[Wind Reach] Boys Will Be Boys [Amon, Dreamcatcher]

by **Kovac** on September 10th, 2010, 11:57 am

Timestamp: 20th Day of Fall, 510AV
Location: Communal Kitchens
Purpose: Juvenile Antics
Status: Private, tag Amon and Dreamcatcher

The morning meal was in full swing, the massive dining hall a cacophony of Nari chatter and clattering eating utensils. Kovac had retrieved his meal and surveyed the room for an isolated place to eat. He diverted his course away from the long tables where the Riders were sitting, heading towards a small table near a corner. The glassblowers who were dining there must have suddenly finished their breakfast, for they arose and left the table as the archer drew near.

Settling in, his back to the wall, Kovac spotted Amon taking a seat at a long table with his peers. The Endal met his gaze, and the Avora gave the man a slight head nod. It was more than any other Rider got from Kovac, aside from Shayth. But over the summer, Amon and the cynical archer had forged an understanding of each other. That acceptance had lead to a tentative relationship that Kovac would not have described as friendship, not yet, but more of a begrudged mutual respect.

Tearing into his allotment of meat, Kovac scanned the room, his eyes stopping at the sight of another rider. Qual. His gaze narrowed, penetrating, as if the Avora willed his vision to bore holes into the man's skull. It had been nearly a year since Kalle left him for Qual. Yet the feel of that knife in his back still fueled his hate. Kovac grunted with discontent and turned his attention back to the plate before him.

by **Dreamcatcher** on September 11th, 2010, 12:36 am

There are two parts to the Communal Kitchens; the first part is the great common room with long stone tables and food line for general meals. The second part of the Communal Kitchens are the Kitchens themselves, there is the line kitchen made and maintained for the massive serving of people, while smaller kitchens off to the side allow people to prepare their own meals. The Storerooms are off the main kitchen and actually have a back entrance to allow for food deliveries. However, Head Chef Davoid keeps a constant watch over the storerooms and they are under her lock and key.

The great common room is what most people are familiar with, it holds long stone tables that thirty men could sleep head to toe on and still have room. Stone benches are placed with spaces in them to allow people to sit down. For those that are so inclined to hold long talks while eating, they often bring there own leather skins to lay on the stone benches to offer some padding. Ringing the ten long tables are many smaller circular ones, with the same stone benches. The tables were made for small groups of people, who enjoy talking during their meals, and are often filled by artisans. Columns supporting the ceiling of the room are spaced evenly about the tables. The columns have great slabs of slate hung on them, in which pictures and written words are drawn on them. The slates contain food requests and the amount of food vouchers for those that bring back the desired items. Though only Endals look to the slabs, there have been a couple of Chiet that have risked the dangers of the outside and brought back food. The food line is open twice a day to serve Dek. Chef Davoid keeps a large pot cooking constantly, calling it Chef’s Soup which is served to the Dek along with a helping of beard twice a day. For the Chiet and Yasi, they can choose between soup and beard, or the daily meal which is prepared by the kitchen staff. The Avora and Endal are allowed to choose from any of the meals served, and to have a piece of roasted meat as well. The meals are served throughout the day, but one will be denied service if they don’t have a food allotment.

From the food line, people can feel the great heat of the kitchen along with scents of roasting meat and bread. The grand line kitchen is set against a magma pocket and the heat soaks through the walls of the ovens and metal plates that act as grills, thankful the Chef Davoid is a experience reimancier and has added reinforcement to the stone and air vent in the ceiling, keeping the heat to only a dull roar. The kitchen is a place of action, Chefs are constantly kneading dough, chopping mushrooms or vegetables, trimming a piece of meat. Then there are those that are grilling on the flat top metal, or using large metal tools to pull out bread from ovens, or stirring the forever soup cauldron. Chef Davoid keeps a watchful eye on all, making sure that not once speck of food goes to waste. Bones and vegetable ends go to stock pots while, prime fruit and meat go into the daily meal. If a chef is so unlucky enough to burn a piece of meat, Chef Davoid personally gives them a look of disgust that some men have broken into tears over it. However, the meat usually finds itself into the soup. While cooking is going on the grand washroom next to it is keeping up with all the dishes. Dek crews work very hard in the lye laced environment, washing dishes and eventually cleaning the kitchen afterwards. For their rewards they are granted an additional small mid day meal of soup. However, some Dek don’t believe that offsets the nosebleeds and cracked skin on their hands from working more than ten days in the washroom. Still the washroom is always staffed by willing Dek.

The storerooms are perhaps the best guarded areas of Wind Reach. Large steel locks and heavy stone doors keep the storerooms closed for almost the entire day. The only time they are open is to allow for the daily gathering of ingredients and the daily storage of foodstuffs. The first store room is a dry room, a soft mild dry heat comes from the air while, grains and spices add to the perfume. The dry room is where all rice harvested from Thunderbay and salt comes to be stored. The room is massive and holds a small grain mill so that the Chefs can make rice flour when needed. The second storeroom is a cold room, cold water from the top of the mountain is piped down into this room. Reimancers go into the room twice a week to produce grand ice blocks that sit in various places around the room. Meat, fruit, and vegetables are stored here. The temperature is kept near freezing, and as the chefs enter the area there breath can be seen in the low lighting of the room. For food deliveries a small room has been set off to the side with a drain. Three very large looking Chiet stand guard over the temporary store room, while one keeps track of food entering.

Lastly the private kitchens were made for those few people looking to impress others. The private kitchens contain an oven and metal flat top, while allowing a few pots and pans for general use. They are often used to impress prospective mate, since the people who use them are forced to use their food vouchers to trade in for ingredients. A small stone table is set in the room to allow for people to sit down and eat. While a few glass lamps are lit in the room, to provide dim lighting for a romantic mood and make sure the other person doesn’t see any burnt spots on the food.

Qual stood among Chiet boasting about yesterday’s fishing catch. Bits of food matter flew from his mouth spraying some of the nearest people. However, they didn’t seem to mind as Qual continued to speak about how Kalador dived downward towards the bay grabbing fish with his talons and then releasing them onto the cliff at Qual’s feet. He spoke of his physical power of lifting the fish up into the cart so that Dek could push them down to a smokehouse. In between breaths Qual would stroke his poorly filled red goatee. Though the hair about his face was grease back with oil, it was thin and wispy. Still he was proud of the facial hair and Kalador had told him that he looked noble with it.

Qual once again gestured with hands and behind him a table of Endal made a quick glance. Amon saw that one of them had a look of disgust as Qual began to boost about his sexual prowess the previous night. He spoke about how he conquerored his woman with pleasure and how he kept her under control. To Qual it made sense, Kalle was constantly making mistakes that made Qual look poorly in front of other Endal. However, he was responsible for her care and to make sure that she understood her place.

Amon and Kovac saw a woman Endal get up gritting her teeth with a half finished plate. Suddenly Qual went quiet with a faraway look. Amon realized that Qual was hearing his eagle talk, he also realized that only the poorest of skilled riders need that much concentration to hear their eagles. As Qual returned to the conversation, he realized that a chiet was telling a story of their own. Though he listened quietly he simply shook his head at the end of it and related an instance where he had done the same thing only better and with more flare. Finally, Qual looked please as he heard the cheering from the Chiet and saw that the man had a look of pain. Bowing he said, “Well I am glad that I could entertain you smaller folk with my tales, but alas I am afraid that have important matters to attend too.” To Amon’s and Kovac’s ears the unspoken meaning that the Chiet had nothing important to do sang.

As Qual moved from the bench, Amon saw that though Quals legs were strong from riding, his arms were thin with soft muscle, putting the thought that Qual had made up the tell of him lifting these huge fish. To Kovac, he had no doubt that the man was bragging about the tale, but also knew that his eagle had probably brought in a decent catch. Qual colorful clothing was almost stark against his skin, usually Endal had deep tans from the hours of riding, Qual though tan seemed to lack the dark eternal bronze. His pants were also stylized with tread and feathers to make one’s eye almost focus on his crotch. It was strange, because normally riders wore cloth that seemed to mold their harden bodies.

As Qual began to walk, his head seemed to search for someone of more important company to eat the morning meal with. Then his eyes seemed rest on Kovac and a cruel smile seemed to reach his lips. Slowly, Qual went to the table that the Glassblowers had resettled at and spoke loud enough for Amon and Kovac to her. “Ah, Talo, I have been meaning to talk to you. Seems last night when Kalle was oiling my hair, she felt rather hot and bother. So we spent some of the oil to plow the field, if you know what I mean?” Sadly Qual seemed to move his hips back and forth to make sure they did understand. “You see while I was giving her passion and pleasure, she knocked over the glass bottle that held the oil. Sometimes, she can be a real clumsy chick, don’t worry I dressed her down thoroughly for her clumsiness and stupidity. However, how soon do you think you could make me another one?”

OOC :

by **Amon** on September 16th, 2010, 7:20 pm

Amon had expected to sit at the his table with his colleagues in peace. No boasting, no unnecessary attention, positive or not, directed their way, although as was the norm, many of the lower castes occasionally glanced their way, as if they hoped their eyes would meet them and they'd ask them out for a night at the Inclement Weather. The rider had piled up a generous amount of food on his plate, and was slowly picking at it, his appetite momentarily stalled when the notorious rider Qual began to speak.

"There he goes again." Said a female Endal sitting across from him.

His jaw clenched and his eyes shifted from his fellow peers beside him and the outrageous rider who began boasting about his various "achievements." Since meeting Kovac, the younger mixed blood's undying hatred for this man had rubbed off on him, and Amon couldn't help but tighten his hand into a fist, as if willing him to step closer so he could finally knock some sense into that thick skull of his. His presence marred the honor and respect of the Endal, and living as he had for many many years, having someone completely ruin their reputation was like having an arrow rip his heart asunder.

He glanced towards Kovac, who sat by himself a table away, and rolled his eyes when Qual began to speak of Kalle in a different light. Abruptly he stood, leaving his half-eaten plate for the Dek's to pick up, and excused himself from his peers.

Not a chime passed when Amon seated himself beside the archer, and leaned forward so his elbows rested on the table, and his fingers were placed on his lips. "He's taunting you, you know." He said, almost matter-of-factly.

"Are you going to take the bait? He knows you're here, everyone of the Endal knows who he had stolen Kalle from. 'That mixed blood archer', they whisper. They may not know your name, but they glance at you, expecting you to do something."

Amon gave him a mischievous smile, "Are you going to let the petch talk like that?"

by **Kovac** on September 17th, 2010, 4:05 pm

Kovac tried to ignore Qual's fish boasting, typical lying drivel from the abrasive Rider. The jilted archer appeased his rising irritation by wishing that the man's male appendage would shrivel to a dried twig and his testes would rot and drop off. Kovac directed his attention to a hunk of dark bread, but happened to look up in time to see his antagonist glare at him. The smug, challenging smirk Qual shot him ignited a fire in Kovac's gut. The Avora's eyes followed the man until he sat with the other riders.

Tearing at more of the bread, Kovac's rage boiled up as Qual intentionally goaded him. Qual was a disgusting man, and it killed him to think that Kalle would leave him for such a pig. How did he hold such sway over her? Staring at his plate, Kovac all but trembled as he strove to contain his fury. He saw himself drawing the long knife from his belt, charging the filthy ass and lunging to shove the singled-edged blade between Qual's ribs. Then Amon appeared. Kovac turned his head slowly toward the Rider, his cheek full of bread. Amon would see the white knuckles of the archer's hands as they mercilessly gripped his eating utensils, wishing they were wickedly serrated daggers.

Still seething, Kovac's green eyes held the Endal's gaze, listening to Amon, his wrath blinding him to the inflammatory intent behind the Amon's words. Kovac longed to have his revenge, in his mind a thousand times concocted methods of killing Qual, all ending with the Avora killing him with his own hands, stained with the man's blood. But he was helpless, he did not have the nerve to attack the Endal and suffer the consequences, and he was no longer sure Kalle was worth dying for. And that only drove his hate.

"I hear." Kovac hissed around his mouthful of bread. "But you know, Amon, I can't do anything. Even if the other Riders hate him, if I raise my hand against him I am dead." His eyes darted towards Qual with a baleful glare before returning to Amon. "I can only hope something or someone else kills the bastard. I will buy that someone or something a drink."

by **Dreamcatcher** on September 23rd, 2010, 11:17 pm

OOC :

Talo sat silently eating his food. When Qual finished he merely grunted, and kept his gaze on the table. As Kovac and Amon talked, they saw that a small filthy child sneak over to Amon previous place and pick up his plate. The small child began to place food into her pockets as she brought the dish over to a dirty pile of used dishware. It was then that they started to notice people beginning to stare. Most people were being discrete looking over their shoulders at Kovac, Amon, and Qual. Others were just openly staring, waiting for the insanity and rage that Kovac was known for.

As Kovac quickly darted his eyes to Qual, he saw that the man had a blank stare about him. Once again Qual was having a conversation with his eagle. Just as Kovac began to look away a sly smile began to appear on Qual’s face.

To Qual this wasn’t a game, this was his solemn duty to put down the lesser castes. Though his father and mother had been Avora, he knew that he was always destine for greatness. While he was growing up in the Yasi class, he had never been the best at anything, it was always because others took away his chance to succeed. However, that had change when he and Kalador bonded. The eagle had taught him so much, Kalador was right on so many things, he had even helped Qual get that weakling Kalle. Now, once again, he couched Qual on how to put the filthy Kovac in his place, while elevating his own position.

Kalador had couched Qual to be careful about stroking the flames of rage while still planting a seed of doubt in Kovac’s mind. “Talo, I can see you aren’t very interested in my bed warmer. Which I can understand, she is beginning to bore me as well. I mean there is only so many different dances you can do in ones bed before you get tired of our partner. Besides Kalador keeps saying that I shouldn't degrade my seed to the lesser castes.” It never occurred to Qual that he was taking to one of the lesser castes.

“Besides Kalador has been eyeing an eagle named Turiska. He says her mate has taken a bedding now, but perhaps I can pursued her to something higher than a lowly hunter. After all, she is an Endal, we understand what it’s like to form a close bond with someone. We understand what it’s like to share our minds and experiences. Besides it would strengthen the chances of our children being Endal’s instead of something… else.” Qual said the last word like the only thing that mattered was being Endal and the rest were waste. Yet as he said it the soft undertone was pointed at Kovac, like he just didn’t mean the lower castes, but a half breed as well.

Qual had to give thanks to Kalador, he hadn’t known that Kovac had decided to step up beyond his caste, but thankfully eagles loved to gossip more then their human counterparts. Kalador and Qual enjoyed the moment of superiority that it brought. Kalador was a great hunter and the raptor in him fed Qual’s ego. It was the core of their strength, and nothing had shaken it. Now Qual and Kalador once again saw that old prey had gotten up to restart the hunt. They both began to start thinking about maneuvers and tatics to place Kovac under Quals boot. Granted Kalador did the heavier thinking while Qual thought of the Endal’s that he knew and had some sway with. Their smiles came not because they were predators, but because they were a team and the hunt was beginning.

by **Amon** on September 23rd, 2010, 11:54 pm

The petcher was still riling up the entire room. He wouldn’t stop, not for his own dignity, not for the honor of his fellow caste members nor for Kalle’s reputation. Amon sat at the table with the mixed blood, a shadow of a smirk on his lips as he listened to Qual continue derailing the very man that sat beside him now. Kovac might not do anything, perhaps because he was all bark and no bite (so they say), or simply because he truly believed he would be reprimanded for fighting back. And perhaps he would be; in fact, Amon was certain of it.

You could do it, came the chirp from his eagle companion. Amon mentally rolled his eyes.

Are you petching insane, Saki? Get my reputation completely destroyed because I fought with someone as low and disgusting as this fool?

He’s being a pain in the ass, deal with him. He AND his bird are both taking up the fresh air that is rightfully ours. Show them who you are, show them you are not like the weakling fledglings that sit and stare like useless prey.

I would assume my best friend wouldn’t advise me to get my ass handed to me, Amon tapped the table with a finger, watching as Qual continued to speak to Talo, and noticed how eyes suddenly turned toward their direction. Great.

I’m not advising you, I’m petching telling you. Show him who is alpha!

Amon smirked then glanced at Kovac. The man had a hardened spirit, but the rider could tell he was hurting. He was frail when it came to this woman, and never had he seen someone so completely consumed by hatred. Amon was not heartless, he wanted to help. “Fine, I will get my hands dirty for you. I hope you finally acknowledge that I’m not as bad an Endal as you make us all out to be.” And then he stood, passing tables and denizens alike, who watched his back like hawk’s on the prize. But it was quick, deft movements that brought Amon up to the distracted Qual, grasped his collar and slammed him into the nearest wall available. He was so close, he could smell the disgusting odor emanating from the man; sweat and ego. Yes, the ego.

“Do not assume for a minute that I will allow you to tarnish the name of the Endal for your silly whims,” he hissed. His normally kind, azure eyes had hardened to slits, his hold on Qual was vice like, “Many of us will be more than glad to hand your ass to you, boy, just say the word, because you’re dancing dangerously close to aggravation.”

You should have just punched him outright, Sakima said with a feathery laugh.

by **Kovac** on September 27th, 2010, 7:07 pm

Qual would not stop. There was little doubt left that he was baiting Kovac, just as Amon implied. But when the asinine Rider mentioned Turiska's rider, Shayth, the Avora all but came out of his chair. The thought of that filthy slob touching the redheaded Rider sent him to the edge. "That petching dung-sucking bastard." Kovac hissed. His hands gripped the edge of the table, his seat scooted back as he prepared to bolt from it. But he hesitated, looking again at the Endal next to him.

Amon could see Kovac founder, knowing he still valued his own skin over revenge. The Rider looked up at Kovac with a smirk, a common expression it seemed between the two unlikely companions. At first Kovac thought that the rider knew about his affair with Shayth, but then the Rider spoke, his word catching the archer totally off guard.

He was going to stand up and fight on his behalf? Kovac started to protest, but his words were choked by his surprise, and Amon was off before the Avora could stop him. Already stoked with rage, Kovac seethed. Amon confused him. He did not need Amon to fight his battles. Why would he stick his neck out for a half-blood hunter no one cared for? Realizing he had stood, his chair flung back, all he could do was watch as Amon seized Qual and slammed him against the wall. It was between Endal now. Kovac shook, unable to release the anger pent up inside. He hated Qual, now more than ever. He was mad at Amon, who challenged his courage and treated him like a pathetic little brother. But that was how Amon was, Kovac had learned his intentions were good, his methods not always explicable. He was still trying to figure out the long-haired eagle rider.

Kovac, still watching the confrontation closely, realized his hand had once again slipped around the hilt of his knife.

by **Dreamcatcher** on September 28th, 2010, 5:43 pm

Qual smiled as he saw Kovac take the bait. Ah, how the lower castes are ruled by their desires and emotions! The bit of hurt on Kovac’s face, made Qual feel even more satisfied at the result. In truth, Qual had no real intentions on Kovac’s gal. If this Endal wished to spend her time spreading for Kovac so be it. He had spent that last few years breaking Katte in, she was now only a former shell of herself. It had taken seasons to strip her of self image and confidence, he had to degrade her and consistently tell her how he liked things a certain way. Katte was Qual’s in mind and body, and one didn’t lose that kind of power. Then Amon laid hands on Qual and as he was being pushed, he began to laugh.

Amon had to grab Qual about the shirt. Using both hands to twist the fabric and force Qual’s body to slam against the wall. If he had tried it with one hand Amon knew that he wouldn’t have the control or force needed to do so, but as he did so Qual began to laugh like he was insane. Kovac was able to see that instead of trying to protect himself, Qual instead used his hands to reach into his wool riding belt. As Qual right hand left the belt, it looked like the first two fingers were pointing but his thumb and last two fingers were gripping something.

Qual hit the wall and though most of the force was spread throughout his back, his head rolled from the back lash of energy and hit the stone. For a brief moment he saw lights flood his vision, and then he stopped laughing. A look of deadly calm fell over his face, to be assaulted and man handled in front of everyone was a slight he didn’t take well. Qual quickly brought his left hand up and jammed his thumb in between the meaty flesh of Amon’s thumb and fore finger. It was perhaps not more than an inch from the joint that lower bone of the thumb was connected to. However the pain was intense as it exploded in his hand and sent waves of angry heat upwards. Amon’s hand instantly went lax as he saw that Qual had put on a metal thumb cap with a four studded point on and was using it on Amon. Qual quickly rotated the hand forcing it close to breaking point for his wrist. Qual had a gleam in his eye, looking at Amon he knew that if the foolish man had hit him it was likely he would be unconscious and shamed. However, the fool Endal had hoped to shame him openly by controlling his body. It was too bad really, now Qual could break his wrist or lower arm if he wished and certainly before Amon could head butt him or drawback for a punch. Not to mention the metal shiv, he had in his right hand.

People who had been eating a leisurely breakfast, now found that unexpected entertainment had began. They began shouting for Amon and even a few for Qual as they rushed around them creating a semi-circle. Kovac found that it only had taken a few moments before people began to surround him and push him ever closer to the fight. An Inarta with a bright red Mohawk and a few missing teeth was pressing Kovac’s back to get a better view. “Finn, you think Qual will use that punch blade on that bastard if he doesn’t surrender.”

An almost pathetically small Inarta was to the left of Kovac and he squealed. “Don’t know Sau, that three sided shiv makes an awful mess, and you know Chef Davoid doesn’t like brawling in her kitchens.” As the young men began to talk, Kovac finally saw the small tiny metal point that they described in Qual’s hand. The point had a pyramid shape that lowered into three blood wells on the shaft. It was a weapon designed to leave a horrible hole in someone and to make sure they bled out. Just as Kovac saw the weapon, Qual used his other hand to gain control of one of Amon’s hand’s. Kovac began to realize a small insight into Qual’s character, the man cared for perceived power and image, directly threatening him would make him over react to person or object that threaten him with deadly rage and purpose.

Though a small crowd had gathered about the fight, Chef Davoid could be heard screaming from across the room at what was going on. Amon, Kovac, and Qual had perhaps a few more moments to do something, before Chef took her vengeance out on all three of them.

by **Kovac** on September 29th, 2010, 7:09 pm

Kovac glared at the those who jostled him in attempt to see the fight. His Inarta half-brethren were a blunt and emotionally powerful people, whether creating art or defending some semblance of honor. They also liked to watch a good bloody fight.

The Avora was dismayed to see Qual get the best of Amon, grimacing at an odd sense of loyalty to the Rider that suddenly reared its ugly head. Kovac found himself inching forward, shouldering closer to the front. He overhead the two inarta as they talked about Qual's weapon, spotting the shiv in the treacherous Endal's hand. The archer's raged flared. Kovac did not want to see Amon killed because he was foolish enough to stand up for him.

In the flash of a moment, Kovac had lunged foward, his hand unsheathing the long knife from his belt. He was beside Amon and Qual in an instant, one hand on Qual's arm, the other holding the single-edged blade in his hand against the man's throat.

"You make one move you petching roach-ridden festering heap of steaming bison crap and I will slit your fuzzy filthy throat wide open and dance in the fountain of your blood." Kovac seethed almost uncontrollably. He had longed for seasons to be in this position, to vent his wrath, to hold the bastard's life in his hand. His heart raced and beat against his chest. He could already see his hand sliding the blade across Qual's neck, severing arteries and his larynx. But now that he had the chance to exact revenge, he held his blade firm and still.

by **Dreamcatcher** on October 8th, 2010, 7:59 pm

Qual went dead still as he felt the blade pressed against his skin. Qual’s smile didn’t stop as he slowly let up on the pressure of Amon’s wrist. The pain began to leave Amon’s mind and as it did so Kovac and Amon began to hear the booing of the crowd. Dueling was common in Wind Reach and it was within the norm to see two people kill each other over an insult, but when Kovac interfered it broke the rules of the duel. A cup of water splash across Kovac’s back, the crowd didn’t like him interfering, but Kovac was certain if he hadn’t Qual would have opened Amon up with his shiv.

Qual finally released Amon, “Well Kovac, what are you going to do? Kill me and you break the rules of dueling, not to mention you will have to pay a blood price. Will it be worth it?” For a moment Qual thought he was insane, but his ego just wouldn’t allow him one more jab at Kovac.

Now that Amon was free, he saw Qual’s shiv in his hand and then as he looked around the crowd he began to realized that they were getting ugly. They had wanted a fight, and from the chatting they would have loved Amon if he had kicked Qual butt. However, now that Kovac had interfered they were upset thinking Amon had cheated.

Over the booing and jeering, Mistress Davoid could be heard screaming at the edge of the crowd. She had been whipped up in a unholy fury that people were dueling in her dining hall, and looking at the crowd Amon had the sense they were going to receive most of that wrath. Amon also saw something strange, in the crowd of shouting people there was a face of a man that stood absolutely quiet. In his eyes were a dead quiet. It was scary, like he didn’t care about the blood or fighting, he just wanted to watch. Slowly his eyes turned to Amon, and he pointed to Qual then made a swiping motion across his throat. Three inked dots on his thumb stood out as he made the motion.