Initiation I
Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2020 4:22 am
36th of Ash, 120
As the season went on, the days grew colder. Arkash quickly rediscovered the struggle of frost that day, as the snow had finally taken to stick. The bandaged claws of his feet were raw, numb with frost as he wandered the decrepit streets of the lower district, the condensation in his breath had long since faded as his body cooled to match his environment. It was a struggle, but it wouldn't be for much longer.
So much had changed since Arkash woke in Cinderfall. Cojack was gone, and though he still wept for his sickly father, he began to see that maybe it was for the best; his father suffered nigh every day, he couldn't even help himself to the bathroom. What was more; he'd killed two people and wounded several. The majority of the carnage he'd caused was for a contract; the promise of pay. He'd become an assassin, a blade for hire. It wasn't something he foresaw happening in his younger days; not because of some obscuring morality, but because he'd always thought himself too weak to handle combat, let alone full-blown murder. But, just like his mother, Arkash was more capable than he realized. He doubted that Cojack could have accepted what had become of him.
He no longer worked the mines or the logging camps. Instead, he lived off blood money and hid in the shadows of the lower district's alleys. He worked with Asmodei and Fayeth to rebalance the political landscape of Lower Nivenhain. Their main goal; disband The Black Boar Chargers. They were among the most powerful and revered gangs in Lower Nivenhain with a leader who's reputation exceeded himself as cruel and brutal. Those that knew the avialae and siltori couple knew the detest they held for leaders, especially the cruel kind. What was more, the chargers wanted Arkash dead. So, the gang had to go. But to pull a stunt of that magnitude, they needed allies.
A rival gang of The Chargers invited Arkash into their fold, The Sawtoothed Renegades. It was to their headquarters that Arkash ventured that day; he was to join them in their quest, use their numbers to his advantage. But the three knew that they would eventually have to destroy the sawteeth too, for they also banded under a leader. A temporary allegiance suited them well.
With a glance of his one sighted eye, Arkash squinted, then proceeded into the targetted alley. A shift of his one arm adjusted his scarf, then felt the handle of his dagger as he padded his way to the door at the far end of the alley. Once there, Arkash looked up at the towering wooden barrier, then drew a deep breath. It did strike him as odd that half the gang was made up of giants, but that might have been part of their recruitment process once upon a time? Arkash shrugged the thought away as he knocked against the door with his one set of knuckles.
While he waited in the cold, his left shoulder began to pull and twitch, his head flicked a left-ward tilt, too. Once it subsided, a large iron slider moved above him, and Arkash took a pace or two back to put himself in the giant's line of sight. A wince saw him roll his shoulder as the door slider snapped shut, and a series of clicks and snaps saw the door unlock. "'Ere for the boss?" Asked the behemoth of a man with a familiar voice.
Arkash bowed his head. "I wanna acce't, if 'e offa's still goin'." A grin claimed the tall man's features. It was then that Arkash recognized him; it was the same giant that had kidnapped him when he first came to the hideout. "You!" He called with a furrow to his brow. The giant laughed and pressed a hand to his stomach to steady himself. Arkash furrowed his brow and glared.
"Ah, pipe down, li'l rath. Wasn't personal or nothin'." Yet another thing that struck him as odd about the gang; they knew he was rathari. Most people he encountered had never even heard of rathari, but it was common knowledge among most of the gang, it seemed. "You comin' in or freezin', lizard?" Came the low bass of his voice once more. Arkash's one eye widened, then lowered a little as he proceeded into the tunnel. The door clicked behind him, and Arkash turned around on the wooden steps to face his escort. The giant fumbled with the locks for a moment, then bowed his head. "C'mon, you know the way," was all he spoke, and Arkash began to descend ahead of him.
It was a straight shot to the main chamber, the throne of which, was empty. Arkash cast a confused glance to the giant before he furrowed his brow. "Where's 'e at?"
The giant didn't reply, and strutted to a doorway on the left, where he leaned forward and called "Ey, Boss!" With his deep booming voice. A brief pause yielded some muffled yell back. "You've got a visitor!" Another muffled yell returned, and the giant returned to Arkash, only to proceed up the stairs. The rath shot yet another confused glance to the behemoth, but he merely grinned in response.
A moment or two later, and the fur-adorned leader of the Sawtoothed Renegades appeared from the hollow passage. "Ah, it's the assassin," spoke the giant as he approached his throne, then took a seat in it. "Should I be nervous about this visit?" he asked with something of an amused grin to his eyes.
Arkash grinned broadly and laughed a breath, "Ah, no," he started, then lifted his one hand away from the pommel of his dagger. It was a strange thought to imagine that anyone could be worried about their safety in his presence, but then they had seen his handiwork. "I wanna work f'r ya, join Th' Sawteeff."
The bald-headed giant brought an elbow to the armrest of his wooden throne, then leaned forward to rest his chin in his fingers. "Is that so?" he asked with a tone most dire. Arkash's smile receded. "Well, the initiation is normally by blood; and you killed a Charger for us already... But I offered you before and you weren't sure. What's changed?" Arkash hesitated. Did he tell them he wanted back at the chargers? No, they wouldn't want a target like that on their backs. "Tell you what," spoke the giant man. "Why don't you show me how much you want it?" he offered with something of an amused grin, then sat back into his throne.
Arkash formed a glare with his one sighted eye and focused squarely on the giant. "How?"
With that, the tall man put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistled loudly. Arkash squinted as a series of whistles echoed from the doorways that rested on the right and left walls, and men of all shapes and sizes began to enter the room. Though the rathari felt his heartbeat increase, as well as the stir of venom on his palette, he didn't let it show, aside from an awkward slurp to keep the viscous fluids in his mouth. He recognized a few of the faces present, but they all faced him and stood on the boss's side of the room. Feeling intimidated was reasonable, he assured himself.
The giant brought his hands together and rested his chin on his thumbs. "Is that everyone?" He asked dryly.
"Aye," spoke a human-pitched voice from somewhere in the crowd. The giant nodded carefully. "My name is Kahl, Arkash. I started the Sawtoothed Renegades when I, along with a small group of Vikinger, broke away from our Clan to start our own independent tribe. The jastai seek only one thing, and that is a glorious death. I led my brethren from those foolish notions and showed them the value of a glorious life. We know prosperity is worth fighting for. But do you?"
Arkash didn't know what a Jastai or a Vikinger was, but he sort of understood. His people were destined to die, and he led them from that destiny? That was admirable, surely. "I c'n get behin' 'at," he answered with an affirming nod.
"Good," replied Kahl. Simultaneously, he reached into his pocket to draw a handful of farthings. With a sigh, he threw the pieces to the floor, and Arkash's eye traced them as they fell. "There's a taste of prosperity for you. Pick up all those farthings, and you're in."
An intimidating chorus of quiet chuckles echoed from around him as if there was some sort of joke that he was missing. It seemed like a simple enough request. Pick up the farthings, join the gang. How that was an initiation, Arkash didn't know. Maybe they were laughing at him because of the demeaning act of picking up something someone had thrown on the ground deliberately? He didn't like it, but it wasn't difficult, per se. So, without thinking, Arkash took a step forward, then took a knee as he reached for the first farthing...
As the season went on, the days grew colder. Arkash quickly rediscovered the struggle of frost that day, as the snow had finally taken to stick. The bandaged claws of his feet were raw, numb with frost as he wandered the decrepit streets of the lower district, the condensation in his breath had long since faded as his body cooled to match his environment. It was a struggle, but it wouldn't be for much longer.
So much had changed since Arkash woke in Cinderfall. Cojack was gone, and though he still wept for his sickly father, he began to see that maybe it was for the best; his father suffered nigh every day, he couldn't even help himself to the bathroom. What was more; he'd killed two people and wounded several. The majority of the carnage he'd caused was for a contract; the promise of pay. He'd become an assassin, a blade for hire. It wasn't something he foresaw happening in his younger days; not because of some obscuring morality, but because he'd always thought himself too weak to handle combat, let alone full-blown murder. But, just like his mother, Arkash was more capable than he realized. He doubted that Cojack could have accepted what had become of him.
He no longer worked the mines or the logging camps. Instead, he lived off blood money and hid in the shadows of the lower district's alleys. He worked with Asmodei and Fayeth to rebalance the political landscape of Lower Nivenhain. Their main goal; disband The Black Boar Chargers. They were among the most powerful and revered gangs in Lower Nivenhain with a leader who's reputation exceeded himself as cruel and brutal. Those that knew the avialae and siltori couple knew the detest they held for leaders, especially the cruel kind. What was more, the chargers wanted Arkash dead. So, the gang had to go. But to pull a stunt of that magnitude, they needed allies.
A rival gang of The Chargers invited Arkash into their fold, The Sawtoothed Renegades. It was to their headquarters that Arkash ventured that day; he was to join them in their quest, use their numbers to his advantage. But the three knew that they would eventually have to destroy the sawteeth too, for they also banded under a leader. A temporary allegiance suited them well.
With a glance of his one sighted eye, Arkash squinted, then proceeded into the targetted alley. A shift of his one arm adjusted his scarf, then felt the handle of his dagger as he padded his way to the door at the far end of the alley. Once there, Arkash looked up at the towering wooden barrier, then drew a deep breath. It did strike him as odd that half the gang was made up of giants, but that might have been part of their recruitment process once upon a time? Arkash shrugged the thought away as he knocked against the door with his one set of knuckles.
While he waited in the cold, his left shoulder began to pull and twitch, his head flicked a left-ward tilt, too. Once it subsided, a large iron slider moved above him, and Arkash took a pace or two back to put himself in the giant's line of sight. A wince saw him roll his shoulder as the door slider snapped shut, and a series of clicks and snaps saw the door unlock. "'Ere for the boss?" Asked the behemoth of a man with a familiar voice.
Arkash bowed his head. "I wanna acce't, if 'e offa's still goin'." A grin claimed the tall man's features. It was then that Arkash recognized him; it was the same giant that had kidnapped him when he first came to the hideout. "You!" He called with a furrow to his brow. The giant laughed and pressed a hand to his stomach to steady himself. Arkash furrowed his brow and glared.
"Ah, pipe down, li'l rath. Wasn't personal or nothin'." Yet another thing that struck him as odd about the gang; they knew he was rathari. Most people he encountered had never even heard of rathari, but it was common knowledge among most of the gang, it seemed. "You comin' in or freezin', lizard?" Came the low bass of his voice once more. Arkash's one eye widened, then lowered a little as he proceeded into the tunnel. The door clicked behind him, and Arkash turned around on the wooden steps to face his escort. The giant fumbled with the locks for a moment, then bowed his head. "C'mon, you know the way," was all he spoke, and Arkash began to descend ahead of him.
It was a straight shot to the main chamber, the throne of which, was empty. Arkash cast a confused glance to the giant before he furrowed his brow. "Where's 'e at?"
The giant didn't reply, and strutted to a doorway on the left, where he leaned forward and called "Ey, Boss!" With his deep booming voice. A brief pause yielded some muffled yell back. "You've got a visitor!" Another muffled yell returned, and the giant returned to Arkash, only to proceed up the stairs. The rath shot yet another confused glance to the behemoth, but he merely grinned in response.
A moment or two later, and the fur-adorned leader of the Sawtoothed Renegades appeared from the hollow passage. "Ah, it's the assassin," spoke the giant as he approached his throne, then took a seat in it. "Should I be nervous about this visit?" he asked with something of an amused grin to his eyes.
Arkash grinned broadly and laughed a breath, "Ah, no," he started, then lifted his one hand away from the pommel of his dagger. It was a strange thought to imagine that anyone could be worried about their safety in his presence, but then they had seen his handiwork. "I wanna work f'r ya, join Th' Sawteeff."
The bald-headed giant brought an elbow to the armrest of his wooden throne, then leaned forward to rest his chin in his fingers. "Is that so?" he asked with a tone most dire. Arkash's smile receded. "Well, the initiation is normally by blood; and you killed a Charger for us already... But I offered you before and you weren't sure. What's changed?" Arkash hesitated. Did he tell them he wanted back at the chargers? No, they wouldn't want a target like that on their backs. "Tell you what," spoke the giant man. "Why don't you show me how much you want it?" he offered with something of an amused grin, then sat back into his throne.
Arkash formed a glare with his one sighted eye and focused squarely on the giant. "How?"
With that, the tall man put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistled loudly. Arkash squinted as a series of whistles echoed from the doorways that rested on the right and left walls, and men of all shapes and sizes began to enter the room. Though the rathari felt his heartbeat increase, as well as the stir of venom on his palette, he didn't let it show, aside from an awkward slurp to keep the viscous fluids in his mouth. He recognized a few of the faces present, but they all faced him and stood on the boss's side of the room. Feeling intimidated was reasonable, he assured himself.
The giant brought his hands together and rested his chin on his thumbs. "Is that everyone?" He asked dryly.
"Aye," spoke a human-pitched voice from somewhere in the crowd. The giant nodded carefully. "My name is Kahl, Arkash. I started the Sawtoothed Renegades when I, along with a small group of Vikinger, broke away from our Clan to start our own independent tribe. The jastai seek only one thing, and that is a glorious death. I led my brethren from those foolish notions and showed them the value of a glorious life. We know prosperity is worth fighting for. But do you?"
Arkash didn't know what a Jastai or a Vikinger was, but he sort of understood. His people were destined to die, and he led them from that destiny? That was admirable, surely. "I c'n get behin' 'at," he answered with an affirming nod.
"Good," replied Kahl. Simultaneously, he reached into his pocket to draw a handful of farthings. With a sigh, he threw the pieces to the floor, and Arkash's eye traced them as they fell. "There's a taste of prosperity for you. Pick up all those farthings, and you're in."
An intimidating chorus of quiet chuckles echoed from around him as if there was some sort of joke that he was missing. It seemed like a simple enough request. Pick up the farthings, join the gang. How that was an initiation, Arkash didn't know. Maybe they were laughing at him because of the demeaning act of picking up something someone had thrown on the ground deliberately? He didn't like it, but it wasn't difficult, per se. So, without thinking, Arkash took a step forward, then took a knee as he reached for the first farthing...