52nd of Ash, 120
Arkash's jaws clamped shut around the beast's neck while his one set of claws got to work around the handle of his knife. It put up a struggle, far more of a fight than Arkash had initially anticipated, but the squeeze of his jaws around its neck ensured that the dog couldn't yelp or alert the family in any way. He wrestled the mutt to hold it down while he repeatedly twisted and drove the point of his knife into its chest.
Please... just die already, he thought to himself as the creature's pitiful struggles slowed, then finally fell limp in the grasp of his jaw. The taste of its blood left a stain on his palette and filled his nose with its potent scent. He soon let the dog go after a few more well-aimed jabs of his dagger, then straightened up and looked to the doorway. He wasn't proud of killing a dog, but it as necessary to complete the job he'd accepted.
He'd broken into a farming family's home on the outskirts of the city as per the request of some unknown master. His task was to kill the man and woman of the house, then somehow subdue the son and present him to the ratty man that had offered him the job. He needed to kill the dog to ensure that the beast didn't come to its master's aid when he struck. There was a high possibility that one of the parents would wake while he murdered the other, the commotion would alert the son, but Arkash couldn't kill him. He had to somehow evade both of them and bring down the remaining parent, then capture the son and drag him outside... with his one arm. He'd figure something out, maybe a hard knock over the head?
He didn't anticipate a hard fight from a farming family. Sure, they were probably better fed than he, but their trade was tending the fields from the comfort of the country. Arkash was conditioned to the likes of the city's slums.
Step by step, he made his way through the quiet dark of the home and retraced the stink of sweat that led to the master bedroom. All was quiet in the home and beyond the door. The death of the family pet hadn't woken anyone, he assured. Arkash stalled his breath, then carefully eased the door open just far enough to allow him to slip in.
The claws of his feet met with the muffled softness of a fabric rug as he eased his lithe form through the doorway, then stopped in the landing of the room to get his bearings. The bed and it's two occupants were wrapped up in the fur quilt that draped the frame. The only reason he could make them out was the moonlight that shone through the shutters. The moon would guide him as it had in the past. Under its gaze, he would take their lives.
Quietly, Arkash padded across the room to circle the bed. He had to take the man of the house first, while he still had the element of surprise; the woman wouldn't be as dangerous to deal with as her son, let alone the brawny farmer. So, he targeted the larger shape on the right sight of the bed, closest to the window and furthest from the door. The outline of his shadow fell upon them as he drew closer to the frame, but it was still too dark to see his targets properly.
The moment his knife fell on the farmer's neck, it would be chaos and blood through the household. Though he tried to psyche himself up for what came next, he still clung to a degree of uncertainty. What if one of them escaped? What if they cornered and overpowered him? What if he accidentally killed the son? He had to be careful, he couldn't mess it up after he'd killed the dog.
With his blade poised, he wrapped his fingers around the dagger to test the grip. Then, in a burst of power, he drove the point of the blade into the figure's neck with all his strength. Choked gurgles rang out, and the sleeping human shot up with their arms to swipe at him. Arkash removed the knife with a twist, then brought it back down upon their form. They gripped his arm, but he lifted the foot of his left side to rake their face with his toe-claws, and they released him.
"MARTHA?!" Called out a masculine voice. Arkash paused, wasn't he killing the man of the house...? Martha? His heart began to pick up in speed as he drove the point of the knife into her neck, then ripped in a vicious pull. Simultaneously, the smaller figure in the bed shot out from the covers. Arkash could barely see him in the darkness, but he did hear the shriek of a drawn blade. The man was armed. Arkash swallowed hard and watched the shadows for a glint, then ducked as a flash of moonlight met his yellow eye. "GET OFF 'ER!"
Arkash wove beneath the lazy, rage-fuelled strike, then swung his dagger to stab at where he suspected the man might be. Alas, he hit nothing. Meanwhile, Martha continued to choke and gurgle while she drowned in her blood, compliments of the second smile he's carved into her neck, and the damage to her face.
The sword came hurtling toward him again, and the point of the blade bit into his chest as it traveled. Adrenaline spiked in his blood, and he hissed as he danced backward to evade the onslaught of enraged strikes. He'd been cut; he almost couldn't believe it. It had been a while since his scales tasted steel. But, it was what he got for being reckless. He had to somehow place the human in the moonlight; it was the only way he'd be able to see well enough to win. So, he made a dash for the bed, where he tumbled over the bleeding Martha, the dropped to his feet on the other side. As he turned to glance at the human, he saw the darkened silhouette of the man rush at him from the contrast of the moonlit window. The blade the human held was poised to skewer him.
Arkash wove to the side and brought his knife up to slash at the human's face. The cut of flesh sounded, and the human stumbled. The clatter of a sword on the floor rumbled in Arkash's ears as the man screamed in anguish. As he fell to his knees, Arkash swept up behind him and drew his dagger along the man's neck with a deep press. He breathed deeply, and his chest wound burned while he bled, but his opponent was much worse for wear.
More gurgles and choking sounded as the human dropped on his front, and twitched. Arkash let out a shaky exhale, then wiped his dagger in the bedding before he sheathed it. Curiously, the farmer's son hadn't run to his father's aid. The human had screamed several times; the son should have been there. Though, Arkash wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He could draw the insignia that was asked of him before he went to find the boy. After a moment or two of fumbling around the dark, Arkash managed to light the candle of the nightstand to illuminate the gory scene.
Martha, the largest of the two, was revealed to be very well fed; it was no wonder that Arkash had mistaken her for the one that tended the fields. Meanwhile, her husband was awfully thin. It was an odd thought, but he did wonder if she ate his food whenever dinner time came. With a shrug, he disregarded the dead humans, then dipped his claws in the blood that pooled upon their bedding. As he climbed to stand on the frame and lifted his arm, he hissed in pain; his chest wound was more debilitating than he'd first thought, as it got in the way of his forward arm movements.
With difficulty and anguish, Arkash managed to draw the bloodied eye insignia. It was rough, but it matched the description of the contract he carried. His mission was complete, except for the half that regarded the heavy-sleeper that was the farmer's son.
As Arkash stepped off the bed, he turned to the doorway and startled. Stood right there, only barely in the candlelight from the darkness of the doorway was a small human boy, maybe four years old. It was only then that the rathari realized: they didn't mean for him to capture and kidnap a fully grown man, but a young boy. Arkash had strangled and stabbed a dog to death and killed many fully grown humans... What was a child? He could manage, couldn't he?
It didn't feel right. It wasn't clear just how long Arkash peered into his blue eyes with his one yellow iris, but time seemed to freeze for the duration of the stare. Arkash had just killed the boy's parents in their own home, but the human didn't seem to understand. That, or he was in shock. What could Arkash do? Did he really want to hand over a boy to some shady ratty man that asked him to kill some farmers? What did they want with him? He couldn't do it, could he?
No, he could. The more he stared, the more recognition burned in his scales. He was looking at a human, a monster. Sure, that one hadn't done anything to him, but given the chance to grow, it would. The boy and his species were a vile, cruel race. It was him or them. So Arkash lifted his hand and stepped toward the human boy. As he approached, his body came to block the path of the candle, and his shadow eclipsed the farmer's son. "I promise," Arkash spoke with near-perfect common. "This won't hurt a bit."
The light of the moon shone on the open fields that surrounded the home. Arkash's darkened shadow made its way through the corrugated earth and trampled crops without care while he walked with the boy's hand in his claws. Some part of him knew what he was doing was wrong, but the rest knew it didn't matter; that the boy would do the same to him given the chance; that so many humans had done worse to him. Endless thoughts of justification and reasoning span in his head as he marched on with the quiet, scarred child in tow.
Ahead of him, the ratty man came into view. He waited at an open fire with a leashed horse at his back. The nameless human smiled as Arkash approached, which bared his yellow, warped teeth. "I c'nae believe it!" He called triumphantly, then clapped his dirty hands together in a way that shook the rags that littered his form. "Ye done it! O, master will be so pleased!" Arkash nodded once, then looked tot he boy with his sighted eye. The human merely watched him with his big blue eyes, as though his gaze was meant to melt the rathari's cold heart.
A shaky exhale escaped him before he looked back to the ratty man. "Pleased enuff t' pay me?" Arkash asked as he pulled the child forward by his arm and effectively offered him to the nameless human without concern.
"O! Certain'y, ser!" With that, the human grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked harshly as if the child was naught more than a sack of potatoes. The child began to cry, and the ratty man offered Arkash a purse of gold. His sighted eye traced the boy before he pulled his sorrowful gaze away, then took the purse. He didn't ask what was to be the boy's fate; it wasn't part of the job.
So, without pause, the ratty man lifted the crying child onto the horse's back, then climbed on after him. Arkash only watched as the trauma of what he'd done sank into the tiny human. "We'll be seein' ye again, Arkash," spoke the human with a proud grin despite the chorus of cries that acted as ambiance to the night. And then, in a whip of the reins, the two were off, and the boy was gone forever.
Arkash looked to the purse in his claws, then exhaled shakily. Five hundred farthings. He'd destroyed that entire family for five hundred farthings. Killing humans was one thing, he rarely felt poorly about it. But children? What sort of monster had he become? With his head low and his legs weak, Arkash made his way back to the city.
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