Monster Meets Money (Konrad)

by **Wikus** on March 17th, 2016, 4:13 am

42nd Spring 516
6th Bell

Another night without sleep. It’s strange how tired a man can feel, how exhausted his arms are and how he aches for the sight of a bed, yet once that dreamed of bed is below him his eyes simply won’t shut. Wikus had spent his night looking at the ceiling, turning on the bed, exercising to try and burn his few energies, yet nothing had worked. He even tried laying on the floor as he was used to, for beds of his size were not easily found. Even in the wilds he managed to get a few bells of sleep, no matter how paranoid he felt about all the things that crept into the darkness. Here, in this city surrounded by water, the danger was much bigger. Just the previous day he had sold a woman, living and beautiful young woman, and had instead gained a chest full of gold. Just like that woman, he had given away a sick boy to also be sold like cattle. Perhaps it was the rage, the fury of the moment what had pushed to do so, and so part of nights was spent creeping through the window of his room.

This city, just like him, never slept. There was work done during both day and night, not a moment being wasted, all done because of a chest similar to his. Moving over to a bucket of water, he’d crouch down and wash his face in order to liven himself up. Despite his short stay, he didn’t like this city. All those slaves that were dragged around by chains, with branded faces reminded him too much of his past. Glancing over towards his new chest once more, Wikus wondered what to do with it. There was too much of it, too much for him to have or carry around in his wagon. Gold was, in every way, useless. He had to spend it in something, maybe a second mule, or perhaps a new wagon with a roof on top for him to sleep inside. Still, there would be too much remaining. Sighing, he took a handful of it and decided to head out and eat. He wouldn’t hunt a seagull, nor would he eat bugs. Today, he’d give himself a treat and eat whatever he wanted, but someone else took the effort to prepare. At least, gold could give him that. Dressing himself up, and placing his loyal whip on his waist as usual, he’d exit his room.

Heading down the Traveler’s Complex, after the stairs at the end of the hallway he’d once again be in the pub-like entrance. Halting himself, he’d head to the counter where a woman greeted him with tired eyes yet also with a fully-fledged smile. “Good morn---“ She began, Wikus’ hand slapping give golden mizas on the wooden surface with enough harshness to quiet her. “Where I go for eat?” He’d say with his usual frown dressing his features. The woman blinked and regained her smile, as she began her promotion once again. “We serve meals here, sir. If you would just pick a ta---“ Wikus shook his head and interrupted her once more. “Not here. Place to eat for more gold.” She blinked, yet she never lost her smile. “Ah! Well, if you head though the exit and go down five buildings down,” She assisted her directions with a couple of gestures to help the poorly educated man in finding his destination, “… you should arrive at a nice little restaurant that serves delicious breakfasts. The tea is really good, and I imagine that---“ Wikus once again interrupted her, sliding the coins towards her. “Ugly man with hat comes, you tell him where I go, woman. Understand?”

Just like the greedy woman she was, she nodded as she took the small token of appreciation from the male and pocketed it. “Will do, sir. Enjoy your breakfast!” Grunting, Wikus turned around and headed to the exit, barefoot as usual and with his unironed open shirt gliding as he walked with haste. He was hungry, and so he’d eat until he couldn’t move anymore.

Ledger changes :

WIKUS

Thanks to Kiva for this amazing template.

by **Konrad Venger** on March 17th, 2016, 5:38 pm

13th Bell

"Tell me we ain't gonna be doin' that again anytime soon."

"We'll petchin' well do it as often as we need to," Konrad said with a warning growl, hat fanning his face as they stepped into the (relatively) cooler reception of the Traverler's Complex. "But now ya mention it, let's hope the next time is a while away..."

Out of habit, he flicked a glance at Coryn to see if she had anything to add. Of course she didn't. She met his gaze, held it for a blink or three, then looked away again. She was a slave; she knew it, and understood her role. Why, then, was he having problems with the dynamic?

It'll come, he reminded himself, skin crawling on his arm from where she'd last touched him. Just... need to give it time. And keep wearing your damn gloves.

"I'm gettin' a bath," he announced to lackey and property both, barely noticing the woman who popped her head up from behind the desk. "Eyes, take the girl to the room an'-"

"Mister Venger?"

The voice stopped him and he turned to find the perpetually-smiling owner of the Complex staring at him. After a few ticks of silence he took a step closer and shrugged, looking like a turkey vulture loping towards her.

"Yes?"

"Th-There was a man, big beard, tattoos, told me that I should tell you where to find him. He's at-"

"'bout my height? Smells like a dead mule? Rope for a belt?"

"That sounds like him, yes, though I'm no judge of my guests' personal od-"

"Aye, aye, whatever y'say," Konrad said with a wave of his hand. "Where is he?"

She gave the directions, complete with gestures and hands weaving through the air like it was a snake wriggling through the streets. Konrad gave her nothing but nods every few ticks, until he'd heard enough. Fortunately, he knew the place. Nice tea, shyke beans, delicious sweetbread.

"Where we goin'?"

"You're still goin' back to the room," Konrad said, setting his hat on his head. "I'm gonna go handle this."

"Y'sure?" Three Eyes said with doubt dripping from his voice. He remembered in detail the mad bastard that they were talking about, the way he'd fought like a rabid bear and had that cracked look in his eyes, like sanity was something he dabbled with but couldn't see a career in. "He's a dangerous shyke, y'know that. Dunno what he'll do."

If Konrad was capable of being touched by the concern of a man he knew had the morals of a starving snake, he would be. Instead he snorted and nodded at Coryn, still waiting.

"I need youse to keep an eye on her, right? Plenty of wankers'd be looking to get under those skirts."

Konrad had to take a shallow breath before he vomited the next part up. Sometimes one had to do such, before a truly breathtaking lie.

"Yer the only one I trust t'watch her, Eyes. Besides..." He took a step closer, tone lowly and conspiratorial, and what little man with a big ego didn't delight in being part of a conspiracy? "Mad Bastard might be useful to us, aye? Dumb muscle always helps in business, an' there's only so much me an' you can do."

"Aye... aye, yer right."

Konrad clapped him on the shoulder and made his way, everything decided. It felt good to be able to do that: to have people that didn't or couldn't argue, and just did as they were told. Everything flowed so much more easily; the little things didn't get big and the big things got dealt with sooner. As he stepped out into the baking Syna and choking air, Konrad fixed his mind on the next "big thing" he had to focus on.

The walk gave him time to think. Wikus. That was his name. Big and broad and slathered with ink that moved, yet the man didn't seem to be a mage, unless he was one of those that had snapped into pieces under the weight of their wyrd. Konrad remembered with a sneer that one in Sunberth. The gibbering madness he'd spewed, the men he'd killed... the spike he'd sent through Konrad's chest. He'd nearly died that night.

This one could be the same, Venger thought as he strode down the streets, taking the turns suggested, winding his way towards the bistro. Another mad one to be put down. But if not...?

Konrad pondered on the real mystery: why he, of all people, was seeing the filthy, terse bastard as useful. The moment he'd seen him, he'd thought that he was... more worthy, than others. Of time and attention. But talking to him, he'd learned something else, and decided quietly that was the real reason.

He knew the man craved something. Yearned for it. Only one meeting had they shared, and already, Konrad could see that, and Wikus could not. Despite his affect on others, Wikus did not feel it for himself, and that gave Konrad the advantage.

As he turned the final corner, he saw a stall selling what he was looking for, and dropped a handful of coppers to buy one. Then he walked onward, until the smell of baked goods and fresh tea and sizzling meat assailed his nostrils-

-and there he was. Still seated at a table laden with empty plates. Staring into nothing and everything with sightless, indifferent eyes.

Konrad strolled over and dropped the purse in front of the man, taking a seat opposite him a moment later. He took off his hat and tossed it onto a spare chair, waiting for the wench to come for his order. He might as well fill his belly after the long ride from Whiplash, too.

"There. All yours."

It was empty, of course. But Wikus would find out why, in due time.

Receipt-97cm

by **Wikus** on March 17th, 2016, 11:04 pm

Wikus’ gluttony knew no end, all the empty plates being proof of his insatiable hunger. He had been waiting for a while now, eating this and that to the point of his hunger being satiated completely bells ago. Still, he kept ordering more and more, something bothering and frustrating him and thus burying such problem with food. Eventually, the magnificent tastes all faded and the food was just bland, as it usually happened whenever the stomach was tired of processing all this unnecessary food. He had the money, too much of it, so this unnecessary spending could be supported by his pockets – at least figuratively, as his light attire had none. Sipping mindlessly a cold tea in hopes of calming down the heat of the day, it was then when the man in question presented himself. Around his height, rugged, ugly, yet with a psyche and a hand so steady it was threatening to even stand around him. His poise and gait, his motions and his attitude were otherworldly, unknown to Wikus despite his long life. Frowning as usual, Wikus greeted the man with silence. Sipping his cup, he’d lock eyes on the individual.

The empty pouch came upon the table, Wikus’ eyes moving to it before his hand went to check its nonexistent contents. Was he being played? Grunting and returning his eyes on the individual, he’d sit back on the somewhat fancy chair. “Where is boy?” The man had taken it, supposedly to sell him back to his master, yet the empty pouch meant that either that did not happen or that the man was playing him. “Where is money?” Now that the man sat on the other end on the table, Wikus could easily inspect his wretched face. Long and unwashed hairs, poorly shaven beard, split upper lip and yellow teeth – a man that didn’t bother to watch his hygiene and instead focused on something more important than looks. With that, Wikus could agree, even if his features were unnaturally attractive. If his condition were to fade, he wouldn’t be far behind this man ugly-wise. One of the slaves that worked serving the tables came along, leaving another plate of some small pies made from different fruits, welcoming Konrad with a smile and taking his order if he had any. Before she left, she took some of the plates and cleared the table.

Once she left, Wikus spoke again. “Few men cut head of enemy. Glad it not mine one that rolled.” Wikus, still laying back, would take one of the pies and began devouring it with the same intensity as when he came, basically stuffing it in his mouth and chewing it as silently as he could. His hand took another one, and repeated the motion. The third one, however, he tossed it before Konrad for him to eat if he wished, Wikus’ way of gratitude owed. Still, there was tension between the two, or at least there was by Wikus’ side. He kept eating, more and more, testing his low endurance and forcing it to carry him through this gluttonous endeavor. “Sold blond bitch.” He’d comment, as a sort of update on what happened with Firenze, name Wikus didn’t even bother to ask nor remember if it was mentioned. The rage of the previous day had exhausted him, and despite it all his tattoos were on his flesh as if they never left. Wikus wasn’t much of a talker, and so he’d await for what Konrad had to say.

WIKUS

Thanks to Kiva for this amazing template.

by **Konrad Venger** on March 18th, 2016, 5:54 am

Konrad was learning the value of studying people. He'd been doing it all his life, of course, but then it was a... brief thing. Gauge your enemies, find a weak spot, and then strike. But a season and a half on the Kabrin road had seen him learn patience. Often there was little to do but watch, and wait, and pick his moment. Fangor was mute testament to that, and look at what that had gained him?

That was with enemies. Concerning potential allies, bone-deep suspicion and well-earned paranoia made the trait essential.

Thus he observed the ragged man, bloated from his meal (meals, by the look of it) and still shoveling food into his messy maw, beard encrusted with scraps and grease. Watching, Konrad thought of a man feeding a furnace, cramming coal into the flames and getting as much satisfaction from the act as a broke-backed slave doing the same job. There was no glint in his eyes, no feral satisfaction or desperate insanity he'd seen only a day before.

Konrad watched, and he listened.

“Where is boy?”

"With the Radacke," he said simply, noting the gap in the sentence. Wikus had talked the same way before. Stilted, shuddering, like his mind couldn't quite find all the words and his soul cared not to. "Handed 'im over as a gift. Once he's recovered, I'm sure they'll put 'im to work. Young lad like that, plenty of years service left on 'im..."

“Where is money?”

Konrad was silent. He watched. The lack of an answer should have prompted something, anything. But instead all Wikus did was a steady chomp-chomp-gulp, cramming evermore food into his mouth until Konrad was sure he heard the chair creak. Konrad knew slavers, sellswords, scum and killers, thieves and charlatans, and not all of them were dirty bastards like him. The few Dynasty reptiles he'd met had proved to him that black souls could have the cleanest hands.

But all of them had something in common: when money was in the air, they suspended everything else. Food, talk, sex, family... all of it melted away and their eyes didn't waver until an answer was produced, or a purse.

Konrad had handed over an empty one, and Wikus had kept eating.

Konrad smiled again, just as the serving wench arrived. He snapped off a quick order and she bustled about her business. He turned some words over, thought them a fine collection and-

“Few men cut head of enemy. Glad it not mine one that rolled.”

And now he's changing the subject. How interesting.

"Best thing t'cut off," he said, taking the tossed pie and wondering when the subject would come back to gold. He gnawed off a mouthful and talked as he did, crumbs and spittle pattering on some empty plates. "Take his arm, he has another to come back at ya with. Take his leg, he still has his arms. Take his head? Problem's gone forever."

“Sold blond bitch.”

Konrad's smile grew. The man's mind veered from point to point, idea to idea, without course or rudder. The money seemed forgotten, a not-inconsiderable sum. As far as Wikus knew, he was due a hundred mizas, at least. Families had been butcherd in Sunberth for less. Konrad knew that from personal experience. He rifled in his pocket for his pipe as he smoke, filling the bowl with pungent Swamp Weed and padding it down with his thumb.

He watched, and his listened... and he drew a conclusion.

"Tell me something... how did it feel?"

When Wikus looked up, mayhap his jaw slowing for an instant or two, he'd see Konrad lighting his pipe from the candle at the table. Green eyes growing misty and indistinct through the fresh haze of smoke, but never wavering from his own. Konrad kept smiling, and when he chuckled, tendrils of smoke wafted through the air between them. His plate of pork, cheese and sweetbread scraped onto the wood by his elbow and he ignored it, same as the girl. Savi took one look at the table and decided she was needed elsewhere. Anywhere.

"Not the woman. S'just business. Can't see it means much to ya anyway, aye? No... I meant yesterday."

He has his gold from her, and he wolfs down food that doesn't please him.

"That man," he said, leaning forward and spewing smoke. "I saw how y'killed him. Every petching detail. Saw yer face. Yer eyes. The way ya breathed as you did it."

He doesn't care for the money... because it doesn't buy him what he wants.

"Tell me what you felt, in there-" he pointed at Wikus' ink-covered chest with the tip of his pipe "-tell me if all this food, all that gold from the blonde bitch... tell me if it came even close."

by **Wikus** on March 18th, 2016, 7:48 pm

Wikus kept eating, slowly losing his interest for his own words and his own queries, once again drifting into the depths of his mind like he was used to. Konrad offered some answers, not quite elaborating on anything, keeping his reasons for himself as if he was a bird keeping his nest, secrets worth more unspoken than shared. Wikus didn’t blame him, as he wasn’t quite interested in finding what those secrets were. If he ‘gifted’ the boy, then the better for him. The kid would be healed and would be safe here, even if he was to be slave. He wouldn’t have allowed him to just roam the Kabrin to be devoured or be found by some sick individual. Even if the boy hated him, Wikus had done the best for him. He didn’t want profit for helping that child, even if that was the deal between him and Konrad. He was surprised, however, that Konrad himself was so calm about the matter. However it may be, Wikus kept eating the pies and feeding his endless gluttony, hopefully until Konrad just up and left. However, the mindless eating came to an abrupt end as Konrad’s words made their way onto Wikus’ mind.

Yesterday… In less than a chime, Konrad had found the reason why Wikus couldn’t sleep, why the food tasted bland and why he felt empty inside. In the limited time that he had spent watching him eat, Konrad had found the reason even if Wikus didn’t know it until now. He had seen directly into his mind, read his motions and found the cause of his behavior. Wikus’ mouth stopped chewing, his hands froze and his eyes rose from the plate, starting through the smoke with those crazed blue eyes of his. A glimpse of the madness from the day before was present there, a hint of whatever it was seen by Konrad in their first encounter. And so he froze, watching Konrad’s mouth move, listening to his words with all his attention. Each tick that passed and each word that reached his ears opened his eyes more and more, until Konrad’s speech was over and Wikus was forced to ponder on the matter. Turning his head towards the city from the terrace they were sitting on, Wikus spat out the half-chewed pie onto the street. Afterwards, he tossed the half-devoured pie in his hand out, only to take the end of the plate a tick after and toss it out as well, the plate and the pies falling on the street.

Wikus’ head looked up as he tried to hold on to the feeling present in yesterday’s memory, unsure of he wanted to laugh or rub his face in attempts of shaking it off. “It feel good…” He’d say with his heavily accented voice and his limited knowledge of the language, looking back down at Konrad yet with a different attitude whatsoever. It was as if they shared a secret together, something that connected them and only Konrad could understand. He smiled at last, a wide smile of surprise as he couldn’t recall the last time he had felt something bring that expression onto his face. Kavala had made sure he had teeth for this occasion, the bones shining through the blond beard with pride. “Five men try to take my life, and it was me who lived. Me.” Now he knew what had caused him this void inside his chest, all revealed to him by Konrad’s words and his own. All his life he had been the underdog, the one mistreated and the one who did most yet never reached the top. The Drykas had scarred him that way, trying to bury his talent and his power, and now that he had tasted just one drop of that feeling of superiority and accomplishment, he was addicted.

Perhaps it was that void what he had been trying to fulfill with these pies, what flowers and women never could satisfy and maybe what had drove him as crazed as he often felt. Staring at Konrad as if trying to read his reaction, trying to read the same sensation in him to feel the sentiment was mutual. “No… Nothing close to that. Nothing. You feel it too, no? You feel it when you take head and dead eyes bleed. Feel power, strength…” Wikus gasped, not having enough words to manifest the sweet sensation he was trying to describe. His hands went to his face, running down his features with harshness as if trying to remove the veil that had covered his eyes all this time. He felt enlightened indeed, unsure as to how to react or calm himself down over this ecstasy the truth had produced to him.

Reaching for his pipe and his own pouch of tobacco, a way bitter version of what Konrad’s pipe held, he’d pack the pipe rather poorly due to the haste of his motions, fueled by this sudden energy spike. Taking the candle just like Konrad did and lighting his own pipe, the puffs of smoke from both men fought between them. One of the slaves from the establishment went on to the street to clean the mess Wikus had made, while Savi came to demand the payment from Wikus. Another pouch came onto the table, emptying it all and just pushing all of the coin there was towards the woman no matter if the check was lower than what he was giving. He certainly did not care about the money, and instead only limited himself to staring at Konrad as if waiting for his words to enlighten him once again. He had no words for nothing came onto his mind, and he felt that whatever they had to share could be done with the silence that was between them.

Ledger changes :

WIKUS

Thanks to Kiva for this amazing template.

by **Konrad Venger** on March 18th, 2016, 11:08 pm

Konrad waited so long he started to wonder if maybe the bearded barmy had slipped something loose in his cracked skull and just wandered off somewhere else. But then he spoke, his voice low, somewhere between shame for his act and awe that he had still done it... and with every stilted, growled syllable, the former shrunk and the latter grew.

Grew and became something even better.

“It feel good…”

Gotcha.

The two exchanged smiles and Konrad hazarded that the man across the table couldn't guess why his slid across his face so easily. He'd pieced it together, what little he could see, skipped and jumped to a conclusion and now... Konrad was a picture of smug satisfaction. He marveled that he'd not tried this before, this simple trick of watching and learning.

He's not trying to hide anything, he reminded himself as Wikus swallowed what was left of the mulched pie in his throat. He's easy to read, others aren't.

“Five men try to take my life, and it was me who lived. Me.”

There was some measure of genuine mirth in the rolling chuckle that followed, slithering out from Konrad's lips along with a thin cloud of stinking smoke that made a passing Savi sniff and cough. Ah, well he knew that feeling. Many a time he'd felt it, in alleys and flats, bars and derelict buildings, wide streets and narrow tunnels. That fierce, unholy joy that coursed through you like poisoned lightning, that said you were the victor, you were gifted with life where others had tried to take it from you.

He sucked a little deeper, glowing bowl birthing twin Synas in his shadowed eyes as he watched the man opposite him. Wikus was growing more frenzied by the moment, hands running over his face like he was tracing yet more artwork across his flesh. The Sunberth sellsword cocked his head to the side as he watched. Gods... the man was still riding a high from that kill. Drunk on it. Without the words to give it a name but now, thanks to Konrad, he did, and all that giddy, shivering pleasure was shuddering through him again like a dose of Slammer.

First timer, he thought, and remembered how it was for him. Ten years old and standing over the corpse of the older boy who'd stripped him naked and spread his legs. Aye... you never forget that one.

Which was partially a lie. For the life of him he couldn't remember-

Niles. His name was Niles.

“No… Nothing close to that. Nothing. You feel it too, no? You feel it when you take head and dead eyes bleed. Feel power, strength…”

As soon as Savi and her friend were gone, Konrad leaned closer, space between them going from familiar to intimate, and spoke in hushed tones, as if imparting the secrets of ancients. He could tell Wikus would hang off his every word, eyes wide, a child's at communion. Konrad marveled anew, and as he spoke, remembered something else.

When it came to wrangling men, often you didn't even need to lie. You just needed to tell them what they wanted to hear.

"The pounding in yer ears. Your breath... how it fills yer lungs an' never tasted sweeter, because he ain't gonna taste it ever again and that's your air now. How your 'and shakes, an' y'think it's cuz yer wounded or tired but it's cuz... it's cuz yer excited, like you'll never be this high, this alive, this pure in dat moment, ever again."

There was no inflection, but even he couldn't stop the change in tone. He wasn't questioning; he already knew the answers. He'd seen it all, not just in that last afternoon but a hundred, a thousand times in his own body, his own memories. But talking about them... it bought them back. Those feelings, fresh and raw and dripping blood like the best steak.

Konrad savored them. They helped make him what he was. But that was the past. That was kid's stuff, and bouncing from body to body didn't make a man rich.

He smiled again as he nodded, and maybe Wikus thought he was remembering his own debauched, bloodstained history. Konrad wasn't looking back, though. He was looking out. He beheld Wikus and saw six-and-a-half feet of clay, nothing but dark craving and growling distrust for everyone around him. Friendless. Clan-less. Alone and miserable and-

That's it. Alone.

Konrad reached out and gripped the man's shoulder. He summoned every screed he had and fixed a comradely smile on his hideous face, turned on what little charm he had even if it was hardly a high wattage.

"That's why I helped, lad," he lied with a hiss and a nod of his head. "Youse an' me? We're too close t'the same for me to 'ave walked by. I see potential in ya. You got yer first taste yesterday. That first lick a' power. Now..."

Konrad leaned back and sucked at the dead pipe, getting nothing but air instead. He busied his hands and his mind followed suit, ideas and plots and the words of the Radacke bustling through his mind, trying to take those odd-shaped tasks and fit them around Wikus, still staring like a new acolyte.

Then he found one. He tapped out the ashes and pocketed the pipe, then cracked his knuckles in clear preparation.

"How'd y'like to have a mouthful? How about a course? A banquet? Cuz I can give that to ya, if yer willing to learn, willing to listen an' follow orders. I see y'hear, stuffin' yer face an' mopin'... and I see ya in pain, friend."

He nearly choked on the last word. It seemed so alien to him, to use it without scorn. But this was no simple task and he could see the effect his words were weaving. He stood up, and he loomed. He was a vulture in black, an angel with ebon wings, he stared down at Wikus and dared him to look up into a face now shadowed again by his hat, eyes glinting like a burning swamp fire, smile brown and gold and scraps of white.

"Y'know what the secret is, lad? What makes it better? You make the petchin' world hurt with ya."

by **Wikus** on March 31st, 2016, 10:20 pm

It was surprisingly pleasant to listen to Konrad’s words despite his ugliness. Each word matched a feeling, striking deep into Wikus’ mind and bringing forth a memory, a sensation or a fantasy that he might’ve experienced sometime. He was, in his own way, aware of what invaded Wikus’ mind these moments, aware of what his words failed to describe. As he looked onto Konrad’s face and saw his lips moving, he saw someone who had lived through what he had lived and could relate to him. Every man needed this kind of reassurance of his own madness, and seeing it within Konrad was somewhat pleasing to not fear his own fall into insanity. Men tried to bury this primitive instinct of domination and raw power, so much that the act of murder, so natural and common in this world, was instead treated like sin. Wikus himself had convinced himself that this instinct had to be denied, rejected and snuffed into the depths. That didn’t stop him from relishing on the feeling for once, especially when he was forced to tap into the raw power instinct granted him once in a while. The more Konrad spoke, the more Wikus convinced himself he had done nothing wrong.

Konrad was clearly beyond those feelings, as Wikus could sense his maturity on the matter. He was calm, and tearing a head was something that he didn’t welcome with a ritualistic dance as any man hooked onto the adrenaline would’ve done. Repeat the same activity long enough and it became mundane and meaningless, which if applied to the act of taking a life meant a progression into a leadership role. Wikus needed a leader. “Learn and follow.” He’d repeat, mostly for himself, as to convince himself that what he heard was actually spoken. A foot soldier without leadership was nothing, just like a child was nothing without a father. Perhaps it was that why he had grown to be so bitter, when after all those wasted years under an unappreciative Ankal, it had to be this Deyhan as Kiva would’ve called him the one to recognize potential. Unused to compliments, Wikus fell victim to the sugarcoating without remedy. Even his gaze towards Konrad changed, moving from astonishment to pure and untainted admiration. “I want learn. You teach me.” There wasn’t really anything else he wanted to add, and if there was his excitement wouldn’t allow him to dig any more words.

Wikus imitated Konrad, and disposed of the ashes from his pipe before retiring it into the pouch it was extracted from. He glanced to Konrad throughout the entire process, allowing some of his excitement to fade away as the man’s words echoed in his skull. It wasn’t quite a clear shot by Konrad’s part, yet it was still very accurate into Wikus’ psyche. The joy and thrill of being of use again was more than enough to convince him, yet senseless violence was not something he was interested in. Konrad’s last words, however, gave the violence a meaning. Even if it was an abstract concept like retribution, it was a meaning Wikus was willing to accept if he was to learn from this individual. Konrad had an aura of leadership around him, after all, or at least he did in Wikus’ eyes. Eventually, it would all come down to time, time which Wikus would spend leeching from this man’s knowledge and time in which Konrad would begin withering around Wikus until he was no different than the ashes fallen from the pipe. In the end, it would all balance itself.

Wikus remained in place for a moment before standing up himself to match Konrad’s height, head low and somewhat submissive yet eyes still somewhat wary. It was a bold move, a bold leap of faith, yet this once he was going to rely on trust. Konrad was making the same decision, after all, for he didn’t quite know with what kind of man he was interacting with. Nobody really knew except Wikus himself. If they knew he’d drain the life out of their bodies, they would’ve chased him into a hole in the ground long ago. Nonetheless, that didn’t matter now. “You need soldier, I need orders. Next time I make head of you enemy roll.” Wikus seemed about to elaborate his poorly spoken argument, yet the idea was dropped. Instead, he simply tended a hand, to seal the deal with a handshake.

WIKUS

Thanks to Kiva for this amazing template.

by **Sloane** on February 12th, 2017, 9:27 am

Enjoy your rewards and continue the good work! If you have any comments or concerns, please PM me, and don't forget to update you request in the Grade Thread!

Konrad :

Wikus :

PM to join Monster Meets Money (Konrad)