• Graded • I. Things Not Planned For

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Kasoria
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I. Things Not Planned For

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3rd Trial, Vhalar, Arc 705
Outer Perimeter
23rd break


It wasn't hard for him not to be seen. Being not even five-and-a-half-feet tall and a hundred-sixty pounds only when wearing his sword would do that to a man. He sat at a corner table and supped the cups of ale that were brought to him, spreading them out over the breaks so he was not sozzled by the end of the way. Just a small, lonely man drinking his booze and reading a slim book.

"Long while since I've seen one of those in here."

Kasoria snapped a glance up at the woman bringing him a fresh mug. Smooth skin and brown curls. Thick in the hips but a bosom that made you forget about it. Not that he had a problem with a curvy woman, of course. They were generally more fun, in his experience. A crooked smile worked its way across his face and he shrugged.

"Might not see it again, if I don't come back."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Gotta have a reason, don't I? Maybe I'm looking at one right now..."

He hazarded a wink and was rewarded with a titter. And a blush. Enough to tell him that she was probably not a whore. His smile grew, and grew bolder, but even as he listened to her reply he was already looking beyond her. His employer was still at his table, discussing business with the fifth or sixth visitor of the evening. Him and his brother, bent over the table strewn with gnawed rib bones and empty cups, furtively negotiating with some cape-wearing fop. Citadel, by the looks of him. Not shit on his shoes.

A pair of hulking minders stood on either side of the booth, arms crossed, heads and eyes constantly scanning the "gentle folk" patronizing the Fancy Franny that evening. The usual Etzosi crowd. Whores and laborers, clerks and thieves, beggars and drunks and sellswords and merchants and killers and carpenters and renegades and all that made a city so prosperous. Now and then a quarrel would break out but this was a place for food and drink and merriment.

And business, Kasoria reminded himself, sipping his brew as the wench wandered away to the next thirsty customer. Not just the obvious kind, either.

There were the drinks being bought and the card games being played. The food being served and, yes, in this place it was fairly easy to see the circling street-walkers picking out their potential clients and approach them. Then there was the layer under that. The furtive deals in books and corners. The hands slipped under tables, exchanging coins and packages of all kinds. Things that got dropped off or picked up. Crassus and Fessus were within that layer, this pub the center of their little fiefdom on the North Side, where all faces were known and protection could be relied on.

Such as the two walking mountains flanking them tonight. But there was another layer. Deeper and secretive. Kasoria was nestled firmly there. He was working, but he was not working. He didn't stand or cross his arms or glare at those that ventured too close to that sacred table. He sat in a quiet booth, exuding a quiet air, reading and drinking and-

Watching. Always watching. Eyes flicking up from his pages every few trills to take in the room. Because others may have been doing their own quiet business that night. Watching for gaps in the brothers' armor. Chances to slide a blade through it, bodyguards or not. So Crassus, being the savvy sort of operator that he was, decided a little secret security was necessary. A pair of hands and eyes and a mind that knew how to use them, only not so obviously.

Kasoria shifted and the weight of his purse pushed against his side. He'd been paid well, and that meant he had a job to do. For over a decade this had been his trade: purses of coin in exchange for his skills, most often in the shadows, and every year he'd noticed the purses getting heavier. His reputation was growing, mainly because after twelve arcs, he was still alive to have one. Crassus had approached him and made an offer. Kasoria was a freelancer, not tied to any of the gangland warlords that made the underworld a patchwork of loyalties and feuds and tentative truces.

Never peace. Never peace among those too greedy and ruthless to ever accept the word fully. Kasoria was happy to accept that bleak reality, for it enriched his own.

What else were you going to do with what you learned?

His father would have some suggestions. "Anything but this" would be chief among them, he was sure. But Kasoria didn't want to go another ten rounds of that argument, watching the old man grow angrier and more disappointed and-

Focus. You're on the job.

He returned to the faces. A great clamor of them, mired at the same table for breaks, or just flitting through. He tried his best to at least snap every one into his brain at least once. Tried to read them as he pretended to read his book. More than that, tried to notice if they were paying the brothers quite a bit of attention... or were doing much the same as him.

Trying not to be noticed. Being meek mice instead of prowling jackals. Waiting for their moment.

Commotion from Crassus and Fessus, only not the kind Kasoria was watching for. The brothers sent away their last visitor for the evening and rose to their feet, shrugging on their coats, and leaving a handful of silver and coppers for the wenches and the house proper. Kasoria suppressed the urge to smirk as he closed his book. Oh, they could afford to be generous: they got a cut of everything sold in the place, along with a payment from Jenkins every season to prevent "unforeseen accidents".

Kasoria wondered how they sold it with those words. It didn't seem plausible.

They started to move to the door and their minders moved into position, front and back. One clearing the way, the other watching the back and-

Kasoria didn't know how else to put it: the man just looked... intent. Maybe he recognized that same grim, focused look on his face, because his own features had been carved into similar many times before. The way it seemed immobile, like stone, save for the eyes that seemed to burn with purpose. First one man, then another, rising at the same time.

Two at once. From the bar and from a table, the latter moving away without even scooping up his money from the card game-

Kasoria was already up and moving towards them by the time he'd worked out what was about to happen. The brothers were unawares, talking between their lumbering goons, gesturing, laughing, and behind the hulk on the back Kasoria could see something gleam through the ranks of revelers infesting the Fancy.

He opened his mouth to yell a warning, and the door opened-

-to a man holding a crossbow, and not alone-

-and Kasoria leaped and pulled his gladius free from its sheath just as the bowman fired the bolt smack straight into the lead minder's heart.
Last edited by Kasoria on Tue Mar 27, 2018 7:10 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 1238
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Kasoria
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Bugger Of A Night

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His biggest advantage was that they weren't expecting him. Even in the trill it took for him to fly across the ale-stained floorboards, Kasoria could tell planning had gone into this. The two men who'd spent fuck-knew how many breaks supping beer and playing cards, just waiting for the Waxhaw brothers to make their exit. The two... no, three men outside the front door, who'd been waiting for the same moment. Someone had to have given them a signal through the window, let them know the time had come, but Kasoria wasn't worried about the unseen lookout at that point.

Not unless he was speeding to the unfolding chaos with a blade in his hand. Much like him, in fact.

They'd planned well, but they didn't know about him. Because there'd been not couple of killers rising to block his path, too. The brothers, the minders... they'd been prepared for. The little sod who'd been reading all night, though?

That came as a surprise. To put it mildly.

A babble of cries and curses and wordless alarm sprang from a dozen throats, least of all Crassus and Fessus. They stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide and jaws slack as Little Paddy tottered back, staring cross-eyed at the quarrel sticking out of his heart. He gaped and gasped and grasped at it even as he fell to the side, still pulling and grunting as his massive weight knocked a table to the side and he died next to it. The crossbowman grinned under his cloak and took a step into the tavern-

Mistake.

-his face crumpled as an arc of gleaming steel hacked down and smashed through the string and body of the crossbow. The hooded man flashed a looked to his side and Kasoria's gladius was already backhanding straight towards-

Women screamed and men blanched as the shooter's face was laid open like a side of beef. Kasoria knew a slash across his belly or chest would drive him back, make him pause... but seeing an eye burst and his nose carved off, hearing the wailing horror of a man mutilated beyond all hope, crossbow dropping from his hands as he clutched at the features falling off in them.

Takes him out of the fight proper.

Everything was unfolding fast and nasty and he barely had time to think. Just focus on each task at a time, all built around buying time, and buying space. His boot lashed out and kicked the faceless crossbow man back out the door, into the arms of the two men behind him. That was his mistake. One shot was all you got with a crossbow: the killer should have fired, backed away, and let his flankers pour in ahead of him, while he either nocked a fresh bolt or switched to a better weapon.

But you didn't plan on me. None of you did.

"FucksakesKas-!"

He whirled as Crassus cried out, saw Redson go down with daggers in his ribs, bellowing like a bull as the two men he'd first spotted jammed them into him over and over. The big man wrapped a hand around one man's arm, holding the dagger into his side even as he started to sink down, other hand grasping for his own short sword and-

He never got it. The second knife man reached around his bucket-thick throat and slit it open with the care and speed of a butcher on the killing floor. Blood splashed forth and festooned the brothers huddled together in front of the doomed bodyguard. Crassus spat a curse and drew a knife. After a stunned moment his brother went to do the same-

Kasoria was already moving. No time for shock. No time to take anything in or wait to see what would happen. Instead he ran forwards and leaped, feet leaving the floor-

-hammering them both into Redson's broad chest, impact knocking the mostly-dead man back-

"Fuck!"

-and taking the second assassin with him, both of them falling back, the latter pinned for a handful of precious trills under Redson's bulk. Kasoria landed hard and low, first knife man already stabbing towards his chest as he was on one knee-

-forcing him to twist so hard his lower back seemed to crack, serrated killing blade thrusting through the air in front of his chest-

Not gonna get another chance, cunt.

As he twisted left, his right arm swung out the other way, gripping his gladius and slashing low, cutting into the assassin's leg. Tendons and arteries were severed as the blade carved through until it hit bone. The man screamed shrilly and Kasoria's left hand grabbed the wrist of the knife still in front of him-

-pulling him down and forward as his balance was obliterated-

"Shit!"

That came from Kasoria. His slash had been a little too effective. The gladius was stuck fast in the wound it had made, splintered bone and blood-gushing meat holding it in place. A better grip would have led to a hefty yank that would have freed it, but things were moving too fast, and one of those things was the man himself, who-

-fell on his back in front of Kasoria, still wailing as his leg was crippled under him-

-the fall pulling the blade from Kasoria's hand and leaving him unarmed-

But not defenceless.

Kasoria threw himself on the prostate man, slamming one knee onto the arm clutching the knife, hands groping at the man's face, thumbs finding his eyes-

There was nothing in the world like that scream. Nothing comparable. It was more than pain. It was beyond physical agony. It rose high and higher and longer and seemed to end in sobbing and yelling and words that were not words as his thumbs sunk deep into sockets now filled with just bubbling, wet, hot stickiness.

Kasoria pulled them back out and glimpsed the wench. A circle had formed around the grisly scene, like an explosion in the middle of it had blasted all life from the tables and chairs and bar. Just the brothers, their dead minders, Kasoria... and the eyeless, shrieking man under him. Her face was pale as cotton. Her lips moved and then her eyes made the mistake of dancing down to glimpse what he'd done-

She turned away and retched. Kasoria had no such time. He rose and heard the chaos at the door. Trills. That's all the bowman's mutilation and him kicking the man away had bought him. Now his two fellows were running back in, intent on finishing the job. Kasoria saw Crassus and Fessus with their backs to the bar, heard cursing and grunting behind him-

The knife man under Redson. Finally getting free.

"Fucking KILL HIM, you idiots!"

Crassus blinked. He'd never heard some scrap of hired muscle scream at him so. A part of his brain puffed up indignantly, growled furiously, demanded that this little sawed-off cunt pay the proper respect... until he saw what he'd done to the man under him. Crying without eyeballs. Begging for his mother that he couldn't see, he couldn't see... and he realized him and Fess still had knives in their hands.

Not like the cunt could fight back, is it?

"A-Aye-"

Kasoria didn't hear the word. Just saw the brothers scuttle away to butcher the assassin busily getting back to his feet. He turned his eyes to the door, without weapons, hands soaked with blood, filled with a rage that seemed to melt his features into something more like an ape's. The two killers charged him and he returned the favor. Roaring out a wordless challenge and meeting their steel with all the dirty, nasty, murderous will he could muster.

Continued here
word count: 1323
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I. Things Not Planned For

Kasoria

Overview

It was interesting seeing Kasoria's consideration of his father and I have to say, I really enjoy your writing. However, I have to say that you need to be changing your "Topic Attribute" to "Mature". That tops all others - the fact that this is a memory is clear by the date stamp on it. Please ensure that you do this from now on. That said - your choice of music appeals to the 80s diva in me and I love how you write. I really enjoy Kasoria as a pc, lots of layers going on there. I would just say that, whilst it's absolutely fine that you've split the story, it doesn't feel like a whole story here - and that does detract from the thread itself. However, that's a personal preference entirely! Enjoy the rewards and pm me with any questions.

Points

XP: 10 (solo)

Renown: 5 (bit of a name among the darker side of town)

Loot

Nope

Knowledge

Stealth: Don't Attract Attention
Deception: Masking Surveillance by Pretending to Read
Tactics: Separating Enemies to Kill Them Piecemeal
Tactics: The Benefits of a Hidden Bodyguard
Blades (Gladius): Needs a TIGHT Grip
Unarmed Combat: Gouging Eyes with Thumbs
word count: 203
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~~Red in hoof and claw... ~~


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