-

-a mad gamble, a memory he'd seen from a Sunberth festival years before.

Never touched his lips. I remember. Saw the fire, saw what he drank... and there was that gap. The gap that saved him.

"An' ssometimesss, I have a nibble on mouthy humansss who don't know to pay ressspect!"

Konrad pressed his lips together and drew that res into his mouth. Miniature lightning coursed and zipped against his cheeks and he was drunk off it, wanted to swallow it down and never let it leave him. All thought was gone, stripped down to will as he hung there, prey for a snake, and then-

"I ushed to eat your kind," he said, and mayhap the Dhani would frown minutely as he sounded like he had his mouth full. "When I killed 'em inna' sewers, an' yuh'll be n'DIFFERENT-!"

The Dhani would see the human crunch his body almost in half, abdominal muscles screaming in protest as the mercenary doubled over, face and shoulders nearly jerking closer to the massive, scaly hand that held him by boot and breeches-

-spray of greenish-black res spewing out of Konrad's mouth like a glass full of liquor purged from a drunk punched in the stomach. A wave of liquid wyrd that flew across the space between his mouth and the Dhani's hand-

BURN!

Konrad screamed the word inside his head, every fiber of his being wishing naught but hate, lending itself to his djed for just a tick more-

-igniting the res as it cleared his mouth-

-sending a cascade of fire vomited towards the hand holding him up, enough to immolate it. Not to mention his boot and his breeches, but petch, they were leather and he was in no mood to complain.

Konrad braced himself for death or a short, jarring drop to the mud. Then it would be nothing magical, or mythical, or even particularly heroic. He'd oof! as he smacked into the ground, hands flailing for his sword and his hat (especially his hat), then burst up into a run and pray the screaming, wounded monster would be more focused on his devastated limb than him.

Which was unlikely, but screw it, he'd deal with that problem a few ticks from now.

[Ssenislin]

The Dhani's hand snapped open as it jerked away by reflex from the sudden searing heat, a quick hiss of pain escaping Ssenislin at the unexpected burst of flame. Too late he realized his prey was escaping. A vicious lunge got him nothing but a fistful of air which the beast promptly slammed into the ground with a roar of anger. "Thiss ain't over!" Ssenslin shouted as he rose up and nursed his burnt hand. "I got your ssscent, lil' monkey! You better watch your back, 'causse I'll be there!"

With that, the Dhani let out a final infuriated snarl, then turned and dove back into the swamp, leave foam and ripples in his wake as his body slimmed and elongated back into an anaconda. He would need a doctor in the near future, lest his burns turn nasty, but his back and hand (now a patch of his torso) weren't what was most gravely injured: the little human had dealt an immeasurable blow to his pride. He would remember that scent, and when the time came he would make that little man beg.

[Konrad Venger]

He didn't look back, but that almost goes without saying. His whole world became the flickering torches and glowing wet stones of the city beyond Shipwreck Beach, beyond the darkness and the mud and the-

Konrad's feet smacked hard, deeper and faster into the ground as the creature wailed again. So loud and long it seemed like a dozen voices all mingling together, a symphony of rage and pain that scattered every living thing for an around. He could see figures emerging from alleys and doorways, curious whispering, garbled and indistinct but all seeming to sound-

Like nothing. He could hear nothing above the pound of his heart in his ears and his breathing, every lungful of air stabbing into his throat. His sword felt like a lead weight and his hat was flapping at his side-

-and then he was there. He was alive.

Petch. This must be what that Ronald twat felt like.

"K-Kon...?"

Bugger me, wonders never cease.

If there was anything to convince Konrad that his fatigue, injuries and exhaustion was causing hallucinations, it would be the sight of Three Eyes sticking around when there was a ship-sized monster raging on the beach behind them. But there he was, daggers in his shaking hands.

"Ah... Aye..." Konrad said, lungs finally working, straightening up and looking at all... at all he'd come back to. The mud and the bricks and the people and the sky and the air and himself, all of it. "Ain't petchin' dead y-"

"Thiss ain't over!"

The monster found it's voice again, and Konrad turned to face it. He could still see the trails of smoke curling from its arm like grey ribbons. His own handiwork, and Konrad grinned so wide his cheeks hurt. He'd done it. He'd done it and he could do it again and his stomach was a bloody furnace of victory, even when-

uuuuuuuuurp

-he winced and held his gut... reminded himself not to push himself too far. Gods, it was bad enough that his lips would taste like rare-grilled veal for the next petching season.


"I got your ssscent, lil' monkey! You better watch your back, 'causse I'll be there!"

Konrad drew himself up as the creature began to turn. He wasn't a theatrical man. Quick stab or slash or fracture in the right place, and he'd be walking away before a pithy one-liner even crossed his mind. It was the purse, not the glory, that motivated him. Monologuing wankers with delusions of superiority were just unprofessional, and-

"Aye, maybe, shyke-stain! But today?!"

His blood was up and his djed was pumping and the Konrad of Sunberth was not quite this man, who could conjure flame, knew the value of a street full of Kenashians watching him scold a monster and swept off his hat to wave it with a mocking bow.

"But not tonight, little man!"

Three Eyes was there to give him a cock-eyed, quirked eyebrow'd look when he got back to business. Looked him up and down and Konrad bared his teeth for just an instant, before realizing that... yes, that was somewhat out of character.

"Petch was that about?"

"Sends a message," he murmured as he set his hat back on his head, one eye winking like a deep and savage star in the shadows. "Radacke don't hire cowards, aye?"

"F'youse say so."

[Cocoon]

Oh my, what an interesting thread.

Two of Kenash' menaces met each other and irked each other. This was certainly a very good introduction to what I expect to be a great piece of literature between you two, and I'm hoping you guys are already planning the next part!

For now, let's see what you've earned.

 

Konrad Venger

XP

• Observation +2
  
• Intimidation +2
  
• Acting +2
• Reimancy +2
• Larceny +1
• Running +1

Lores

• Intimidation: Describing an incoming murder
  
• Intimidation: Describing a victim’s routine
  
• Larceny: Keeping to the alleys
• Ssenislin: Swamp’s Monster
• Kenash: Rivalries between Dynasties
• Acting: Hiding one’s horror
• Reimancy: A valuable Last Resource

Miscellaneous

N/A

 

Snake Bro

XP

• Intimidation +2
  
• Acrobatics +2
  
• Bodybuilding +1
• Subterfuge+1

Lores

• Intimidation: Boasting
  
• Konrad: The Goon, the Mage and the Ugly
  
• Acrobatics: Lunge forward
• Intimidation: Threaten to… devour?
• The Rage of a Wounded Ego

Miscellaneous

• Konrad's Scent: Ssenislin will be able to detect Konrad's scent until the end of the season. This effect can only be used with a proper use of the Tracking Skill, and does not replace the tracking skill in itself. [Expires on Summer 516]
  
  
• New Rumor: Rumor has it that the Ghalash Monster appeared in Kenash during the night. The creature is big and terrifying, and eats children.
  
  
• Injuries: Ssenislin will feel great discomfort on his back and his right hand for a week's time, or with the help from a herbalist/healer. [Expires the 71st of Spring 516]

 

Notes

Konrad

Excellent job. Your posts were longer this once, and the time jumps allowed you to tackle many different situations. It also gave the thread a certain 'movie' feel, which was interesting. I was very satisfied with the way you depicted Roland, while using very broad terms like cock that gave a good contrast between Roland's words and his actual nature. You were clearly very motivated for this thread, which is terrific to see. Keep at it!


Ssenislin

Ah, the monster! I've graded you before, and I repeat what I said back then: you've got a very fairy tale-ish style that I enjoy. Your character and his appearances always shift the thread to a proper fairy tale, be it if he's harassing a woman in the swamp, or if he's annoying the local douche-bag. Your writing is good, yet it was rather shortish in my eyes. Your grades were affected because of it. I really enjoy Snake Bro being back home, and so I expect to see his name in different threads. Keep writing!

Please, don't doubt to PM if you believe I've missed something or if you have any questions.

Happy writing!