When did I become so bloody transparent? Then again, when last did I speak with someone who knew me?
Kasoria couldn't help but smirk at her evaluation of him. That obvious, was it? For all his protestations and attempts, he still missed... something. He didn't want to admit it, because he knew damn well what it meant. But he was here, and he was trying. There was no point in being ashamed in loving the roar of battle in your ears, the animal pleasure of conquering and killing and surviving your enemies. Any man who claimed such joys were a lie, or the preserve of madmen and monsters alone, was a liar. Even good men relished combat. Even they missed the purpose it gave them.
All true. But you are not a warrior. Not really.
Yet he had grown wiser, and his smile morphed into a frown as Maxine's mockery turned back to the task she had ahead of her. She spoke of slaughter. Massacre. No survivors, no tongues to speak or eyes to identify. Long ago, he would have approved of such a plan. It as simple but brutally effective, and it was the most hideous of logic to conclude that with none left alive, none were left to threaten you. But this was not long ago... and he was no longer the man she knew.
No. I'm more useful.
"That the extent a' yer plannin'? A heap a' fuckin' corpses? Fates, girl. I thought more of yeh than that."
Whatever shock or indignity she would feel from hearing that - from him, of all fucking people! - Kasoria ignored it. This needed to be said plain, but also well and without argument. As she'd spoken he had felt some... rage, welling in her words. She didn't just want to get the job done, she wanted to exact some measure of satisfaction from all that blood. And him, of all fucking people, knew that never worked out well.
Not when-
"Youse have other options. Stop thinkin' like some Oh'Pee scratcher rollin' a few drunks. Yeh've got a lotta killin' in mind, fer one girl on her own, wi' that wee sword in yer hand. Oh, dun' get me wrong. I dun' doubt you got plenny tasty over the arcs. Learned more than I taught yeh, I'd mark. But it's still jus' you. On yer own. Against a whole caravan. An' all it takes is one lucky guard or des'prut traveler t'stick somethin' sharp in yeh... or crawl off when yer not lookin'."
The Raggedy Man, as was, shook his head. The arcs of experience evaluating her plan and finding it crude and wanting.
"Yeh need t'think beyond yer blades, girl. Take it from one who shoulda', long time ago. 'specially now yeh got me t'help. That wee trick I pulled in the bar wi' the Shield? Jus' a taste. An' that's not the only kinda magic in me..."
To make his point, he willed his incessant Transmutation Spark to life and commanded it to fill his black eyes with a brief glow of Brilliance. Jet black pulsed into turgid, dirty blue for a moment, letting Maxine see one of the twins Kasoria bore inside him. Elements of power that he'd never have thought to possess when she'd known him, and yet now he mastered like obedient and terrible hounds.
"Plenty nuff t'distract an' focus attention. Plenty fer youse t'make yer move, without havin' to slaughter yer way across half the countryside. A countryside, I'll remind yeh, that's still thick wi' army patrols, bandit, sellsword bands hirin' t'the Council an' t'any man wi' coin. Ain't like the old days, when it was a half-dozen fat cunts in cheap armor babysittin' a few merchants. Now it'll be lads who were at Rkahros, survived the Siege, mebbe even fought at the Crescent Arena."
The thought of her, of him, matching swords with such men made him pause. Not for fear of death, injury, or even defeat... but the shame. Aye... he'd found he could feel that, after all these arcs. There were still bad men in Etzos and he didn't lose a wink killing them that would hurt his city. But some poor sods looking to feed their families by pulling caravan detail? That wasn't what he was anymore. That wasn't what he wanted for his people, even if it was to help this girl.
"I don't promise yeh shite, girl, an' if yer bent on this way an' no other... I won't stop yeh. Much as I should. But if yeh try something else, think a diff'rent direction... I'll be wiv' yeh. An' we can keep the bodies to a minimum, ye'ken?" He held out a fist to her, and wrapped up his little speech. Thanks be to that gnarled old cunt Bangun, for teaching him a little of negotiation, with a dash of theatrics. "Yeh said yeh were tryin' to change, an' no fuck up anymore. Then try somethin' new. Think a diff'rent way. Mebbe it'll work fer youse, more than fer me..."
No more to be said. He waited with an arm outstretched, for her to either bump with her own fist or bat aside. Either way, he wasn't going to ask twice.
Kasoria couldn't help but smirk at her evaluation of him. That obvious, was it? For all his protestations and attempts, he still missed... something. He didn't want to admit it, because he knew damn well what it meant. But he was here, and he was trying. There was no point in being ashamed in loving the roar of battle in your ears, the animal pleasure of conquering and killing and surviving your enemies. Any man who claimed such joys were a lie, or the preserve of madmen and monsters alone, was a liar. Even good men relished combat. Even they missed the purpose it gave them.
All true. But you are not a warrior. Not really.
Yet he had grown wiser, and his smile morphed into a frown as Maxine's mockery turned back to the task she had ahead of her. She spoke of slaughter. Massacre. No survivors, no tongues to speak or eyes to identify. Long ago, he would have approved of such a plan. It as simple but brutally effective, and it was the most hideous of logic to conclude that with none left alive, none were left to threaten you. But this was not long ago... and he was no longer the man she knew.
No. I'm more useful.
"That the extent a' yer plannin'? A heap a' fuckin' corpses? Fates, girl. I thought more of yeh than that."
Whatever shock or indignity she would feel from hearing that - from him, of all fucking people! - Kasoria ignored it. This needed to be said plain, but also well and without argument. As she'd spoken he had felt some... rage, welling in her words. She didn't just want to get the job done, she wanted to exact some measure of satisfaction from all that blood. And him, of all fucking people, knew that never worked out well.
Not when-
"Youse have other options. Stop thinkin' like some Oh'Pee scratcher rollin' a few drunks. Yeh've got a lotta killin' in mind, fer one girl on her own, wi' that wee sword in yer hand. Oh, dun' get me wrong. I dun' doubt you got plenny tasty over the arcs. Learned more than I taught yeh, I'd mark. But it's still jus' you. On yer own. Against a whole caravan. An' all it takes is one lucky guard or des'prut traveler t'stick somethin' sharp in yeh... or crawl off when yer not lookin'."
The Raggedy Man, as was, shook his head. The arcs of experience evaluating her plan and finding it crude and wanting.
"Yeh need t'think beyond yer blades, girl. Take it from one who shoulda', long time ago. 'specially now yeh got me t'help. That wee trick I pulled in the bar wi' the Shield? Jus' a taste. An' that's not the only kinda magic in me..."
To make his point, he willed his incessant Transmutation Spark to life and commanded it to fill his black eyes with a brief glow of Brilliance. Jet black pulsed into turgid, dirty blue for a moment, letting Maxine see one of the twins Kasoria bore inside him. Elements of power that he'd never have thought to possess when she'd known him, and yet now he mastered like obedient and terrible hounds.
"Plenty nuff t'distract an' focus attention. Plenty fer youse t'make yer move, without havin' to slaughter yer way across half the countryside. A countryside, I'll remind yeh, that's still thick wi' army patrols, bandit, sellsword bands hirin' t'the Council an' t'any man wi' coin. Ain't like the old days, when it was a half-dozen fat cunts in cheap armor babysittin' a few merchants. Now it'll be lads who were at Rkahros, survived the Siege, mebbe even fought at the Crescent Arena."
The thought of her, of him, matching swords with such men made him pause. Not for fear of death, injury, or even defeat... but the shame. Aye... he'd found he could feel that, after all these arcs. There were still bad men in Etzos and he didn't lose a wink killing them that would hurt his city. But some poor sods looking to feed their families by pulling caravan detail? That wasn't what he was anymore. That wasn't what he wanted for his people, even if it was to help this girl.
"I don't promise yeh shite, girl, an' if yer bent on this way an' no other... I won't stop yeh. Much as I should. But if yeh try something else, think a diff'rent direction... I'll be wiv' yeh. An' we can keep the bodies to a minimum, ye'ken?" He held out a fist to her, and wrapped up his little speech. Thanks be to that gnarled old cunt Bangun, for teaching him a little of negotiation, with a dash of theatrics. "Yeh said yeh were tryin' to change, an' no fuck up anymore. Then try somethin' new. Think a diff'rent way. Mebbe it'll work fer youse, more than fer me..."
No more to be said. He waited with an arm outstretched, for her to either bump with her own fist or bat aside. Either way, he wasn't going to ask twice.
