Closed Friends in Low Places (Kaie)

[Andar]

The moment of dueling stares they shared brought a genuine grin to Endrani's dusky face. His amber stare appraising, disarming, and inviting of humor. Hers by contrast exuded distrust and a badly veiled contempt for his charming fiction which she attempted to pretty up with mock appeal, or so he perceived. The whole scene was entirely ludicrous and Andar was enjoying every tick of it. Endrani let out a throaty chuckle at Myra's stalling tactics. She apparently needed her suspicions assuaged with his own quaffing of the drink to denote no ill preparations had been made. Still, the thief wondered if having such assurances proved anything. For if he were the type to poison a woman to commit all manner of illicit acts, surely he would find a way to contaminate one cup and not the other. Actually having the thought gave rise to many new ideas he had not given proper scrutiny. Distracted by his own musings, he shook them away with a dismissive wave of his ringed fingers. "You spoil my hospitality and generosity with such behavior, She-cat. Must you wound my heart so?" he said with a hand to chest in exaggerated anguish. "Endrani would never dream of drugging a soul, let a lone a very dangerous jungle predator like yourself. Drink and enjoy. These are things that please me."

Meanwhile Andar had made no headway with reading Myra's journals. He masked quick glimpses down to peer at the writings with affectionate pats to the ferret who capered about the desk, getting into all manner of mischief. At one point Bella began to nibble away at a piece of the journal he had been attempting to discern. Endrani shooed the creature away and peered up to meet the Myrian's gaze. He paused a moment to collect his thoughts. His mind seemed to be everywhere at once. Was that a noise just outside the cabin? "Aye," he said somewhat distractedly,"Any help that I provide could be met with suitable compensation of course. But let us not dwell on that. Speak of these issues and we shall see what we shall see." Andar's ear twitched. Another sound was made, and this time it was far more distinct and close by. Then he saw it. He saw the ambush there reflected in the amber eyes of the Myrian just before he was struck on the head and rendered senseless.

He was running in the forest. It was winter. His paws made gentle impressions in the blanket of white covered earth. The scent of human sweat, tree sap, of pine and fear crossed his awareness. There it was again! That clever noise. Elusive and hungry. Capable yet wary. If fear had an odor, could he detect it on himself? The snow dappled leaves of the trees encompassed his vision. Was he caught in wilderness's embrace as a cub to his mother's breast or was he snared in its grasp, a helpless hare with no succor to be had, only the honest brutal reality of nature's unforgiving law - if you intend to get caught, make sure it's not by something that can make a meal of you...

A cat's growl heralded its presence mere heartbeats after with a spray of snow and violent tremble of shrubbery. It bounded for him, his loping strides were mired in freezing inevitability. Then the feral feline was gone, supplanted by an attractive savage with equally hungry, amber eyes. Suddenly he was no longer a Jackal, but a man. It had been the Myrian after all. But who was she? It had been clawing away at his sanity, just on the edge of knowing, but unattainable information. The answer to the riddle was to be found in the texts that began to materialize around him. So many in fact, that his world swam with indecipherable symbols. He could not read them, he could not breathe. The world spun wildly with passages and always he was watched by a most ravenous glare.

He stirred awake. The lamplit scene before him danced a jig before coming into focus. Comprehension slowly returned to his amber eyes, along with a glint of anger. He issued a growl in his throat that was not typical of human ire, but of something akin to a dog. His wits only betrayed him for a brief time though, as he began to recall where he was and what had transpired to leave him in the current situation. His head throbbed. Something flopped around on his lap. His desire to quest out with his fingers was parried by restraining cords. Just moving his tawny head a degree brought a sharp pain to him. In that motion he saw that it wasn't only his hands he could not move, but his entire body appeared to be immobilized. He was roped to a chair. Bella was all cozy innocence on his lap, blissfully unaware of his current troubles. Right then he had the vexing need to scratch an itch behind his ear.

Despite it being entirely a waste of time, he attempted to wriggle about with a healthy bluster and all he succeeded in doing was nearly tipping the chair over and injuring himself further. He cursed his frustrations and jerked his head up, earning him another dull ache from his lumpy skull. Andar glowered up between tawny strands at his captor. There she sat on her throne, in all her glorious smugness. He rather wished he could wipe that look off her face just then.

Myra seemed particularly pleased to see him in his current state of helplessness and not the least bit modest in proving just how dependent he was upon satisfying her whims - whatever they were. He supposed he would find out soon enough. He had never really met any other Myrians. But from the tales bandied about at the Pig's Foot, it wasn't likely she was going to tell him it was all a great misunderstanding and invite him to stay and have supper. It was at that precise time the woman decided to abandon her lofty perch to address him. She revealed herself fully to him now and that was not such a promising thing. For though her beauty was evident ( a quick intake of breath and agape mouth evidenced this) he could not help but logically deduce that such identity liberation would almost certainly equate to his body being dumped into the sea. Oh how he despised water!

However briefly awestruck he had been at being granted permission to peer upon her visage he forced it quickly away from his countenance, offering only a sulky silence to invade the patches of quiet. Though his amber eyes did not follow her movements, he watched her on the periphery of his vision and heard her take residence up on the desk. Something glinted in the lamplight and that did attract his full attention. Some manner of curved blade was being toted. She rather accommodatingly filled the suspenseful silence with utterances of a decidedly hostile lilt and there was also the unmistakable feeling he was to answer all her questions and requests without the least bit of deception if he figured to keep his fingers, limbs, and other man parts, attached.

Andar released a testy laugh that had quite the bitter edge to it."That's the pot calling the kettle black, if ever I heard it. I wasn't the only one hiding my identity today at the docks, lady." He looked up at her then and though he still had the resemblance of Endrani, gone were all the mannerisms, accent, and frivolous good humor. Replaced with calculation and pragmatism that was present in most any Sunberthian. "Alright, you caught me. Endrani's a petching act! I've been conning people my entire life. If you haven't looked around, Sunberth has a way of swallowing up poor bastards like myself with no job opportunities. So I do what comes natural. Ain't a glamorous life, but I get by. I survive. Bet you never saw a day in your life where you didn't have two mizas to rub together. Foreigners don't understand what it's like."

Andar surprised himself with the so very Sunberthian handling of his predicament. He hadn't planned on a pity party. The sort of thief down on his luck, go petch yourself stream of verbatim coming from his lips, but there it was. His mind all the while was working furiously at some plan of escape. He experimentally attempted to move his hands, wrists, fingers, hoping to find some sort of defect in his bonds. He looked around the place idly before his gaze drifted back to his interrogator."So what's the plan Myra? Am I to be tortured for your amusement? I see you've already helped yourself to the rest of my wine. That was good stuff you do realize. A squandered investment like that will set me back a good deal," he said with a forlorn look the bottle's way. It probably wasn't the wisest thing to have an attitude with the Myrian woman, but he was suffering from a massive headache and his fortune and fate couldn't have looked bleaker than they did just then.

[Kaie]

The wry exposure of ivory teeth only mirrored the dry humor of her captive. Fingers drummed a provocative rhythm along the flat edge of the gladius. A dark, hostile glimmer remained in the tightness of her gaze. Bitter about our unfavorable circumstances, are we? she thought with a sigh as she eyed the indignant poser over. For what it was worth, had she not been focused on the more pressing matter at hand, she might've found the time to truly enjoy the level of satisfaction earned when Endrani finally lost the energy to continue to veil himself. The con was up. The curtain had fallen and revealed the lie that laid beneath. The Myrian could only hope, for his sake, that the man would play along and make her work very simple. Otherwise, more than the metaphorical curtain would be hitting the ground. And there laid quite the question: if her captive's blood did stain the floor, which of them would truly be subject to Swiftfoot's proud and mighty wrath?

"I'm sorry you're taking this so personally," Kaie lulled in an almost bored fashion, moving her thumb along her blade's edge until it found the pointed tip, which she casually used to pick beneath the nail. "To put things into perspective, I've spent most of my life without a single Miza in my coin purse. In Falyndar, the Bikka is the preferred currency." That wry grin widened for a tick before it was back to business again. She slid off the edge of the table, placing the gladius well out of the man's clever reach upon the same wooden surface. Bladed boots clicked their way around to the other side of the con man. There was a shaking of his fallen chair, an adjusting, and then with a heave the seat was lifted so the prisoner could sit right again. The savage wandered back into view, pinching the bridge of her nose with eyes momentarily closed. Then she was seated before him on the table again, gladius back in hand.

"I would prefer not to torture you...but I am not object to it if you choose to make this difficult for you and I. Then we'll have be all cliche about it. Start with the beatings, then the fingernails, remove a digit or two, and just pray to the gods you don't force me to remove your form bits." She rubbed at her eyes and gave a passive flick of her risk, suggesting they do away with the brutal notions altogether. "Let's keep each other honest now, shall we? I'm Kaie of the Cutthroat Shadows. I come from Falyndar, just as you originally guessed. I'm assuming your name is Endrani just as much as mine was Myra. What are you really called?"

Irregardless of his decision to humor her or not, Kaie would offer none but a nod and continue her agenda without so much as a breath's hesitation. "I'm looking for someone. You're going to help me find them. Tell me, have you ever heard of the gang once called the Scars?"She supposed her latest question was probably rather idiotic to the man. With the wild rumors since the Hound and the Red Wolf, it would seem every native of the city knew a thing or two. A con man on the docks needed to know the clientele he danced with, especially those that were a bit riskier than others. Targets needed to be chosen carefully. That was half the battle. "What have you heard about their disappearance?"

[Andar]

Her little currency joke twisted his mouth into a traitorous grin."Ha. Good one. I'm glad one of us is feeling the levity of the moment. Say, how 'bout you untie me and we have a good chit chat about the state of affairs in Falyndar. I'm sure you've got some grand tales of the place. Forget what I said about that wine. Consider it a gift from the gods," said the thief, regaining some measure of himself, the sourness of his predicament subsiding. However, his words not having the desired effect on the woman brought his confident posture and hopeful attitude down a peg. But a kernel of defiance radiated in his amber eyes and that would not be easily snuffed out. He ought to be doing cartwheels as it was, he reminded himself. If the woman was just some blood thirsty killer, his blood would have long since ran cold and he would likely be very very wet. That made him wonder as to the why. Why she hadn't killed his charlatan ass for attempting to dupe her. Why the need for interrogation? Turning it over in his mind, the only somewhat useful conclusion to be made was that she needed him. So he had to play the role of valuable asset or have his body parts removed one by one. Needless to say, his plan of action was clear.

In the interlude, he decided to remain open to all possibilities and keep his senses on high alert for anything and everything that might prove useful to his cause. The rogue returned his gaze to the woman after a quick flicker of eye movment to his surroundings. There was no sign of anyone else around. Whoever had struck him on the head knew their business well, though he hated to admit it. His ferret friend nestled in his lap, ocassionaly squirming or repositioning herself for peak comfortability. He silently cursed himself for not training her the useful trade of rope gnawing. He focused on Kaie, her words, her movements, and that always present blade. She now called herself Kaie and thought an equal name trade was in the offing. He kept his expression impassive as he appeared to deliberate on her question. Eventually he shrugged his shoulders (performing any other bit of gesture was decidingly difficult at the moment) and made a show of being miffed at having to release the highly secretive information. "Alright alright, fair is fair. I'm Korbin....Korbin of Sunberth," he said grudgingly and proudly, lifting his chin a degree. Of course, Korbin wasn't his real name either. But it was the first alias he ever took, and that was damn close to a real name as anyone ever got that wasn't his mother. "Pleasure to meetcha Kaie. Damned strangest greeting circumstances I can recall though. I'd shake your hand, but I fear you've got me trussed up right well," he said, with a chuckle and a bit of ineffectual squirming.

Andar would have snapped his fingers if he could. He knew it! As soon as the words left her mouth that she needed him to find someone. He contemplated the information she offered. Scars. Yes, he did remember hearing something about the Scars. There was some sort of grand battle and falling out as he recalled. Or was that the Bruisers? If Sunberth had a lot of anything, it was gangs and stink. Still, he racked his brain for anything remotely useful to add to the discussion."Oh aye. Can't say I know much more than common rumor. Heard they were on the outs when something right nasty went down at the Bay. Afraid you'll have to enlighten me on some of the finer details, Kaie. You know how talk goes. It's just talk and you never know what half to believe. But you seem more than a little eager to know these things. If there's someone who needs finding, I'm your man. I'll just need the usual sort of information. Name, description, job title, favored hangouts, and all that sort of shyke." He really hoped his cooperation to readily want to help her would make him exempt from the mentioned punishments.

[Kaie]

Could it be that it were truly that simple? A flash of a blade and bound limbs was all that was needed to make the proverbial bird sing? "Korbin of Sunberth," Kaie repeatedly idly, eyes tightening for but a tick as they searched the man. She shook her head. Doesn't matter much if Korbin is his true name so long as he grasps the severity of his predicament. The only truths I need are in the answers to my real questions, the Myrian reminded herself with a clearing of her throat when "Korbin" had finished empty pleasantries. "Shaking hands was always one of your people's customs. Besides, it's a bit late for formalities at this point, don't you think?"

It wasn't long into Korbin's rambling from common rumor to negotiation tactics that Kaie put a single finger to her lips. She made a cutting motion with curled fingers in the air across her throat. The gladius rose and tapped up beneath his chin. "I'm afraid I don't need a man just yet." The blade's tip traced a sharp, yet harmless, line up along his jaw line before it settled in the soft spot just below his ear. "I have enough loose ends to tie as it is, and a dirty job done well is always done by yourself...but you've reminded me that names are more or less irrelevant in this city." She pursed her lips. The blade tip pivoted on his flesh as if it threatened it might drill on a whim.

"I'm looking for a member of the Brotherhood of Chains. Someone with prestige. You know, Mizas, muscle, influence in the gang and slave trade. The works. They say there's a man like this responsible for overseeing the ousting of the Scars." The Myrian shoved herself off the table. The blade departed from the man as she wandered past him toward the door. She outstretched her hand to let her fingers run thoughtlessly over the handle, the freedom of the sea air and the deck above just a few paces up the stairs on the other side of the door.

"Have you heard of such a man?" The savage whipped back around so that her free hand might grasp his shoulder roughly. She let the sword swing behind her back and out of his restrained reach, giving her all the leeway to level her lips to his ear with her body pressed against the back of his chair. "Before you do what you do best, assume I've been a good little Myrian who's done some homework." How badly her captive wanted to live would be determined by his resourcefulness alone.

[Andar]

The woman was good, really good, he had to admit. She knew the business of coercing. His ploy to be her helpful assistant was not exactly going the way he had hoped. She wisely kept him off balance with suggestive blade massage. Her subtle manipulations of the blade were impressive and not all that displeasing if not for the very realistic possibilities in store for him should he slip up. Amber eyes occasionally darted to follow the dangerous movements of her blade. She could have given him a shave with the weapon, so close did it whisper over his jaw and throat to twist and playfully twirl just below his ear.

The entire experience should have been horrible of course, but Andar found himself disturbingly enticed. What the petch was wrong with him?! He had to get out of there. Say the words she wanted to hear. Make it believable or this whole ordeal could get decidingly worse for a certain rogue.

His speech faltered nervously, "Um loose ends?" It wasn't exactly good news. Everyone knew loose ends that needed tying was a very common metaphor for people that needed silencing. Andar swore under his breath. Gods, but she was doing a good job of keeping him on edge. But it was all an act to frighten him into spilling everything he knew. Wasn't it? Andar swallowed hard.

"Ah aye. Brotherhood of Chains you say? 'Course I know of them, lady. Every Sunberthian knows. They're powerful petchers. Using people like animals for profit and their sick games. I hate them! You want one of theirs pushing up daisies? Count me in!"

The emotional vigor the thief put into his dislike of the Brotherhood was not entirely feigned. If there was one blot in the City of Anarchy, it was the slave trade. For a people that loathed control, it was the ultimate slap in the face. Right there in front of them, every day and night, Sunberthians were shackled and sold like livestock. It was truly the only sore spot for Andar. He visibly angered to even think about it. Perhaps it had something to do with his Kelvic nature. A race that had long been taken advantage of by those who sought to understand the puzzle of their creation.

The Myrian left his sight and left him bound there, staring at a table and empty crates. "What? I said I would help. Look. I may know of this fellow you're talking about. I've crept about Slaver's Row many times. Seen some shady business going on down there. Kaie?" She soon returned, shifting him in the chair with the force she applied to grasping his shoulder. Warm breath eddied over his ear along with her biting words.

"Sure thing Kaie. I didn't mean to insult your intelligence by suggesting that..." An idea flashed in his mind to impulsively slam his head back and break the woman's nose if he could and attempt to switch to the Jackal to escape his bonds. He was smaller in Jackal-form. He might just be able to free himself...

Andar bit his lip and fought down his instincts to become an escape artist. "I'm on your side here. I'll case the place out if you haven't already. We'll get this bastard," he said encouragingly, though most of his attention was bent once more on finding a weakness in the binding rope. He had to get out of there before the woman came to the conclusion that he didn't know enough to warrant keeping him alive.

Never underestimate the value of a contingency plan.

[Kaie]

The worst part of her day was not nearly due to the presence of one more pathetic con artist starting trouble all too close to her ship of residence. It wasn't having to beat said con artist down, nor the part when she tied him up and interrogated him. It was the moment she came to the stunning realization that she had reached a dead end, and that the only thing sitting before her was indeed that of a dead man. Was she not fearsome enough? Was her intimidation factor too weak to inspire cooperation and honesty? She pursed her lips despite the man's pleas and few concessions. He had nothing for her but lies and deceit. All that was left to be done was sever his head and be done with it. Sure, Swiftfoot would bitch and moan about the blood on his deck. Yet the price for letting him go would be too high to pay. He was a flight risk for one. Two, she hadn't a clue where his true loyalties laid. Three, she'd tied him up, had him beaten and threatened. What incentive was left for him to stick to her program and not run his mouth so a band of ravenous fiends could solve his problem for him. No. He has to die, the Myrian in her commanded with a growl in her head. And yet there was still that damned voice. Fallon's voice wayyy in the back of her brain. The one that called for mercy, and Zandelia's good-natured taunting about her inability to see past the blood shed.

Damn you! she cursed her captive privately, keeping her inner fury and confliction securely fastened within her body. Why couldn't you just have what I need and share it! Why couldn't you blatantly and truly be on my side! A vicious snarl ripped from her throat where she stood there perched beside his head. She shoved herself away from Korbin and pounded her fist on the door. "Swiftfoot!" she hollered in a combination of frustration and exasperation. In a few ticks the door was flung open and the captain was revealed. Before he could complain, she raised a hand to request silence for him. Kaie walked back behind Korbin and crouched down behind his chair. A single golden Mizas was pressed into his tied up palm and his fingers were forcibly closed over it. Then she set to untying the man. "If he moves too quick when I've finished untying him, kill him," she sighed over her shoulder to which Captain Swiftfoot nodded solemnly. Before long the ropes fell from around his body, freeing Korbin from his confines.

"I'm going to make you a deal." she started off, running a hand down her face as she found herself seated upon the table once again. The sword reappeared in her hand and resting on her lap like a deadly companion. "I'm going to take you up on your offer. You're going to case the place and find out where the bigger names hang out. Do that and you can go on your merry way never to hear from me again. But...try to double cross me and I'll have you know Swiftfoot here is hiring someone discreet to tail us, and kill you if turn out to be a poor investment. Right, Swiftfoot?"
"Aye," the captain growled beneath his beard and folded his arms across his chest. Kaie nodded at that as if to say "see?". She sighed. "I'm a woman of my word. The coin's to cover your wine. And your...troubles."

[Andar]

There wasn't a bloody thing he could do. His bindings were sound. She knew her business. He sensed something going on with the lass. In the quiet time where he had a chance to reflect. What was his Myrian captor deliberating on? Probably on what exactly to do with him now, he thought wryly. She'd let him go. He saw in her eyes she wasn't as hard as she let on. He could rely on his ability to judge character. He had to.

A tormented snarl and shove later, he heard Kaie's footsteps retreating. Andar shared a secret smile with Bella. The ferret seemed to sense something important was happening for she clambered up onto his shoulder. The Jackal knew it too, Kaie punished the door to get the attention of someone called Swiftfoot. Ah yes. Likely the bloke who had struck him earlier.

The door squealed open and Kaie was once more near him. He could smell her and feel her pressing something into his palm-- a coin. Whilst she set on the job of untying him, she played it extremely safe with a spoken threat to end him if he made any false move. She didn't trust him at all. Well, you did sort of deceive her with the whole Svefra getup. Not much to trust is there chap? It was a sad fact of being a thief. Everyone often thought the worst. Smart, but still. Soon the restraints were gone and he was able to work some feeling back into his hands and arms. Scratching his neck and a spot just behind his ear was also high on the priority list.

Andar shifted in his chair to get a good look at this Swiftfoot. Presumably Captain of the ship. He wondered if the man was a smuggler. From the work he had done earlier and with an alias like Swiftfoot, it seemed a strong possibility. The man's gaze was watchful. He no doubt was ready to bop him over the head again if necessary.

The thief rubbed at his wrists and swung his gaze back to the Myrian, listening to her proposition. She was going through with the casing operation it turned out. But was having him tailed for extra incentive. Korbin leaned languidly back in his chair, flipped the coin to his other palm, proceeded to twirl it in and out of his fingers before it winked out of view and into his pocket. "That was thoughtful of you, Kai," he said, forcing himself not to include the part where she drank away most of his profits in the first place.

"Sounds like a reasonable plan. I assure you, I'm the best investment you'll ever make. You can leave Swifty and the boys at home," he said with a wolfish grin over his shoulder at the man. "Oh by the way, that was a good one matey," he said with a pained expression and rub of the significant bump on his noggin."Didn't hear a thing. I admire your work."

"So do we have a deal? I sneak about Slaver's Row. Find out who's who and where they like to hang. Pass on the information and I'm good to go? Peachy. So, when do we start?" asked the rogue with a clap of his hands. Bella peered at Kaie expectantly, probably wanting food. Andar just wanted to get the hell out of there.

[Kaie]

This is a mistake. A damn dirty mistake, her stubborn mind protested as the con man hopped in a jolly fashion to his feet. His pompousness had her quietly seething, one finger tip tap-tap-tapping along the hilt of her sword. Possibly a fatal mistake, indeed...but who better to send on a fool's errand than a fool? The inner opposition seemed reluctantly content with that point.

Swiftfoot's mood was just as sour, and the shifty, dark glance he shot her way while Korbin swaggered about with his clever antics suggested a lack of confidence. Their eyes met once. Kaie's amber stare was firm, decisive. The captain's lips hidden mostly by a thick beard pressed into a hard line. At the very least, it seemed she would not have to worry about the man openly contending her. Not in front of Korbin anyways. The conflicted Myrian adjusted her jaw. For several more ticks she said nothing despite the con man's eagerness. The touch of her blade on her leg was cool upon her skin.

"Yes, we have a deal. You're in, you're useful, and you're out. Free to swindle and swagger all over the docks for all I petching care," Kaie conceded with a slow nod of her head. She slid down from the table to touch both feet to the ground. A gesture of her head was made toward Swiftfoot, the beastly ship captain blocking the single exit. The bearded sailor grumbled something beneath his breath but pushed through the door, giving way for Korbin to follow him through. The Myrian was close behind the pair in a manner in which she hoped would result in Korbin being herded above deck. Swiftfoot stepped aside when they reached the stairs that led above. "I'll have someone wit' eyes on the both of yous soon as ya get on yer way," was all he growled out before he let the two continue upwards.

When her boots finally thudded along the aging wood of the main deck, the Myrian had her sword sheathed and hood tossed over her head. Let's see if there really is a better way. Kaie turned to face Korbin.
"Okay. A few blocks away from Slaver's Row is where I'll leave you. You ready?" If Korbin was half as clever as Kaie believed her might very well be, he probably would've heard a tone in her phrase that sounded like less of a question.

OOC:I'm done being a terrible person I swear! Let's have some fun with this upcoming bit.