[Fountain Plaza] The Dance of Eyes

by **Belinda** on April 9th, 2016, 5:52 pm

‘He is one of those.’

Inwardly she was laughing a bit as The Dynast was a player. Of course he was. Those eyes grew with intensity as he did not shirk away from her blatant hot molten look. Their eyes melded and turned molten grey and deep black brown coal eyes into a forge furnace. The woman waved those flames with a wild abandon that danced on the edge of that danger.

Julian Radacke had decent strength in his grip of her hand that told her that he was not going to let go. Her arm and shoulders relaxed as the hand was drawn to those charming lips and it was kissed. She had a name. “Pleasure is all mine, Julian. “ The temptress purred. He was crossing that line, might as well sweeten up. The purr was not hard but it was often under rated. The subtle timbre in the back of the throat would bring bodies leaning in. He did just that as his hand went to her shoulder as if he was looking to claim her. That smile grew more wicked that was a counter point to The Man’s oily smile as she leaned into the way he moved his hand across her shoulders.

“Lasher?” This name rang a bell in her head. It was on the lips of the streets of the Midnight Market with no small amount of fear attached. “I will remember that. “

The next comment just about made her loose it. It took some control to keep the wicked seduction in her body language and face. ‘private audition? Critique? Praise? Why don’t you just say you want to roll in the bed for petching sake? They are never direct. ‘ It remained to be unseen what she would get out of that exchange but she had information that was matching up with other information in her head. That provided her refocus to the Dynast player. Reaching her shoulder and moving across it had him leaning in close. “Sounds like a challenge Julian.” As she leaned into his ear and purred into that ear. Those moistened wine flavored lips would barely brush against his ear. “I just need to gather my little things. “

The vixen stood up and made sure there was a lean towards the man's torso to make sure that hand on her shoulder would trail down a very taut and fit body to her hips as she turned slowly and purposefully. She made her move away to go and recover her things. Her pack with her clothes and rapier as the boys ensured she was going to go with them. She didn’t look at the Sitai as her game face was set to full on focus. The woman held a finger up for the goon squad to stop as she went into a little side room where she could change. In a few chimes she came out with black boots, form fitting black leather pants, a black leather corset over a billowy white blouse that was off the shoulders. The daggers were re-strapped to her thighs. As the woman came out of the room she was belting on her rapier before shouldering her pack. Belinda mentally prepared for the rest of her evening. It could go one of two ways: either he was a dud or he had the moves. Either way refusing a roll in the bed of a Dynast would be suicide at this point.

Upon returning to the ‘escort’ to return to Julian Radacke her walk held no less the sultry moves but had more confidence. Those hips moved side to side as the eyes that followed the black leather clad bottom roll in that elongated figure eight as she walked. The girl stopped a second and looked as one dribbled a little of his drink. “Whats wrong? Just a little walk?” Her eyebrows went up into her hairline as she winked and continued the walk. The goon squad may have had difficulties in focusing as the rapier may have gained a few eyes.

The brazen woman stopped where she had been sitting with Julian. “Shall we?” The eyebrow was artfully raised as those molten silver eyes that threatened to turn the very table to burst into Ivak’s fire till she had the man seeking a new religion. Once they made their ready to leave, her head looked right and then left as the impression earlier from Mr. Ugly and the goon squad seemed to be tense about something.

by **Konrad Venger** on April 10th, 2016, 12:23 am

“Sounds like a challenge Julian. I just need to gather my little things.“

Konrad didn't like the way Julian's face split into a smile once the woman got up and sauntered away. He also didn't miss the way she let his hand trail across her bare skin, fingertips tracing down her shoulder, her side, all the way to her thighs... and then she was gone. Swishing away to pick something up before-

"Janus? We are leaving!"

Shyke. Petching knew it.

Konrad kept his eyes swiveling and roaming as the Radacke party prepared to leave, finishing drinks, lurching upright from their seats and generally milling around as they waited. Julian Radacke was practically stalking from side to side, eager and impatient to get that beautiful creature onto some soft, perfumed seats and out of that...

"Petch me."

The Sunberth sellsword almost spat out a curse at one of his fellow bodyguards that evening, until he saw the cause for his outburst. The girl had changed into something unfit for dancing but fit for... well, making a man curse out loud and driving him to his knees in submission, apparently. As she sauntered by, hips popping deliciously, Konrad could see men gape and swallow heavily, clearly wondering what or whom they could sell to afford just a night, just a bell, just a handful of chimes with that girl in the corset and leather breeches.

And rapier, the still-professional part of Konrad's mind noted. Along with the daggers. Girl isn't a fool.

“Whats wrong? Just a little walk?”

Konrad ground his teeth and gripped his blade tighter. Appreciation had run it's course and his body was thinking for him, now. She knew exactly what she was doing, the effect she had, and was milking it mercifully. The Dynast, because he was worth the time; he was a useful potential asset. Everyone else?

Because she can, and it's fun.

“Shall we?”

"Indeed, my dear. Janus?"

The Freeborn got the whole lot moving with a few quick commands and soon the procession was winding through the streets and away from the square. A couple of bodyguards were in the lead, glaring at anyone daring to cross their path. Julian and his new "friend" were behind them, with his friends and sycophants close on his heels. Then a handful of slaves carrying drinks and clothes brought up the rear.

Konrad was on the right flank. Every alley they passed got him squinting down it. Every corner, he tightened the grip on his kopis. Every few dozen paces he checked behind them and saw... nothing.

He didn't like this. They were in the open back in the square, but they were well-protected. Now this Dynast idiot wanted to go into some private room, alone with a woman he barely knew, and Janus was fawning all over him.

Petching idiots.

Aye, a second, salacious voice chimed in, drawing Konrad's eyes to Belinda's numerous swaying assets as she walked arm-in-arm with Julian. But you understand why, don'cha?

The horizon was burning when they got over the bridge to the East Bank, and it was all Man's doing. A vast structure, four levels tall and broader than most Konrad had seen back in Sunberth, sprawling out along the riverbank and cast lights in all directions. Konrad was almost gawking as the whole party marched inside, and he read the elegant writing above the doorway.

Heir Apartments. Just like the man said.

"Bugger me..."

All right, so maybe he'd earned a black look in return for that muttered comment, but petching hells, it was flat-out mad on the inside. The outside hinted only at size, scale, but the sheer level of ostentation inside the lobby was...

Silks and sables. Marble and ivory. Gold and silver. The richest styles from a half-dozen cultures all congealed together into something entirely unique, very Kenash, and expensive beyond belief. Konrad almost went blind on all the shone surrounding them, no less so than the smile of the smooth-faced man behind the front desk.

"Ah, Lord Radacke," Xavo said with a bow of his head, reflecting back Julian's careless charm with ease. "Will you be needing a room, or-"

"Just the room, Xaro," Julian said, making an impatient gesture with one hand. Janus scuttled forwards and handed over a fat bag of coins and Konrad blinked quickly. Gods, that was for one room? Not a sodding house? "My guest here has promised me a private dance and I have agreed to adjudicate her skills." Julian pressed a hand to his breast, face stricken as a martyr. "Giving soul that I am."

Xaro smiled, clearlg about as convinced of that as Konrad was. Around him the entourage was grumbling, torn between complaining and simply deciding where they'd wile away the bells while their friend and master plowed the jewel of the Fountains. He made a quick "come here" gesture to the handful of other bodyguards - big, meaty lads with clean swords and quick eyes - before the transaction was completed.

"Ah, yes, I think we have an opening on the first floor, if you would-"

"Third Floor."

Xaro stopped and stared. Janus turned and stared. So did Julian. So did the girl, for all he cared. They all stared and Konrad stared back and willed himself not to flinch under the weight of wealth, authority and nobility. He gripped his sword again, caressing it like a worry stone and stuck his chin out a little.

"Safer, sir," he ground out between bad teeth, a couple of them visible even when his mouth was closed, thanks to the damage done to his lips. "Less likely t'have some sod come in through the window if-"

"Yes-yes-yes," Julian said with another wave of his hand, so enamored and swallowed up by lust he was in no mood to complain. "Third Floor, Xaro, like the man said."

"Of course, sir..."

They walked up spotless, smooth marble stairs and past paintings worth a dozen slaves apiece as they made their way to the room. Just Julian, Belinda, Janus and two of those other sellswords, the last waiting in the lobby with the entourage. As Julain and Belinda chatted up front, Konrad lowered his head and spoke lowly to Janus.

"God'another way up 'ere? Like back stairs or somethin'?"

"Yes, I believe so." Janus stuck out a hand and pointed it at one of the sellswords, a long-haired Vantha with a straight, thin sword. "You stand guard over it, Matrice. Anyone comes through-"

"Yes, I get the idea, boss."

"There a window overlookin' their room, like?"

Janus turned to Konrad as he asked the question, trying to piece together what the Sunberthian was asking. Looking over? As in... above? No, that didn't make sense, so maybe-

"You mean that looks into their room from the other side?"

"Aye."

"No... No, not that I recall." Janus' eyes narrowed and sharp, hot outrage filled his sallow cheeks. "I hope you're not asking to be able to keep an eye on the master while he is busy with-"

"Wuz gonna ask youse to," Konrad growled as they got closer to the room, Julian trying his best to get handsy and familiar with the girl as the Promised Land approached. "Far as I know, y'ain't shite with a blade, unlike me. That's the man y'want close t'him-" he nodded at Julian, unlocking the sumptuously-engraved door with his other arm around Belinda's waist "-if anyone disturbs 'em. But, could be some cunt with a crossbow out there, an' jus' in-"

"Janus? Get us a bottle from the bar, my man. Finest vintage you can manage!"

"I... Y-Yes, my-"

The door closed with a laugh and a giggle, leaving the sellswords and the Radcke gopher outside. The Vantha had already stalked off to guard the servant's stairs. Janus looked around and turned to Konrad, pawing in his pockets for-

Then he remembered Konrad's words... and he was right. The petching ugly bastard was right. He was in charge of the master's security, and whatever else he was, he knew Konrad was loyal to a fat purse and good with that monstrous sword at his hip. He needed him there, close to Julian, not running errands.

Kanus sighed and flexed his bad knee. Always something, but then again, what was he without service?

"Konrad, Killick? On the door," he said, finding his fangs and injecting some steel into his tone. "I'm to the bar, back shortly."

"Aye, boss."

The bodyguards took up positions on either side of the door and Konrad didn't watch Janus leave. Instead he listened to his feet beating a brisk trail down the hall until they pattered away into nothing, eyes focusing in and out as he relied more on his ears...

He didn't want to get every deail, for he knew what was coming (eventually), but the job was to protect, so he had to have some idea of what she-

He, he reminded himself with a quuck torque of his jaw. Worry about him. Not her.

by **Belinda** on April 10th, 2016, 4:22 pm

Julian may not be aware how much side to side looks she was giving around as they walked to their destination. He may not notice when Belinda looked up and thought she saw shadows move but couldn’t make anything out and put it off to her nerves. Why were her senses on high alert? The girl smiled and continued to talk about inane things with Julian to keep the Dynast occupied. Her right arm was within the crook of his left which was well and fine but hopefully she would be able to unravel her arm and grab her rapier if she needed it. Mr. Ugly seemed just as tense. They were a large entourage and protecting this large of a procession had to be daunting.

If she was to harass a group like this or attack it, she would herd it into a location of her choice. So she looked for little hints that never appeared and had her thinking she was just being paranoid. Mr. Ugly was doing his job and she should relax and enjoy her time. Her instincts kept poking red flags at her but there was nothing substantiating them. The raven haired beauty would laugh at some apparent witty remark or some attempt at intelligent altruism as Julian attempted to drown her with an impression that she didn’t really need. ‘Dynast brat is full of himself.’ She thought but neither did she cower under the weight of what he threw at her. He kept tight hold of her hand within the crook of his arm. He let it loose upon entry into the grand Heir Apartments.

On approach, the place was huge and the initial shock of impression it gave was monumental. It was almost painful even in how obscenely ostentatious it was. One door handle could pay for her rent for 30 days. The excesses displayed here was sickening as she looked around. Not one thing was overlooked in making it as richly appointed as possible. She took a breath of perfumed air and exhaled as she took in the opulence as if it was a meal. That’s the guy’s name, the one that kept everyone moving while Julian was talking to her. His name was Janus.

"My guest here has promised me a private dance and I have agreed to adjudicate her skills. Giving soul that I am."

‘ Arrogant arse. ‘ She thought as she smiled to the one behind the counter who was well versed in the company that some of the Dynast keep. The man could see that Belinda was something else, but never mind matters at hand was to provide for the comfort of his guests. The Dynast’s whims were his life blood to provide for and they paid well for it.

Janus took care of the business of acquiring the room while they haggled over first floor or third floor and safety concerns. She put her hand over her mouth as she softly huffed. The outside veneer of the place she noticed on entry had a crap ton of hand holds and foot placements to scale. Though free scaling a four story building was dangerous it was doable. If one had rope it was a piece of cake. Still she had to agree the third floor would make it that much more difficult.

Julian had acquired her hand once more as they went up the stair case. Her hips swayed up the hips as if born to them with the fluid grace of the dancer. Her mind idly thought of stairs like this could be used in a routine that scrolled through her head. The temptress put that aside and refocused on Julian. While Konrad was looking into security, she looked up and down the hallway herself into the shadows and into crevices to see if she noticed anything. ‘Nothing. What the petching hell is it?’ There was her paranoia again. There was that nagging feeling in the back of her head, again. The woman was not in a habit of ignoring those little things but she also didn’t shirk danger either. Julian unlocked the door and she entered in with the Dynast.

No sooner the door was closed as Julian grabbed her and slammed her against a wall to kiss the lusty wench. She resisted the urge to maneuver her knee as that would not be a good idea. There was a throaty chuckle as her body went against the wall and the passion of intertwining lips engaged feverishly. This Dynast needs to realize she was not the average whore nor was she the average woman. Her leg went around his and using the strength of her hips and legs turned to slam him in turn against the wall to flip the tables as her lips bored into his own. Julian’s eyes widened at this as it seemed she could give rough as he played it.

Belinda grabbed a fist full of shirt and pulled him against her as her hips tilted in as she could feel the promise of his lust. Her lust was in controlled doses as the both started shining with heat. There was another wicked smile and laugh from both of them. Belinda and Julian turned and rotated till they got to the bed. The girl artfully turned as he was about to plant her in it and instead she had him sit down in it. She backed away from him as her hips swayed back and forth. She unbuckled her rapier and put it by the nightstand close by.

“You wanted a dance, didn’t you?” She said in a sultry husky tone dripped in velvet and honey.

“I did indeed, my dear.” He leaned back to enjoy the show as he loosened up his pants and shirt.

Belinda leaned down, cocking one knee up to slowly unbuckle a dagger from a thigh. The girl ran the leather and buckles over her outer thighs and then passed it over her pride very slowly and lewdly. Turn and look over the shoulder as the man looked about ready to lose his cool. The wicked smile turned positively depraved as she moved to artfully bend over as her ass was in view of his stretching the leather over it. The dagger and leather of the sheath and buckle she moved around to slide across her ass very slowly then going back up as her body undulated from side to side. She stuck her booted foot out.

“Please grab the heel? Pretty please. “ She crooned to the man. He grabbed her heal and wanted to grab her but she jerked her foot out and wrapped it around his neck and pulled him to her pride as her hands went into his hair. They tumbled in a mass of passionate kisses before she pushed away from him. “Julian, you’re ruining my dance. “ The girl dripped another pretty pout as the other boot came off.

Belinda moved about three feet away. It was enough to make him stretch as she worked to unlace the corset she was well practiced at. The discard of the corset had a bit of a hip snap. The blouse slowly came up the back and up and up as a back with a little bit of definition was revealed along with coppery delicious skin. She would look amazing in gold. The blouse was discarded to the other side with an equal snap of the hips. The strip tease dance continued as her thumbs went along the edges of the top hem that ran along the edges of her hips. Julian’s eyes were peeled as her thumb slipped in and she edged and peeled those pants down and down further till her ample bottom popped out of its confines.

The naughty girl bent over as they slid down further and further arching her back as his hands reached out to caress the coppery skinned arse. The bold brazen seductress had his full attention in eyes and in his pride. Julian’s fingers pressed into the ample skin as the pants revealed those well shaped and defined legs. He stood up and moved into firmly cup her breasts from behind. Belinda leaned her head back as those hips rolled into a small oval against his center of being. Julian began walking back towards the bed with his prize. They stood there fondling and groping each other into a renewed frenzy that melted the room into its own world. There were no words but moans, groans, quickened breaths and wanting tongues. His teeth clamped down on her neck as she relaxed and just enjoyed the ride.

Her eyes closed as things were proceeding nicely and it had promise of being an all nighter. There was an out of place sound at the wall adjacent to the largish window. The woman ignored it as she didn’t know the place and its habits. Besides it would ruin the momentum. A few ticks later it happened again before someone came crashing through the window with weapons drawn. Julian and Belinda both more or less at the same time said the same word. “Petch.”

Belinda was not frozen or frightened as she grabbed her rapier at the night stand and unsheathed it stepping into the man’s way. They did not expect the guest of a Dynast to be armed in this fashion. The girl went into stance as her beautiful body now was a distraction as she went into combat mode.

‘Petching hell and ruined my mood. What the petch is going on.’ The girl thought as she parried a move in time as it became clear to her that he was better than she was. “Mr. Ugly!!! “ she yelled. That was before hearing Julian scream for the man also.

“KONRAD!!!” The Dynast had hid on the other side of the bed.

‘That is his name. Finally.’ As her movements quickened. Narrowly dodging well placed attacks as she parried more than she attacked trying to see an opening. “KONRAD!!” The woman screamed also.

by **Konrad Venger** on April 11th, 2016, 4:38 am

"So, what brought youse all the way to-"

"I look like I'm inna' mood fer' a petchin' conversation?"

Konrad thought it quite the exercise in gentility that he didn't slap "wanker" onto the end of that sentence, just to ram the point home. He saw Killick turn to him out of the corner of his eyes, probably to level a sneer or glower against him, and pointedly ignored it. Bastard talked too much, anyway. They needed to listen. Without their eyes on their master, they only had their ears to rely on.

So how about we just shut the petch up and-

Another crash from inside and Konrad frowned. That wasn't like the one before. There were giggled and hushed, muffled words following it. Probably Julian losing whatever self-control he had and lunging at the girl across a table. But that sounded further away, almost by the window. Part of Konrad was impressed that they'd rampant screwing had apparently covered the entirety of the room, but that sounded louder than just-

“Mr. Ugly!!!“

The two bodyguards looked at each other, eyes blinking and brows furrowed even as they clutched their weapons. Who the hell was-

Take a guess.

“KONRAD!!!”

Konrad's first, insane thought was "Shyke, I didn't know he knew my name", before the rest of his body kicked it to death and overrode everything else. There was already clanging steel as they tore through the double doors, Konrad leading the way, Killick right behind-

The woman cried out his name as the scene greeted him, all of it burned into his brain in a blink-

Julian, the useless prick, cowering behind the bed with his breeches off, letting a petching whore protect him instead.

Shadows, no, men, covered in mud and paint, almost naked and their blazing white eyes all the more stark because of it, clambering into the room through the shattered floor-length window. One was already hacking and banging away at the woman-

Naked, all those tender, sweet parts Konrad had thought about suddenly bouncing free, sweating now in a different way-

And he barely noticed. He wasn't in that mode now, not with his kopis in his hand and his face twisted into a grim, grizzly glare. Three men. One with a short sword and gaining ground on the woman. Another with a pair of daggers, rushing for the Dynast. The third-

-raising a short crossbow, ancient and covered in carvings and paint and-

-leveling it at-

"Ven-"

Konrad had a tick to react. Not enough to jump, or dodge, or even throw up his arm. He needed to get behind something, but in the doorway there was nowhere. However, there was-

-his hand snapped out and grabbed Killick by the arm, just as the man started to say his name-

"-ger-?!"

-and yanked him into the path of the crossbow as the wiry little assassin fired. The twang! of the string sounded like some demented instrument, strummed once and with fatal effect. Killick's eyes popped open as the bolt struck him in the chest, slamming past bone and into vital organs. He coughed and jerked and Konrad tossed him to one side, stepping around him even as he fell.

The Dynast needs to be kept alive. Everyone else is extra.

Gods, he yearned to split the head of the wee shyke who'd tried to put a bolt through him, but he remembered the second man, daggers in his hands and rage in his eyes, jumping onto the bed for a decent shot at the Dynast.

"BASTARD!"

He roared the word, not just out of fury and hatred but distraction. The burst of sound would catch the man's attention. His head whipped around and the two men locked eyes. The faded scars of whips and floggings on his back, half-covered by the mud. Dripping wet from head to toe... probably swam up the river and then... scaled the walls?

Well, they came in through the petching window.

Konrad shut off that part of his mind and lunged instead, slashing wildly at the Rujaro's (he was sure that's what he and they were) legs, only for the man to jump up with both feet, kopis sailing through the air they'd been in-

-burying in the headboard of the bed, and the man grinned-

-only for it to die when Konrad let go of his weapon and swung his fist-

-right into his loincloth-covered crotch. It was at the perfect height, after all, with him standing on the bed. A cocky grin became a rictus of agony, a howl following it, then slashing blades intent on laying his arm and chest open, forcing Konrad back-

-but at least he wasn't looking at the Dynast anymore. The crossbowman was fumbling with his weapon and Konrad knew he had moments... and at this rate, it was petching Julian he'd be shooting at, not him. The woman was still fighting, and losing, by the looks of it, so he needed to-

What a petchin' sodding night-

His hand snapped out and gripped the wrist of one dagger-wielding hand. With a snarl the Rujaro went to stab down with his other hand and Konrad swayed away, dragging the man with him-

-off the bed-

-and onto the floor with a yelp-

-stomping down hard on the man's shoulder as he gripped his wrist with one hand and then the other.

CRUNCH!

The Rujaro howled and it went on for a long time. Something popped and then just plain broke in his shoulder and he lay there on the carpet worth far more than he'd even been bought for, one arm useless. Konrad stomped down again on his skull, hard, and he want limp. Unconscious or not, it'd have to do, because the third man was-

-aiming again-

Ah, shyke!

by **Belinda** on April 12th, 2016, 2:09 am

The raven haired woman was barely cognizant of Konrad coming in, but she was very much aware of the two others that came after the one with the short sword. She had been parrying a lot to get a feel for how he moved. His stance was stocky and blocked out. His balance seemed to be solid but his weapon was short. She used that as an advantage to keep that scant distance. There was a twang, followed a couple of ticks by a crunch, then…

‘focus Lina.’

The bastard had leaned to the side and was cutting down an angle as her quick reflexes took over and she back bent down as the blade went over and the tip digging into her left shoulder by a quarter of an inch. It didn’t go to far as she had a very flexible body. The rapier came up to parry another strike as she curled her body into a basic roll to the side as the rapier took aim at his side. The rapier slashed his arm as he moved from the strike.

She looked down as the blood was streaming down to her breast. Her eyes blazed even more as she pressed the advance. ‘petching chamber pot scum motherless dog. ‘ Her strikes became stronger as she did a half lunge as a feint and as he came in she turned her wrist to lock blades and jerk forward bringing him off balance. There was a look in those grey eyes that was so cold and so calculating that it caused a half tick pause in the swordsman. It wasn’t long enough for her to unbuckle his pants as he pushed her away and then back handed her. She chuckled as she gripped the cage of her rapier and wailed at his face with a good side punch. He backed off of it in time to get his lip but not full jaw. The girl was fast.

The girl heard another crunch or two but didn’t pay it any mind. He attempted a stronger attack as she was getting annoying. He almost wished he didn’t have to kill her but she was in the way. The man slashed up and then down in rapid succession as she hopped back and went to turn away from the second slash as it went across her thigh. “Motherless dog!! Petching creatan. “ The next words were in shiber that by the sound of it was none too kind either. The man went to slash at her again with the same technique. It was not the smartest move ever.

Belinda went down into another roll behind the man and stood up as he turned she threw another punch at his face with the cage as he turned around. The connection was enough to send him back a half step and off balance as her she did a simple front leg kick to send him into the wall behind him. This wasn’t pretty or fancy fencing, what this was going to be was the shyte was going to get done and you were going to die. With a fluid quick movement, the rapier was at his throat then he looked into her eyes. Those sultry eyes didn’t change from its hardness and cold calculation as she drove the rapier into the throat. Belinda, in quick succession, brought it back and slashed his throat at a slight angle with the six inches of one side using every inch of it. He stood for a few ticks gasping and bubbling up blood before he dropped to the ground grasping the floor. The woman turned around and ignored the silent pleading hand that rose up for mercy as he slowly bled to death.

The woman saw the crossbowman at the window. Belinda picked up one of her discarded daggers still sheathed and with the leather strap and buckle and threw it towards the remaining victim. It wasn’t to kill him as it hit the wall more or less near him. It was to make his head turn towards that direction as Konrad seemed to be descending on him. She gripped her rapier as she walked over there limping slightly as the adrenaline was still coursing through her hard. ‘Petching ruined her night? Now shes bleeding and she might not be able to dance for a couple of days. Correction, a few days. Petch.’ She was going to make sure that they well knew her fury.

The woman was all kinds of furious a she came towards the remaining man with every intention of ending his existence in a creative way as reason was leaving her eyes entirely. She was very very quiet at this point not even paying any kind of mind that Konrad was approaching him quickly. ‘Just let me cut his pride off, gut him and create a sculpture out of his entrails and that pride. ‘ The request was thrown into the air for whatever purpose in the furious anger of a very pissed off woman with a sharp blade.

by **Konrad Venger** on April 12th, 2016, 2:59 am

If Belinda was so enraptured with her mortal duel that she didn't notice Konrad brawling away at the bed, the man himself was more concerned with the bolt about to smash through his black heart. His hind-brain noted the girl's speed, not too much skill backing it up but a... passion, for dancing on a cliff face, which was what a deal to the death was.

So he'd assume, anyway. Konrad had been in countless fights, but few of those. Too many rules and too many fools crowing about "honor" and "form".

He preferred to just kill the bastard and move on to the next.

The Rujaro crossbowman swung his crossbow away at the last moment and leveled it at Julian. The Dynast flung out his hand, palm outstretched as if hiding his face from Syna, as if a dirge of begging and pleading would stop a crossbow bolt. Konrad had a frozen tick to decide, and gods, he might have to jump in it's path-

Petch that, he decided. Ain't getting paid to top myself.

THUNK!

Fortunately for Dynast and Freeborn alike, Belinda sorted that problem for them both. Her dagger - sheath, belt and all - cartwheeled through the air and cmashed-clattered into the curtains next to the Rujaro, making him jump, blink, ruining his perfect short-

TWANG!

-sending the bolt slamming into the wall not half a foot from Julian's neck and cleaving into his arm as it landed. The cowardly bastard screamed, wailed, high and choked with sobs like some bloody woman, and Konrad didn't bother to hide his disgust-

-or his pleasure, as he turned to the man by the window, now gaping between this daemon with a gnawed face and a woman flushed and bleeding and with stark, slow murder in her eyes.

"Th-This isn't over," he said, accent that of a slave from far lands but broken by Kenash's language as much by whips and beatings. "H-His kind, killed one of us. For nothing."

Two armed enemies were advancing on him, yet Konrad saw a mad, bone-bitter anger snuff out his fear as he glared at the Dynast. He bore his teeth and gripped his useless crossbow tighter.

"Four nights ago. On the West Bank. Whipped raw until there was no flesh to whip and then run through when he tried to escape!" Gods, he was actually shouting, and Konrad didn't need to think long before he remembered. "All because he-"

"Wasn't his kind, boy."

Konrad's growl was as low and grisly as a man with a lifetime intimidating under his belt could make it. His curved, gleaming kukri sang into the air and he leveled it at the slave, using the blade to push back his hat and let the slave-turned-rebel take a good, long look at him.

Word spread. We wanted it to. Why he was being punished, how... and by whom.

He waited until the Rujaro's eyes widened in shocked realization, and that fear came flooding back.

"It was me."

That did it. The Rujaro backed up until his arse hit the smashed window sill and he pitched the crossbow at Konrad without a thought. Even empty, it was still a heavy piece of petching wood, hurled with the force of desperation, and Konrad had to sidestep sharply to avoid being brained-

-the girl already dashing in to do exactly what she'd growled about-

Too late. The Rujaro knew what awaited him, unarmed and outnumbered. A quick and painful death at Belinda's hands, or a slower and infinitely worse one with Konrad, Julian and the rest of the Radacke "breakers". As the girl closed in he whirled, jumped up on the sill with the agility of a man used to living in a swamp and-

"Petch me-!"

For a moment, the figure hung there. Black and muddy and motionless, like a bird glimpsed an instant before flight... but that didn't last. As Konrad dashed forwards the man fell, arms flung out and falling, blending with the shadows until he crashed down into the black waters of the river. White bubbles and spreading ripples were all that was left and Konrad squinted three stories down, no hope of seeing the man even with all the lights from the Apartments.

Fall could have killed the bastard, anyway. Shyke...

"What in the-oi, no ya' don't-!"

A fresh, familiar and furious voice broke the silence in the room, littered with trashed furniture, abandoned weapons and a bunch of bodies. Konrad whirled and found Janus and the Vantha bodyguard charging through the doorway. The Rujaro he'd handled was on his back now, crawling with one arm pitifully dead, other hand shaking as he raised it in surrender-

"Kill him! Kill the scum now!"

The Vantha raised his weapon to do Julian's manic bidding and-

"Stop!"

Again, all eyes turned to Konrad. Even the Rujaro managed to turn his shaking head, face soaked with sweat and lips moving in what Konrad assumed was prayer. The Dynast was so far beyond angry he was having trouble finding the words to chastise this... this insect, and Janus looked fit to do the same.

Konrad strode away from the window, curtains billow around him and his jacket doing the same, spreading out around him like a raven's wings as stopped by the near-crippled man.

"We need t'know what he knows, sir," he said to Julian, slowly and clearly, as if dealing with a slow child. Which was perfectly accurate, in many respects. "Can't question a dead man."

"G-Go petch yourself, you-"

The Rujaro scrambled for one of his lost daggers and Konrad's foot went up and slammed down-

-the man screamed as Konrad's heel broke his hand like a thick, flat egg. Janus winced a tad and the sheer volume of it and Julian just pressed his lips together and forced himself to watch, like his father would want him to. Gods, what would happen when word of this got out? That he'd let the slattern do all this while he'd just...

"G-Good idea, Konrad. Take... ahem... take him away."

THUNK!

Konrad's kukri whirled in his hand, arm drawing back and when the Rujaro looked up-

-he got an eyeful of the scarred man's fist hurtling towards his face before it broke his nose, sending him flopping back to the floor, and unconsciousness. Beyond the doorway he could hear a low buzz of guests and staff outside. What happened? Was anyone hurt? Some excitement? I say, will this interrupt late dinner?

Konrad ignored the bloody toffs. Not his business. He saw the Dynast and the bloody arm but... oddly enough, it was to the woman he looked first. Mayhap because she was closer, so logically his thoughts went there. But logically, it would have been his master, the man he'd hired to protect whom he would think of first. Konrad probably couldn't have answered in any tactful way if you'd ask him, but the answer was clear to a Sunberth bastard like him.

Because she, unlike Julian, had actually been up and petching fighting alongside him, not cowering in the corner.

He took in the blood trickling down her chest and leg, the darker, angry patches at her thought and thigh. "How bad are yeh?"

by **Belinda** on April 13th, 2016, 12:25 am

The thrown sheathed dagger had done its job. The woman didn’t bother turning with the petching dynast squealing at the injury he sustained. Belinda advanced on the poor sodden Rujaro and then it spoke. It had words. It had nothing of value she wished to hear. She was there at the Traveler’s Rest when they did the little production example. She was there when they made their little speech and performed the whipping of the fool. It was not that she had a heart. If you let desperation guide your actions, it was often foolish ones.

If it was her she would have left the poor wretch tied to a stump with the back fileted for the buzzards and crows to pick off of while he was alive and have it die a slow agonizing death. Suffice to say she was not in a forgiving mood at this particular time. She had to plug her ears so she could get back to sleep during the whole ordeal as she was in no mood for watching a display. On hind sight, the Beshiran half breed had to give props to whoever had the whip.

The idiot threw his only weapon at Konrad. What the hell was that going to do? It was not very strategically sound in as much as she knew. Then the man just jumped. Jumped! Konrad was at the window first before he turned to stop the ending of the remaining victim. Belinda went to the window and poked her head out as she looked up and around. Her eyes spied the rope confirming they had scaled the wall somewhere outside and ran the rooftops. Something about this bothered her but she didn’t have time to think about it. The girl limped towards the remaining victim as Konrad was explaining why he needed to be alive if only just. Belinda didn’t flinch at the crunch of bone.

The ebb of anger and the adrenaline rush of the fighting was still running high in her as she still hadn’t said much of anything. Her head swiveled to see Julian watching the proceedings with his arm bleeding. The look on his face was interesting. She couldn’t place it at the time as both cuts demanded attention. The rapier was placed right by here and leaned against the stand, table, whatever the petch they called this piece of furniture. The woman turned to a basin and pitcher of water that she lifted and poured into the basin. The cloth she soaked in the water and wrung out. The woman then put it over the shoulder wound. There was a sharp intake of breath as it stung as a new shot of adrenaline took over. Petch. The woman breathed through it before Konrad turned to her and asked that question.

"How bad are yeh?"

The head snapped around with those steel grey eyes as she was about to say what acid thing first went through her mouth. He had the good sense not to ask that stupid question, ‘Are you hurt?’ If she had a miza for every time someone asked her if she was hurt, she would have a small fortune. ‘No I’m standing her bleeding for fun, princess.’ That was not what he asked which eased her ire a tad. She was still holding the cloth to the shoulder as she gave the question a tick or two before she actually voiced anything at all.

“I won’t be dancing for a few days.” The girl said in a low voice and winced as she bent the knee and put weight on the leg. The shoulder she could manage though it looked worse, but her leg was another story. “Big as this place is, surely it has a doctor or healer?”

The woman took the initiative as she looked at the sniveling flunkie. What was his name? Jackie, Jud, Jack, no Janus. That’s it. “Janus. You might want to go fetch a Healer. “ She thought that was what he was good for, right?

It was about that time that she felt something on her back as her hand was on her rapier but moments to whip it around. The Vantha had a longish white thing and a hand on her sword arm. His eyebrows went up and he was holding a robe. “Petch, You got a death wish?” The woman huffed out a huff of air as she accepted the robe to cover things as the likely hood of others coming into the room was apparently high now. “Thank you.” Well it was nice. The Vantha returned to his duties.

“Konrad, is there anyone in the Radacke that has to be notified. This is going to spread quickly. I suggest getting word to whomever sooner than later.” She suggested in a low voice. It was a suggestion, if anyone took it fine. If anyone didn’t take it, there would be no skin off her nose. It’s Julian’s arse in the sling or not. Two Rujaro down and a third to question was not bad and if Julian played it right, it would score points with family. Oh well. The woman found the nearest chair to sink in and get the leg up that was still bleeding. The one at her shoulder, when she moved it, would also bleed anew. That head leaned back against the back of the chair. ‘What now, Lina.’ The robe fit loosely as it was made for someone taller and larger it seemed. It was all the better as it let the wounds breath while covering up the unmentionables. Julian seemed unconcerned about her state of being but then he was bleeding himself.

The woman had closed her eyes a moment as the adrenaline and the pain changed places. Then those beautiful eyes popped open. “Wait a second, how did they know the right window to hit?” It was asked in a quiet voice as the wheels were moving in her mind. Belinda cases her places to snoop or hit for days for schedules and timing. They wouldn’t have had that kind of time.

by **Konrad Venger** on April 13th, 2016, 5:50 am

Well, well, well...

Konrad guessed it was probably more the nigh-sacrilegious sight of a Radacke Dynast that sent Janus scurrying back out the door looking for a healer, and a bloody good one, but he had to admit, the girl could put "the tone" into her voice like she was lighting a match.

The waif, the seductress, the ever-smiling and sultry whore and dancer was gone. In her place was a bleeding, panting and still-furious young woman who was also very, very tired, and in no mood to be petched around.

Knew there was more to this one, he thought, lips curling briefly in a smile before he squashed it, trying to keep his face impassive. Brazen bloody bitch.

Things happened around him, but not really to him. Slaves and freeborn staff were coming and going, Julian's entourage coming in to gawp, pander to their meal ticket and ask the same stupid questions. Who were they? How many? What did they look like? Did you fight them off? Are you hurt? Anything to drink in here?

Konrad found the girl more interesting, and watched her as he propped himself up inside the doorway, leaning at the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. She wasn't a healer by any means, but she knew enough to keep the shoulder wound clean. Nearly took the Vantha's head off when he returned with a robe, but he seemed to return a volley of his own.

He snorted softly to himself. Better than bloody theater, this was. So it was an odd surprise when he became part of the show again.

“Konrad, is there anyone in the Radacke that has to be notified. This is going to spread quickly. I suggest getting word to whomever sooner than later."

She said his name again. He had to admit, it was a guilty pleasure, a beautiful girl knowing your name and touching your ears with it. But she was still an outsider, even after her mortal assistance chimes ago, and that meant she was entitled to precisely petch-all in terms of answers.

"M'guessin' someone's already on the way," he said, matching her low tone and keeping their words private. It wasn't hard: the entourage was touring the room like it was some ancient battlefield, marveling with the exaggerated wonder of born sycophants. Julian was the center of it, of course, letting the healer attend to the scratch on his arm as if Dira herself were caressing his cheek. "Janus, some a' those wankers, the hotel staff... they'll have got word to the Radacke."

He left the "among others" unsaid, but suspected the girl would get the idea. The healer was making some kind of fuss and insisted that Julian come down to their apothecary within the Apartments. The men and women he wore like human detritus seemed to hang off him as he followed her out, and Konrad straightened up to-

"You stay, Venger," Janus said, stepping in the man's path with a hand up as Julian and his gaggle clucked past. He leaned forward a touch. "We need you to keep an eye on her, for now."

"You think she-"

"No, of course not," Janus said quickly. Slavish as he was to his masters' wills, whether it was Mica himself or some obscure cousin, he was too sharp to think the woman who'd so neatly butchered one of the assassin trio was involved... "But an order is an order."

He turned on his heel and left Konrad in the midst of a half-destroyed room with a wounded dancer and not even the usual lie of "we won't be long" to keep him extra company. The Sunberthian tossed his hat onto the bed as he stalked back into the room and let loose a quick, vicious stream of Fratava at the world in general.

It was a wonderfully satisfying language for cursing. Like gargling with piss.

The dancer was reclining in her chair and Konrad made for the drink's cabinet. She wasn't about to run, not with a limp from one wound and one working arm from the other. He peered and frowned at a few bottles before finding one filled with an encouraging amber liquid. He yanked off the stopper with a pop! and sniffed...

Hmm. It'll do.

His arms were sore again. Almost shaking. His Reimancy lessons were improving, every time he practiced with Trevin he was able to do more, and for longer, but there were always consequences. Overgiving, his mentor called them. His arms had a soreness that massages and drugs would not vanquish, and now, after such strenuous action, they were practically lumps of lead just wanting to weight him down.

A few ravenous belts from the bottle seemed to help. Konrad came up for air and wandered back to the girl, slapping the stopper back in and tossing the bottle in her lap as he passed-

“Wait a second, how did they know the right window to hit?”

Konrad paused as he passed. He looked down at her with his bare head, lank, straight blonde hair that looked dirty even when it was clean streaming past his shoulders. He cocked his head like a snake regarding a mouse and something akin to respect resounded briefly in him.

"Good point. He said the words almost begrudgingly, then leaned forward and nodded at the spattered stain of red on white fur that the captured Rujaro had left in his wake. "Which is why he's still alive, remember?"

Again, his words ceased after that. All sounds stopped, in fact, apart from the slosh and gulp from the bottle, if the dancer decided to take a swig or two. Konrad knew it was necessary, even essential but still-

Drip... drip... drip...

The tiny, pattering sound was loud in the auditory vacuum. He glanced down and saw a pulsing rivulet of scarlet snaking down the woman's leg like a river through a bright, burnished desert of flesh. Ah. She got one, but not the other. Konrad rolled his eyes, walked over to the wash pot and brought it back to her, dishcloth hanging over the side.

"See t'yer self," he said, words not quite as harsh as usual, even if he did dump the pot onto the table next to her a little harder than he needed to. "Ain't worth shyke with an infected leg the sawbones gotta lop off, are ya?"

With a sigh that seemed to express all the weariness of all men his age, at that point in their lives, Konrad slumped onto the bed and gripped the sides of the mattress. The soreness abated, arms finally vertical and unused. His head bowed, almost like he was praying, and his words seemed muffled and sleepy.

"Y'know my name," he said, stating and not questioning. "What's yers? Seems only fair I should know, aye?"

You? Lecturing on fairness? Getting a sense of petching humor in your old age?

"An' gimme that bottle when yer done with it."

by **Belinda** on April 14th, 2016, 1:17 am

The entourage came in and sauntered out with Julian surrounded by a whole mass of admirers. At least it got quiet. Konrad and Janus exchanged words as the bodyguard was left behind. The woman thought nothing of it at the time.

"Good point. Which is why he's still alive, remember?"

Oh, yeah. The victim. Targets, victims, take your pick. The woman didn’t view them as assassins or assailants as that would give them identity or purpose. Targets and Victims merely where expendable. The blue black waves nodded a couple of times at his response. He owed her nothing, in fact she was pretty much a nobody. That didn’t offend her as she pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t mind being there couple of questions I wouldn’t mind asking. “ She looked at him with a speculative expression as if reassessing the man as he drank the liquor before he walked over to her and tossed it into her lap.

The half beshiran hand reached out quickly and half caught the bottle as her lap caught the other half. The woman tilted the bottle to look at the amber contents swirl around. Her father once said good Liquor clung to the walls a little. Her eyebrows rose a little. Those nimble fingers worked the stopper off and she took a swig. The drink burned as it went down her throat. There was this intake of breath as it burned all the way down. Those grey eyes closed as she felt it coursing through her and it felt glorious. The woman lifted the bottle up in thanks to the ugly bodyguard as she took another good swig.

She was enjoying that second swallow as he came over with a cloth and pointed out her leg still bleeding. “Petching, hell.” The woman made petching sound like silk over sand. There was a huffed long sigh as she pursed her lips. “Yes, you’re right.” That was just as begrudging as his ‘good point’. Her hand reached up toward the cloth as she sopped up the river, flipped the cloth over and laid it on top. It stung like the blue blazes of the hottest fire Ivak could produce. The gritting of teeth and grunting exhale after held its level of pain. The bottle went to those luscious lips and took a couple, three more swigs.

"Y'know my name. What's yers? Seems only fair I should know, aye?"

There was a chuckle as the few shots of the liquor was doing some good. “Belinda… Belinda Lucavis. “ She said smoothly as she started relaxing a little. “I don’t believe I got your full name. What else they call you? “ Besides ugly or other unpleasant names she was sure he probably garnished over his experience.” I listen and got as many names as possible. You listen long enough, people talk enough, and they say a whole lot of things. Those assassins had to have scaled the building from somewhere to the roof, then ran the roof top. The rope outside of the window is how they got down. What were they called again?” Roger? Rudys? No, that wasn’t it. Rujeck? Blast she couldn’t remember the bloody name.

"An' gimme that bottle when yer done with it."

The dark haired woman took another pull from it before corking it and tossing it to the man. “Welp! My night is ruined. Guess I need to find a doctor or something. “ There was no love for the one who helped take out the assassins. No magic prince on a white horse. There was none of that romantic shyte. Belinda well knew a roll in the bed was no contract to anything. They didn’t even get that far and a damned shame too. The woman looked down for a moment as she craned her neck to see where her belongings where at. They were scattered all over the room. She moved up to move her leg and test it. The woman cringed as the slight pull up from the chair was the wrong choice. “Petch!!” She reclined back down into the chair. She was supposed to take dancing lessons from the Satai in three days hence. That didn’t look like it was going to happen. He leg was on fire at that point as she rubbed her forehead. ‘Just petching great.’

by **Konrad Venger** on April 14th, 2016, 5:33 am

“Belinda… Belinda Lucavis.“

Konrad thought the name fitting as he heard it, internalized it, mouthed it silently a few times. It flowed like good wine, not cheap grog, and he was fully aware the last bite of her name rhymed with "kiss". So it made him wonder if it was an alias, of course. But a name was a name. He'd never had to shed his own before: he lived in a place where a "fugitive" was a man who couldn't sell his skills and body to buy himself out of his problems. Konrad had never had that problem. This girl? Well...

That's her business.

"Venger," he said simply when he made her own inquiry, idly watching her press the bloody cloth to her thigh. "'Konrad' works just as well, I s'pose."

He didn't have to worry about her prying any deeper. Almost immediately she was plowing on in a different direction, laying out the how and where of the Rujaro's infiltration. Konrad cocked an amused eyebrow as she jabbered on. The girl definitely had a brain. They would have had to swim upriver, unseen, and then find the perfect spot to climb up... and that was before going back down so they didn't alert anyone by prowling the inside.

They had to have had eyes on the Dynast. At the Plaza? Before that? On the way? Some slave on the staff of this place? Even a Freeborn?

All those possibilities clamored in Konrad's head and yet he voiced none of them and merely shrugged in response to her question. He caught the bottle she hefted over to him (impressive, considering that shoulder), tugging the cork out with his teeth before raising it in a satirical salute.

"Good brain y'got, girl. Maybe y'should be doing something other'n dancing."

Again, she swerved away like a runaway carriage barely avoiding a collision. Not a "petch off" to his suggestion or his amusement, not further questions about the Rujaro, just an acerbic comment about her night and, yes, she petching well did need to find a healer. Konrad got up from the bed to stretch, bottle at the end of one arm. She tried to do the same and-

“Petch!!” Konrad's eyes snapped to her voice and the frustrated pain in it as she slumped back down into her chair, defeated. "Just petching great."

Oh, for the love of...

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Konrad turned and started tearing up bedsheets worth a season's wages like they were barrel-scraping rags from a back-alley sawbones. It took him mere ticks to get a few in his hands and then, right in front of her, he started dousing one in the precious booze.

After one last pull, of course.

"This is gonna hurt."

He was in front of her and bending down when he spoke, words not a warning, just a simple statement of fact. Konrad gave her a tick to brace herself before going down to one knee and wrapping the soaking, stinking rag around her wound and knotting it tight-

"Don't complain," he'd say if she decided to, wrapping one of the dry, clean rags around the wet one both staunching and sterilizing her thigh. "Booze an' strips a' cloth. Got me through many a' brawl, I can tell ya. Stops infection until y'can get to a healer. Should let ya walk, too."

Aye, and you can't die yet. Not until the bloody Radacke says it's okay.

As he got back to his feet, a shadow fell across them. Konrad's kopis was half out his scabbard before his head had fully whipped around, expecting-

-certainly not Janus, who looked a little confused and a lot surprised at the sight of Konrad Venger rising from tending to the wounds of a beautiful woman. The mercenary clenched his jaw and stepped back, silently willing the sly little sod not to start hurling barbs his way.

"If you're not too busy-" Well, that was a petchin' long shot, anyway. "-you're presence is required in the basement."

Konrad asked the question even though he'd already guessed the answer.

"Fer what?"

"The prisoner."

To Be Continued...

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