• Graded • II. Bugger of a Night

[Kasoria]

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

Continued from here

They probably didn't expect him to start throwing things. They really should have.

This was a tavern brawl in the flea pits of Etzos, not a knightly duel in Rynmere. Nothing was off the table.

Kasoria didn't charge directly at the two men eager to finish him off. He veered to his right and with one arm swept the table he passed clear of tankards and plates and cups and coins-

-hurling a cloud of debris into the faces of the two men, forcing their hands up quickly as they warded off the shower of glass, metal, wood, and more than a little liquid, making them turn away-

Trills. He only needed trills. Behind him he could hear cursing turn into gurgling screams... and laughter. Shadows danced on the wall in front of him, making huge and stark the sight of the Waxhaw brothers bringing their sharp little knives down on the hapless knifeman over and over and over. Redson had indeed served his purpose, even in death: he'd kept the man pinned long enough for his masters to butcher him.

But for these two, Kasoria was on his own.

"Fucking little-"

By the time they looked back to him, Kasoria was hefting a chair and hurled it straight at the one on the right, forcing the man back-

-only for his partner to surge forwards, dagger held close to his side, eyes cold and narrowed. Like a surgeon about to operate and Kasoria batted the thought away, embraced what he knew had to happen-

-charged at the man and swung a right hook at-

-no, a feint, making the man sway back and stab out at Kasoria's stomach-

Again, the little assassin (well, not tonight) felt his spine crunch as he twisted himself to the side... and this time it was not enough. He yelped as the dagger bounced off his turned breastbone, knowing even as he cried out that had he not been turning away, it would have punched right through it. But what mattered was that he lived, he was standing, and the other man was-

-within reach of his limbs as he brought his knee rocketing up between the man's legs.

Mass was handy, sure. Being a big bastard that could boast fifty pounds of bone and muscle to each arm and leg always helped. But if Kasoria had learned anything in going on twenty years of surviving and winning Etzosi street brawls, it was that when it came to the balls, the joints, the throat, and the eyes, size didn't much matter.

It didn't need to.

The knife man gagged and choked on his tongue as Kasoria felt something burst in his breeches. It didn't stop him from doing it again, and before the man could remember he had a fucking knife in his hand-

-Kasoria drew back and slammed a Leopard Punch into his throat, once, twice, three times, pulping the mechanics and anatomy of breathing and speaking as much as he had those of reproduction. The knifeman collapsed to his knees, gasping and bleeding with tears streaming down his face, torn between trying to breath and wondering what was dripping down his leg.

Kasoria was already moving on and he turned to see-

-a blade, a flash, no room for thought, just instinct-

-snapping up his arm to block and-

He howled as the knife sliced through his lean forearm and ground against bone like a a saw. He staggered back and kept his guard, trying to ignore the blood soaking his shirt, already running in rivulets down his arm and into the torso of his coat. In front of him the surviving assassin came on at him again, blade held in reverse, determined to slash this interfering little cunt to ribbons.

[Kasoria]

You had to accept that you were going to get fucked up. That was one of the keys to winning. Maybe you'd get lucky once or twice and end a fight without a scrap; maybe your opponent would be that clueless, or that crack to the jaw would drop him that quickly. But most fights? You got bloodied up. You got hurt.

So you accepted it. You didn't just brace against it, you embraced it. You took the pain and welcomed it, because it let you know you were alive. And while you were alive, you could triumph.

Kasoria bared his teeth like an animal and let the bastard shuffle closer. Canny one, this. Blade held downward, as if ready to stab, but also slash and hack. Better way to hold it, for sure: no chance of you overreaching and someone snatching it away from you. But he had to get closer to use it, and Kasoria had no problem with that.

His mates are dead, his targets are alive, he should just run. But he won't. Too proud.

He flicked out a feint, drawing a slash that struck nothing but empty air. The two men snarled and glared at each other like alley cats, slowly circling, waiting for one to come too close, go too far-

-the man lunged, swinging a flash slash at Kasoria's stomach, looking to lay him open-

-only for the man to jump back, sucking in his stomach as he did, blade just whistling past him-

Counter!

But the man wasn't done. That was the just the first half. The knifeman's face twisted with pleasure as he immediately struck back with a backhand, driving forwards as he did, looking to jam his knife into Kasoria's fucking brain-

Kasoria stepped closer. Untouched arm shooting up to block the blow just like he'd done before, only now he was close enough for his forearm to smash into the killer's, blade stopping behind his head. That's what happened when you let your enemy get in too close: even a short little blade like that dagger had too much reach. Eyes barely a foot away, Kasoria flashed a wink at the boy-

-saw him freeze in shocked, enraged confusion-

Time enough.

Then screamed out his his bloody joy as he slammed his left elbow into the side of the killer's head. His hips twisted into the movement as he did, lending him more speed, more power, body seemed to turn on a nel as he went from blocking to striking-

-hard nobble of bone cracking the kid around the face, making him stagger, killing his eyes, his balance-

Kasoria's right arm snapped out, grabbed his knife-arm by the wrist and his left joined it, twisting and pulling, putting all his body into the gesture-

Both of them went down to the floor, knife between them, Kasoria's pressure and grip giving the boy no chance to deny him. And that's what he was, up close. A few wispy hairs on his chin, still fastidiously trimmed, though to what end he had no fucking clue. Fat on his face, not yet sheared off by manhood and hard work. Wet eyes, when he got close. Unused to pain. But they were afire again when his vision cleared and he saw Kasoria atop him-

He didn't give the boy any chance to do something about that. After all, this was Etzos.

"Fuckin' hells, Kas..."

Crassus and Fessus didn't need to take as long as they did with that fucker under Redson, but they'd liked the big lump, so they decided they owed him. Could have done him just like he did Redson: slash across the throat, quick and clean, but... nah. Their blades rose and fell until there was no silver left for the torches in the tavern to catch. Until there was a pool of scarlet under his torso and throat, yet still he was gurgling and sputtering. Only then did they start to rise, panting, engorged, exchanging a look that said the shame pleasure they took as boys had survived to manhood... and heard all the commotion from the other bloke.

CRASH

The bottle was one of many that had fallen across the floor as the melee erupted. Kasoria grabbed the nearest one and didn't wait to say something pithy before he smashed it across The Boy's face. Hesitation: that killed cunts in the streets. Either some saintly scrap of them held back from that final blow, or they feared the consequences from the Blackjacks, or worst of all, they expected some semblance of honor to be upheld. Kasoria had little time for any of that. The fight was over when he wasn't in danger of being fucking butchered anymore.

The Boy screamed as a stream of shards embedded in his face, eyes screwed shut as he felt them flail against his orbs. The knife he held writhed against Kasoria's grip, but that wouldn't last after he started-

-slamming the bottle end over and over into The Boy's throat. Gouging, twisting, turning, at first. Ripping a ragged hole big enough to start doing real damage. Killing those cries and curses as the jagged weapon mashed and pulped and severed important tubes and boxes. Didn't stop until all the noise and movement had stopped, and every stab was just splashing more red liquid around the room.

The silence told him that it was over. Once the pounding in his ears had subsided, and the wet, rushing taste in his mouth had been drowned by sweat and saliva. He looked around and saw wide, fearful eyes staring down at him. Drunks and thieves, beggars and wenches, all the same faces from mere bits ago. All the same folk that had ignored him or mayhap quietly chuckled into their drinks at the odd little man, reading a book in a bawdy joint like that one. He looked around and felt their disgust now, their fear. It poured off them in waves, and with every man they'd seen him kill, it grew a little stronger.

Kasoria grinned at them as he rose to his feet. Twelve arcs. Plenty of time to build a reputation, and this would be one more brick in the edifice.

"You a'right, Kas?"

Crassus' tone spoke more than his words did. It was the tone of a man more concerned with a hammer that could be broken, than a man that might die. He didn't pay for corpses, after all. He walked over to his underling, perusing the bloodstains and torn cloth, but the little man did little more than nod and walk over to his reclaim his gladius.

The eyeless man was still, and didn't so much as twitch when he yanked the blade out from his leg. Shock, he supposed. He'd seen it before, when a man's eyes were damaged badly enough. The mind shut down, unable to handle the pain... and sometimes it didn't light back up.

"Fuckin' good idea, hirin' youse when we did." Fessus kicked the corpse of the man with the mangled crotch and caved-in throat, as still and departed as his partner. "Bettin' those Raven Wing cunts sent 'em. Been spoilin' for a scrap all season."

"Don't know that f'sure, though," Crassus weighed in, adding the splash of forward thinking that his brutish brother often lacked. "Hard to question a buncha' fuckin' bodies."

There was a moan from outside. It was wet and mumbled and yet all eyes turned to the doorway. Something was crawling around other there. Feeling across the cobbled like a deformed crab, scuttling back and forth.

"Muh fush... muh fuhk... fuhking... fush..."

Kasoria spat to one side and took a tighter grip on his gladius. They weren't quite done yet. He pointed at the man he'd mutilated, ruins of his crossbow still in the doorway.

"There's your man."

"He barely has a tongue."

"But he still has one."

Crassus sighed and ran a bloody hand through his hair, leaving faint red streaks as he did. He didn't seem to notice. Probably would have approved of the look, anyway. He snapped his fingers at the man behind the bar, only now getting up from hiding behind it.

"A'right, show's over. Youse get this place cleared up, call the Blackjack an' the bone cart... but do it ten bits after we leave, yeah?"

Kasoria's employer turned to him and nodded out the door. "Help Fessus. Get this wanker to the store."

The little man nodded and sheathed his sword. Wouldn't be needing it quite yet. The two of them wandered out into the night air, already growing teeth with the Cold Season closing in on them. The street should have been busier than it looked, but the sight of a man without a face howling into the night would clear a road quickly. Kasoria wondered how long it would take for the Blackguard to arrive. Later than they would lie, he'd wager.

They were in the Outskirts, not the Citadel. The city guard had a presence here, but in smaller numbers than where all the rich folk lived. They still had time. Before the blood had finished cooling, Faceless down there would be spilling his guts in a nice, warm, quite warehouse. He wasn't a natural torturer, but the Waxhaw brothers, on the other hand...

"Bugger of a night, eh?" He said to the one remaining eye of the trembling man at his feet. "Ain't done yet, either."

The man opened his mouth to scream, but then Kasoria's boot became his whole world, and then all was darkness.

[Pegasus]

Kasoria

Overview

I have to say, your writing gives me shivers! I love how very detail oriented you are, and your writing reflects that. Kasoria is a vicious, brutal beast, but you write him beautifully. I hope you enjoy the rewards, do shoot me a pm if you've got any questions!

Points

XP: 10

Renown: 5 (savage!)

Loot

Knowledge

Endurance: Accept The Pain
Tactics: Get in Close, Under Their Guard
Unarmed Combat: Twisting Away from a Thrusting Blade
Unarmed Combat: Knee to the Crotch
Unarmed Combat: Wrist Lock and Takedown
Intimidation: Cultivate the Reputation of a Savage

Non-Skill Knowledge:
NPC Waxhaw Brothers, Crassus and Fessus: North Etzos Gangsters