• Mature • [Bolstrum] Scuttler (Graded)

[Kasoria]

24th Trial, Vhalar, 718a
Bolstrum
21st Bell

Continued from here





He could feel the hammer about to fall. He could almost hear the air parting as it moved over his head. He could even guess the swinger, or at least the guiding order, the vengeful will behind the blow. But Pelham could not auger a break nor trial. He knew only that it was coming, and his employer would not listen.

That's the problem with educated folk, he groused silently, sipping at his third glass of ale and scanning the darkened warehouse beyond the window for the umpteenth time. They always think they know better. Especially better than people like me.

He studied the neat, rangy man behind the desk, poring away over work that was... well, just work. Nothing shady about it, just the usual mountain of paperwork that being the overseer of a nation-spanning transport network entailed. They'd had four caravans arrive that trial, and time enough to send three of them back on their way. That meant they were one expedition and about five breaks behind schedule, and Yancy hated that.

He liked thins to be tidy and orderly and on time. Even thieving a fortune from his master, a man who would happily fillet them both in the middle of the Market back home if he found out. But that was a fear for the future and now, now Yancy was a man determined to get all the customs and shipping work for Number Four out of the way, speeding their journey tomorrow.

Which is why we're still here when everyone else has gone home, apart from those night watch monkeys. Wonderful.

"I can hear your mind muttering, Pel." The lawyer spoke before he looked up, then added a quick smile to his features. "Still worried about Vorund?"

"Yes, now ya mention it," the bodyguard said bluntly, but held up a hand to forestall another round of reassurances. "But right now, I'm jus' wantin' to get outta here. Long fuckin' trial."

"Not much longer, I assure you," Yancy said with a smile, refreshing the ink on his quill and turning a page. "A few more forms, then off home."

"Not to yer girl?"

"No, no, family tonight. The wife will become suspicious."

"Ain't they always?"

A ripple of laughter, like a stone tossed in a pond, but the ripples did not last. Restless silence soon overcame their mutual humor, and Pelham rose with a sigh. "Goin' fer a piss," he said, knowing he could hold it but feeling the need to stretch his legs, anyway. "Gonna check the locks, too."

"That's why we have guards, Pel."

"I used t'run ring around cunts like them," the big man said as he left the office. "Best y'have me check security. Who knows a robbery better than a man who used t'be a robber?"

The pen stalled. That acerbic glance pinned him again. "Used to be?"

"Oh, aye," Pelham replied, matching desert-dry wit with a far more freewheeling humor. "Onna' straight n' narrow now, ain't I?"

Another ripple, and this time, he was down the stairs before it ended. He closed the door behind him and even with a slight smile on his face, he was watchful. The arc ground on, the seasons passed, and the trials grew shorter as a result. Now, at three breaks before the dawn, the warehouse was a mess of shadows and darkness and great gaps in his vision that he could not pierce. So he walked slowly, using his ears as much as his eyes, heading for the line of shitters out back.

Nothing stirred. Nothing moved. He perused a few tables of half-emptied crates and barrels as he went, frozen halfway between their repacking process... and, he was guessing, a little harmless "carrying charges" along the way. That was something not Pelham, not Yancy, not even Francis or anyone else thought unusual: that whenever you shipped goods around Etzos, somewhere along the way, the shipper was going to... lose, part of it. Not a huge part, but it would happen. Hazard of the trade. Nature of the game.

But what we're doing... that's something else.

He could feel the hammer again, even as he unzipped his fly. How much had they taken by this point? Twenty? Twenty-five? Tens of thousands, either way. He'd seen Bangun Vorund flay a man alive for stealing a tenth of that, a twentieth, and now they were delving into his pockets with every season. Pelham shook the thoughts away as he shook his pintle over the bowl.

No going back, now. Just keep the old man alive, keep your eyes open, and if you do see a way out...

That was another option, too. He was an Etzori, after all. He was loyal to his city, and the history of it... but everyone else? You paid for his time, and ensured a return on his investment. If you couldn't do that, well... he was sure he could finagle a deal with Vorund. Just had to approach him in the proper way, paint the picture that cast him as contrite and heroic, rather than-

Hang on.

He stopped by those same tables. There was a hammer missing. He frowned. Wait... was there? Yes, yes, he was sure that-

Something skittered across the floor to his right. Something bigger than a rat or a roach. Pelham turned and drew his short sword in the same moment, squaring off against... nothing. Nothing he could see, anyway. But he'd heard it, and he approached that dark patch of ground. Squinted into it, ears and eyes and even his nose primed like a-

He heard air parting. Something heavy and solid rushing through it. Just like his fears. Only it was behind him, not in front or above-

-and when the five-pound weight smashed into the back of his skull, Pelham knew it was already too late.

[Kasoria]

He knew it would have to be that night. Every trial, every break he waited, he risked Mary being discovered. A delivery from the grocers, a messenger, a friend coming to visit, all of these possibilities and more could disturb her watery rest. Yancy would find out a break later, if he was lucky, and Kasoria wasn't so hopeful or naive to think he wouldn't see through the charade.

Especially not when he ran over and found his hiding spot raided. Then he wouldn't need to waste any time "figuring things out". The reality would be as clear and obvious as death itself.

He will bolt. Probably to a different country, and I am not getting paid enough for that shite.

So it was Kasoria found himself in begging clothes yet again, staring at the sprawling complex that was Vorund Trading and Transport. He'd been watching the place slowly emptying as the night wound on, afternoon darkening to evening and then the pretense was dropped altogether. Now it was night, a thing that came with pitch and shadows and multiplied the unknown corners of a structure like cockroaches under the floors. Kasoria fingers twitched under his ragged robes. He wanted this done. His targets were inside, both of them. The office lamps burned brightly, for Yancy was a busy man. But there were witnesses, and he could not have that.

You write the story now, he reminded himself, the simple yet daring plan he'd crafted flashing before his eyes for a trill. All others present edit your tale. So you must wait for them to leave... or remove them.

Cries from the front gate. A handful of tired folk, clothes dark with sweat, waved goodbye to the three men in leather armor outside. They were gathered around a brazier, warming their hands and enjoying the pause before their shift truly began. Kasoria could work out why: until The Boss and Pelham left, they weren't really needed. But that wouldn't be long in coming, so he had to make his move.

That's all of them. Time to go.

He took the long yet unseen route. Working the alleys, sticking to the shadows, coming out at the side of the complex and not wasting any time when he came to the wall. He reached up and found solid holds for his hands. His shoulders bunched, his arms screamed, and when his feet jerked off the ground and found their own holds, he powered up and over the wall with a grunt-

-clear over the top of it, rolling across the bricks and down to the ground-

-landing hard and dropping into a crouch. No-one moving yet, no-one patrolling. He looked to the stables and scuttled over, rags flapping, hood still bouncing around his head, looking more like a destitute and overgrown spider than a man. Confused quadrupeds snuffled and whinnied as the strange human took a leap at the wall of their home, arms reaching out and finding gaps in the wooden boards. He heaved himself up, grunting and grinding his teeth. Within a few moments he was on the roof of the short, long building... and in front of him was the stone structure of the warehouse itself.

Chop-chop.

Kasoria scuttled over to the nearest window, and that really was the right word for it. He didn't run or jog, because putting that much weight and speed into his steps would have made too much noise. But it wasn't a walk, since he didn't have the time to waste. Instead he moved at a quick, smooth pace, that ate up ground but kept his weight ever-moving and not settling into a heavy footfall. He stopped by the window and scrutinized it briefly. Seemed simple enough. It was opened from the inside, by someone standing on the walkway, but the latch itself...

He reached for his karambit, then changed his mind, and pulled out his lock picks instead. It wasn't a lock, per se, but it could still be useful. He chose one and knelt before the window. Ran his finger across the thing space between two panels, where they could open like double doors into the air, letting it in on stuffy days. He squinted harder and saw the black, solid shape of the latch linking both together. He slid the pick under it, and pushed up...

Come on... come on...

Clack

It wasn't the same as a lock. Not the sound, not the satisfaction. But Kasoria wasn't looking for the ego boost of a barrier conquered: he had bigger fish to fry. And as he opened the window, he could see the glow of the lamps in the office. The two men inside - one busily working, the other taking up most of a couch, glass by his hand - didn't think to look up, at where he was entering. They expected enemies to come from below, just as he'd hope for. So he slid inside the warehouse and closed the window behind him-

-ducking down low when Pelham turned and swept a glance across the warehouse. Nothing. He turned back to watching his boss, finishing whatever he was drinking.

Kasoria thought furiously. Entering the room, killing both men at once... it would ruin his story. He could do the job convincingly, but it would be harder. Better to separate them, like he'd planned. Take the muscle, then the brains. Then he saw Pelham immediately refill his drink, and remembered the night guard from before. How soon his bladder tapped him on the shoulder and forced him away from his duty. Kasoria smiled and made his way to the stairs, down to the labyrinth of waiting goods and produce below.

He remembered the smell of the outhouses. Could guess the simple, direct route the big man would take. So he found a spot, in the shadows of crates and barrels. Then he waited. For how long, he didn't know. Long enough for him to start worrying, at least. What if Pelham simple held it? His bladder might not have been so weak, and both him and his master would just leave. Kasoria would get out again, sure, but that would mean it'd have to be Yancy's home he invaded. With a wife and a child and more... complications.

He would rather just do it here. A lawyer and a killer like him. There was hardly any crime being com-

A door opening. Laughter. Heavy steps on metal stairs that certainly weren't caused by Yancy's lean body. The bodyguard was moving... and he moved right in front of Kasoria. He could smell the brandy on the man, but while it slowed his feet, his eyes didn't seem clouded. They were keen, but they could not pierce shadow. He walked past the packing tables and Kasoria's eyes fixed on something for a moment. Then they flicked back to him-

-just as his shut the door to the shitter.

The hidden killer stepped out from the shadows, and claimed a hammer with a head as big as his fist, and quite a good deal heavier. He hefted it a few times, getting used to the weight, and then backed into the shadow again... before snatching something else on his way. Something smaller. Pelham re-emerged, still buttoning his breeches, and Kasoria had to commend him for noticing the hammer was missing. The big man stopped, and stared. He couldn't see his face, but Kasoria could imagine the consternation. The warring sides of his mind - Everything Is Fine battling Something Is Wrong - and he tipped the scales-

-by tossing the little bag of nails from the shadows-

-onto the ground where he'd come from. That got the man's attention, and fixated it flat away from Kasoria's hiding spot. Peripeheral vision was not something Kasoria discounted: even a flicker in that vague zone of your eyesight could tip a man off, and Pelham came from the same tight streets and brutal brawls as he did. Better to focus his attention in the opposite direction. Let Pelham approach the noise with weapon in hand, a short sword like countless others favored by Etzori street daemons. All his will and senses trained in one way-

-while he drifted from the shadows from the other, breathing slow and careful through his nose, even as he raised the hammer-

He saw Pelham realize what was happening. He could almost... feel his understanding. Of being tricked. Being outmaneuvered. Being set up for a hammer blow to the skull. He saw great slabs of muscles tense and knew he had only a trill before that sword came swinging around. But by then the hammer was already falling, and-

CRACK

There was no other sound like it. He could compare it to many things, but nothing was quite the same. A melon being split open. A ax burying in a stump. A branch being snapped. Nothing sounded quite like a skull being caved in. The impact rattled all the way up Kasoria's arm, threatening to break his grip on the hammer even as he pulled it back, hideous sunken wound in that broad, shaven head visible to his eyes-

CRACK

-but he didn't hesitate. Another blow. Another sick, wet, thick sound of impact. Pelham wasn't there anymore. The light had gone from his eyes. He managed a grunt of pain before, but now there was just his falling body, sword tumbling from his hands. He toppled like a felled tree against the work tables, knocking one across the floor as two-hundred-fifty pounds of dying bodyguard crashed against it. Kasoria circled him as his body slumped down, then on his back.

Mouth still moving beneath blind eyes. Fingers twitching. Legs shaking. Brain and will still heaving against a body that just wanted to rest. Kasoria straddled the man, and wondered if those eyes really were blind. If Pelham, trapped in his own body, could see him raise the hammer one last time, and without a word-

CRUNCH

-bury it through his forehead, and leave it there. Deep enough for it to take a moment before toppling over. The assassin flicked a glance over the thug's body, and spied something of note. A broad-bladed dagger at his hip. Thin enough to fit between ribs, but wide enough to make quite the nasty cut. He pulled it out, studied the weapon with the practiced, critical eye of a man who'd dealt with them his whole life... and nodded.

Yes. This would tell the tale nicely.

The killer left the corpse on the floor, and thought no more of it. His part of the tale was written, and he felt no need to revise it. Instead he walked up those metal stairs, and saw the bent-over figure of Yancy behind the smoked glass. He opened the door and the man did not look up as he spoke.

"Fates, Pel, are you feeling-"

Kasoria blinked as the man looked up and did not see Pelham. Instead he saw a raggedy man with a rough beard. Holding a familiar dagger in one hand... and a familiar ledger in the other. The man himself and what he bore were enough to tell the man his future. The lawyer sighed and put down his quill, shaking his head and bowing it.

"So... this is it."

"Yes," Kasoria said, closing the door. "It is."

Continued here

[Oberan]

Review Rewards

Stop. Hammer Time

Points awarded: 10

Knowledge:
Climbing: Using all Four Limbs to Brace and Heave
Climbing: Finding Solid Handholds
Detection: Smelling Booze on a Person
Stealth: Breathing Slow, Shallow, and Silent
Tactics: Attacking From Behind
Tactics: Distracting an Enemy With a Thrown Item

Non-Skill Knowledge:
Etzos Culture: Everyone Expects Graft During a Business Venture

Magic: No magic exp

Other: N/A

Notes:
I'm really impressed with your description of the sneaking about Kas did. You didn't go into that much detail, but you made it work rather well.

I'm taking notes.

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