I. Necessary Evils

[Kasoria]

22nd Trial, Cylus, 719a
Mistral Village, southwest of Rharne
Noon

"What brings yeh here?"

"Lookin' fer Kev the Butcher."

"Oh, that all? Glad yeh bought me an ale before, then..."

The watchman didn't seem surprised by Kasoria's explanation, just as the little man wasn't too shaken by that vote of minimal confidence in his abilities. From what he'd gathered back in the big city, this "butcher" had been marauding up and down the river for arcs now. More than one bounty hunter had likely vanished going after him and his gaggle of underlings. Since his poster was still nailed up on walls and market squares around Rharne, Kasoria assumed they'd fucked up somewhere down the line.

"Aye, heard he's a bad bastard."

"Oh, have yeh?" The watchman guffawed into his mug and Kasoria felt another strand of his patience fray. "Well, good for you. Bad bastard, hmm? Oh yes, that sums him up perfectly. Him an' his lads've been burnin' an' stealin' an' killin' like wolves. Everyone's gone after 'em, well..."

The younger man leaned over the table and Kasoria mimicked him. He wasn't the social type by any means, but this village was the last real scrap of civilization along the Zynyx River, before all became woodland without apparent end. Further down the river was the market, a rude collection of enterprising businessmen and hustlers who'd struck up their own little commercial settlement, taking advantage of the traffic up and down the river... and leaving themselves open to bandits like The Butcher. That, the posters had said, had been his favored hunting ground. But he'd been seen at Mistral Village, too.

Kasoria was not a simpleton, and he could read a map. That would place his band somewhere in the middle, by his reckoning. Deep in the Mistral Woods, where no men but those who knew that strange place well would venture. That, or men who would risk the weirdness within, if living among the civilized meant they'd get their necks on blocks or stretched by a noose.

"Last time him an' his boys wuz seen, they burned down a loggin' camp, 'bout a day's ride from here," Walden said, and Kasoria could hear the slur and smell the booze that caused it. Barely even halfway through the trial and the man was getting friendly with the sauce. "One old boy got away. Pretended he was dead. Told me they killed everyone, stole everythin' could be sold on or used, then burned everythin' else. Also told me, the biggest one, in the horned helmet? Carryin' an ax as big as you, little man?"

How original. Let him talk. Liquor's always good for loosening lips.

Walden gestured to his own slim waistline, feeling around it from navel to sides. "Told me he had a belt, made a' hair and skin, stretchin' all the way around his belly. Scalps, mate. Last bounty man I recall, he had long, blond hair. Looked like a fuckin' Knight, if yeh can believe it, though probably kicked outta the order. Old man from the camp? Told me one of those scalps? Long, pretty, yellow hair." The watchman drained the tankard with a familiarity only a true drunkard could appreciate. "That's what Kev does t'wankers that go chasin' after him. My advice? Go huntin' after rabbits, not wolves."

Kasoria gave the man a smile that was not a smile. Just a stretching of lips, without any mirth behind it, or humor, or warmth. Like he'd seen the gesture before and decided to ape it, without really understanding. Which was untrue, of course. He knew how to smile, and he knew how to laugh. He just didn't find the half-drunk watchman funny. Then again, in fairness, the man didn't know him.

"Much appreciated, but I like my chances."

"More the fool you..."

Walden looked the little man up and down and decided he had a better chance than most. Which wasn't to say he'd succeedThe little man festooned with weapons, sword and ax and brace of throwing daggers and those were just the ones he could see... but the metal wasn't the tell. Any swaggering fool could brandish a fancy sword or exotic weapon. But looking into the man's eyes... that told Walden this was one who knew the Mortality Business.

"They think he's in the Woods," the little man said, plowing on without concern, not one to mince words. "Got a camp in there with his boys."

"Might be right. How're yeh plannin' to find him?"

"Thought y'might help with that."

"If y'think I'm gonna go with you after those fuckin' animals-"

"Nah, not what I was thinkin'," Kasoria cut him off quickly, uncaring for the brief flicker of annoyance crossing the bearded watchman's face. Oh, so he'd not be coming with them, but still felt his pride pricked that the bounty man hadn't considered asking? Idiot. "Thinkin' more about what youse know about the other folk live in the woods. Y'know..." Kasoria made a little walking gesture across the table top with his fingers, sprightly and springy. ".. the little people."

Walden's face hardened into a scowl, just as the barmaid returned. Two bowls of stew were swiftly distributed, but they didn't even glance at them. They stared at each other over the rising steam. Finally watchman finally snorted.

"They won't help yeh. They keep t'themselves."

"They might, if they knew some band a' bastard fuckin' bandits wouldn't be stompin' around their home anymore. Dunno how those things think, but I'd wager they ain't happy with Kev and his lads livin' right next to 'em," Kasoria said, smile becoming genuine for a moment as surprise shone through the scowl. "Maybe they already heard about those River Rats me an' me partner handled a few trials ago. Might even think they owe us. Heh... doubtful, but maybe they've heard, at least...."

Walden's scowl became more of disgust than annoyance now. Fresh memories and recent reports flooded his mind, stirring up the selfsame feeling of muted outrage when he'd heard the story. A handful of bounty hunters, collecting the coin for pirates with a bagful of heads as proof. Rumors had done the rounds, seeped into official knowledge, grown and twisted and dwarfed what actually happened, as was their way. But looking as the little man now, with his arsenal of steel and eyes just as cold, Walden believed it. All of it.

"Heard about them," he said, voice a low, contemptuous growl. "Cut t'pieces. Heads lopped off. Kinda shite I'd expect from Kev an' his fuckin' monsters, not bounty hunters."

Kasoria blinked slowly, catlike and undisturbed, before giving a shrug engineered precisely to annoy the man. He was done being nice with this coward, who sat in this tavern and on his hill and watched and watched and drank and talked and never actually did anything. He'd killed more villains and protected more innocent lives in one bloody night that this drunk had in seasons. He wasn't about to be questioned about how he did so.

"That's why they post bounties, boy," he said, finally acknowledging the age gap between them. "An' don't just rely on the Knights or the Watch like youse. So bastards like me can 'ave a crack an' do what youse lot don't. Worked, too. Made a packet off those wankers."

"Just another murderer, is what you are."

A suitably biting comeback was sizzling on the tip of Kasoria's tongue, but he bit it back with a deep inhalation. No. That wouldn't do any good. He needed this cunt, for now. Getting him riled wouldn't help, wouldn't aid him. He wasn't back home, with other options and assets at his disposal. This depended on the Watchman of Mistral Village helping him. He'd be the one taking the real risks, but swinging a blade wasn't the real trick, here. It was getting him close enough to swing it... and he couldn't do that alone.

"Aye. I'm a murderer." His fingers drummed a slow, steady beat on the table next to his food. "Killed men most of my life, an' fer coin, not king or justice or any a' that shite. Just because I'm good at it, an' it pays. Quarter-century, thereabouts, an' here I still am." He spread his arms and gave a twisted little smirk. "Still fuckin' pretty. Know why that is?"

"Do tell."

"Because when I take a job, I don't fuck it up," Kasoria leaned back across the table, arms crossed under him, aroma from the stew wafting into his face from below. "All I need is a meeting wiv' them. This is yer village, an' youse know everythin' that goes in an' around it, I'd reckon. So youse know them, too. Let me talk to 'em. Give 'em my piece. If they don't like what I have t'say-"

"You'll bugger off an' not come back?"

Kasoria weighed the offer, and all it implied. This man really didn't want him in his village. Every word he spoke seemed to insult him, anger him... but why? He was doing the job he wouldn't, risking his life instead of his own. Something was gnawing at the back of his mind, telling him this didn't add up. But he ignored it for the moment. This was the closest to agreement the two of them had managed during their whole meal, and he raised his tankard in toast.

"Deal?"

Wood clanked on wood as Walden sealed it. "Aye. Now can we fuckin' eat?"

[Kasoria]

The Next Morning

Don't ask again, don't ask again, don't-

"You sure this'll work?"

For fuck's sake.

"Do I tell you how to kill people, Bounty Hunter?" Walden didn't wait for Kasoria's reply. His sullen expression was answer enough. "No, I don't. So don't question me when it comes to shite you know fuck-all about, a'right?"

"Aye, aye, point taken..."

Which it was, but it still didn't help the crushing boredom. Both warden and assassin (formerly) had been squatting on a rock for the better part of four breaks, bundled up against the cold, which was small comfort without any fire to assist them. Walden had vetoed that idea. No fires, no lights, nothing that would announce their presence. Every now and then he'd turn to his side and peek behind the rock... then twist back and go back to staring at the village sleeping at the other end of the field.

Kasoria did the same a few moments later, just for something to do. The plate of sliced apples, ham chunks, green beans and a whole turnip was still there. Untouched and unnoticed. But every now and then, he would swear there was a flicker of movement in the curtain of dark woodland behind it. It could have been a fox, a rabbit, a deer, any breed of bird or rodent... but he wasn't so sure. Not when he could swear there were eyes on them and their hiding place, even now.

Well, they ain't showing up either way.

"Maybe they ain't hungry."

"They might not be now, but that don't mean they won't be later. Better they take gifts than go out scavenging or hunting. No, they'll take it. Now or later, that plate'll be clean by the end of the day."

"Not if they know we're here."

"Not if you don't stop fucking-"

"We can hear you both, you know?"

The bickering stopped with mouths still open and words stalled right on the edge of the air. Both men stared at each other for a moment, before slowly peering over the top of the rock. Kasoria's eyebrows slowly rose to the top of his forehead as he saw a trio of tiny, lithe figures were standing in the space between the offering plate and the edge of the Mistral Woods. They seemed naked, without any clothing at all, but in the moonlight he could see moss and leaves hanging from them in odd places. Not necessarily to cover their modesty, for he could see their... selves, just fine. More like affectations or personal preferences. One seemed to be female, judging by the breasts, and the one in the middle held a staff that reeked of authority (if an authority shrunken down to about fourteen inches tall).

"Perhaps you'd like to come out from behind that rock and cease this pretense, hmm?"

It was difficult for two men as rough and dangerous as them to look sheepish, but damned if they didn't do a fine impression of it. The Tunawa delegation looked up and up at the big folk as they cautiously approached. Kasoria could see their green-and-brown limbs tensing, like deer ready to bolt. He held up his hands, and Walden was already doing the same.

"Er... yer... Jarriko, right?"

"Jah-ROH-ko," the little being said with careful pronunciation, giving a short, proper bow with his free hand across his bare chest. "Don't worry. Common is not a kind language to our names."

"Um... yeah, I suppose not. Look, we-"

"How did you know?"

"Wh... What?"

"How did you know my name?"

"Oh. Um." Kasoria reminded himself he needed this man. Local knowledge and all that. But watching him stumble around like a novice diplomat was enough to make his palms sweat. "I've met with yer k... people, a few times. Got to talkin', y'know? Mentioned you were the big man."

Kasoria turned very slowly to his partner, just as the words left his mouth. Walden refused to look at him. He just swallowed hard, and kept his eyes on Jahrowko's amused expression.

"... so t'speak."

"Hmm. The Warden is known to us. But who are you?"

Kasoria decided he didn't want to spend all his time with his chin tucked into his chest, so he carefully got down to his knees. From lower and closer, he could see the intricate tattoos etched onto the head Tunawa. Literally. It seemed like some chisel or easel had carved the words or symbols into him, looping and curling like stylized leaves and branches around his body. He gave a bow in return, hand over his heart, and gave it his best.

"My name is Kasoria, of Etzos. A city across the sea."

"I have not heard of it. Larger than Mistral Village?"

Kasoria couldn't help but chuckle. He knew streets and roads in Etzos that had more people and more buildings living on them than the entirety of Walden's home by the woods. "Oh, much larger. A hundred times and a hundred times that, I'd say."

"I'm sure you exaggerate. If that were the case, where would your woods be?"

Kasoria was about to answer candidly, then decided against it. All three of the inquisitive folk seemed positively born from the trees that they called home. Everything they wore, all they were, seemed as if the forest had spewed them out individually. He guessed they wouldn't take kindly to him telling them that his people had chopped, burned, felled, pulped and processed everything bigger than a shrub across the whole expanse of Etzos Prime. Instead he cleared his throat and put his hand over his heart again.

"Forgive me, yer grace, but we're here on urgent business."

"Oh? This would have something to do with the Horned Man and his followers?"

The humans exchanged a surprised glance and Jahrowko's escorts giggled. It sounded like birdsong, high and lilting, then gone in a gust of dark wind. The elder Tunawa smiled, revealing teeth white as enamel yet looking to Kasoria almost like polished wood.

"One does not need to be from... Et-Zoss, to know a slayer when one sees it." He gestured with his staff, from gladius to cutlass to ax, each and every device a weapon larger than the Tunawa and designed to butcher. "That is your profession, is it not?"

"It is. We do what we're best suited to, yer grace."

"Or what we enjoy."

Kasoria's jaw tightened. His hands balled into fists, and then, in a rush, the moment was gone. This creature was no fool. Diminutive size and exotic appearance did not mean stupidity. A lack of humanity did not denote gullibility. That he needed to be reminded of that - he who depended on his enemies underestimating him at every turn - was mildly shameful. Yet he managed a smile.

Not a fool, then. So I ain't gotta coddle him.

"Well, enjoy or not," he said as he settled back on his haunches, "I'm still good at what I do. Yer people know about those folk on the river, killin' an' robbin'?"

"My people do not peer too deeply into human affairs."

Bugger. Well, it was worth a shot.

"They're dead now, so y'ain't gotta worry about it. Any road, they were killin' people. Robbin' people. Violatin'. Pillagin'. An' from what I've been hearin', the Horned Man and his cronies've been doin' much the same, around the woods, yeah?"

For the first time, the little lord of the Mistral Woods Tunawa looked uncomfortable. Troubled. Kasoria could see unwelcome memories flicker before those emerald eyes, before he blinked them away with a sigh.

"This is true. They are animals on two legs. Beasts worse than any wolves or serpents or monsters. But the largest, the Horned Man, he is the worst of all."

"Glad y'think so. Because I'm goin' t'kill him."

"For money, I assume?"

"Yes, for money. An' for you. An' fer him-" he jerked a thumb towards Walden, who was watching one of the Tunawa started to load their offering of fruits and meats into a sack as big as him... that Walden could probably have used as a sock. "-since he's in charge a' the humans in the village, just like yer in charge a' yer people."

"I am their leader, not their ruler."

"Youse take care of 'em," Kasoria shot back, spreading his hands for a moment. "So it's in yer interests that what might hurt 'em is gone."

"They have not approached our homes. Our trees. They barely know we exist."

Kasoria hummed softly to himself, a contemplative sound. He'd anticipated something like that. The Mistral Woods were large, after all. Larger than the land Etzos covered, and you'd have to know where a man was, if you wanted to find him. In the dense woodland, Kev and his bandits could search for an arc and never find a trace of the Tunawa, lumbering like oxen so loud and obvious the little folk could flee with plenty of time to spare. But...
'
Aye. But.

"And yer gonna risk that stayin' like that forever?" He watched Jahrowko's expression lose some dram of its surety as he spoke, and a voice in his head growled in anticipation. "That none of 'em will ever catch yer people? None of 'em will ever get curious when they spot you? Y'know..." His voice took on a casual quality that was almost horrific, given the subject. But it didn't waver. "I hear one village they raided, they took turns wiv' the womenfolk. Then they cracked a baby's skull open, jus' cuz it wouldn't stop bawlin'. Wadaya think men like that'll do, when they get hold a' folk like you? Who can splinter? Who can crack? Who can burn?"

"Enough."

Walden's face grew stormy. "Fuck's sake, Thagoras-"

"Necessary evil. Y'heard of it?"

Jahrowko looked as severe as Walden, even with a face crafted by an Immortal to be more serene than most. He gripped his staff tighter until it squeaked, then lessened his grip. He nodded slowly.

"Aye. Thought y'might have. I know yer folk don't like t'fight. I know y'don't wanna do anythin' but stay here, ignoring his stupid humans, an' be left alone. An' I'd be happy to oblige. But the Horned Man? He ain't like us. He don't care about the money. He's in it for the pleasure." The small human leaned forward, and the even smaller Tunawa had to fight the urge to step back. "You said it yerself, yer grace. A slayer knows the work of a slayer. And this mad bastard's worse than I'll ever be."

"You want our help, I take it?"

"Just tellin' us where they are," Kasoria said with a shrug. "Ain't like they're ever gonna know it was you, is it?"

Jahrowko seemed to ponder this for a long time. One of his escorts muttered something in a language that sounded like lapping water. The Tunawa chief muttered something back and shook his head sadly. He didn't like this. Didn't want it. But that voice in Kasoria's head grew teeth and smiled with them, wider and wider until it grew out of his own mouth.

No. But he knows what's best for his people. And what's safest.

"... we can do that for you. And show you where they make their camp."

"You have our thanks, Jahrowko," Walden said, getting back to his feet. "Come find us when-"

"There is one more thing, yer grace."

Kasoria did not get up. Instead, he drew his new cutlass, with the sound of metal sighing, soft and cruel as tiger claws. Moons and stars from distances vast shone light on that length of killing steel, and all three Tunawa shrank from it for a moment. But he did not hold it as one would to murder; instead he lay it across his palms, and placed it on the grass between them. The chief of the Tunawa stepped forward and studied the human weapon, before looking up quizically at Kasoria.

"Some favor I need to ask of yeh. Somethin' I hear you folk know a fair bit about..."


Continued here

[Korva]

Rewards!

Name: Kasoria

Knowledge:
Skill Knowledge:
Detection: Spotting When One is Smart Enough to Speak Frankly With
Negotiation: Make It Seem Like You Aren't Even Asking For Much
Negotiation: Using One's Fear for their People as a Bargaining Chip
Persuasion: Citing a Common Enemy
Persuasion: Offering to Do a Job No-one Else Wants to Do
Socialization: Aping the Customs of Another People

Non-Skill Knowledge:
NPC Jahrowko: Chief/Elder/Leader of the Mistral Wood Tunawa
NPC Jahrowko: Smart and Shrewd
NPC Jahrowko: Protective of His People
NPC Walden: Warden of Mistral Village
NPC Walden: Doesn't Like Bounty Hunters
NPC Walden: Reluctantly Helpful (against a mutual and far worse enemy)
Tunawa: Have a Colony in Mistral Wood
Tunawa: A Tiny, Peaceful Race of Tree People

Loot: NA
Injuries: NA
Renown: NA
Magic XP: NA

Points: 10

- - -

Comments: Okay but like, you've really got that gritty noir writing down and it was kinda hilarious to see him get thrown off balance by a Tunawa XD

If you feel I've missed anything or if you have questions about your review, please don't hesitate to send me a quick PM or ping me in Discord. Thanks!

**Made by the magnificent Kes