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Old May 30, 2013, 05:09 AM   #1 (permalink)
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The Many Ways to Skin a Vault (Basic K'Tesh, Self-Mod)

Spring, Era XX

“Burglars know there's more than one way to skin a vault.” ― James Chiles


Vaishen followed the dark gray katta deeper into a foreign part of Nexus Prime, and with every passing second he felt the need to escape growing stronger. Humans, halfers, and all other sort of man grew more and more scarce until only cats’ eyes watched him pass by. Vaishen felt the eyes on him, and every effort was made to walk confident and look stronger -- even while the burning desire to run like hell smouldered inside him.

It had been just minutes before that the gray katta -- Vaishen had no idea what kind it was, they were all cats -- approached and asked for him by name. A job for you, sir. A good job. All Vaishen had to do was follow the mewling little bugger.

Nothing in life was so easy.

Vaishen took a few deep breaths and forged forward. His eyes never stopped moving back and forth, and his hand never gave up its resting on the hilt of his sword until they reached their destination: A decrepit looking house in a decrepit looking katta slum. The gray katta knocked on the door three times, and a moment later it opened.

This is it. Vaishen was sure the trap was sprung as the white katta emerged from inside the house. It was a bit shorter than Vai, but it was bulky and had an obvious weight advantage. Gold and silver earrings lined the katta’s left ear -- good targets of opportunity in the coming fight -- but as its ice blue eyes gave Vaishen a casual examination he realized the cat had some skill.

This fight was going to suck.

The white katta grinned. “Seraaa, Vaishen. You don’t need that sword, we are friends. I am Jy’rraa.”

Vaishen disliked it when strangers knew his name. His hand stayed on the blade. “Jee-ra?” His attempt at pronouncing the name did not go so well.

“Jy’rraa.”

“Jah - ra?”

“Jy’rraa.” The katta’s voice maintained an even tone. His inability to be frustrated was a bad sign.

“I’ll just call you Ra.” Vaishen at last conceded. How could he pronounce a cat’s name when he didn’t have fangs and whiskers, anyways? “What do you want?”

“I have a job that requires a human to pull off. A mutual friend says you are my human.”

“I doubt we have any mutual friends.”

Jy’rraa’s lips curled into what Vaishen reckoned passed as a smile among cats. “Oh, but we do. Many cats know each other, Vaishen. Leopardi know tabbiri, tabbiri know Sand Cats, Sand Cats therefore know Leopardi. Cats love to talk, you see.”

Vaishen hesitated a moment as he sought to grasp the weight of the cat’s words. “Sand Cat told you to find me? Doubtful.”

“Oh. She thought you might feel so, Vaishen. She said to tell you that helping friends is what men do to make themselves worthy. Are you a worthy human?”

Vaishen’s hand fell from the blade’s hilt and came to a rest at his side as the full truth of his situation settled upon him. This wasn’t an ambush of the physical kind, but of the working kind: Sand Cat had volunteered him for a mission he knew nothing about with a bunch of katta he’d rather know nothing about, and Vaishen only had one choice in the matter.

The bad thing about only having one choice in a given situation? Vaishen always suffered no matter what he did.

Vaishen resigned himself to his fate once again: “I guess I’m your man.”

Last edited by Vaishen Vadei; August 4, 2013 at 08:50 PM.
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Old July 2, 2013, 02:58 AM   #2 (permalink)
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The days crawled by as Vaishen endured his training with the katta, all for a mission they refused to tell him about. Being the sole human in a group full of giant cats proved to be a miserable experience filled with pranks, japes, and jests -- and Vaishen, the human they were in unwilling need of for their mission -- was the butt of every one. The point came when Vaishen longed to walk out the hideout's door every time he passed by it.

Jy'rraa proved to be the worst of them all. The white katta wielded his power as leader of the group, and Vaishen's de facto trainer, to devastating effect. Jy'rraa's dead pan demeanor was a mask hiding the cruelest of mirth which he directed upon Vaishen daily. This particular day held a jape which Jy'rraa promised to be the secret of all K'Tesh, that shadowy art they claimed to be teaching Vaishen. Yet, as the hours wore on, all it would teach Vaishen was how much he despised his new comrades.

Jy'rraa made him watch a house cat. For hours.

The cat is the natural embodiment of K'Tesh. Its very instinct is stealth, hunting, and survival. They are the epitome of what even katta strive to be. Those were the words Jy'rraa said to Vaishen, somehow maintaining a straight face the whole time. Vaishen bothered to entertain the idea for a few minutes, watching the cat as it lounged about the room without purpose, before surrendering to what he already knew to be true. Vaishen laid down, hoping to catch some nap time until the katta returned, and the cat sauntered over to him. It butted its head into his hand, and Vaishen idly petted it until it decided to jump on his chest, curl up, and fall asleep yet again.

At least one cat in that gods forsaken building liked him.

Jy'rraa's return found Vaishen and the cat in that same state, and as he entered Vaishen woke from his peaceful slumber to see the white katta approaching. The cat became alarmed as Vaishen tensed, then fled off to its own corner as the young rogue sat up straight. Jy'rraa dared to wear a smile as he said, "Oh? I see the cat likes you! This is a good sign! Did you learn anything from it?"

The katta offered a paw to aid Vaishen in standing. He ignored it. "That K'Tesh is about licking my own balls then sleeping all day?"

Jy'rraa scoffed. "Your training is going poorly as always. You missed the point of the lesson!"

"Nope. Think I got it loud and clear. That cat taught me more than any other cat in this place intends to." Vaishen beat some dirt from his pant legs, nodded to Jy'rraa, then headed for the door.

The big cat began moving after him. "Where are you going?"

"Back to my life."

"Sand Cat--"

Vaishen stopped and turned on the white katta. "Look, Ja-rah or whatever your mewling name is. You keep tossing her name out there, and the idea of a 'worthy man', like it gives you some right to do whatever the feth you want to me. Well, worthy men also have something else: Self respect. Go feth yourself."

Jy'rraa fell silent, his deadpan face marked only by a withering stare. Vaishen made for the door again, and none of the cats dared to try and stop him.
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Old July 6, 2013, 06:55 AM   #3 (permalink)
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Vaishen made it a few streets away from the hideout, and every step away from the place brought a sense of relief -- until Mittens showed up. The katta materialized out of shadow itself: One moment nonexistent, the next walking next to Vaishen as if Mittens had been there all along.

Mittens wasn't the katta's real name, of course. None of them offered Vaishen their real names, and he didn't bother asking. Vaishen chose to indulge in a bit of mental revenge, a sadistic revelry in giving them the most demeaning pet cat names he could think of. In addition to Jy'rraa and Mittens there was Fluffy, Puss, Princess, Muffin, and Whiskers.

Of them all, Vaishen least despised Mittens.

"You need to come back. The plan won't work without you."

Mittens had been a shade different than the cruelties of his fellow katta. Mittens did not partake in the pranks his comrades played, most of which injured Vaishen somehow, but he also did nothing to help Vaishen. No, Mittens still laughed at his comrades and levied the same dirty talk about Vaishen as the others.

Vaishen least despised Mittens, but he still hated the cat enough to say no out of pure spite.

"Well that's news to me. I don't give a feth about this plan that no one can tell me."

They walked for a bit longer in silence. Alleys and side streets passed by, and Mittens said nothing. A rhythmic twitching of his tail was the only indicator of his thoughts, and cats were such fickle bastards that it meant nothing to Vaishen.

"It would matter to you."

Vaishen exhaled a sharp breath. He still wasn't close to being out of the particular slice of katta hell he found himself in. He wanted to keep walking, but something about Mittens' statement piqued his interest. Why would it matter? "Only one way I'll ever know."

More walking. More tail twitching. Finally, a revelation: "The target is Rufino the Fifth. You know him?"

Rufino the Fifth. The perverse little dandy who liked to rape his man slaves. The sadistic son-of-a-bitch that fethed and slit the throats of the ones he grew tired of. Rufino the Fifth was the fate some dead slaver tried to sell Vaishen into when he first arrived in Nexus.

Yeah, Vaishen knew Rufino -- and he wanted to know the man better, in the way that a blade knows the pig it's gutting. Yet, to Mittens, Vaishen only said, "Yeah. I know of him."

Mittens' tail twitched, but whatever thought passed through his feline brain went unsaid. "He has Jy'rraa's cousin, and he has some wealth. We want to rescue both from him."

Vaishen stopped and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath then let some of his true feelings peek from behind the mask. "I'd like to kill the bastard."

Mittens shook his head. "No, no bloodshed this time. But you can help punish him and really hit him where it hurts."

Vaishen sighed, and as the air rushed from his lungs he felt the resignation filling him in return. "Next best thing."

The plan mattered to Vaishen after all.

Last edited by Vaishen Vadei; August 3, 2013 at 01:51 AM.
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Old August 3, 2013, 04:45 AM   #4 (permalink)
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Training Montage Text Bomb

Vaishen hated to admit it, but he underestimated Mittens. He expected to return to more ridicule, more pranks, and a hell of a lot of anger on Jy'rraa's part. What did happen was Mittens made him wait outside the house and went inside. The wait felt like an eternity, but when Mittens returned he ushered Vaishen inside to a place that was the complete opposite of the one he left. There were no more jokes at Vaishen's expense. There was no more abuse. Even Jy'rraa apologized, though Vaishen saw the sullen great white cat little after that.

The feth did Mittens do to these cats? Vaishen never got an answer to that question.

Vaishen's training began in earnest. Every day he learned from, and fought with, that surly orange cat he called Puss. The art of K'Tesh was different than Demir Kum: One relied on force and aggression, and the other was a whirling, effortless dance. He did not have the claws to perform many of Puss's techniques, but Vaishen learned to improvise: His fingers could rake like claws, and by flattening his hand and curling the fingers in at the first couple of knuckles he could fashion a paw of sorts. As the days went by, Vaishen's sparring sessions moved from formal to spontaneous, going so far that Puss sometimes interrupted his other trainings with surprise attacks. Vaishen lost often, won a few, but soon he learned to remain alert for the attack no matter what he was doing.

Princess taught Vaishen to run in an entirely new way. Vaishen learned to alter even the way he walked from place to place by leaning -- and almost falling -- forward with every step, and he practiced it until he moved faster than ever before just while walking down the street. Princess taught him how to run from roof top to roof top, to leap from small perch to small perch, and how to go under, over, and around obstacles in the fastest way possible with the least energy. She even taught him how to land like a cat, falling from higher distances than he thought possible and diffusing energy with rolls and other techniques.

Whiskers taught Vaishen how to be silent. Ice was conjured, and Vaishen was made to wear some sandal like contraptions of wood on his feet which had just two blocks of wood on the bottom which touched the ground. Wearing those awkward, loud clopping shoes, he had to walk on the ice without falling. Vaishen, of course, fell often -- but Whiskers drove him on until Vaishen could walk on the ice both without falling and without making a noise. Vaishen was also taught a number of techniques for moving around unnoticed, such as placing his back against a wall and peeking around corners to gain observation without revealing himself. When Whiskers was satisfied, the cats gave him a new pair of padded boots that helped him walk silently -- the cost of which was to be taken from his cut, of course.

Muffin taught Vaishen how to hide. He had to learn how to control his movements until he could become still in any pose, and Muffin taught Vaishen to control his breathing until he could pass for dead. He was taught how to hide under water: First using a reed to breathe through, then remaining underwater for minutes before Muffin would let him surface for that sweet taste of air. Vaishen had to become so still that he could, at least at a distant and passing glance, pass for a tree in the night or a gargoyle atop a building. Vaishen was forced to flatten and contort his body in ways unimaginable, and to hide in places and behind things which seemed impossible.

Fluffy taught Vaishen how to escape, and Vaishen learned how to use everything in his environment in ways he never imagined. Fluffy showed Vaishen the easy tools such as smoke bombs and fire crackers which distracted or obscured, but most of his training involved things readily available in the heat of the moment. Vaishen learned to hide behind statues and inside pots. Fluffy showed him how to, during a moment of distraction, slide into a ditch or hole and maintain so flat and still that a passer by would not see him without close examination. Vaishen's training led to Fluffy taking him into the city of Nexus and screaming that he was a criminal, a murderer, whatever it took to make guards chase him -- fifteen times.

Through all of it Mittens was a silent sentinel. None dared mistreat him while the cat was acting as his guardian angel, but as time went by the protector's presence was less needed. The cats began to joke with Vaishen and share a sense of comradery. Sullen duty turned to excitement for the coming mission. Even Jy'rraa forgave their previous argument and shared some drink and laughs with Vaishen.

Those good times were destined to end, though, because the day of the mission would soon be at hand.
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Old September 2, 2013, 05:26 PM   #5 (permalink)
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It had been at least a couple of cycles, but Vaishen’s religious practice of Demir Kum combined with his training in K’Tesh had done wonders for him. The cats kept him well fed and away from the booze, and Vaishen’s emaciated figure was growing back into a healthy form with lean, tough muscle. Combining elements of Demir Kum and K’Tesh made him a formidable foe for the cats -- at least when they took it easy on him -- and he stalked the darkenings by jumping from perch to perch, dashing through crowded streets with ease, and sneaking through alleys within mere inches of unsuspecting marks.

It was a joyful kind of time where training, while serious and difficult, became like a game. Vaishen hit his stride and focused on being better every day as he strove for excellence -- and then one day Jy’rraa announced, “Today is the day.” As much as Vaishen dreaded hearing those words, he knew that Jy’rraa was relieved to say them. The great cat would never admit it, but he had worried much over what would happen to his cousin after cycles’ worth of being in Rufino’s hands.

The plan was simple: Vaishen would infiltrate Rufino’s mansion and get into a position where he could sneak into the mansion’s basement dungeon. It was a mission that required a human touch, because no katta would ever be allowed in the mansion. Vaishen knew some of the katta could probably get that deep without being seen -- Jy’rraa and Whiskers for sure -- but they still carried a risk that was too great to justfy. Once Vaishen was in position, the cats would stage a robbery of Rufino’s vault, conveniently allowing themselves to raise an alarm, which would distract the guards away so Vaishen could rescue Jy’rraa’s cousin.

A simple plan. All Vaishen had to do was get inside the mansion.

The mansion was unimpressive as mansions went. Set along a row of other houses and buildings, it was a three story stone affair with wrought iron fences, a smallish central courtyard, and unimpressive balconies set out from its upper levels. The nearby buildings crowded in on the mansion, depriving it of any stately impression it once had, and acted as if they were bullies trying to push the aging eyesore out of their territory.

A few guards milled lazily about the courtyard, only bothering to look interested in their jobs when guests arrived at the gates. The guests themselves were of no importance: A cadre of merchants, nobles who were considered minor by even the minor nobles, and mid level players in various guilds all showed their face to what was, at a generous assessment, a D-list affair.

Rather than trouble himself with the guards, Vaishen scaled one of the buildings which butted up against the mansion. He crouched low and made his way to the roof’s edge, which was about level with the mansion’s third story windows. He wouldn’t have much time to tarry about waiting for a perfect opportunity to come his way.

Vaishen looked down into the courtyard, and his eyes calculated a way to get him from the rooftop to one of the mansion’s balconies. The best opportunity he saw was a large tree about halfway between him and said balconies: A noisy, difficult jump at best.

Vaishen sighed. If only he had more time.

The guards had their backs all turned, and Vaishen leapt from the rooftop with nothing but a prayer and the cats’ training to get him through a reckless plan. The gods were good to Vaishen: His feet found solid purchase on branches high in the tree’s crown, and the rogue grabbed onto it for dear life. The downside was the tree sounded like a drake had just landed in it.

“Hey, what’s that?” One of the guards shouted as he turned at the noise, and his eyes caught sight of the tree swaying.

“What’s what?” A fellow guard answered.

“You didn’t hear that noise up in that tree?”

“Course I did. What of it?” Vaishen liked the fellow guard’s attitude.

The first guard approached the trunk of the tree, and his dark eyes stared up into the tangle of branches, limbs, and leaves. He lifted a torch up -- way too close to some very flammable foliage for Vaishen’s liking -- although it did little to illuminate even the lowest of the tree’s dense crown. Vaishen, for his own part, decided it was better to be cautious than dead, and he used the skills taught to him to become as still as possible. He scarcely even breathed, for fear that the slightest wisp of air would betray his position.

The itinerate guard said, “Coulda swore something was up there.”

“Course there is. Probably one of them big birds or a cat or somethin’.”

A third guard added in, “Or some fop in there found his wife in bed with some guild clerk claimin’ to be on the council. Again.” The men laughed in a way that indicated there was history behind the joke.

The itinerate guard mumbled then turned away. “Probably right.” With that, the danger passed.

Vaishen waited another couple of minutes before turning his back to the tree’s trunk. With great care he tested the branches: Every footstep was deliberate, and his body weight was slowly shifted onto the lead foot as his ears strained to hear the slightest sound of crackling. Vaishen’s luck, much like the tree branches, held out, and soon he leapt from the tree and grasped the bottom of the balcony’s wrought iron railing with his hands. He placed his feet against the stone foundation of the balcony and, after making sure the coast was clear, he climbed up and over the railing.

The bedroom adjoining the balcony was empty, and Vaishen grinned as he slipped inside it. He had infiltrated the mansion and gained a foothold: The plan was going well, but his night was far from over.
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Old November 3, 2013, 07:42 AM   #6 (permalink)
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Peeking out of the bedroom was really just a leap of faith. There proved to be no way to see outside the doorway without just opening the door, and the rogue had the unfortunate luck of not knowing what was on the other side. Vaishen knew he would never mingle into Rufino's party wearing his commoner clothes, yet the bedroom was devoid of anything that suited him. In fact, it held no clothing at all: Of all the luck, the rogue landed in a rather unused guest room.

Great for privacy, horrible for developing cover.

It was with a deep sigh, and a long exhale, that Vaishen steeled himself enough to just open the damn door. He grasped the handle, turned, and threw the door open -- to reveal a hallway. With the greatest care in the world, as if he was sticking his head into a lion's mouth, the rogue leaned forward. A glance to the left, a glance to the right. Nothing.

Vaishen breathed relief and slipped into the hallway. Sounds from the party drifted down the hall in a mild, distant fashion: Fake laughter mixed with pretentious music, and the high pitched sounds of glasses clinking together. The rogue pressed his back to the wall and moved in that direction. Each step was measured and careful: A soft, padded footfall. The end of the hall opened into another chamber, and it was there that Vaishen saw the servant.

No. The slave.

He was a muscular, dark skinned man, and the costume Rufino dressed him in left little to the imagination: There was a pair of leather bracers with metal rings attached -- makeshift shackles, as needed -- and a collar about the man's neck. Other than that, nothing stood between the slave and the world besides a loin cloth which draped over the front and back of his private regions.

Feth. How demeaning. Vaishen knew first hand how sick a bastard Rufino was, and therefore the attire did not surprise him, but it disgusted him all the same.

The slave looked strong, and all it would take was a single scream to ruin Vaishen's day. The rogue took a deep breath and held it in, crouched low, and began his approach as the man busied himself with dusting off some gaudy piece of art. Each step brought him closer to his target, and farther away from safety. It was too late to hide back if the slave turned -- one whim of fate, and he would be revealed. Closer, and closer, and every passing second was a danger.

He was two steps away when the slave turned, and all that saved Vaishen was the man's surprise. The slave needed a moment to process Vaishen's presence -- to look him over, to determine he did not belong -- before reaction began to set it.

Vaishen didn't hesitate. He lunged.

The rogue struck at the slave's mouth with a hammer fist, and a combination of the blast and the rogue's momentum knocked the slave back against the wall. Some primal instinct gripped the slave, and he flailed his arms in several wide, arcing punches at Vaishen. The rogue ducked and stepped to the side.

The slave, seeing his chance, started to dart away. His mouth opened to scream for help -- it was cut off as Vaishen slipped behind him and clasped his hand over the slave's mouth. The slave flailed and tried to bite at Vaishen's hand, and the rogue snapped the slave's head back -- exposing his throat -- before delivering a cat's paw strike, using the ridge of his hand, to the slave's windpipe.

A gasping sound emitted from the slave's mouth as he sought air. Vaishen, with his hands still locked around the slave's head, took a sweeping step back and used his leverage to throw the slave down. The dark skinned servant's head struck the floor with a hollow thud, and he was out.

The gods are good to me today. The rogue remarked to himself as he dragged the limp body back to the bedroom. Little did he know how fickle the gods would soon prove to be.
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Old July 2, 2014, 06:49 PM   #7 (permalink)
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Not only was the slave’s outfit embarrassing to wear, but the damnable thing barely fit. The slave was significantly more well built than Vaishen, with forearms that even dwarfed his own. Getting every last bit of the clothing to fit required finagling of the highest level, and even then it didn’t fit quite right -- only passable, at best, and that would have to do. The nairu slipped out and found the main dining hall -- the source of all the tell-tale noise which indicated Rufino’s party.

A fundamental teaching of toiri-no-jutsu, and one of the first lessons in stealth the katta taught Vaishen, was to hide in plain sight by looking like you belonged there. Moving with purpose, using props and disguises, and simply acting the part were all elements of the best guisecraft. In this case, he was doing well to look like a mere slave -- the type of person no one important paid attention to -- and completing the disguise was a mere matter of grabbing a serving platter and wandering around. When a guest wanted something they made their desire known, and even then they barely looked at Vaishen himself when there were treats and drinks that were ever so much more important.

Everything was going well: He’d gotten in, he managed to identify where the entrance to the dungeon was, and no one bothered questioning his disguise despite the ill-fitting garb he wore. Altogether, his mission was turning out so successful it seemed like it might be too easy.

Then, he saw Rickul.

Vaishen needed all the self-control he possessed to not drop the platter he carried upon seeing that little half-elf fether. Rufino’s fat figure was an obvious thing among the crowd, like a giant pot-bellied pig dressed in silk and velvet, the rolls of his lard hanging down over every seam and collar. The fat little merchant-noble did not recognize Vaishen, even in that one instant where the rogue swore the man looked straight at him, but he’d kept his distance anyways.

It was no wonder that it took time to spot Rickul, and by the time he did, Rickul was already looking straight at him. Vaishen, for a brief second, hoped that Rickul would not recognize him either, but as the half-elf stared him down he realized a simple fact.

Wishing for the best was like asking for death.

And, true to how the gods worked, Rickul began moving towards him. Vaishen looked about, seeking a way out, wondering if it was even possible to escape if Rickul raised an alarm -- and, in the end, it was the katta that saved him. Their plan seemed to be underway, because a loud boom issued from the upper floors of the mansion. The party fell quiet, one woman screamed, and even Rickul had to stop a moment to look in the direction of the explosion.

Then, from above, a scream: ”Burglars!” Funny, the voice sounded peculiarly like Mittens.

Rufino, though, did not sense the deception. No, his fortune was at risk, and his fat cow face turned bright red as he screamed at his servants and guardsmen, ”Get up there! Stop them! STOP THEM!”

The crowd pressed. Some people wanted to run out, others tried to move in, and even more simply stood still. Rickul’s eyes had turned back towards Vaishen. The nairu only had a brief moment to ponder why Rickul hadn’t raised the alarm instantly before -- but he spared the consideration only the briefest of concern.

Instead, he focused on getting the hell out of there, moving through the crowd with deft precision as he went for the dungeon.
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Old August 17, 2014, 10:35 PM   #8 (permalink)
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In all the confusion, Vaishen would find that nobody particularly cared what a 'slave' like him was doing. If anybody noticed him, it would be because he happened to be in their way while they were in the middle of running in any particular direction. The guards, of course, ran towards the source of the commotion; most of the crowd, wealthy patrons as they were, were panicking and fleeing in the opposite direction. Naturally.

The passageway to the dungeon, thus, was wide open. Nobody would be in his way to stop him, but he'd still have to be careful; after all, Vaishen didn't know whether there might be people already in there.
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Old August 20, 2014, 04:20 PM   #9 (permalink)
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Avoiding being in peoples’ way was the precise thing Vaishen meant to do, and the training received from his katta patrons was useful in that regard. He moved through them with the same deft ability as a salmon swimming up the stream. Rickul was an issue which remained present in the back of his mind, yet it was a concern he had to keep in check as he moved towards his mission. He didn’t know what kind of trouble the halfer would cause him, and so it was impossible to prepare for.

Maybe that was the worst part.

Either way, he found the dungeon wide open and waiting for him. There was a risk to entering its gaping maw: There might be guards inside or somesuch. He had mere seconds to consider his options before he’d arrive there. One plan was to barrel on in and, if he found anyone waiting, feign being a frightened slave seeking shelter from the scary booms. That seemed like it would work, except no one would value a slave’s life all that much. If only I could’ve dressed like a noble.

Vaishen selected a more cautious approach. Arriving at the dungeon’s entrance, he pressed his back against the wall outside the door and inched towards the portal bit by bit. He strained his ears, listening for sounds of anything awaiting him inside before he even had to see it. And, with careful grace taught him by Whiskers, he leaned in very slowly, using the angles to allow him to see anyone before they saw him.

So, he chose to scout out the entrance first with care, then he’d see about rushing in.
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Old August 20, 2014, 08:30 PM   #10 (permalink)
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Lucky for Vaishen he'd decided to opt for caution. As he slowly skulked into the dungeon, he would hear a single, relatively high-pitched voice speaking. Before long he'd be able to match a figure to the noise. He'd been briefed on this man, Rufino's slavemaster: a Charismean, as depraved and perverse as his employer, which made him perfect for the role that the noble had given him. Rufino, after all, was a lazy individual, and hated to actually have to deal with any sort of fuss from the slaves sent to him. So it was slavemaster Quail's job to break them accordingly. A garishly dressed individual, dressed in revealing black leather, his body oiled up and a whip in his hands. Vaishen could hear him audibly while he lurked in the shadows.

"No, I don't care what all the commotion upstairs is," he'd purr, lashing out at a nearby slave, "Master Rufino directed me to stay down here until you were nice and cooperate, little pussy cat, and I don't intend on leaving until that's so. Understand?"

Vaishen could see the poor katta now - it was hard to identify him, a leather mask around the head preventing him from seeing much, but the rest of the body matched the description. He'd have an easy enough time seeing that; if he thought the outfit he'd looted from the slave was revealing, well, the katta wasn't afforded any such luxuries. Stark naked, legs chained to the floor, arms chained to a large set of weights that he was forced to hold up. So much as a muffle from underneath the mask would cause the whip to lash out, Quail giggling feverishly at the impact of treated leather against fur.

"Poor dear, are you getting tired? I know it's been a few days since I've let you sleep, but arms up, honey, arms up! You only have to endure as long as you want to fight it, you know."
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Old August 29, 2014, 09:49 PM   #11 (permalink)
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Vaishen felt like he was holding his breath as he surveyed the scene before him. He’d hoped Quail would be given the night off for the party, but the gods were never so kind. The mere sight of the Charismean summoned a sense of revulsion, that same feeling which precipitated the act of vomiting itself, because this man represented so many of the things he considered wrong. Even moving beyond the man’s garish attire and proclivities, his loving participation in the slave trade was enough to warrant Vaishen’s disdain. This was a man he’d eliminate from his path with extreme prejudice, and he’d never feel bad about it.

He controlled his breathing then, letting that trapped air escape in slow and silent fashion. “Poor dear, are you getting tired? I know it's been a few days since I've let you sleep, but arms up, honey, arms up! You only have to endure as long as you want to fight it, you know.” Quail hadn’t noticed Vaishen.

The Charismean seemed distracted, and so he seized upon that opportunity to move in. He’d slip through the door while Quail lashed and giggled at the katta then find the nearest shadows to cling to. Bare feet rolled upon the floor, his training making them silent as death itself, and he moved in on Quail without hesitation. There could be no delaying now, no moment of doubt: Quail’s weapon was his whip, and the faster Vaishen could move in -- the closer he could get -- the less effective that tool would be.

Like an arrow, he moved straight towards the Charismean from behind. Even if Quail turned, Vaishen would continue on his lethal path, closing the distance even faster. Then, Quail would die.
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Old August 30, 2014, 11:44 PM   #12 (permalink)
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And so Vaishen would find himself right behind the man, too distracted with his torment of the katta.

How exactly would Quail die today?
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Old August 31, 2014, 06:28 PM   #13 (permalink)
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Vaishen would move in synchronous motions: His right foot kicking the back of Quail's knee, buckling it and driving the man down onto his knee. Then his hands slipped around his head, grabbing hold, his fingers burying into the slaver's eyesockets to gain purchase. Finally, he stepped back and pulled hard, slamming Quail's head into the dungeon floor with all his might.

And, if that didn't do the job, he'd punch Quail in the throat. Hard.

Once the man was dispatched, he set about the task of freeing the katta. "Jy'rraa sent me." He removed the mask first, so the katta could speak. Then he set about relieving it of the rest of its bondage. "Are you able to escape with me?"
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Old August 31, 2014, 11:45 PM   #14 (permalink)
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That would be that, and before long Quail would be on the ground, gurgling. But not dead, not quite.

Vaishen, in his attempt to free the katta, would find that he could remove the mask and, with some effort, lift the weights off and remove the chains attaching them to the katta. The chains on the legs, however, were locked.

"Not with those still on me," the man would comment, his words a bit slurred. "Bastard has the key... keeps it safe where the sun don't shine."
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Old September 1, 2014, 08:34 PM   #15 (permalink)
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Vaishen looked at the katta, and then glanced back to the near-dead form of Quail. “Well, that’s just fethin’ great!” It was disgusting, putting crap up in places where it was only supposed to come out of. Godsdamned dandies…

The nairu paused, and he inhaled a long, slow breath. No, no sense getting angry about it. Rather, he walked over to Quail and found him still living. He snapped the slaver’s neck, putting an end to that pesky living problem.

Then, he dragged the body of Quail over to just in front of the katta. He flipped the man so he was laying face down. At last, his green eyes stared at the katta, and his face took on hard lines as he narrowed his eyes. “How much do you value your freedom?”
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