51st of Ash, 120
Despite his discomfort with the leader of the Sawteeth, he couldn't deny that he delivered as promised. Arkash held the repaired, cleaned pistol in his claws, and turned it over to inspect the wooden handle, the complete finish, and shine of the wood. If it weren't for the lowlight of the den, Arkash didn't doubt that he could see his own reflection in the polish. The metal was no longer rusted, either; it was like a completely different gun.
"An' nothin else?" Arkash asked while he inspected the weapon.
"Nah," replied the gunsmith with a curious eye. "Youer friend paid in full, no nasty surprises, either."
The young rath smiled a little, then stowed his new acquisition. "I'll maek shore to thank 'im," Arkash spoke with a bow of his head, then turned to leave the den with a push of the curtain that draped the entrance. The low light of the tall stone alley hit his eye and forced a squint and a reflexive dip of his head.
He had no other business in the likes of Outer Nivenhain, and he was due back to Asmodei, who waited for him at the entrance of the sewers. So, Arkash lifted his hood with his one arm, then proceeded out of the alley into the quiet, snowy streets. He couldn't remain there long, as the cold would sap his body of all its heat and eventually kill him, so his course was a direct one with as few delays as possible in mind.
Despite his distaste for the cold, he had to admit it had its merits. Humans hated it too, and they didn't come out as often. Still, that didn't mean the district's public sectors were empty, just quieter than usual. He was glad for it, as he was afforded a little more leeway in the lift of his hood, which allowed him to see and navigate better.
Partway through following his memory-bound list of landmarks, Arkash came to some human of features that he couldn't see. The man seemed to face him, which immediately set off an alarm. Quickly, the rath attempted to step around the human, but the plain skin moved with him and blocked his way. Why? What was happening? He was in the Outer district, people didn't start fights for no reason in that part of the city. Did the human recognize him?
"You's a rathuri, ain'tchye?" spoke a shrill male voice that he didn't recognize. Arkash bared his teeth in a cringe, then moved his veiled claws to pull down on his hood. Arkash, the nameless, low-born lizardfolk, was wanted on the count of murder and assault during the late days of Searing and all throughout Ash. If the person he spoke with recognized him, it was because of that.
"No, mate." Arkash spoke with a lower, more refined common, then cleared his throat. His venom began to fill his maw, and he swallowed it as quickly as he could. Humans didn't slurp when they were nervous, he couldn't let his identity slip with the thick drool that would otherwise run from his lips if he let it. With his declaration made, Arkash attempted to step by him again, but something caught his empty sleeve. Arkash turned to face the source, closed the gap, then lifted his pistol to the human's chest with a forward lean. "You wanna fuckin' die, cun'?" He hissed lowly. The gun was empty, but the human didn't know that.
"O!" Called the same shrill voice, and his empty sleeve was released. "Forgive me, ser, I di'nae know you were a cripple!" he cried and fell to his knees, which put the barrel of Arkash's gun on his head. The rathari hissed as he looked down at the human, then stowed the weapon. If the human wanted to make a scene, he couldn't be caught pointing guns at people. It was only while the human kneeled that Arkash recognized the scabby clothes, beaten face, broken fingernails, and malnourished frame. The human was nameless. How did he get to the Outer district?
"Ge'r off youer knees ya dozy scab," came his order as he took a step back from the human. "The fuck 'ew doin' 'ere?" There was no need to uphold his fake accent in the presence of another nameless, but his identity? He could only hope the human hadn't recognized him beneath his hood and scarf.
"O! Thank ye, ser, I d'nae wish t' die, nae todeh!" Arkash growled lowly, a tone that was a little less than human. The ratty human lifted his dirty hands and held them out in a show of peace. "Mercy, ser. I search for the rathuri known as Ark-" With that, Arkash turned and walked away, and the sound of quickened footsteps caught up to him. he was in public; he couldn't just stab the human and tell him to leave. he had to somehow get to Asmodei without boxing himself in a dead-end alley.
"Please, ser! I di'nae wish ye ill. I have a... ehm... Contract, for ye." Arkash paused in his angry storm, then looked over his shoulder at the human. A contract? The human knew of Arkash's assassination services? How? Furthermore, how didn't he know of Arkash's wanted status? The human's presence alone was enough to catch his attention, but the knowledge the human possessed piqued his interest.
"A job?" Asked the rath as he turned to fully face the man.
"Aye, ser! The bloody kine!" Well, Arkash could have guessed that much. "My mast'r off'rs five-hun'red for its completion," the human spoke with a bow, and extended his muddied hand to the rath with a folded piece of parchment.
Arkash watched him with caution, then accepted the parchment. "Youer Masta?" It was a strange thing to note. Was the human some sort of slave to someone greater?
The human raised his voice and brought his hands close to his chest in a display of fealty. "O! M'lord! M'sire! M'liege! M'-!" he paused as Arkash pushed a claw to the human's lips.
"Who?" he reiterated.
"I c'nae tell ye," replied the human as he lowered Arkash's hand. "I c'n fine another if ye d'nae want it," he offered with a turn of his hand.
"No," Arkash answered with a shake of his head, then brought the parchment beneath his hood for a better view. Upon the paper was a sort of symbol that resembled an eye; it was written in red. A sniff of the parchment confirmed; it was written in blood. Whoever the ratty man's master was, they meant business. Arkash would do well to get on his good side. "I'll do it-," he affirmed as he lifted his head from the paper, then paused. The human was gone. He could lift his hood to try and find him, but Arkash didn't want to risk being recognized by anyone that might have been around.
So, the rathari turned and began to walk down the street once more. He looked at the parchment briefly before he tucked the paper into his oversized shirt with his gun, then returned his gaze to the front while he continued to run through the landmarks that mapped his way back to Asmodei.
The moment the rathari arrived at the sewer grate, Asmodei sighed. "You know," he started with a tone of irritation. "You should really buy yourself some proper clothes; I'm going to need those back if you're going to make me wait out in this weather for you for hours."
Arkash bared his teeth in a cringe; yes, he probably should have been a little more considerate of his stalwart protector. "Sorry, Az. I just..." he returned in vithmi before he paused, and thought. "Actually, I just picked up a job. I can use the pay from that to buy new clothes," Arkash offered with a grin, and Asmodei dipped to lift the sewer grate with a notable grinding noise.
"Who's the target?" He asked with a grunt, then straightened up once the manhole was open.
"...I don't know."
"You don't know? How?"
"Well... The instructions are written in common, and I can only read vithmi." Arkash presented the parchment unfolded before he offered it to the avialae. "Could you?"
Asmodei grinned, then shook his head before he accepted the paper. "That makes sense," declared the avialae as he looked over the writing. Arkash furrowed his brow.
"What does?"
"What? Lots of people can't read common, Arkash..." he trailed off with his eyes on the parchment. Arkash glared; he knew it was a jab at his accent in common. "...This is weird," he declared finally with a furrow to his brow.
"What is?" Arkash crossed his arm with his stump and tapped his foot impatiently. The mockery of his common had him in an impatient, foul mood.
"These instructions are... Really specific. I'll write out a translation for you and give it to you at the meet-up point tomorrow morning. With that, the avialae tucked the note into his pocket, then cast a concerned look to the rath. "...Best not mention this to Fayeth, I doubt she'll be happy."
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