Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

It wasn't the bodies. That was hardly unusual for him, let alone disturbing. The smell wasn't bothering him, either. A lifetime around voided bowels and fresh blood and all the effluence a good, thorough disembowelment could produce had numbed his senses to that horrific dimension. Besides, here it was more... aged. The grisly business of the two men's demise had been dulled by the time that had passed. The wounds that killed them were just fresh stitches in their torsos, ragged lines like childish scrawls. There was no blood, no looks of frozen anguish on their faces.

They were just two empty vessels in the cold basement of an undertaker's, and they did not make Kasoria uneasy. The living company, however, was.

At least half of it, anyway.

"You recognize him?"

The little man stepped closer to the table where the older man lay. He seemed even older now. Pale and pinched, skin shrunken around his bones. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful. Kasoria blinked a few times as he dredged his memory. Bangun Vorund was patient. It was necessary, in his profession. He waited with his arms crossed and his face like an oncoming storm.

The other man shuffled and picked at his nails. Kasoria flicked him a look. He did not like that he was down here.

"Seen him a few times. Can't think where." He stepped back and looked up at his master. "Something about... plants?"

"Yoof. He was our biggest grower. Well, biggest that sold to us, any-"

Ilos regretted opening his gob right away, and so he bloody well should have. Vorund's craggy face turned quickly to him, the quickest movement Kasoria had seen from the man since he'd arrived. Wordlessly, relentlessly, his gaze burned and scorched the younger man until he was staring at his feet like a little boy.

Kasoria blinked again. It wasn't just the fact he'd spoken. It was what he'd said. What he'd implied.

"Us"? Fuck me, have you got ideas above your station, boy.

"... his name was Kellen," Vorund said, still looking at Ilos, fuming silently, impotently, swallowing mouthfuls of pride. As he continued, the boss of South Etzos turned back to his prized enforcer. "Me and him... we went way back. Back to the beginning, almost. We..."

The words trailed off, and Kasoria recognized memories crowding the old man's eyes and stilling his tongue. He knew that look. Lost, for a moment. As if the suns and sounds and feelings arcs ago were fresh and before you again, and your mind couldn't deal with the rush. Vorund actually had to swallow and Kasoria blinked... for a rather long time.

A throat clearing, and the episode was over. Barely a pause for anyone else. For a man like Vorund, it was enough to make Kasoria nervous all over again. And a little curious.

"Euphoria. Yoof, herb, efer, sparkle smoke, whatever the fuck the kids-" the words had an edge that could slit throats, and Ilos twitched in his sulk "-are calling it now. He had a farm between here and Westguard, nice and out of the way. Perfect place to grow. Back when we met, it was his father's place, little plot. I had the idea, he agreed it was a good one, and... heh... Kel wasn't like his old man. Life with an empty purse wasn't to his liking. So, I bought the seeds, he had the land, and ever since..."

Vorund respected his pet killer enough to not finish the heartwarming story of entrepreneurial success. Kasoria just nodded and turned his eyes back to the bodies. They were killed recently, he could tell that much: the wounds, the stiffness, the smell... soap and lye, but not rot. Not long enough. The other man had Kellen's hair, and his nose. Kasoria frowned and ventured a guess.

"His son?"

"Jacen. Liked to think he was the old man's bodyguard."

There was sadness tinging Vorund's voice, and again Kasoria's curiosity snuffled in the middle of his mind. There was affection there, a real grief for what he was seeing before him. He'd thought the old man had lost all his friends from back in the day, or made enemies of them that he'd since handled. Even when he lost his son, he'd been like granite. Implacable and unshakeable, at least in public. But now... he rested his hands on the edge of the table, and sighed.

Ilos shuffled again. Kasoria didn't like it. He didn't like him. The way he reached out to rest a hand on his master's shoulder, then thought better of it.

"They were coming into town, delivering the harvest from last year. Z'da and Cylus, they couldn't get through the roads, but Kellen wasn't an idiot. He knew how to keep his crop fresh and safe. Twenty pounds, he wrote me. Bagged and sacked and hidden at the bottom of the cart. They found the cart and... them.."

"Yoof was gone, too."

Kasoria suppressed the urge to groan. Clearly, Vorund's lieutenant did not have that same respect. Vorund ignored the redundant statement from the man and focused only on Kasoria. His hands gripped the edge of the table and Kasoria could see an old fire burning in him. A desire to fly into the streets that moment and tear apart the city for whoever had done this. But age had imprisoned that fire, that younger man that still railed inside Vorund. An old man stood there, not a young one.

But he was Bangun Vorund, and his will was more than that two creased hands could wreak.

"They knew who they were. Knew when they were coming. More than that, more than anything, they knew what they had. Twenty pounds, Kas. You can do the math. That ain't something I can just let go."

The assassin nodded. The math was pretty simple, as long as prices hadn't changed too much. Twenty pounds, sixteen-hundred a pound once it was all parceled out and distributed... over thirty thousand gold nels of product, vanished right under Vorund's nose. Thirty thousand gold nels snatched out of his pocket, more or less, and that's how the underworld would read it.

"I'll start looking."

Ilos snorted. He sneered. He folded his arms and regarded him like he was some up-jumped street rat with no reputation, making grand oaths even a dullard could see were nonsense. Kasoria's face went as still as the corpses on either side of him. Anywhere else, and... well... he'd probably let it go. He did what he did for coin, and for his master, and when he had no other choice. Tearing up toerags for acting like cunts wasn't how he enjoyed himself. But that he would do it here, in front of-

"Think it'll be that easy, do ya?"

"Ilos, wait outside."

Ilos' sneer vanished. He couldn't believe it. That was the second time the Old Man had dismissed him in favor of this... this... nothing. The first time he'd let slide, placated by the sheer enigmatic nature of the little man his boss had shown such favor to. Who was he? What was he? Some mage or wizard, maybe? Ilos had thought it likely, given that all other business matters required his attendance.

Then he'd found out the truth. Just another killer. A skilled one, for sure, but Etzos had as many of them as a carcass did maggots. So he stood his ground. He squared his feet and let his outrage show. As much as he dared, anyway, but still he challenged the wisdom of Vorund.

"Sir, you're placing a lot of faith in-"

"I placed a lot of faith in you, making sure the gate guards were paid to look the other way! Where was that security when these two were getting gutted like fucking pigs?!"

Bangun's voice was an explosion in the low, stone-walled room. The storm touched ground and raged and spat mere inches from ilos' face. Kasoria tipped his head to hide a smirk. Ah, there was the Vorund of old. The one that built himself up from a thief and leg-breaker to an operator and fence and finally, with balls and brains and sheer grit, boss of half the city's rackets. Not just any city, either. Etzos.

And if you can make it here...

"S-Sir, they didn't-"

"Too fucking right they didn't! Didn't look, didn't help, didn't do fucking nothing! Just took my money and stroked each others cocks while my goods were stolen and my friends were killed!"

"Sir, I-"

CRACK

Kasoria didn't even blink when Vorund's hand lashed out. He didn't smile when Ilos reeled back, holding his cheek like some delicate whore unused to that kind of client. He didn't even react when the kid's hand instinctively flew to his belt, where a dagger likely lurked behind his cloak.

No need. Bangun's right hand twitched, fingers oddly-spaced for a moment. Likely, fuck: Kasoria knew what the old man had up his sleeve. Spring-loaded and sharp as a barber's razor. Ilos apparently knew, too. Knew enough to just stand there and cower when Vorund stepped closer, voice a vicious, dangerous whisper.

"Whenever I think you're ready... you do shit like this. Get the fuck outta my sight."

Ilos didn't chance his arm any more than he already had. He turned tail and went for the door, not even pausing to shoot a venomous glare Kasoria's way. The door slammed shut and the sound echoed around the room, clean and orderly and populated half by the dead. Vorund shook his head and turned back to the matter at hand.

"A thousand gold nels," he said without preamble. "That's what I've put out on the streets, for whoever bring me these cunts' head and gets my plants back to me. Gotta be both. It ain't just about the money, but it's also about the money, y'know?"

Kasoria just nodded, wondering if his head would fall off it he kept that up. Seemed smarter than talking, though. Words were not to be wasted, especially with a man who cared more for results. And examples, in this case, but you had to produce both. The streets and the filth and the little crews and faces that could one day be Vorund's rivals needed to be shown what happened when you stole from him. But he was running a business, too, and Kasoria could imagine scores of alley pushers and corner peddlers shrugging their shoulders and claiming famine when their loyal customers approached. Half of all they sold went back to Vorund, at least. Twenty pounds. Thirty thousand (thirty-two, in point of fact) gold nels.

The math wasn't difficult.

His master sighed and seemed to forget about him for a moment. His hand trailed over the table and grasped the still, lifeless flesh at the end of Kellen's arm. One thumb rubbed the back of it. That look again. Far away, long ago. Kasoria waited until he thought he was... intruding, and then the scuff of his shoes bought Vorund back to business.

"I hope it's you, Kas," he said, quiet voice made loud and vengeful in the ever-haunted room. "You know how to send a message."

Kasoria bowed at the neck, and took his leave. He passed Ilos and a couple of minders without even glancing at them, feeling the heat of Ilos' glare burning into the back of his head. He'd had gnat bites more pressing. A few bits later he was out into the air, the sun, the suns! A whole season of bleak coldness and now the suns returned and melted it all away. Even outside a place laden with grief and loss, he could see relief and happiness on passing faces.

The little man gathered his coat about him and started walking. Ambush. Murder. Theft. Betrayal? Conspiracy? Euphoria.

Ah. Of course.

Kasoria grinned, a hound with a scent. He knew just where to start.

Continued here

Oh I loved this. You write criminal grittiness with a wonderful level of sophistication. An excellent solo! I love how you have set up this long string of threads to follow a progression of events. Kas is setting up to be a mover and shaker in the Etzori underworld. Hopefully he can keep his boss happy. I can't wait to see what happens next.