He paced and paced and tried not to listen to those anguished screams, but every time Matthew drew yet another one from the boy's lips, Razkar had to resist the urge to open his throat. Hypnotism. Mind manipulations. Stealing a man's will and toying with it. Nothing made his hackles rise and tremble so blatantly.
You couldn't have got this far without him; not without a heap of dead bodies that would have come back to haunt you. You agreed to do things his way, so here you are. Just endure it for a little-
A familiar slapping sound ripped through the dank air and Razkar's head snapped to it. His eyes widened as he saw Marius' bleeding lip, Matthew spreading the blood on his face, his neck, his legs...
"Not going to be enough."
He muttered the words to himself and they echoed through his mind even as Matthew outlined the rest of their plan... and it was, admittedly, a good one. Everything he'd seen about the male so far seemed to speak of intelligence and, well... Edreina's special breed of cunning. Razkar had wit in the moment, perhaps, but not in the long-term. The human and the Svefra, though... they could attack a problem from five different directions. Razkar would just charge it and hang the consequence.
Exactly why you needed him tonight.
"Good..." He said as he stepped over to the harlot, peering at him in an odd manner and finally coming to a decision. "... but we will need to really convince that brute on the door. So, I'm sorry for this-"
Matthew had just got his mouth open to ask what he meant, then Razkar's fist came up and out in a tanned blur.
"What petching shyke thing is this?!"
Kostaja and half the damn street all jerked around to attention when that enraged boom sounded out around and then into them. The middleman's muscle's hand slipped automatically to the knives at his waist, and he glared into the house, seeing the pair of lurching figures heading his way.
One snarling, irritable in the same way a rouse wasp nest was "a little upset", limp hunk of formerly-living slave over one shoulder.
And the other holding a jaw that seemed bigger than usual, not to mention a different color.
"Fuck happened in-"
"This piece of shit-"
Razkar smacked the boy on the rump, the resounding thwack! covering the sound of Matthew's own smaller slap to Marius' head. At once the Myrian felt the boy go utterly limp, the shuddering heave of his chest topping, too.
"-fucking happen! See man?! See slave did to man!"
"Friend, if he fought back, then-"
"This how you treat custom?!" Razkar stopped before the marked and goateed enforcer, scowling ferociously. "Little rat hit man! Hit my friend! Nearly break jaw, so he had to breaking fucking neck-!"
He shook his shoulder and Marius obligingly flopped around like a boned fish... but Razkar had already started counting. Nearly half a chime since Matthew's slap. They didn't have long.
"You sure he's dead?"
Razkar was far from an accomplished actor, but he had only to tap into his memories of childhood to do affronted indignity very well. His eyes grew even wider and his facial piercings seemed to quiver with effrontery.
"I look like man who not know difference?!"
Goddess, you best make this good.
In one quick gesture he withdrew his kukri and jabbed the end of of it in Mariaus' bicep. Not a twitch... and if there was, Razkar wiggling him around might have covered it... but never did his black eyes remove themselves from
Kostaja's unblinking stare.
"Not move. Is dead. Broke petching neck, that mean dead! Now we go to doctor and you get gold. How much for petching boy?"
Kostaja's grimace was starting to... no, soften was not a word you could ever use with that face. The wolfish aggression of it lessened, though. Suspicion was overridden by the sheer absurdity of the situation: the shouting savage, the swinging boy, the sulking swell behind them. Other customers and the usual Sunberth street carnival were gathering around now, or watching from a distance (probably safer). More importantly, they were customers, and they were being held up.
A chime. C'mon, c'mon...!
"One hundred and fifty." His lips quirked quickly, almost too fast to be seen. They should, Razkar thought with disgust, you made fifty gold coins back on what you paid in a couple of days. "That's the usual. But to kill boy, too... three hundred."
"Three hundred?! You run mad?!"
"Hey, you're taking him, too-"
"You think fun stop in there?!" Razkar's face split into a leer like an Akila Hound, full of drool and too-sharp teeth. "Get to doctor, open him up... fuck warm things. Fuck inside-"
Kostaja threw up his hands, face contorted in disgust. "Gods, shut the petch up, I get the... look, three hundred, for the... fun." He crossed his arms and that seemed to be the sign for a handful of other "customers" to suddenly detach themselves from the wall and flank him. "And that's non-negotiable. Know that word, savage?"
Razkar had calculated the odds by the time the human had spoken the last word. Matthew may have the strategist, but when it came to the tactics of the bloody moment, the Myrian knew he had the edge.
Five men. All armed. One shoulder occupied... for now. Half a tick to drop him, another half to draw, kill the leader first, use his corpse as a shield, swing to the left, block from the right-
He blinked. Not the time. Not tonight.
"... fine!" He dug around and poured a glittering gold waterfall into Kostaja's waiting hands, shaking his head in disgust. "You have luck if we come back! Other place to go!"
"Hey, my friend, you were in there an hour," Kostaja's said with a triumphant grin, "That don't speak to me of you bein' unsatisfied."
Razkar let him have the last word, answering with only a snarl and a quick march away from that damned and dirty place. He lowered his head, pulled up his cloak... so the look of sudden panic overtake his face like a tidal wave. He had to hold himself back from sprinting to the nearest dark alley-
"Now! Myri's Blood, man, now!"
-and waited for Matthew to slap the boy back to consciousness (not to mention breath).
Receipt:-300gm
You couldn't have got this far without him; not without a heap of dead bodies that would have come back to haunt you. You agreed to do things his way, so here you are. Just endure it for a little-
A familiar slapping sound ripped through the dank air and Razkar's head snapped to it. His eyes widened as he saw Marius' bleeding lip, Matthew spreading the blood on his face, his neck, his legs...
"Not going to be enough."
He muttered the words to himself and they echoed through his mind even as Matthew outlined the rest of their plan... and it was, admittedly, a good one. Everything he'd seen about the male so far seemed to speak of intelligence and, well... Edreina's special breed of cunning. Razkar had wit in the moment, perhaps, but not in the long-term. The human and the Svefra, though... they could attack a problem from five different directions. Razkar would just charge it and hang the consequence.
Exactly why you needed him tonight.
"Good..." He said as he stepped over to the harlot, peering at him in an odd manner and finally coming to a decision. "... but we will need to really convince that brute on the door. So, I'm sorry for this-"
Matthew had just got his mouth open to ask what he meant, then Razkar's fist came up and out in a tanned blur.
++++++++++
"What petching shyke thing is this?!"
Kostaja and half the damn street all jerked around to attention when that enraged boom sounded out around and then into them. The middleman's muscle's hand slipped automatically to the knives at his waist, and he glared into the house, seeing the pair of lurching figures heading his way.
One snarling, irritable in the same way a rouse wasp nest was "a little upset", limp hunk of formerly-living slave over one shoulder.
And the other holding a jaw that seemed bigger than usual, not to mention a different color.
"Fuck happened in-"
"This piece of shit-"
Razkar smacked the boy on the rump, the resounding thwack! covering the sound of Matthew's own smaller slap to Marius' head. At once the Myrian felt the boy go utterly limp, the shuddering heave of his chest topping, too.
"-fucking happen! See man?! See slave did to man!"
"Friend, if he fought back, then-"
"This how you treat custom?!" Razkar stopped before the marked and goateed enforcer, scowling ferociously. "Little rat hit man! Hit my friend! Nearly break jaw, so he had to breaking fucking neck-!"
He shook his shoulder and Marius obligingly flopped around like a boned fish... but Razkar had already started counting. Nearly half a chime since Matthew's slap. They didn't have long.
"You sure he's dead?"
Razkar was far from an accomplished actor, but he had only to tap into his memories of childhood to do affronted indignity very well. His eyes grew even wider and his facial piercings seemed to quiver with effrontery.
"I look like man who not know difference?!"
Goddess, you best make this good.
In one quick gesture he withdrew his kukri and jabbed the end of of it in Mariaus' bicep. Not a twitch... and if there was, Razkar wiggling him around might have covered it... but never did his black eyes remove themselves from
Kostaja's unblinking stare.
"Not move. Is dead. Broke petching neck, that mean dead! Now we go to doctor and you get gold. How much for petching boy?"
Kostaja's grimace was starting to... no, soften was not a word you could ever use with that face. The wolfish aggression of it lessened, though. Suspicion was overridden by the sheer absurdity of the situation: the shouting savage, the swinging boy, the sulking swell behind them. Other customers and the usual Sunberth street carnival were gathering around now, or watching from a distance (probably safer). More importantly, they were customers, and they were being held up.
A chime. C'mon, c'mon...!
"One hundred and fifty." His lips quirked quickly, almost too fast to be seen. They should, Razkar thought with disgust, you made fifty gold coins back on what you paid in a couple of days. "That's the usual. But to kill boy, too... three hundred."
"Three hundred?! You run mad?!"
"Hey, you're taking him, too-"
"You think fun stop in there?!" Razkar's face split into a leer like an Akila Hound, full of drool and too-sharp teeth. "Get to doctor, open him up... fuck warm things. Fuck inside-"
Kostaja threw up his hands, face contorted in disgust. "Gods, shut the petch up, I get the... look, three hundred, for the... fun." He crossed his arms and that seemed to be the sign for a handful of other "customers" to suddenly detach themselves from the wall and flank him. "And that's non-negotiable. Know that word, savage?"
Razkar had calculated the odds by the time the human had spoken the last word. Matthew may have the strategist, but when it came to the tactics of the bloody moment, the Myrian knew he had the edge.
Five men. All armed. One shoulder occupied... for now. Half a tick to drop him, another half to draw, kill the leader first, use his corpse as a shield, swing to the left, block from the right-
He blinked. Not the time. Not tonight.
"... fine!" He dug around and poured a glittering gold waterfall into Kostaja's waiting hands, shaking his head in disgust. "You have luck if we come back! Other place to go!"
"Hey, my friend, you were in there an hour," Kostaja's said with a triumphant grin, "That don't speak to me of you bein' unsatisfied."
Razkar let him have the last word, answering with only a snarl and a quick march away from that damned and dirty place. He lowered his head, pulled up his cloak... so the look of sudden panic overtake his face like a tidal wave. He had to hold himself back from sprinting to the nearest dark alley-
"Now! Myri's Blood, man, now!"
-and waited for Matthew to slap the boy back to consciousness (not to mention breath).
Receipt:-300gm
