34th of Ash, 120
It was an otherwise normal Rien day. Arkash had taken his gun to get repaired by a dealer in the lower district, which was pretty hard to find, all things considered. What would be even harder to find was the funds to pay for such a service, as Arkash had been penniless since he woke. Sure, he'd scraped up a few hundred farthings, but that wasn't nearly enough to pay for an under-the-table gun repair. Anything on the black market was several times the price the consumer would normally pay, after all, Arkash suspected it would be much the same. Of course, that meant that he'd not see his gun for some time unless he somehow found a way to scrape together some real money real fast.
The sun was on its way down while Arkash made his way home, and though the light dwindled, he had sense enough to know he was being followed. It wasn't anything strange, frightening, or Alien to the rath, as he'd been stalked a number of times in the past. He could run, running was always a viable option for him because he was particularly fast, but a more greedy side of him wanted to lure his stalker in, then rob them for all they had; he needed the money. There was always a pleasing irony about flipping the crime, though he'd only had such an encounter twice, and neither were for personal gain. Regardless, his money situation left him stressed, and he found a craving for blood on his palette at the thought.
So, he turned the corner and clung to the wall there. It wasn't ideal, but the wall was on his sighted side. In the cold Ash evening, Arkash had to slow his breath to prevent a cloud of condensation from forming, and he very carefully drew his serrated shortsword in a way that wouldn't make any sound. The moment they turned the corner, he was going to grab them by the scruff and put his blade to their throat in the same motion. Then, he would say something scary, and he considered his lines while he waited. 'Drop your coin and valuables or I take them from your corpse.' A shiver went down his spine while thought. That was a good one, it was what he decided on.
As the sound of footsteps drew near, Arkash curled his lips into a grin, then startled and dropped his weapon as a large hand wrapped his muzzle and held it shut. Someone had grabbed him from behind, and panic took him. He began to struggle and flail as venom pooled in his mouth, but he was lifted off the floor. Two men rushed from around the corner he'd been camping, and one of them moved a bag to his head while the other tied his muzzle shut with a rope. He couldn't move his head, let alone fight back. The moment his muzzle was tied, the bag came over his head, and he was forced roughly to the ground, or so it felt. In the cold darkness of his restraints, he breathed raggedly, and pushed against the massive weight on his back, only to have his one arm yanked from under him. His feet were tied at the ankles, and his one wrist was tied there in turn. Arkash strained against the rope, but it was no use, he wasn't strong enough to break free, nowhere near..
Panicked, ragged breaths shook his form and he fell still in his hog tie. The clatter of his blade on the stone stole his attention. Someone had picked it up. Gods, no. They were going to kill him! Arkash resumed his thrashing and managed to bring his ankles to the front of his body, along with his arm. He was still tied, but it was far less uncomfortable. There was nothing he could do, not without a few minutes of scheming, at least. He braced himself for the serrated bite of his blade, but it never came. Instead, he was hefted off the floor with a grunt, then tossed over someone's shoulder, it felt like. He tried to wiggle his head free of the bag, but another set of hands secured it whenever it came close to slipping off.
Arkash finally came to realize that he was being taken. They weren't trying to kill him or harm him, at least not immediately. There would normally be volumes of advice against being taken to a secondary location, but even if he could break free, what would be the point? There was three of them, and none of them had yet tried to kill him. If that was what they wanted, they would have done so already. Regardless of the amount of danger he was in, he began to cut through the ropes that bound him with his claw, it was a long process, but it seemed as though he had the time.
Through the process of elimination, Arkash considered what the group's reasoning could be. They couldn't be taking him to the Argent, the chevalier would surely just accept his severed head as proof of his execution, there was no reason to keep him alive on that front. Slavery? He only had one arm, and he was quite unattractive and incompatible. While he was certain that he had plenty of value as a corpse, he saw no reason to be kept alive, and that both worried and assured him.
Finally, a muffled, metallic clack sounded, and old iron hinges creaked proceeding the sound. The lighting changed around him, and he realized they were there, wherever the group was trying to take him. The air was warm at least, and it brought the rathari some degree of comfort. He hadn't yet fully cut through the bindings, but they hung on by a thread. Suddenly, gravity shifted as he was lifted from the warm shoulder, then placed on a hard surface. The confusion startled him, and his shoulder saw fit to twitch and pull while he laid on his side.
There was a long silence and Arkash contemplated cutting the last thread while he laid there until a deep, masculine voice asked "Why's there a bag on 'is 'ed?"
"He fought back," replied a lower bass, the sort of voice that reverberated in his chest.
"Well, 'es not fightin' now, is 'e? Take it off." The first voice ordered, and left an impression of good will on the rath. Whoever the first voice was, they wanted him to be comfortable.
Low amber light filled his vision as the bag was removed from his head, and Arkash squinted in the darkness. He couldn't immediately adjust to the comparably bright light, and winced while he laid there and tried to make out certain details. Wooden floors, stone walls, nearby fires, and some sort of throne? A seat of notable importance stood before him, and on it, someone sat. As detail set in and his eye adjusted to the light, he found an absolute giant of a man, far too unnatural in proportions to be a human. It was a real giant!
Arkash's wide eye trained firmly on the man while he laid there, and the giant grinned as it's own gaze focused squarely on him in turn. "Comfy?" Asked the giant, before his grin turned to a frown. "Who tied 'is mouth up?" He asked some unseen audience behind the bound lizard. Arkash continued his one eyed stare as a pair of hands reached over his muzzle and pulled the restricting bind from his long, mangled face. At once, Arkash stretched his jaw wide, then snapped it shut as a few flecks of venom-laced spit dripped from his maw.
"Whatchya wan'?" Arkash asked while he laid there.
"Perspective," which was a big word for someone Arkash assumed to be uneducated. "What were you thinking when 'ou killed that sawtooth the other day, little rath?"
Shit. Shit shit shit. He'd been abducted by The Sawteeth, a lesser-known gang in Lower Nivenhain! That was why they wanted him alive; to torture him, then kill him! His fear showed in his eye while he laid there, and the giant bellowed a hearty laugh.
"I mean, 'e wasn't a Sawtooth, but you couldn' 'ave known that, could 'ou?" Arkash furrowed his brow. So he hadn't killed a member of their gang? What was going on? "On the contrary, 'e was a charger. 'E killed one o' my boys, took his knife an' went on a crime spree to smear my reputation. 'Ou did us a favor, lizard."
Arkash took a moment to reflect. The man he'd killed in the street was causing The Sawteeth problems, and Arkash had solved that problem for them. So why was he there? "So... 'we wanna r'ward me?" He asked, hopeful. Another hearty laugh followed, along with a chorus of laughing from unseen voices. Suddenly, Arkash withdrew into himself. That was a stupid question.
"Not quite," the giant finally answered. "See, you thought 'e was a sawtooth. You meant to kill one o' my own. Sure, he prob'ly tried t' rob ya, I get it, but 'ou still meant to kill one o' my boys."
Arkash swallowed hard. "So you're gonna kill me..." Another chorus of laughter followed from all except the giant, who lifted his hand to the crowd. The laughing stopped.
"No. If 'ou did kill one of us, I'd 'ave your scales for a pair of boots, but 'ou didn't. This is just... Makin' amends. You disrespected me an' my family, so I want 'ou to make it right. Do it well, and I'll even pay you."
That didnt seem all too fair to Arkash, but who was he to argue? "How's you s'pose I do tha'?" He asked in turn.
"I need 'ou t' kill someone for me..."
It was an otherwise normal Rien day. Arkash had taken his gun to get repaired by a dealer in the lower district, which was pretty hard to find, all things considered. What would be even harder to find was the funds to pay for such a service, as Arkash had been penniless since he woke. Sure, he'd scraped up a few hundred farthings, but that wasn't nearly enough to pay for an under-the-table gun repair. Anything on the black market was several times the price the consumer would normally pay, after all, Arkash suspected it would be much the same. Of course, that meant that he'd not see his gun for some time unless he somehow found a way to scrape together some real money real fast.
The sun was on its way down while Arkash made his way home, and though the light dwindled, he had sense enough to know he was being followed. It wasn't anything strange, frightening, or Alien to the rath, as he'd been stalked a number of times in the past. He could run, running was always a viable option for him because he was particularly fast, but a more greedy side of him wanted to lure his stalker in, then rob them for all they had; he needed the money. There was always a pleasing irony about flipping the crime, though he'd only had such an encounter twice, and neither were for personal gain. Regardless, his money situation left him stressed, and he found a craving for blood on his palette at the thought.
So, he turned the corner and clung to the wall there. It wasn't ideal, but the wall was on his sighted side. In the cold Ash evening, Arkash had to slow his breath to prevent a cloud of condensation from forming, and he very carefully drew his serrated shortsword in a way that wouldn't make any sound. The moment they turned the corner, he was going to grab them by the scruff and put his blade to their throat in the same motion. Then, he would say something scary, and he considered his lines while he waited. 'Drop your coin and valuables or I take them from your corpse.' A shiver went down his spine while thought. That was a good one, it was what he decided on.
As the sound of footsteps drew near, Arkash curled his lips into a grin, then startled and dropped his weapon as a large hand wrapped his muzzle and held it shut. Someone had grabbed him from behind, and panic took him. He began to struggle and flail as venom pooled in his mouth, but he was lifted off the floor. Two men rushed from around the corner he'd been camping, and one of them moved a bag to his head while the other tied his muzzle shut with a rope. He couldn't move his head, let alone fight back. The moment his muzzle was tied, the bag came over his head, and he was forced roughly to the ground, or so it felt. In the cold darkness of his restraints, he breathed raggedly, and pushed against the massive weight on his back, only to have his one arm yanked from under him. His feet were tied at the ankles, and his one wrist was tied there in turn. Arkash strained against the rope, but it was no use, he wasn't strong enough to break free, nowhere near..
Panicked, ragged breaths shook his form and he fell still in his hog tie. The clatter of his blade on the stone stole his attention. Someone had picked it up. Gods, no. They were going to kill him! Arkash resumed his thrashing and managed to bring his ankles to the front of his body, along with his arm. He was still tied, but it was far less uncomfortable. There was nothing he could do, not without a few minutes of scheming, at least. He braced himself for the serrated bite of his blade, but it never came. Instead, he was hefted off the floor with a grunt, then tossed over someone's shoulder, it felt like. He tried to wiggle his head free of the bag, but another set of hands secured it whenever it came close to slipping off.
Arkash finally came to realize that he was being taken. They weren't trying to kill him or harm him, at least not immediately. There would normally be volumes of advice against being taken to a secondary location, but even if he could break free, what would be the point? There was three of them, and none of them had yet tried to kill him. If that was what they wanted, they would have done so already. Regardless of the amount of danger he was in, he began to cut through the ropes that bound him with his claw, it was a long process, but it seemed as though he had the time.
Through the process of elimination, Arkash considered what the group's reasoning could be. They couldn't be taking him to the Argent, the chevalier would surely just accept his severed head as proof of his execution, there was no reason to keep him alive on that front. Slavery? He only had one arm, and he was quite unattractive and incompatible. While he was certain that he had plenty of value as a corpse, he saw no reason to be kept alive, and that both worried and assured him.
Finally, a muffled, metallic clack sounded, and old iron hinges creaked proceeding the sound. The lighting changed around him, and he realized they were there, wherever the group was trying to take him. The air was warm at least, and it brought the rathari some degree of comfort. He hadn't yet fully cut through the bindings, but they hung on by a thread. Suddenly, gravity shifted as he was lifted from the warm shoulder, then placed on a hard surface. The confusion startled him, and his shoulder saw fit to twitch and pull while he laid on his side.
There was a long silence and Arkash contemplated cutting the last thread while he laid there until a deep, masculine voice asked "Why's there a bag on 'is 'ed?"
"He fought back," replied a lower bass, the sort of voice that reverberated in his chest.
"Well, 'es not fightin' now, is 'e? Take it off." The first voice ordered, and left an impression of good will on the rath. Whoever the first voice was, they wanted him to be comfortable.
Low amber light filled his vision as the bag was removed from his head, and Arkash squinted in the darkness. He couldn't immediately adjust to the comparably bright light, and winced while he laid there and tried to make out certain details. Wooden floors, stone walls, nearby fires, and some sort of throne? A seat of notable importance stood before him, and on it, someone sat. As detail set in and his eye adjusted to the light, he found an absolute giant of a man, far too unnatural in proportions to be a human. It was a real giant!
Arkash's wide eye trained firmly on the man while he laid there, and the giant grinned as it's own gaze focused squarely on him in turn. "Comfy?" Asked the giant, before his grin turned to a frown. "Who tied 'is mouth up?" He asked some unseen audience behind the bound lizard. Arkash continued his one eyed stare as a pair of hands reached over his muzzle and pulled the restricting bind from his long, mangled face. At once, Arkash stretched his jaw wide, then snapped it shut as a few flecks of venom-laced spit dripped from his maw.
"Whatchya wan'?" Arkash asked while he laid there.
"Perspective," which was a big word for someone Arkash assumed to be uneducated. "What were you thinking when 'ou killed that sawtooth the other day, little rath?"
Shit. Shit shit shit. He'd been abducted by The Sawteeth, a lesser-known gang in Lower Nivenhain! That was why they wanted him alive; to torture him, then kill him! His fear showed in his eye while he laid there, and the giant bellowed a hearty laugh.
"I mean, 'e wasn't a Sawtooth, but you couldn' 'ave known that, could 'ou?" Arkash furrowed his brow. So he hadn't killed a member of their gang? What was going on? "On the contrary, 'e was a charger. 'E killed one o' my boys, took his knife an' went on a crime spree to smear my reputation. 'Ou did us a favor, lizard."
Arkash took a moment to reflect. The man he'd killed in the street was causing The Sawteeth problems, and Arkash had solved that problem for them. So why was he there? "So... 'we wanna r'ward me?" He asked, hopeful. Another hearty laugh followed, along with a chorus of laughing from unseen voices. Suddenly, Arkash withdrew into himself. That was a stupid question.
"Not quite," the giant finally answered. "See, you thought 'e was a sawtooth. You meant to kill one o' my own. Sure, he prob'ly tried t' rob ya, I get it, but 'ou still meant to kill one o' my boys."
Arkash swallowed hard. "So you're gonna kill me..." Another chorus of laughter followed from all except the giant, who lifted his hand to the crowd. The laughing stopped.
"No. If 'ou did kill one of us, I'd 'ave your scales for a pair of boots, but 'ou didn't. This is just... Makin' amends. You disrespected me an' my family, so I want 'ou to make it right. Do it well, and I'll even pay you."
That didnt seem all too fair to Arkash, but who was he to argue? "How's you s'pose I do tha'?" He asked in turn.
"I need 'ou t' kill someone for me..."
