62nd of Ash, 120
"Me Masta's most pleased, Ser," spoke the ratty man as he handed over Arkash's payment. "The street was in an uproar, most spectacular!"
Arkash furrowed the brow that worked but accepted the payment nonetheless. Four thousand farthings for the murder of a mother of four, an innocent that had done nothing to Arkash. But then, she was human. She'd probably done something wrong.
Arkash was sick and tired of the games and riddles. He'd been led to jump through hoop after hoop chasing some answer or meaning, and found nothing but more trail to follow. It wore on his mind and body like the grind of the life he once lived, and the task he once found fulfilling had become something of a chore that chipped away at his conscience with every cut.
As Arkash stowed the sack of gold, he looked over the ratty man in the dark of the alley. "What's next, 'en?" he asked with little hesitation or pause. He was too deep now to give up or turn back.
To his question, the ratty man smiled in a way that showed his yellowed, rotting teeth. Arkash had caught on to the game, he knew there was a trail to follow, and that reflected well. "O! Me Masta thin's yer most promisin', Ser! He wants t'meet ye!"
Arkash perked and lifted his head a little to straighten his back. He'd made it to the end of his trail; he'd have his answers, the riddle behind the hoops he jumped through. A smile pulled at his lips and he laughed a breath. "Well, graet! Where is 'e?"
The ratty man lifted a crooked, dirty finger as if to pause the rath and lidded his eyes. "Nae, not yet."
"Wha'?"
"One more game, and ye can meet 'im."
Arkash clenched his claws briefly, but the brief wave of rejuvenation that had washed over him had dissipated as soon as it arose. He relaxed his claws and sighed in defeat. "One more," Arkash affirmed. Just one more kill and he'd finally meet his shadowy client. His knife had run red enough in the time that he worked for the unknown master, what was one more cut? One more throat slit? "Who's it 'iss tiem? A li'l girl? An ol' lehdy?"
The ratty man shook his head, then handed Arkash another envelope. The rathari sighed; he needed to go back to the avialae to get it translated. Or did he? Asmodei was happy to help him, but he was wary of the symbol of the bloody eye. Arkash had to talk him down form going to Fayeth whenever the mention of a contract arose. He did have others he could ask, but would they be as understanding as his stalwart protector? With a bow of his head, he bid the ratty man farewell, then returned to the Sawtoothed Renegades.
"Kahl," Asked the rath from the doorway. He'd moved to their underground gang headquarters, where the jastai leader dwelled. He, among a few others, had been busy sorting through neatly-wrapped packages upon a table in the back of the carved room. That was until the leader's name was called, and all eyes fell upon Arkash. The rathari's heart skipped a beat. Why did they all have to stare? The fur-adorned Jastai stared expectantly, then smiled a little and bowed his head.
"Arkash," he returned, then stepped away from the table to approach the young rath. "Did you need something? We're in the middle of preparing some goods for a client."
His eye fell back upon the packages that the men wrapped. By the smell of the room alone, he could tell they were preparing some hard drugs; it was a similar scent to the product that Liu once peddled on behalf of a gang. So, he proceeded further into the room, and adjusted the strap of his prosthetic arm. With each passing day, it got easier and easier to lift and wield the steel appendage. His stump arm grew stronger as a result of the weight. "I need someun' t' transleht fo' me. I go' some job from a clien', an' I can' read common, jus' vithmi."
Kahl rose his brows. Literacy in any language was a rare skill, especially in the likes of Lower Nivenhain. But the Sawtoothed Renegades were foreigners. Arkash hoped at least one of them knew how to read. "Can you speak Vithmi, too?" The Jastai asked in Arkash's second language. The rath widened his eye. Kahl spoke vithmi!
"I can, much better than I can speak common, too," he returned with perfect fluency. His vithmi was directly influenced by his parents, while he learned common as they did; through the natives of Lower Nivenhain.
The giant laughed a breath, then nodded. "Well, if you accompany our courier to deliver this, I can get someone to translate it for you before you're back. Fair?" Arkash bowed his head in acceptance, then offered the envelope to the jastai, who furrowed his brow at the insignia of the bloody eye. The gathered men packed up their packages and set them off with a lone human and Arkash in tow.
The delivery went without a hitch, as it usually did, and Arkash returned to the headquarters in one piece with the courier intact. He took a moment to warm his body by the brazier, as it had begun to snow during the delivery. When he was sufficiently limber and lax, he moved through the evenly-cut stone hallways to Kahl's dorm, where he knocked. The door opened within seconds, and the tall jastai stood there with a human he didn't recognize.
"Job's done, it went smooth, no hiccups. Who's this?" he asked in vithmi, as he'd discovered the jastai knew how to speak the language.
"Aren Schmidt," replied the jastai with his common accent. "I'm afraid 'e doesn't speak vithmi, assassin. Aren's a professor from a foreign land who owes me a favor. Of course, he reads and writes common well." Arkash's eye shifted to the human again, and a bow of his head followed. The human offered a polite wave and a smile while he looked upon the rathari's injuries, almost puzzled.
"A pleasure to meet you, assassin," spoke the scholar with an accent most refined when he set the envelope aside. "Your job details killing one of the Chevalier that patrol the outer district, it also details baiting its accompanied hollow to a specific alley-."
Arkash's attention was lost at the mention of a hollow. He had to face one of those things? Arkash lifted a hand and waved to pause the scholar. Aren furrowed his brows, then looked to Kahl, who shrugged. "Nah, i'ss orite," Arkash returned with an uncomfortable smile. "I dun need i'ss job. I'll be fien."
The jastai lowered to his knee and looked Arkash in the eye while the rath uncomfortably clenched and unclenched his claws. "Not a fan of killin' Argent?"
"Wha'? No, I dun' care about 'em," was Arkash's immediate reaction with a look of genuine bewilderment in his eye. Kahl caught that.
"So it's the 'ollow, then."
Arkash's heart sank. He didn't want to talk about them, the whole situation made him uncomfortable. The desire to pursue the chase to the end was lost. He could live his life without knowing what came next. So, he stepped away from Kahl, then turned his back, only to wind up caught by the tail. A firm yank pulled him back, and Arkash fell into the giant's grasp. In protest, he slapped the hand around his waist with his prosthetic steel arm and dug in with his claws alike, but Kahl's skin was... exceptionally hard, unnaturally hard. It was as if he was digging into hardwood with his claws. "LET ME GO!" he barked in vithmi, but no reply came from the giant, who carried Arkash ten feet off the ground through the enormous underground tunnels. The scholar waited where he was told.
Without pause, Kahl opened a nondescript door and threw the rathari into it. He tumbled across the floor and rolled to his feet before he bolted at the giant in the doorway, only to have the hard, steel-braced interior of the door slam shut, and lock the rathari in complete darkness. With his teeth bared, Arkash slammed his fist against the planked surface; there was no handle. "LEMME OUT 'EW CUN'" he cried in common, and an iron slider pulled across, far out of the rathari's reach to allow a little light into the room.
"Brucey!" Called Kahl's voice, and the rattle of chains sounded somewhere behind him. He looked at the echo of the wrought iron clattering and saw nothing in the darkness. His heart began to race, and his mouth filled with venom. "Kill 'im," ordered the giant. The brief sound of bare feet slamming the stone floor sounded and Arkash backed up to the door in a panic. What stepped into the light drew a scream from his lips.
Right there, in front of him with its claws extended was a hollow. It only managed a swipe before the chain and bracer on its neck caught it, and the creature loosed a shrill shriek. Arkash fell onto his tail at the foot of the door, his mouth hung open while streaks of his venomous drool poured. His body was ready to bite the creature, but his mind froze and urged him to flee. He had to get away, he couldn't face the hollow. "Please!" he cried. "Please let me out!" he begged in vithmi as tears ran down his cheeks. the hollow pulled a strain on the chain that connected it to the wall, and swung at Arkash with murderous intent. The door's slider shut and trapped Arkash in complete darkness with the monster.
It didn't help that he could no longer fully see the creature, he still heard it, he knew it was in the room. While he screamed, cried, and begged, lost memories resurfaced, and Arkash recalled the incident that took his arm and his eye both.
Image source.
