[Valtoria] Shake a leg

[Arkash]

40th of Ash, 4621

Unfathomable, smoldering rage burned in the rathor's chest while he looked upon that man. It was a pervasive heat that seemed to stretch through every bone in his body, a sensation that was both comforting, empowering, and crippling in its pressure all at once. He found his jaws pressed tight most of the time, and his clawless fingers curled into each other as balled fists. The noble had beaten him at his own game; Raphael had won.
The man sat across from Arkash with one leg crossed over the other. Both hands clasped neatly upon his knee while he watched in amusement. A smile pulled at his features, a smile Arkash wished to rip clean off his face with sixty serrated teeth... but he couldn't. Not anymore. "Again!" The noble called, like a child who couldn't get over the magician who made the rabbit appear from his hat.
Arkash exhaled, then once again, assumed his true form in the dim lamplight of the necromancer's laboratory. His bones shifted out of place and his stature altered some to incorporate a forward lean of his head. Columns grew at the end of his spine as most of his body fat was transitioned to his growing tail. Skin flipped like little panels to reveal basalt scales beneath, at around the same time that his eyes shifted their hue to that of his regular misty yellow.
The noble sat at the edge of his seat through the entire process, then toward the end, began to laugh like some manic fool. He clapped his hands together in tandem, as though he'd seen the funniest thing in his entire life for the... Seventh time now? Eighth? He lost count. "Remarkable!" he called, exhilarated. "Absolutely remarkable!" His clapping continued as he stood, wiping the joyous tears from the wrinkled corners of his eyes.
Arkash watched with murderous intent as the noble stepped forward. Every bone in his body willed the death of the man before him, but both his mind and heart fought those urges. There was nothing he could do to him now. If anything, he had to protect the pig. if something were to happen to Raphael, all was lost. His revolution couldn't continue without support from the inside of Lorien's nobility. Derek Egon had to prevail, his identity had to remain intact. His master knew who Derek Egon really was, he knew the atrocities Arkash had committed and the price on his head. He'd given orders to an undisclosed person to send a sealed message via hawk to the frozen kingdom if anything were to happen to him.
Arkash was trapped, but he wasn't an animal bound to chew off his own leg for freedom. He had to find that message, that messenger, destroy them both, then carve Raphael's heart from his chest with his blunted claws... All before the noble got what he wanted from the rathor.
"You beasts, your biology, how I'd love the chance to study the properties that allow you to change shape at will..." The Veir trailed off with something of a wistful, longing sigh. "But alas, you're much more valuable to me while you breathe, Vandikar."
Arkash curled his lip. "...I'm not Vandikar."
Raphael shook his head as he stepped over to the operating table, laid upon which was Arkash's swords, which were collected with the rest of his belongings upon enslavement, the black ball he carried in his pocket, and a blackened band he used to apply pressure to his freshly opened wounds. All of which were shaped from his own blood. "It's a curious thing, to put your pride before your own wellbeing," Raphael began.
Arkash's yellow eyes remained affixed on the noble while he thought of all the ways in which he could rip the man's head clean off his shoulders. "...What do you mean?"
That smug grin pulled at the Necromancer's lips. "...Well, the only thing keeping me from having the Halamire and mages of this fortress saw your head off and claim that bounty from House Florent is the fact that I believe you have blood magic," the mage spoke in a casual manner. "How else did all these tools become made, from your own lifeblood, if not for the fact that you are a Vandikar? Do you have some companion that follows you around, turning your curiously dense blood into various tools and objects?"
The man took Arkash's sword from the table, blackened by the condensed hue of his lifeforce and sharpened unnaturally. Arkash's clawed fists clenched tighter, pressing those tips to his armored palm. How could he deny it? The evidence against him was overwhelming. There was no reasonable explanation for the things Raphael spoke of. "Circumstantial," Arkash replied. "I smuggled the ball and band in with me when I was apprehended; they're family heirlooms. The swords, too."
Raphael sighed. Ignoring the Rathor completely, he continued. "You don't trust me; you think I'll use this as leverage to keep you under my control... After all, an assassin of your skill is... Incredibly valuable in the Candor." He grinned, swimming in ideas behind those cruel eyes. "...But that's not the case. I've been honest with you thus far, have I not?"
"You're a fucking cunt!" The Rathor snapped, his whole body tense, ready to burst, but held back by bonds made of words of truth. Raphael hadn't explicitly lied, but he was far from an honest man.
The noble paused at that outburst, Arkash felt his heart quicken a little as rage spiked within him. A scoffing laugh left the man's lips while he inspected the sword with a fist of white knuckles. "You get only one of those, Pissant," the man returned. "I haven't found your mark of control yet, which suggests it's somewhere under your skin." The noble flipped the blade to hold it as one might stab with a knife, and thrust the blade through the table with incredible ease; it was far too strong to be stopped by something as malleable as wood; Arkash slashed through Argent Armor with that weapon in Lorien. It almost brought him pride to see it perform so well... Almost. "And while I'll gladly cut you open and stitch you back together a thousand times to find it, I want us to get along better than that. After all, the reason I'm keeping you is that I want you to initiate me."
Arkash could have guessed that, but like hell would he give something as powerful as the mark bestowed upon him to the man he wished to kill. "...Too bad I don't have any magic to initiate you with," the Rathor spat back with a spiteful grin of his own.
A sigh from the noble was the response he received. Moments later, he produced a pocket watch and flipped the engraved, golden lid to see the time in the dim lamplight. Without turning to the rathor, the noble closed the lid, then pocketed the watch. His anger only grew as his patience waned, and Arkash reveled in that. The Entente then approached the rathor with slow, methodical footsteps. Something in the manner in which he walked stirred memories of his time in Lower Nivenhain, cornered, carved, branded. His own breathing picked up a little as the taller man took his scalie chin and directed his gaze straight into his own. "I mean it," the noble returned. "I'll gladly cut you to pieces to find that mark... But for now, I have some business to tend to." Arkash felt the tension in the man's hand as he was roughly let go in the same motion that the noble stepped toward the door. "Become human, we're going outside," the command was issued, and Arkash begrudgingly obeyed.

Valtoria's sun was warm on his tan skin, but it heated the burlap rags he wore uncomfortably while they waited outside the fortress's outer walls beside the two Halamire that guarded the gate. They were told to prepare for violence as if the Veir didn't trust those he was dealing with. The only reprieve from the sun was the occasional breeze that flowed like waves over the shin-height yellow grass that ran parallel to the dirt road on both sides.
Arkash didn't doubt that the commands that the Halamire issued in Gentaverse were meant to alert any gunners that waited in the ramparts of what might become of the dealing that was about to ensue. He supposed he'd also have to protect the noble if he wanted to preserve Derek Egon... But from what? He doubted there was much that he couldn't handle, except for maybe a mage as powerful as Taelian.
The disguised rathor looked to his taller master while they waited. "Why all the security?" He quizzed. "You pissing your pants or something?"
"You're so very funny, Derek. Remind me to confiscate your tongue when this is done with."
Arkash blinked. The casual tone in which the noble spoke his threat led the rathor to believe that his threat wasn't a threat at all. Could a necromancer do that? Just take his tongue off? Could it be re-attached? Arkash straightened up while he waited. He didn't want the noble to know that his threat had frightened him at all, so he pretended that it didn't.
"What's it all for anyway?"
"...The removal of your tongue?"
"The business."
"Ah. Well, it's not your business. None of it, in fact."
Arkash crossed his arms, then took a deep breath through his nose before expelling it quickly. "I thought you said you wanted to be friends?"
Rapahel laughed, but it carried a certain growl of frustration. Arkash lived for that anger. The more he could tear the pig up inside, the better. "If you must know, I'm dealing with some badlanders for the retrieval of wurmblood. No doubt it's unheard of in your neck of the woods, so I won't bother explaining what it is. Just know that it's valuable to my research." Raphael then looked over his shoulder to peer past Arkash. The Rath knew he was looking at the Halamire nearby. How did it feel to be addressed so commonly by a slave before his own men? Arkash could only wonder the extent of his embarrassment. "You'd do well to address me properly before our guests, else I'll confiscate your eyes, too."
Arkash frowned at that. He'd only ever been half-blind, and that was bad enough. Without another word, the Rathor stepped back to the tall white-bricked wall, and leaned with his arms crossed, physically withdrawing from the conversation. Raphael smiled.
"Better yet, don't speak until I tell you to. Understood?" The noble called over his shoulder.
The rathor rolled his eyes, then nodded his response. That one gesture lit Raphael's chest on fire. The man was seething. Arkash knew how much the man hated it when he didn't respond properly. His own evil smile only grew when Raphael turned back to face the front. Even if he knew he would be flogged mercilessly for his behavior, he didn't care at all.
They were at a stalemate. Raphael's only power over Arkash was his identity, and if the man allowed that message to go out, Arkash would have no reason not to kill him. Their game of cat and mouse had only just begun.
Over the slight hill in the distance, Arkash squinted to see some silhouettes approaching. Was that the business Raphael spoke of? Or was it some delivery? A look to his right, where the land sank to the river dismissed his interest in the situation. He just wanted to get back inside so he could find that messenger hawk already.

Image source.

[Miki]

¤

They had just arrived in Valtoria having come on foot it took them some time. They parked their bikes in an undisclosed location for safe keeping and walked their way in so they would call less attention to themselves. The plan was set, the would play hard ball and do a good cop/bad cop scenario it if got too serious. Miki was nerve wracked for her first time meeting a contact under their guise as the mercenary band "Snake Eyes". This could be the moment that set their fortune in motion, they under no circumstances could fuck this up.

It was a deliberate thing they did, trying to blend in, when the pair, Izul and Miki, snuck into a back alley and changed out of their road clothes into something a little more Daravin. It wasn't like the red pair would stand out any less, but at least they were trying. Miiki was so much smaller and more out of the ordinary than the Variant Orkhai, Izul. Though they were the same age Miki was decidedly less tampered with by time and toil. Izul's face was lined and showed every year while Miki kept a certain gracefulness about her features which made her seem youthful. Even beneath the half masks the two wore now their differences were well known. Izul was around ten inches taller than her counterpart. They were like fish out of water here.
"A means to an end."
Came Miki gruffly as they made their way back through the streets to the contact meeting place. Eventually they wouldn't have to traverse the streets and meet contacts, they will have employed people to do that for them. One grueling step at a time.

~~~

At last they came upon the gate they were instructed to enter through. It seemed to give way to the back of a courtyard and they followed the path to their destination. It made sense, not entering through the front. Less ways to be seen. Miki hoped she wouldn't have to wait too long until someone came to greet her, but instead saw a young man with springy hair waiting for them. The moroi gave a slight cordial wave to him, judging by his clothes he was a slave-- he wore nothing but a simple potato sack. What pig would keep a person in conditions like this? Slave or not it made Miki's stomach turn and she could tell immediately who was in charge.
"We are here to meet Raphael. We are Hector's contacts to fetch some wurmblood."
She said this loud enough for those present to hear. She was grateful he was prompt. Izul snorted once and shot Miki a look.
Time to get this over with.

[Arkash]

Those figures along the road steadily drew closer and closer, growing from ants in the distance to recognizable silhouettes over time. Arkash paid them little mind until they arrived, choosing to spend his conscious focus on the moment, his mental map of the palace, and where he might find a hidden messenger hawk. It was possible that someone held one such beast in their personal effects, somewhere in town.
It was also possible, he supposed, that Raphael hadn't fully disclosed the length of his failsafe to Arkash. What if there was more than one designated messenger? What if he'd hidden letters detailing similar things about his study? Was there perhaps another soul that knew who he was? However many traps Raphael had left for him, Arkash clung to the belief that he would come out on top, regardless of the trials that awaited him or how unlikely it all seemed.
His confidence wasn't blind, it was fueled by his resolve. if he put his mind to it and commit every waking moment to attain that which he sought, how could he not achieve it? Freedom would be his again, and when he'd de-fanged his master, he would kill him and take those damned tools for himself. In hindsight, the entire operation would have been so much easier if he'd just done that in the first place. The sooner he dispatched the pig, the better.
A wave woke him from his internal thoughts, and he set eyes on the curious, red-skinned lady. Beside her was a much taller lady, the likes of which he hadn't seen before. What were they? The taller of the two sort-of depicted one of those Orkhai that occasionally came up in stories. The other? He had no idea what she was, but it was difficult to tell with their masks in the way. After a moment of puzzled staring, he offered a brief nod in return to the wave that was thrown his way. They'd captured his interest, despite his outward lack of care.
What for? Well, he'd only ever heard of the Orkhai in stories, he'd not seen one before. The shorter one? He couldn't even begin to imagine what she was. he almost wished he was in a position to ask, but under his master's gaze, that wasn't going to happen. He scowled at the taller man while he rested his back on the hard white walls. The stone was at least cool in the glaring sun and helped to ease the building heat in his skin.
Those mercenaries declared that they were there to fulfill a contract to collect wurmblood. Arkash grinned a little; something about the way the little one spoke felt innocent, almost naive. Where was she from? It wasn't Daravin, he imagined. But then, he hadn't seen all of Daravin. How could he be so sure?
Bigotry and phobic rage were rife in that country, he already understood. It was rare that he wasn't attacked on the streets, just for appearing foreign while dressed in rags. Anything that wasn't the faithful, Ulendreic people of Daravin was evil by default and had to be destroyed. There was no room for diversity, so how did those two survive as free women with all their differences to the common daravinic human?
"Yes yes, I know why you're here," the Entente answered the heralding Moroi. Again, he produced that engraved pocket watch, inspecting the time quickly before he closed the lid. A sigh escaped him with a shake of his head. "I require ten gallons. For this, I will pay you two-hundred dranari farthings," he spoke with an air of finality as if there was no room to negotiate that price. "Seeing as my offer is more than generous enough for the likes of your labor, you can be on your way."
The mage pocketed his watch, then waved off the pair with a flick of his wrist, as if he was shooing off some rodents from his front porch. Arkash supposed that was how the mage perceived these two. He couldn't help but raise both brows while he looked at the noble, pursing his lips as if to ask if Raphael really wanted to speak to his contractors that way. But what did he know? He was just the slave between them.
"...Why are you still here? I've given you your task, now be off," he ordered again, with another shooing wave.

Image source.

[Miki]

¤

Miki was quite shocked at how she was so easily dismissed. They stood there waiting for something else to be said but only got shooed. This was not going according to plan. In fact this was so insulting Miki wasn't sure what to do next. It seemed like a total waste heading out here if they were going to walk four days just to be immediately excused
"Excuse me but we have more terms that need discussed before we can leave."
Izul was curt but polite.
"You see we have an issue with the matter of collateral."
Miki put in, her teeth showing a little bit too much in her grimace, she continued on.
"This isn't our first, er, rodeo. I need to make sure we get paid and this isn't some kind of bullshit set up. You know the Candor better than I, but I do know nothing gets traded without some compensation. If you think for one moment that we are leaving here as soon as we arrived you're wrong, let's talk."

"A slave."
Interrupted Izul during Miki's hardball monologue.
"We need more bodies if we're going to hunt this wurm for you. Are you unfamiliar? If this is valuable to you like you say then I need to see you work with us. At the moment it's just Miki and I unless we dip into our own funds and pay out more than what the wurmblood is worth. And it's worth much more than you can afford after all that, indeed."
Was this even going to work? Miki had her doubts but at Izul's request she cast a look to the slave boy present. Despite his rags he looked at least well fed and strong. Perhaps his slaves would actually be a good source of collateral, she just wished they would have discussed that question beforehand. Who really just lent out slaves? Hopefully someone who wanted something badly enough.

Miki finally continued on.
"Of course this will take some time on our part as the wurmblood needs processed, refined, transported, and smuggled basically. I just want to be explicit with you when I say the job will be done but it won't be done over night. There will be a period of waiting. Give us twenty days and we will have your ten gallons."

It was clear these weren't Hector's henchmen but people who at least thought they deserved to be spoken to with respect. At the very least perhaps the wrong people to cross. Miki didn't have murder on her mind but to be slighted by her contact anymore meant he would get the most low grade and cut wurmblood possible. She was here to make money, not friends, but some hospitality would be nice. She finished off her negotiations with just one more thing.
"I'm not sure how easy you think getting wurmblood is but I'm willing to bet you won't find anyone more capable and ready for this than we are, so long as you provide capable collateral. I hope you make the right decision here."

[Arkash]

He did find it curious that the pair had yet to leave after being dismissed by an Entente, but he had come to the conclusion on his own that they were foreigners; they didn't know how Daravin worked. When they stood their ground, however, he began to smile wickedly. Raphael's accelerating heart set his teeth on edge beneath his cruel grin. It really was fuel to his fire to know that his Master was constraining such rage, especially if there was nothing he could do about the cause of such rage.
It was especially funny because the worker bees behaved in a manner most courteous; Raphael had no reason to be mad other than the fact that he had been told 'no'. He knew that in his eyes, the mercs were nothing but tools to him. Raphael often treated others that way, useful for a time, then discardable. He had no doubt he'd be treated much the same if he did pass on his mark to the pig. Arkash would be of no more use to the man. Whether that meant he was free to go, or if he'd end up as more spare parts in the Necrodoctor's laboratory, he didn't know. Neither did he intend to find out.
Raphael crossed his arms, straining the expensive fabrics he wore; made for looks, not for functionality. Arkash lowered his own arms and shifted his gaze between the lord and his contractors while the red-skinned one spoke. He began to pick at his nails while they spoke of compensation and the like. He paid little attention to the conversation, as Arkash had little interest in wealth. After all, money was just a tool used by a governing entity to sustain its elite's comfortable lifestyles. He cared not for it, nor the greedy ones that sought it out and haggled for more.
His gaze was occupied with the dirt beneath his fingernails all the way up until a slave was mentioned. The disguised rathor blinked, then looked up from his troublesome human hands with a furrow to his brow. A slave? He tilted his head, barely paying attention to Raphael while the Orkhai spoke.
With his interest piqued, he paid close attention to the details of their plight. Arkash furrowed his brow then; they needed manpower, bodies to help them in their quest to kill... A single worm. What? Arkash had wondered how many earthworms it would take to fill ten gallons, but they expected to do it with just one? Why did they need help? Hope stirred in his own heart, and it showed in his expression as he looked to the noble.
"Bodies..." the Necromancer started with something of an irritated growl. "...Well, I don't know what Hector was thinking supplying me with a lousy two grunts..." he spoke under his breath, plenty loud enough for the Rathor to hear with his keen dranoch senses, but he was unsure if the other two caught that comment. "So you mean to deplete me of my slaves?" Raphael asked. "You realize these broken things are mere fodder against the likes of Rien hollows, let alone a wurm. If you expect them to make the task easier, then you're sorely mistaken." The doctor straightened his back, assuming a posture that better relayed his annoyance. "The Halamire of this fortress grew flabby when they used to train on the slaves; they're beyond pathetic. That is to say you will need my entire workforce for this task."
Arkash rose a brow, then looked to the supposed Halamire guards to his right. They looked anything but flabby to him; they were strong, robust, appealing to his blood sickness, but nowhere near as strong as Argent Knights.
"So, let's run some simple math; I'll spell it out for you so that you understand. My entire workforce of fifteen slaves will need to be replaced by temporary workers, who I can find will work for a farthing per day's work. I will need fifteen of them to replace my workload, and if I'm paying fifteen farthings a day for twenty days, that comes out to a total of three hundred farthings for the time you're gone. You would owe me a hundred by the time you were back," the Veir grinned triumphantly.
Arkash rolled his eyes with the quietest scoff. Actual paid labor wouldn't get nearly as much done as the slaves, who worked sixteen-hour days in place of eight. If Raphael was being practical or knew anything at all about his workforce, he'd actually be paying thirty farthings a day to thirty workers on two separate shifts. "-Not to mention," the Veir added, "I fully expect you to return at least five slaves short of what I entrusted to you. Each of them adds up to a value of five to six hundred farthings... You'd actually come back owing me quite the bill indeed."
The rathor curled his nose. He wasn't incredible with mathematics, but he knew that came up over two thousand farthings... Closer to three. Did it at all disturb him that his master spoke of them as mere numbers? Logistics like hours and productivity? He supposed all lords probably thought in similar terms. They were all monsters of their own breed, after all. Arkash furrowed his brow again then when the Veir next spoke.
"To conclude, you'd best either find your own bodies to work with, pray you're successful with just the two of you, or be on your way and tell that rat to send me a more competent band of 'Mercenaries', or any sort of band at all!"
"Just let me go," Arkash spoke when his lord was done. The master's fast-beating heart began to beat even quicker while the disguised rathor grinned internally from where he leaned. "I dunno shit about worms, but y'know I could do just as good, if not better, than any band of mercs out there." It felt good to let his confidence show after a month or two of pretending to be some broken, prideless thing.
"GO INSIDE!" The Veir snapped with a wave of his hand that pointed to the guarded gate, apparently displeased by his slave's suggestion. Arkash didn't move. Raphael couldn't touch him, just as he was unable to do anything back.
"Think for a minute," Arkash spoke instead and directed his gaze to the necromancer. "If I go-"
"-OUT OF THE QUESTION!" The Master barked without giving Arkash even a moment to propose his idea.
He couldn't deny that it rattled him to be yelled at, and it did knock the wind from his sails. How was he to stand up for himself if not with his calm, cool confidence? "But I-"
"NOW!" Raphael roared in something of a power trip. His hand shook in rage where he pointed as if he was mere words away from striking the raggedy slave.
It was a mystery to him. Raphael's rage somehow burned his eyes, made them watery while his throat tightened. He was made to feel small in the face of that explosive outburst. Had he just played the part too long? He began to stand and took a step toward the gate as though he intended to follow the command without another glance to the two mercenaries. Embarrassment and shame hung his head, he dared not look.

Image source.

[Miki]

¤

It was all Miki could do to not face palm as the grinning man rattled off reasons why he couldn't provide collateral. It was risky asking for a slave, sure, and perhaps Cloak would join with them on their mission, but when he was through berating the one who offered to come along she had something to say. Her words cut off Izul who let out a gruff snort,
"Yes, but we need guaranteed payment for this. Collateral still needs to be provided. I understand there are dirty dealings everywhere but in short, we're your guys. You need to make a decision and fast, because either way this wurm is coming down and I can make triple what you offered in the Badlands for the same amount."

A slight bluff, but she didn't expect a prat to understand the dealings of the Badlands.
"In truth, we need one slave to willing to hold a gun while we ride. We can make it worth your while. Five more gallons extra, fresh, for the collateral for the two hundred farthings. You see, I can shoot and I can ride but I don't have enough arms to do this at the same time. What you say is true, weak slaves would die, but 15 is out of our range. We just need a single capable one who is strong enough to hold up a gun and shoot. As well, I am not in the business of freeing slaves, your property is your own. I have a precaution for deals like this as we have done it before. Any slave that would run on our watch would be replaced, not to mention, in full, and we could even bring you their head if needed. In regards to hunting wurms, this is a specialty thing, this isn't something every Badlander does and even fewer are willing to do. It takes time, resources, man power, and bullets."

This was turning out to be a disaster. Why on Atharen Hector hadn't provided a mug for them was out of her realms, but they were being tested on all sides now. It was down to the wire. This would either happen peacefully or they would leave completely, Hector be damned. The slave man, the one with the hair, was clearly unhinged by the altercation. Miki as well thought it odd a slave would willingly put himself in danger, they wouldn't let him just escape, no there would be a chain bracelet from Miki's wrist to their own. She wasn't keen on slaves herself and quite frankly would make it a small vacation for whatever person was under her charge, you couldn't treat them too sweet but she could at least share some of the wealth when money was had. In truth, slavery and genocide were something she had nearly been through-- she did go through a genocide. Had her people not fled through that portal who knows, eradication or worse could have happened to them on that sick, twisted planet.

"This is my last offer, unless you have a better source of collateral or know of someone who is selling cheap labor quickly we need to go. Either way we are getting this wurm but it depends on your answer now if you have any claim in our spoils. Surely you aren't the only noble who is in need?"
At that, Miki folded her arms and put up her nose. Unless he had something worthwhile to say the dealings were done. Should this go sour they would need to quickly leave else he would likely call the law, and they would be fucked. Miki was itching to get this over with, it was time to move on to better things. If he wouldn't deal with them then they would find someone who would. She wasn't an Entente she was a merc and had no more time for prattle.

[Arkash]

Arkash held his next step as the short one added a piece of the puzzle that Raphael had either missed or ignored completely. Collateral. They'd only asked for one slave to aid in the combat, and that was just because they needed extra hands to shoot with. They could handle the combat fine; the real reason they needed a slave was to guarantee their pay.
The rathor looked to the Veir's features, bared teeth, pink skin, and bulging neck veins and all. The monster he suppressed had something of a habit for emerging on the Rathor. What else could Raphael vent his anger on, after all, if not for the greatest obstruction and key in what he craved?
The Necrodoctor kept his back to the mercenaries while he simmered, coming down from his outburst. His gaze remained locked with Arkash's while the shorter of the two continued to speak her offer. Five extra gallons for some collateral, no extra payment needed. Raphael withdrew his open rage, then lowered his hand before he turned to face the mercenaries once more. "...Fifteen gallons total, then?" Anyone with half a brain could tell just how one-sided that deal sounded; just how badly did those mercenaries need that contract?
Arkash stood there, frozen. His eyes were the only things to move, darting between the noble's back, the Orkhai, and the short red lady. The tension in the air was only broken by Raphael's thoughtful hum; he really thought about it. Though, unknown to the mercs, the Veir had so much more to lose with Arkash leaving the fortress. It had to be more lucrative than that. Still tender from the verbal harrowing, Arkash swallowed from his dry palette, and asked an uncertain "...Master?" When he thought Raphael's heartrate had lowered just enough that he wouldn't explode.
It did rise significantly at the sound of Arkash's voice, but that was expected. A frustrated "what is it, slave?" came the delayed response.
Arkash had his foot in the door, he could deliver his proposition. "If you let me go, I can learn everything about worm hunting. You won't have to pay somone to fetch it for you again... And you know I won't try to run away..." After all, if Arkash did leave, then Raphael would just send that messenger hawk out of spite, and house Florent would know Derek Egon's true identity; the creature that had taken Catherine from them.
The Veir crossed one arm over his chest while he thought, then held his chin with his free hand. A deep exhale from his nose slowed his heart further, which Arkash took as a good sign. He looked then to the mercenaries, brown eyes widened with a lining of hope. "...Fine," he accepted at last. "For fifteen gallons of wurmblood, you can borrow my slave for twenty days and collect two-hundred farthings on delivery of the goods. I accept your offer."
It really took that long to decide on a deal that weighed so heavily in his favor? The disguised Rathor pursed his lips hard behind the noble's back, then stepped toward the mercenaries with a hesitant gait, only to stop as Raphael lifted a fully extended arm to block his path. "I'm not worried about my slave abandoning his duties; they're all trained to know the consequences for such things..." he declared with an air of pride about him as he turned to look at the ragged slave of springy hair from over his shoulder. "You can expect such consequences if you're not back by the evening of the sixtieth," he warned with something of a low growl. "Don't test me." Another deep exhale escaped him as he lowered his arm, then folded his hands behind his back.
Arkash cast a glance to the mage with the slightest shake of his head, then walked by him as he set his course for the two red women. He stood silent as he turned to face his Master, who looked between the three with some degree of cautious uncertainty. "...Now, is there anything else?" He asked with a raise of his brow and a slight tilt of his head. "If not, I'd kindly ask you to be on your way; I have other business to tend to and cannot entertain guests."

Image source.

[Miki]

¤

The vacuum broke. Miki could breath again. He finally understood and agreed. The outspoken slave man seemed overly willing and something about the way he spoke came off as a little too hopeful and sweet. There would be no baby sitting no matter her soft spot for her plight and he would be expected to keep the Bel up and prove his worth, especially if he was so willing to come along.
"No, ser, there is nothing more. We'll have this to you as quickly as we can and, your, er, cooperation is greatly appreciated and taken in good faith."
As if to demonstrate this point Miki grabbed from her pack a rope and tied it to the young man's wrist, then tied it to her waist. Her face was stern but not cruel, this was a mere showing of her seriousness to his master not necessarily a power play on the young man. She spoke to him now directly,
"You'll be coming with us then, keep up. We have much walking to do."

The trio left the same way they came, through the back entrance. After quickly winding around Valtoria they found themselves outside of the city and walking, which they would be doing for many more days. Once out of the city a small conversation was had between the older women.
"Well, that was a right shit show."
Izul said first, breaking the silence that had pervaded the three until then.
"Yes, I wish you would have told me you wanted a slave from him-- that maybe would have made negotiations much easier."
Miki gave a side glance to the young man as Izul carried on,
"Honestly wherever we were meeting I was going to claim something of his for ours, it just so happened this young man was there. He looks, hm, capable."
Miki knew what Izul was going to say next and rolled her eyes as it came,
"I have a great feeling about this!"

Then, on they walked.

[Nyx]

Thread Review

Arkash

Regular Experience: 8 EXP

Magical Experience: N/A

Injury/Ailments: N/A

Awarded Lore:
[*] Intimidation: Be loud.
[*] Intimidation: Threaten what they care about.
[*] Intimidation: Invoke hopelessness.
[*] Intimidation: A means of getting people to do something they wouldn't otherwise do
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[*] [PC] Miki: Red
[*] [PC] Miki: Doesn't have pupils
[*] [PC] Miki: Some sort of mercenary?
[*] [PC] Miki: Travels with an Orkhai
[*] [PC] Miki: Hunts worms?
[*] [PC] Miki: Your temporary keeper

Loot: N/A

Miki

Regular Experience: 8 EXP

Magical Experience: N/A

Injury/Ailments: N/A

Awarded Lore:
Negotiation: Playing hard ball
Negotiation: Having a plan
Negotiation: Getting what you want
Negotiation: Making points
Negotiation: Generic Lore 8
Negotiation: Generic Lore 9
Negotiation: Generic Lore 10

Loot: 1 Derek for a loaned slave

Comments: Sorry you two had to wait for so long, here's your review.