• Mature • This Way Comes (Graded)

[Kasoria]

45th Trial, Vhalar, 718a
Commercial Circle
10th break

"This is what it was all about, huh? All that trouble... for a fucking book."

"Little more'n that, but yeah."

Kasoria wasn't in the mood to deal with Ilos, but that was the cunt sitting behind the desk, so that was how it had to be. He'd expected Vorund to be sitting there (which was not unreasonable, considering this was his business), bright and early, awaiting both his report and the return of his money. The former, Kasoria had no problem giving. The latter... well, the ledger was as good as money, as far as he could tell. Vorund would just have to go and pick it up, he supposed.

Or send monkeys like this.

"Fuck me," Illos snorted with a whistle, leafing through pages and seasons and arcs of thefts. "The boss an' me have accounts open in half a' these places, y'know? Arrogant bastard."

"He ain't a problem anymore."

"Yes, so we've been hearing."

Kasoria kept his face stony, and pointedly did not roll his eyes. We. He was wary when men used that word. It denoted a unity, a belonging, almost like the mind one would expect from an ant colony, or a bee hive. But in his world? It meant power. It mean you spoke with the authority of your masters, so you were them. Not above, but not indivisible. Usually the little killer would have brushed that off, like he brushed off a dozen little affectations from the peacock underboss every fucking time they met, but seated behind Vorund's desk, with his master's trappings surrounding the grinning little bastard...

That fucking noise ain't helping, either.

He half-turned in his seat and beheld a pudgy man with some tool he didn't quite recognize, diligently scratching away at the smoked glass of the office door. He was scraping away the lettering on the inside, bit by bit, until the space was clear. He'd wondered briefly if it wasn't easier to just replace the pane of glass, but assumed the stuff wasn't cheap. So he shrugged it off when he arrived, and took his meeting.

Scratch-scratch... scrape-scrape... for the last quarter fucking break.

"He's safe," Ilos said, incorrectly reading the man across from him. "Feel free to talk."

"Not worried about that," Kasoria answered, turning back to Vorund's second. "Mister Vorund wouldn't let anyone up here if he didn't trust 'em."

The younger man could have taken that as a compliment. It wasn't intended to be one, naturally, but he could have seen the positive in it. Instead, the racketeer's genial expression soured. It twisted and embittered. His brows came down a little harder on his eyes and Kasoria sighed silently. Always so quick to take offense, this one. Never lets anything go. Never sees the long game. Never takes his ego out of it.

"Mister Vorund won't be blamed for Yancy," he said, choosing to plow on with business rather than keep tap-dancing on the lava flow that was conversation with Ilos. "Any eyes lookin' over the place will see a guilty thief an' murderer who topped his muscle, then himself."

"And the girl? What part did she play?"

Kasoria paused for a while, and Ilos initially assumed that there was some beat of remorse running through the man. Being reminded of a victim that was barely involved with the whole, sordid, doomed enterprise. Then he saw Kasoria's lips purse briefly, his eyes look up and to the side, as if perusing his memory. Then he realized the man was just finding the right words.

"Collateral damage." He shrugged, the gesture encompassing any feeling he had left about opening the veins of and then drowning a young woman. "Couldn't have her as a witness, couldn't have her runnin' to Yancy, an' I couldn't keep her quiet reliably until the job was done. So..."

Another shrug, and Ilos seemed to mirror the gesture. In truth, he didn't care. It was just a question he needed to ask, another box on the list he had to cross off. Now he knew, and he'd not think about the whore named Mary every again. He studied the ledger idly as he spoke, massaging his temple with the fingers of his free hand.

"Got more work for yeh. Straight from the boss." His gaze flicked up and this time, he read Kasoria's expression perfectly. "I know. Busy man, eh?"

"I got back yesterday. Was hopin' fer-"

Scratch-scratch... scrape-scrape.

"Some rest?" Ilos made a show of looking the little man up and down. "Don't seem damaged. No wounds. No limps or winces when you came in here. You're fit for work, and we have some. That's how it works."

Now the scratching, the scraping, the grinding, the gouging, seemed to be right in Kasoria's ears. Tearing strips away from his patience with every dissonant note. But a breath was all it took to banish the concept from his mind. It was Ilos being Ilos: drunk on temporary, borrowed power, while his master was away. Bangun Vorund couldn't always be present to personally delegate tasks to his favored killer, and Ilos would never be so stupid to send Kasoria on errands that his master wouldn't approve or know about.

These were tricky and mistrusting times. Such a thing could easily be construed as treachery. And Vorund did not take kindly to that.

"What's the job?"

Ilos slid the ledger away, and smiled in a manner that made Kasoria's heart stop for a trill. "Oh, something big, Kas..."

Scratch-scratch.

[Kasoria]

"Ain't exactly much to go on, is it?"

"That a problem?"

"I don't like fighting blind, Ilos."

Again, he saw that rankled emotion twitch and shiver across Ilos' face. The way his features seemed to jump and tighten before relaxing under a sneer of contempt. Arcs and arcs, he'd been hearing "Mister Vorund" directed with respect, fear, and awe at the man next to him... but never "Mister Ilos". He was never afforded any of that. All his efforts, all his intellect and skills and loyalty, and he was referred to in the same way as the ragged wretch across from him.

Scratch-scratch... scrape-scrape.

Wanker.

"Well, that's all I got for you, Kas," he said with a careless shrug, getting up to pour himself a measure of something clear and sweet-smelling. He pointedly did not offer Kasoria the same, and Kasoria pointedly could not have cared less about. It wasn't even noon, for fuck's sake. "That's the Intel I got, and I know it's from my guy. See the glyph in the corner?"

Kasoria turned over the note until he could see it. A weird little symbol, an "A" with two tiny numbers nestled between the legs of the letter. Three and... seven, if his eyes were worth a shit.

"That's how he lets you know?"

"Yep, that's our code." Ilos settled himself back into his master's chair, clearly enjoying it more than the couch he usually sat on by the wall, when Vorund held court, as it were. "Been that way for a while."

There was a respectful silence as Kasoria nodded, apparently appreciating the cleverness. Fortunately, Ilos was the kind of man to believe that interpretation almost immediately. Internally, Kasoria groaned, rolled his eyes, and made a further note not to share any intelligence wiyth that man in the future, unless he had to. Bragging about how clever you are? Giving away your secrets? How often had Ilos done that? How many others had he told, when drinking before noon like he was now, or wanting to appear smart?

Your secrets are yours. Especially in our world.

Scratch-scratch...

He read the scrap of paper one more time. It smelled like an outhouse, and he was guessing that's where it had been hidden. That, at least, he could respect. The trade-craft, of using a dead drop like that. No hand-to-hand, no obvious meeting. Just two men going for a shit at different times, one dropping off, another picking up (figuratively speaking).

Or maybe Ilos' hands just smelled like shit. He wouldn't have been surprised.

46TH TRIAL MCCREARYS PIER
SCALLIES COMING FROM THE RIVER
REAVER CLEAVERS GONNA BE THERE

"Reaver-Cleavers?" Kasoria frowned as he said the words, tapping the paper with an errant finger. He peered into the middle distance as he pondered. "Sounds familiar, actually."

"Remember Fozzie Tatum?"

Kasoria snapped his fingers and tossed the paper back onto the desk between them. "Aye, fuckin' pimp from the south-west. Used his wee nephews as muscle, called 'em Reaver an' Cleaver. These them?"

"Them and more than a few friends, actually. Ol' Tatum is still running whores and gambling out on their patch, but the Reavers are the ones providing the muscle. Not enough of it to cause a problem for Vorund, but..."

Kasoria sighed and shook his head, as if saddened. Some people never learned. Not even after a year of him doing what he did best, and that was just him. He knew there were other scratchers in Vorund's employ. More bodies dropping, or vanishing. Every time some thug poked his head up and tried to offer a challenge, the old man chopped it off before the words could finish forming. Every time. Without fail. And every season, without fail, there was a new one. Often more than one.

"So he wants 'em cut down t'size before that becomes a problem, aye." The assassin snorted. "Didn't think there was anyone left with the bottle. Or the lack a' brains."

"I'm thinking they're bringing in outside muscle. Most of the gangers in the city have learned the lesson, and don't come down South looking to poke Vorund in the eye." Ilos shrugged, taking a swig from his glass. "But there's always other cities. Maybe merks, like those two cunts Styes imported from Yaralon, few seasons back."

Kasoria didn't need to be reminded - he'd killed said cunts, after all - but he admitted, it was a possibility. Once the local muscle pool was exhausted, would-be usurpers would have to look elsewhere for support. There was a half-dozen places mercenaries across Idalos congregated, but did any of these South Siders have the connections or coin to bring them here? From Scalvoris and Yaralon? Rharne and Rynmere? He doubted it.

Pretty blood academic, though.

"Doesn't say how many."

"Yes, you mentioned that before."

"Would be nice t'know."

Ilos finished his drink and smacked his lips. Relishing the flavor, the bite, the power, the authority, temporary though it might be. Letting Kasoria squirm, at least in his own mind, while he waited for anything resembling an answer. Instead, he got a shrug. As if fending off a whole swarm of imported killers was pruning a hedge thicket.

"All the word we got from my man, Kas. You got a place and a time and what's coming in. That should be more than enough. Unless..." A purse, full and clanking, appeared by magic from a drawer and was placed on the table. Kasoria's eyes slid to it, then back up to Ilos and his lizard smirk. "... you wanna say no to the job? No to Vorund?"

The little man let what dram of contempt he felt for the boy seep out of his eyes... then he got to his feet... and pocketed the purse. At least the young upstart knew how this kind of job went. You got the money ahead of time, because it was simple, and bloody, and public. You wouldn't need to come back with a head or a finger as proof. Vorund and his army of ears and eyes would know it it soon enough.

"I'll handle it."

"Good. Make it messy, we're tired of-"

"One thing, though." Kasoria interrupted just as Ilos was getting into his flow. Perfect timing. He nodded to the thug silently chipping away the letters on the door. "What's wiv' this shite?"

"Ah, yes. Change of name on the window. Vorund Trading and Transport will soon be Etzos Consolidated Expeditions." Ilos swelled a little, like one of those fish that puffs up with air and probably farted like a shrunken hurricane. "My idea, actually. What with the new partnership with Thumberland, Vorund's profile is... expanding, but still dicey. Better his name not be on too many important ventures. Besides, E-C-E sounds far more exotic and dynamic, don't you think?"

Kasoria blinked at the young man who was bursting with pride and ideas. Then he looked back at the letters that had been on the door since he'd walked into this office over a decade ago. Had been there, still and straight and silent, when he'd done the same a few trials after his son was born, and bore witness to him pledging his life and sword to Bangun Vorund... in exchange for a favor.

Scratch-scratch... scrape-scrape... bye-bye.

"F'you say so, kid," he grumbled, not even taking enjoyment from seeing Ilos' skinny chest suddenly made shallow by the old man's complete lack of vision. "Ain't like anyone's likely to forg-"

Someone tall and lumbering and thus perfectly suited to employment with Bangun Vorund, lumbered expertly up the stairs. Benny held a letter in his hand, and Ilos was already across the office. One hand outstretched, the other filled with a fresh drink.

"I'll take-"

"S'fer Kasoria, boss."

Kasoria could have watched Ilos' face fall for a break. He really could have. But he had things to prepare and now, apparently, a letter to read. He took the parchment, broke the seal... unfolded it... read it... and Ilos scowled at the enigmatic chuckling from the hairy, stupid, savage little fool. With no imagination, no sense of the future. He mocked his re-branding of this tired old place, his fine ideas and his forward thinking, all of it serving the same master as he. But all he got was scorn and apathy... and laughter.

"What's funny?"

"From Mister Vorund," Kasoria said, waving the letter briefly before pocketing it. "Tellin' me much the same as youse. Make an exmaple a' the cunts an' their scallies."

"Scallies." Ilos repeated the word and shook his head. "I didn't understand that one."

"Gutter runner. No-good. Criminal." Kasoria actually managed a halfway-decent smirk before shrugging and continuing out the door. "Before yer time, lad. Almost before mine... oh, and one more thing?"

"What?"

"He says leave his good gin alone. Stick t'the visitor's shite."

There was a choke and a spit and a curse cut short by the door slamming shut, but all of it was enough to set Kasoria to laughing as he walked out the warehouse. The human river that was the Commercial Circle was waiting for him, and he slid into the current like a fish into a rapid. Wriggling down and away from the ring of industry, commerce, and legitimacy. His affairs were in the Oh'Pee. Beyond even that, actually. In the strange no-man's land between the Wilderness and the furthest settled precincts of the city. Where the river ran and the barges drifted like wooden icebergs up and down the Southwood.

He was still smiling as he crossed from the high walls of the Commercial Circle to the grubbier, smokier clime of the Oh'Pee. Not over Ilos, though. Something purer and simpler than that. Something he'd been denied for a while and now would embrace with both hands. Like a tome or treasure he'd hidden away for a long time, once in pride of place and now protected, but out of focus. In a trial, he would bring it to the fire again. He would bring it to light and let no chicanery or politics or espionage cloud the issue.

In a night and a trial, Kasoria would make worship, as only one like him knew how.

Continued here

[Mads]

Kasoria of Etzos

Knowledge.........

Discipline: Not Rising to a Fool's Smugness
Intelligence: Using a Dead Drop
Philosophy: Collateral Damage is Part of an Assassin's Life
Philosophy: The Simple, Honest Purity of Outright Violence
Politics: Cut a Potential Rival Down to Size Before He Becomes a Future Problem
Psychology: People Use "We" to Hide Weakness Behind an Impression of Unity

Etzos Organizations: Reaver-Cleavers, Gang of Hooligans from the South-West, Working for Fozzie Tatum
Etzos Underworld: A Whole Patchwork of Gangland Territories
NPC Fozzie Tatum: Pimp and Racketeer on the South-West
NPC Ilos: Getting (a little too) Used To Commanding
NPC Vorund: Always Beset By Pretenders
NPC Vorund: Renaming his Oldest Legitimate Business

Loot....................

None

Consequence......

None

Renown..............

None

Experience...........

10

Wow, look at these high-falutin' knowledges - better watch out, soon Kas'll be cutting through debates about the nature of exitence as easily as he cuts through a hamstring haha. Thread though? As always, excellent exposition. Ilos was very, very clear in my mind, and the push and pull with the compelete dethroning at the end was great haha. The comedic timing on that was really nicely done and had just the right amount of setup. Also? The last line of the thread? Yes. I am ready to pray.

Please edit your grade request.

Code: Select all

[center][img]/gallery/image/15032/medium[/img][/center]