• Graded • II. Vidi

Rising from the stony plateau overlooking the rivers and plains of the western continent, and growing wealthy from the gem stones pulled from this same rocky soil, Etzos is a bastion of independence, eagerly spreading its belief that man should rule Idalos, not be servants of the vain Immortals who nearly destroyed it. But can the different factions set aside their agendas long enough to see this through?

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• Graded • II. Vidi

Postby Kasoria » Sat Apr 14, 2018 1:16 pm

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20th Trial, Ashan, Arc 718
South-East Outer Perimeter
15th break


Continued from here



There were the sounds you grew used to, living in a city. Raised voices. Terse, sharp commands or long, rolling advertisements. Animals of all kinds, wailing and braying and neighing. Wagon wheels crunching and creaking along cobbles. Feet, bare and shod, running across them. The muted sounds of industry, from blacksmiths to masons and tailors, murmuring from inside or under buildings. In this part of the perimeter, it was mostly... domesticated. Food being cooked. Clothes being washed. Children playing, in that raw and adventurous way all city kids played. But walking down that street, one could hear a new sound.

Well, not new, perhaps. More unexpected. Steady and rhythmic, and accompanied ever five bits or so by soft footsteps on bare stones.

And before each report, there would be the slight sound of breath, a grunt that was almost a gasp, air exhaled-

-as Kasoria's arm became a blur-

-as did the thing he held, as it flew from his fingers, and-

CLANG

"Fuck..."

He was getting used to that sound, too. The handle of the throwing knife smacking against the dummy - or, once or twice, the wall behind it - and then clattering onto the stones. There were a half-dozen of them around its "feet", as if he'd been carrying them and someone had startled the mannequin into dropping them. But three... three were sticking out of its chest. And now, Kasoria knew what they were impaling.

"Liver," he muttered, pointing with knife number ten at the bottom blade sticking out of the dummy. Then he moved up: "Left lung... and that one... maybe the heart..." He sighed and lowered the knife. "Nah.. right lung."

He looked to his side a the little table by the backdoor. More of a stool, really, but big enough for the book to be open and the hideous diagram of a man to be staring up at him. He was surprised at how big the lungs were, where the heart was, how the liver seemed to rest across most of a man's stomach, and under that...

He didn't have to think hard to remember what they looked like. Intestines, they were properly called, not just "guts". He'd ripped open enough stomachs and seen those steaming nests uncurl over a man's feet to know. But even spewing all over the cobbles, they didn't kill a man quickly enough. It could take bits. Might not even work. But the lungs, the heart, the neck, the head... these were all targets for him.

Well, the first two, he reminded himself, straightening his shoulders and raising the knife again. Baby steps.

He slid his dominant foot back, and rested his weight on it. As he did, his right arm came up, until the knife was held up past his head.

Hammer grip. That's what it was called. Not holding it by the blade but by the handle, like you were about to use it to hammer in a nail. He'd seen people toss them by the blade, yes, but he wasn't remembering them.

They weren't Wicked.

Kasoria saw that face, that sneer, those breasts and gaping mouths in those tailored blades. Tried to ape the memory's movements as his arm started moving forwards-

-weight shifting forwards as his arm snapped towards the target-

-fingers gripping lightly until his arm straightened all the way, hand and blade obscuring the target and then-

-his fingers snapped out, releasing the knife-

It whirled and spun and Kasoria could hear the faintest whisper of metal slicing through still air as it went hurtling across fifteen feet of stone-

THUNK

Kasoria smiled to himself as he watched the handle wobble at him from the torso of the dummy. Not where he'd aimed, but good enough for now.
"This is the life we choose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see Heaven."
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Kasoria
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II. Vidi

Postby Kasoria » Mon Apr 16, 2018 12:01 am

Image

Wicked was, by any stretch of the word, a right little shit. He wasn't short but was so rangy and lean he seemed like he should have been; mayhap if he'd been a foot shorter his dimensions would have come out right. He was skinny as a jackal and sneered like one, too, tongue always on the edge of rolling out of his mouth, eyes hungry and agleam. Kasoria had heard stories whispered by whores about where his tastes ran: suffice to say, one telling was more than most were capable of. Even the gangers he ran with treated him with leather gloves, unwilling to mingle with him outside of work.

But there was the rub: when it came to work, and slinging those little knives that he seemed to have an endless supply of... Wicked almost made up for being a complete disgrace of a human being.

Kasoria had seen him in action twice. The first time had been almost effortless. No-one could get close to the man. He was a whirl of arms and hand, and each time they snapped out, steel flew and a man went down. Pierced, punctured, rent, screaming or gagging, stymied in his assault by a little knife tossed with unholy precision into an organ, joint or artery. Kasoria thanked the Fates they'd been on the same side that day.

The second time... well, it only seemed like he had an endless supply. Once they ran out, and it transpired there were more angry, surging bodies than Wicked had blades for...

Can't rely too much on one weapoh, Kasoria thought as he gathered his blades back up, sliding all ten into their sheaths on his thighs. No matter how good you are with one tool, if that tool fails you, what are you going to do then?

Simple. You go to the next. Which was exactly what he was doing.

There were steps, such that he knew them. The simple things, the blocks in the basement that the rest was built on. He wouldn't even try the acrobatic ballet that Wicked was so notorious for. He wasn't even close to that level So for now, he turned to face the dummy again. Sighted on the center of the torso, where he knew the heart was beating, flanked by larger, pulsing bags that were the lungs.

Stance.

He slid his right foot back, rested his weight back there as-

Grip.

He drew a knife from its sheath, holding it like a hammer. He raised it, drew back... but not far. He straightened his arm again, a slow version of the snapping speed to come in a few trills. Aimed down his arm, down the blade, until the tip was wavering over the breastbone of his target.

Draw.

Then he cocked his arm back behind his head, raising his other hand, as if he were wielding a javelin instead. His fingers flexed around the knife. It was so light. Heavier in the blade, of course, but still, compared to his karambit, his gladius... so insubstantial. Kasoria smiled to himself in that last couple of trills.

Tell that to Wicked. Or the men he killed. Now-

Throw!


His arm hurtled forwards, weight shifting, arm straightening. Now came the hard part. Moving so swiftly, you had to pay attention, and do so with only a fraction of a trill to-

Release!

His hand snapped open. The knife span in a blazing silver arc, suns dancing off it as it went. Kasoria cursed softly. Too late. It was when his arm was straight and level, not as it started to swing downward to the floor. He watched the knife spin and his hand was already reaching for another-

THUNK

-first slamming into the dummy at... the thigh. Hardly a killing blow. Kasoria pulled back the second and hurled it after taking a trill to aim, and this time-

-released his grip as hand and knife were level with his face-

CLANG

The knife smacked into the face of the dummy, handle first. Kasoria snorted, wondering if that would have broken anything, had it been a man. Probably given him a moment or two to draw another blade, maybe. One for the pain, the other for his target to ponder the sheer bizarre notion that he'd been smacked with the wrong end of a throwing knife.

Any time you get, use it well.

Kasoria blinked and the construct or wood and rope and cloth was suddenly a man. Clutching his knife-stuck leg and probably reeling from the second knife hitting him in the face. He drew a third, foot sliding back at the same time as his arm came up. Stance. Grip. Draw. His arm rushed past his head and the moment it was straight, Kasoria snapped his fingers away from the handle.

Has to be all at once. A pinkie, a thumb, a graze from a digit, could throw it off.

Or so he assumed. His career throwing these things had been a long and storied, oh, maybe a break, but even he could deduce that the less interference the blade had, the better if flew. So he almost felt his knuckles crinkle as his hand were from gripping to splayed out, and the third knife flew across the stones-

THUNK

-landing dead-center in the torso of the dummy. Kasoria frowned, wondering if the breastbone or ribs would make the blade glance off. Or would it get stuck between them, maybe? Either way, he could imagine his target falling back, struck and stuck and bleeding, flailing for his own weapon and Kasoria drew another one from his thigh sheath, but instead of drawing it up he stalked forward-

-lunged up as he got close, double-bladed knife held tight-

Under the ribs. Into the heart. Both man and dummy trembling for a moment as they pressed together, Kasoria working the blade inside the target as much as one could when it was made of wood.

Don't specialize, he reminded himself. Learn to throw. Learn to throw well. But remember, it's a knife. You can always just stick 'em.

The killer sighed, collected the knives both discarded and impaled, then walked back to the doorway of his house. The day had barely begun.

Concluded here

Thanks to Rumor for the template
"This is the life we choose, the life we lead. And there is only one guarantee: none of us will see Heaven."
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II. Vidi

Postby Pegasus » Mon Apr 23, 2018 6:41 pm

Test Review Pending
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II. Vidi

Postby Juniper » Fri Apr 27, 2018 10:29 am

Now Let's See
What Comes Out Of It!




"They said to kill them with kindness, so I named my knife Kindness."
-Annonymous-



Kasoria

Pre-Review Checklist:

Requirements* or X Comments
Approved Character * Whoot!
Updated Thread List for Previous Season * Looks right to me!
Updated Skill Point Ledger (Raw, Adjusted,Tread Earned)***Superb!
Updated Purse (Seasonal Expense, Wage, Thread Deductions)***Great!
Updated Renown Ledger & thread table**Good!


Review Checklist:

RequirementsFulfilmentComment+
Solo/CollabSolo+6 knowledges
How many posts 2 +0 Knowledges
How many requested 6 None Left Over
Are all posts greater than 250 words? Yes --
Is the thread greater than 1500 words? Yes--
Knowledges Appropriate?Yes--
Loot Appropriate?N/A--
Renown Appropriate?N/A--
Injuries Appropriate?N/A--


Reviewer's Overview

Alright, Kasoria, Duderino, I can't believe I'm saying this but, wow. This is an amazing solo you have here! Your descriptions were crisp morsels of lettering that I thoroughly enjoyed! (As someone who's not typically into ANYTHING REMOTELY gorey this is an insane compliment to you my good sir!) There was a typo or two, (the funniest one being Can't rely too much on one weapoh. where you just put a h instead of a n) but nothing so glaring that it would ruin the overall feel of the thread. Again, great job buddy!


Loot : 10 Skill points NOT usable for magic!
No renown rewarded for this thread!
No injuries received in this thread!

Skill Knowledges : Blades (Throwing Knife): Shifting Weight as You Throw
Blades (Throwing Knife): Hammer Grip
Blades (Throwing Knife): Release Sharply at the Apex of the Throw
Discipline: Starting With the Basics
Medicine: Basic Layout of Human Organs
Tactics: Don't Rely Too Much on One Weapon

Non-Skill Knowledges : None Requested


Please add this stamp onto your request to help show that it has been reviewed!

ImageJuniper


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[center][img]http://standingtrials.com/gallery/image.php?album_id=39&image_id=7932[/img][size=85]Juniper[/size][/center]
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