• PM To Join • Just As You've Seen Me (Graded)

[Max]

So here they were: surrounded by bodies and a drunk at the door. The child's plan was simple. She'd jimmy open the window, and hoping the drunk was still preoccupied by the closed door, take off down the street before anyone ever saw her here. Should she hit the ground and discover he wasn't quite so preoccupied as she thought, well, she'd stick him with the pointy end and take her leave. It was an oversimplified plan that Maxine didn't see as such. In her eyes it was foolproof. It wasn't like anyone with weight between the ears would pin her for murdering these men, let alone the drunken intruder to the crime scene. Her singular homicide would fade in with the stranger's kills without consequence. She was convinced she could work herself up to the act. After watching a slew of murders close-up, she told herself that it would be an easy sin to commit. Yet visualizing and doing were such different things...but she felt so sure it wouldn't come to that.

To Maxine's surprise, the little man didn't come up the stairs to follow her along her obvious plan. He bailed from the escape she'd written entirely. His scarred hands dipped into his pockets as the door rattled and shook. The blade went away and a hand went to the door handle. Her brow furrowed. The simple solution? A solution more simple than hers? One of her feet came down from the windowsill. Her eyes were curiously trained on the man as the drunkard's voice raised in another thread.

Is he about to do what I think he's about to do?

Fear swelled in her eyes as realization and action occurred all at once. The door flung wife and the drunkard came stumbling through it. His dumb eyes blinked and his alcohol-drowned brain was slowly piecing together what had just happened. Not fast enough. The brass-knuckled straight came just as the intruder began to size up the little man before him. It was a punch that must've snapped forward and recoiled in no more than a trill. That was all it took. Head spun, feet failed, and the newcomer was placed firmly on his ass; fall cushioned with cobbles. Max's jaw hung oddly unhinged, staring at the bodies and the man put to sleep in the street with one strike. The intensity of his gaze upon her and the sound of his voice made her jump.

The little orphan girl looked from her silly window to the opened door, blinked, and slipped off the sill with the dagger still clutched tightly in her hand. Nerves throughout the whole experience left her grip knuckle-white on its handle. As aggressive as the hold was, the resistance and power of the weapon in her hand was soothing on some primitive level. So she held it absently as she crossed the floor, glancing against her better judgement at the gorey bodies that had started to smell since their slaying, and scurried toward the opened door. Max wasted no time taking the out he granted her. Yet once outside the lair of the dead, a new foreboding settled upon her. What came next?

She turned to settle her studious, albeit careful, gaze on him awaiting his next move. Whether the stranger bid for their parting or planned on giving her explicit instructions didn't bother her. She wasn't worried about the future so long as he didn't intend on adding her to his kill count. The very fact he let her leave that house alive seemed to suggest that wasn't part of his plot. So what was there to do now until he made that next command, if one was to come? Was she to thank him? Congratulate him on his spree? Question him?

"I wasn't supposed to see that," the young girl finally settled on stating the obvious. Devoid of affect from the last rush of endorphins and unprocessed images of horror, her whisper had been a monotone assessment of fact. "If you tell them, the ones that sent you, they'll kill me." Such dark, serious words coming from someone so young. And yet they were the truth. They both knew it.

[Kasoria]

He didn't reply right away. Mainly because he was focused on walking. Turning down alleys and sidestreets that he'd been raised on, played on, killed on. A map sprawling and multi-surfaced, extending from the honeycombed rings of the Oh'Pee to the sewers and tunnels and lost passages scores of feet below them. Everyone that grew up there knew them after a while; they barely needed to even think about the route. Their feet just took them where they needed to go.

But Kasoria was thinking. He was trying to remember where there'd be less foot traffic, less chance of running into a Blackjack patrol. Wondering if he should be overly-cautious and take the tunnels instead. But no... no, that wouldn't be necessary. Man and girl had scuttled out of the front door and barely a smattering of people had been visible, or audible. Few enough that getting enough for a poster's sketch would be difficult, especially in the low light, and even then...

They know what it looks like. The difference between a pointless brawl and someone sending a message. Someone they don't want to... offend, by talking to the law.

Kasoria thought of these things and more. Factored them into his actions, like he always did. But he had to force himself into that mindset now. Because while he eventually growled out-

"No, yeh weren't."

-followed a corner-turn later by-

"And yeah, they might."

He had to bite off the answer that he didn't want to admit. The simple, cold fact of her future, should this not go as he planned. Because he knew her face. Her voice. Knew roughly where to find her and how.

And it'd be me they send.

It was another quarter-bell before the man finally stopped moving. He'd been listening to her feet smacking on the cobbles behind him, trying to keep up with a man nearly three times her age. The shadows were lengthening in this, the last layer of buildings between civilization and the wilderness. People were bustling home, and others to work. Etzos never truly slept. Industry, commerce, ceaseless production and entrepreneurship... they kept the city alive. Kept it moving and running. Kasoria kept his hood up and his eyes flickering as they weaved through the odd clutch of people, all of them parting for him even as they jeered and muttered.

Just a beggar, people. Nothing to see here...

She could have made a break for it. More than once. Hells, ever since the house, she could have. But when he stopped in an alley swamped in twilight, she was still there. Looking up at him with an expression battered into careful observation, without the tremble of fear he was expecting. She'd adapted quickly. Swallowed her uncertainty. He still had that dagger on her, he guessed. His eyes flicked up and down, appraising her for the last time.

"Y'know Speckled Jim? The tavern? Well, if yeh don't, find out where it is. Come see me there in a couple a' trials, around the back, at noon."

He didn't give her anymore than that. Not why she should come, not what she'd be getting out of it. Orders. You learned to obey them without question, or that doubt would slow you down on the job. That or, worse, lead your mind into querying paths that would make enemies of your masters. They didn't want a man who could... overtly think for himself. Hence why Kasoria was so quiet. So watchful. What opinions or counsel he needed, he trusted himself to provide. Which is what she needed to learn.

Learning. Requiring a teacher. Which is you now, is it?

The assassin sighed. Chest puffing out for a moment, then blowing out all the air like a dragon. A streaming, steaming hiss of sound that ruffled his beard and set frayed edges of hair flapping for a trill. He shook his head, and his face set into the look he gave his son when he did something unwise that would have consequences. That had to have them. How much of it was directed at himself, though, he didn't like to guess.

Because there's the other way. The cleaner way. No witnesses, no loose ends.

Yet here we are.

"Don't follow me, girl," he said, pulling his hood back up and leaving Max with nothing but a mass of hair topped by two glowing black orbs glimmering in the shadows above it. "And don't make me come find you."

He turned to leave. Much to plan. Much to consider. How to even start, he cried at himself? Blades? Fists? Tracking? Following? Questioning? Even lower down than that? Kasoria muttered to himself in a tongue she probably wouldn't know, a dialect that both twittered and ground at once, it seemed. Then he paused, and looked over his shoulder. Just like the first time they met. One final thing to say, lesson to teach, wisdom to impart.

"Keep that dagger. But don't be wavin' it about. Y'don't wanna get a name fer pulling it without using it."

Because eventually they'll realize you ain't serious about the using. So they'll take it off you and do it instead.

Kasoria walked away without another word. He had somewhere to be, a coded phrase to give to a bartender in a tavern a ring away from where they were. Simple and innocuous, but he knew before he'd even finished his pint, a scrawny running like the girl would be scurrying to Vorund. Letting him know that the job was done.

That was all he'd know. For now.

[Max]

Validating her dark reality didn't seem to shake her. Not at present. She merely nodded her head earnestly, satisfied in that, if nothing else, she'd come to properly understand one crucial detail from the night's events. The orphan had gotten lost in her reckless antics. She let the thrill of danger fill her veins like some street drug, making her forget the very real consequences of the street world she related to far better than the noble peasantry of Rynmere. That had been the dreaded island with the kings and houses, hadn't it? Maxine shook the thought away. Now was not the time to think back of orphanages of the past. She was here in Etzos now, and this place across the sea had proven to be a perilous new world indeed.

Without another word the young girl loyally followed the bloody man through the streets he knew far better than she did. Her tired feet hustled behind his around each corner, through every nook and cranny that brought them further from the house best forgotten. Unlike the small man, Max had no hood to keep her features inconspicuous. It wasn't necessary. Dressed in common rags, dirty from days outside the group home, and a generally unladylike lifestyle kept her from appearing any different than any other street urchin her age. To a pessimistic passerby she was merely another desperate, homeless child corrupted beneath the will of a man in equally poor socioeconomic standing. It was an easy part to play. Half of such an assessment was true. Maxine executed her role all the way until their swift movement came to a halt in an alleyway she regarded as completely random. Even then she stood there patiently waiting for a new script. It seemed there would be a second half to be played after all.

"Speckled Jim," she parroted quietly, offering a slow nod of comprehension. "Noon." When the assassin went to dart into the darkness, she instinctively made to follow him. His snapping corrected that mistake immediately. A few trills and the man had properly disappeared into the Etzos street without her at his heels. A couple more, and she was completely and utterly alone. Max bit her lip, glancing about the alleyway. Fear. Slowly it started to bubble back to the surface. Fear, because she had no clue what she'd stumbled into. Fear, because the images of dead bodies and victimized young girls were leaking back to the forefront of her thoughts. She swallowed hard. What exactly was she supposed to do now? Just go on with her evening?

Well, I can't stay here.

Cautiously she edged back into the main street in search of more familiar ground. Though she always ended up returning to the orphanage when her defiance was through, her absence wasn't quite through. The killer would not find reason to hunt her down like she imagined he did so many before her. She'd find the stupid tavern and be there by noon. What had he said? A day? Two days? She couldn't remember that bit. It hardly mattered. For the next succession of days she'd be there every noon, waiting until the time was right and the enigma would appear like a ghost before her eyes again. Maxine slipped the dagger into one of the pockets inside her tattered cloak. Something had changed this night. Something inside her. Something in her life path. And for now, it was too soon to tell just what those changes entailed for the future.

[Bolt]

Max:

You’re really good at describing your surroundings! I love the build up to the climactic meeting with Kasoria. She’s pretty brave for putting herself in these dangerous situations and I wonder if it’ll ever come back to truly bite her. Let’s see what comes of Max’s loyalty to this murderer

Rewards:
XP: 15
Loot: 2nd hand dagger
Injuries: minor bruising
Renown: 10 - at the scene of a brutal murder

Knowledge:

Discipline: Staying Quiet Despite Gore
Intelligence: Observe Surroundings for Telling Clues
Intelligence: Eavesdropping on Your Targets
Intimidation: Don't Pull It Unless You're Going to Use it
Stealth: Using Shadows and Obstacles to Avoid Detection
Stealth: Don't Let the Door Slam
Stealth: Hiding Under the Bed
Stealth: Don't Make a Sound
Tactics: Move When Enemies are Distracted
Tactics: Find an Alternative Exit
Tactics: If You Don't Have a Weapon, Find One
Unarmed Combat (Brawling): Knockout Punch to the Jaw

Non-Skill Knowledge:
Kasoria: Some Sort of Assassin
Kasoria: A Reluctant Teacher
Kasoria: Has Connections to the Etzori Underground World
________________________________________________________________________________
Kasoria:

I like how Kasoria’s weapon of choice was a broken bottle. The picture in your template was quite fitting! The first fight scene was pretty graphic – I’m not sure if I’ve ever read about someone’s throat getting gouged out before. I think my favorite think about Kasoria is the protectiveness he had for Max even though he’s a killer.

Rewards:
XP: 15
Loot: 2nd hand brass knuckles
Injuries: N/A
Renown: 10 - brutal murder

Knowledge:

Blades (Gladius): Don't Waste Time Grinding Swords Together
Blades (Gladius): Using the Flat of The Blade
Intelligence: Recognizing and Recruiting Potential Talent
Philosophy: Sometimes, Death Really Is Preferable
Tactics: Hiding a Weapon Behind a Hat
Tactics: Taking Out The Biggest Threat First
Tactics: Assessing a Potential Asset, By Giving Them a Chance to Escape
Teaching: Don't Pull it, Unless You're Gonna Use It
Unarmed Combat (Ki'Enaq): Block a Dagger Swipe By Grabbing The Wrist
Unarmed Combat (Ki'Enaq): Taking Down a Target With a Chair to the Legs
Unarmed Combat (Ki'Enaq): Knockout Punch to the Jaw

Non-Skill Knowledge:
PC Max/"The Girl": Feisty, Sly, and Still a Fucking Idiot
PC Max/"The Girl": Willing to Stay, Even When Given an Out
PC Max/"The Girl": Has Potential in the Underworld



Stamp Code:

Code: Select all

[center][img]/gallery/image.php?album_id=39&image_id=7932[/img][/center]

[/color]