24th Trial, Ymiden, Arc 718
South-East Outer Perimeter
21st break
Continued from hereSouth-East Outer Perimeter
21st break
There was nothing fair or chivalrous about it, and that was sort of the point, really. It was just a matter of perspective. To a noble warrior from Rharne or the Eternal Empire, where even those bloodthirsty bastards had a code of conduct, tossing a man down a flight of stairs without so much as a word would be considered the height of contemptible outrage. But to an Etzos guttersnipe like Kasoria, such a luxurious moral quandary was almost an alien concept. Oh, not completely. He was well-read, after all, and old enough to have learned about the different ways of other nations.
He just happened to think those ways were fucking stupid. He was a killer; he killed people. That was his job, his craft, his profession. He enjoyed a good scrap, pitting his skill and strength against a worthy opponent, but when it came to life and death... well, why take the chance? Why have it out with some plate-wearing, sword-swinging veteran of Fuck Knew how many battles in the Eastern Lands, like you were the same?
Kasoria wasn't the same. He didn't dream of being remembered in song or tavern tales or soldier's ballads. He didn't limit and stymie and hamstring himself with rules and codes of conduct when it came to mortal combat. He just wanted to do the job and go home.
So yes, he tossed the cunt down the stairs when he wasn't expecting it and stabbed him through the fucking backbone.
Took timing, though.
The sneak up the stairs was the longest part of the night. It was a brothel, after all: lots of foot traffic, never knew who might be ambling up or down them. So Kasoria kept it quick but careful, until he pressed his back against the wall at the top of them, trying to make his profile as small as he could. It wouldn't make a huge difference when The Moment came, but any advantage he could get, he would take.
His hands were empty He'd need them both for what he had planned. Without looking around, he gestured to the girl, and heard her walk back up the stairs. When she was a foot or two behind him, that's when he turned around. Looked into sullen, angry eyes above a bloody face and whispered, "Make it good."
And didn't she just?
She hollered and she wailed. She cried and she screamed. She cursed and she flung herself into the hallway, a handful of trills shaping her transformation from simmering anger to wild terror. Kasoria had to admit, it was impressive. He listened as she worked her spell. Heard her talk to Memmio, heard him deliver orders in that clipped, commanding tone. Then his feet were pounding down the hallway and Kasoria knew The Moment was on trills away-
When he saw the man at the top of the stairs, he knew that was it. Timing was all about The Moment, however many of them there might be on any particular job. For this one, Kasoria's arms were already moving by the time Memmio was in front of him-
-hands latching onto the sides of his breastplate, under his armpits, whole body pivoting, twisting, bending all muscle and will to heave this hulking bastard down the stairs-
-and then doing it with one leg on the top stair, as he stuck out his other one to trip the fucker up, letting go even as Memmio's stunned face whipped past him-
Then he was just two hundred pounds of metal-encased debris clattering and slamming and hammering down the stairs. Kasoria paused until the first, shattering impact, the one that saw his sword fly away, and then he was moving. Hustling down the stairs one at a time, feet moving fast and faster still, gladius unsheathed as he went-
-another crunch, something breaking, blood splattering the stairs before Memmio came to rest-
Tough fucker.
He was still trying to get up. Two or three trills after landing, with one arm useless and a leg twisted at an agonized angle, and the sellsword was trying to get to his feet. Kasoria found it... pretty impressive, actually. But that didn't stop him from standing over the helpless man, gladius raised high like an over sized dagger. He saw that spot he'd been looking for, above the armored back of the man, right below the head, and as Memmio tried to get up he dropped like a stone alone with the blade-
CRTHUNK
There really was no sound like it. It was wet and dry at once. It was thick and sharp at the same time. Even the feel of it was odd: so much resistance against his grip, almost equal to the steel of the blade, and yet a moment later, once all that pressure had been brought to bear, the gladius went through it like butter. Kasoria knew the backbone was hard, almost as tough as the skull, but it's rounded shape, it's size... it was a hard target. So he needed to be strong and precise but if he was-
It was worth the effort. Feeling one of the links crunch and snap and sever like a chicken bone shattered in half while still encased in fat and meat. The sight of Memmio's body falling into utterly stillness. Not even a twitch or a heave, just a death-like imobility... all save for his head. His face, still flushed and bloody, pumping air into his lungs with frenzied gasps. Trying to talk but suddenly unable to, pain and terror and shock and anger all mingling and congealing together like oils and refuse in a bucket.
Kasoria leaned over, and spoke those four words. He would have liked to say more. But this moment, this feeling... what more could he add to it, than what Memmio was feeling right now.
He twisted the gladius, two-handed, hard as he could. What was neatly severed became utterly ruined, hole ripped open below Memmio's head as he withdrew his sword. Kasoria stood and turned on the corpse of Memmi, storied and seasoned warrior, mercenary and Knight and warrior and lover and hero to drunks and killers and whores and faces that would never see Etzos. He turned and let such a noble soul die on the floor of a fuck-house in the Oh'Pee, and forgot about him.
This is what Etzos does to heroes, boy, he told himself as he started to march back up the stairs, into the hubbub and babble of concerned voices. It chews them up and kills them. Or it makes them villains.
