Topic: The Adventures of Kith, the Cat, and the Khatun
Subject: Pedal to the metal, people, let's go
"When last have you two eaten?"
Kithran had to stop herself from laughing. Here was a legendary bladesinger, nearly unmatched in combat and battle tactics, checking to make sure she had had her supper. Despite the absurdity of it, Kith could feel her stomach ready to growl at her, “For myself, it has only been about a day, so I am not ready to chomp the necks of any necromantic guards like our trouser cat,” she gestured to Ch’dau as he cut a hole in his trousers for his tail to fit through, “but--” Aranwen unfolded parcels of dried meats and fruits and Kithran’s stomach did growl then, giving away her true feelings.
“Here," Aranwen offered, "This should help for the moment."
“Oh gods, thank you,” she took one of each, waiting at least until Ch’dau had a chance to sate some of his appetite, as he likely hadn’t had a decent meal in a much longer time than herself. Kith could settle with nibbling on stale bread if need be. There were certainly worse things.
At the purring that erupted next to her as the massive Kazari chewed on the dried foods, she was happy for her decision. Her black eyes light on Ch'dau as he delightfully chewed the food, Kith turned them on Aranwen, "Truly, thank you."
"Tell me more of the owner of that estate,” Aranwen queried, addressing Kith’s question of preparedness from before, “I presume it was they who brought forth the skeletons that were so prevalent there."
Kith took a bite of the cheese the children had handed her as she turned her head back to Ch’dau, who spoke with his mouth full of meat, “She’s a monkey-faced bitch called Adedre, and I imagine that the skeletons are the least of the horrors she has at her disposal.”
Kithran nodded, “A few skeletons are not so difficult, as you may have come across last night, but a group of them,” she spun her hands around each other, “tangled together into one horrid mass. Those are nightmares, Aranwen. We will need a plan of action for dealing with those creatures again.”
Ch’dau shrugged beside her and continued, “I know nothing more of the city. Until tonight, all I had seen of it was the bitch’s dungeon,” he scooped up another pinch of dried meat and stuffed it into his mouth, “I had no idea there was even a city about me.”
The stoic bladesinger took in their information, and looked back to Kithran, who had just taken a very crunchy bite out of the loaf of bread, "As to our own preparations, we should certainly see about getting a full meal. That assortment of food is suitable for the road, and will hold you over until we eat proper, but it will not sustain you through healing and the battles ahead. On the topic of healing, we may need to see a cleric about our injuries, as well as pickup more medical supplies. If we can enlist the aid of a cleric for the upcoming battles, that would be even better. Devotees of Kith-Jora or Falloes might be our best options there."
Kith squinted in thought, “Kith-Jora or Falloes? Unfortunately I have not stumbled across either of their flock yet, but I, or we I suppose, can ask around. I hope we find a Falloes cleric first. Growing up with my name, well, you understand,” she swiped a piece of fruit Ch’dau and Aranwen had missed and continued, “We can likely find information in the same places we look for a full meal--I can point us in the direction of a few taverns, and there’s an inn nearby as well that’ll serve us. As for medical supplies and such, if you have some coin to spare, I can point you in the direction of an apothecary, but if not,.” she held up a palm and wiggled her fingers, “I may be able to find something.”
Aranwen nodded again, and Kith could almost see her creating a plan for them. Her golden eyes looked back at her again, "Two days? It's unrelated to anything else, but if you've seen a mask or antique store, I'd like to know of those as well."
Kithran raised her eyebrows at that, “Hmm, specifically a mask, I have not seen. There is a storefront here with some different odds and ends. I don’t know if it is an antique shop exactly, but I can point it out to you if you’d like. Preparing for a party, are we?”
((OOC: Ara’s lovely words))
She leaned back on her hands, “Alright, well as I mentioned, I can take you there if you’re interested.” She looked down at bits of food leftover between the three of them, ”I believe I am ready to go, whenever you lot feel up for it,” she only winced a little this time as she hopped up to her feet, and made her way toward the door, “We can go in whichever order you like. Just,” she looks at Ch’dau and smirks, “try to be as inconspicuous as possible.”
Posted on 2019-10-24 at 09:40:54.
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Topic: The Adventures of Kith, the Cat, and the Khatun
Subject: Little Kithran Pt. 2 of 5
12th Day, Sempore, 437 E.R., Stone’s Hollow, Coria
Randel Aldeath opened his front door to a townguard holding his angry twelve-year-old daughter by her elbow. The guard shoved the arm and the rest of the girl at the merchant, “For the last time, Randel, keep your kid’s hands to herself.”
He sighed and looked down at her, fairly tall for twelve, and now glaring at his chest, her cheeks nearly as red and dirtied as the torn dress she wore, “Kithran, give it back.”
She turned the glare back up to him, “I already gave it back!”
The guard nodded. “The Daldens caught her in the act of trying to swipe the misses’ fresh biscuits right out of the bakery window. All of them. That’s their living, and this little scamp had half a sack full before I spotted her,” he scowled at the back of the girl’s head, ”She tried to run away and got stuck on their fence.”
“Biscuits?” Randel raised his eyebrows at the furious young lady. She had left in her new dress, her hair perfectly in place, and not a smudge to be seen. Now there wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t a mess. For biscuits? “What else did you take?”
The glare dropped too quickly, “Nothing! Just the biscuits. I’m hungry, is dinner ready?”
“You know good and well that dinner is ready, with no help from you yet again. What else did you take, Kithran?”
The guard looked from father to daughter, each a stubborn mirror of the other, until finally the little thief sighed, “Fine,” she grumbled and turned back to the guard, reaching into her ponytail she pulled out a stone carving of an elephant with intricate designs painted all over its back, small green and white gems placed in patterns throughout them, “It’s pretty.”
The guard held out his hand to take the trinket and looked up at the girl’s father, “You know her well.”
Randel shrugged, “It’s a new trick she learned from those horrendous Lovers of Fortune: if she thinks she’s likely to get caught in the act of taking something, she makes a blatant show of taking something else, to avert the gaze from her true prize. Isn’t that right, my little sticky-fingered peach?”
He watched her teeth grind as she grumbled more at the facetious endearment he knew she didn’t approve of, and looked away from him.
He shook his head and looked back at the townguard, “I will end up having to clip those little fingers off soon, I am sure of it.” He sighed, “Thank you for looking out for our neighbors, Glendon, and for helping me show this little peach she isn’t as clever as she thinks she is.”
“Good night, Randel.”
Later that evening, long after her father’s endless lecture, and threats to write Tara, while they packed to begin traveling the next morning, Kithran lay in her bed, staring up at the clear summer sky. She softly hummed a tune she had been working on in her head when the glimmer through a second floor window of Daldren’s Bakery had caught her eye earlier that day. She reached into her nightgown and pulled the sparkling dragonfly pin from the leather strap around her thigh. If they suspected her, they had yet to push any blame. And besides, they had been home the entire time, surely they would have noticed a tall, half-Sylvari twelve-year old running around their shop and home in a red dress?
Kithran smiled as she played with the moonlight on the sparkling beads, and reveled in her cleverness, before falling asleep with it clasped tightly in her hands.
27th Day, Sempore, 437 E.R., Coria, Coria, 17:06
The merchant sighed at the sight of the flaxen-haired, magenta-clad Laughing Maiden of Shinara dragging his daughter by the elbow, back to his stall.
Over the years, it had been a delight for Kithran to be able to meet up with her friend and mentor, Tara Ikhari. The traveling maiden and her group never stayed in one place for a very long time, or even in Coria for very long, for that matter. So when Shinara saw fit to bless Kithran with a meeting from the woman, she was ecstatic. Lately, however, the meetings seemed to have become fewer, and further between, as Tara ventured further and for longer periods of time. And Kithran, in the unspoken loss she felt in the spaces left by Tara, filled them by turning to another, more boisterous lot within their temple: the Lovers of Fortune. The rowdy, risk-taking sect of the temple was viewed more as reckless than anything else, as they consistently found ways to show the world that no matter what they did, Shinara’s smile would always look down on them in favor. Though in Randel’s view, her frown seemed to fall upon them just as often.
By the look on Tara’s face, Kithran had once again been goaded into their mischief. Tara dropped Kithran’s arm as they approached the merchant, “I have to say, Randel, your little peach here is nothing if not persistent.”
“Peach?!” Kithran looked to her father, “You gave her that one?!”
“I told you I’d write her, Kithran, now what’s happened this time?”
She looked up at the Maiden, who simply pointed back to her father, “I . . . fell through a roof.”
“You fell through a roof?!” Whatever her excuse was as she rambled one off to him now, he did not hear it. He had taken her disheveled look in stride, as this was becoming more and more common for her, but the pieces of thatch and other materials in her hair, the scrapes, tears in yet another new dress, even the streaks of blood were a bit more profuse than usual. But through a roof?!
Randel assumed she was done with whatever she could come up with as a reason for her not to be chained to the stall from now on because Tara had now taken to talking, “As with the guard in every town but your own, she was brought to Shinara’s temple, since she refuses to give away your name, Randel, and lucky you. Especially you, as Shinara’s favorite little peach here has charmed the temple leaders so much they are willing to pay for the damages to the Cinderfell storagehouse.”
The merchant blinked, “Cinderfell? Cinderfell?! You decided to go off and destroy a Cinderfell property?! Oh, child, you shall be the death of me.”
“Father, no one knows who you are tho--”
“I know, I know, you only give them the name of Shinara’s flock, which I am also incredibly sorry for, Tara,” she shrugged and waved it away, “but Kithran, if you go messing with people like Cinderfell, they will find out who I am, and I don't particularly like them knowing who you are. It will not end well for either of us.” He patted her shoulder, “Please, think about what your actions will mean for us. And keep those sticky little fingers to yourself.” He sighed and stroked his stubbled chin, “We’ll speak more on this soon. For now, say your farewells to Tara, and we will go find supper.”
When her father was out of earshot, Kithran looked up at the woman, now smirking back at her and shaking her head. Kithran crossed her arms, “Why didn’t you tell him they kept the wine?”
“Because it isn’t important, and it would be too difficult to explain that the temple accepted it as a symbol and offering to them of your maddening luck--running along rooftops like a wild child, happening to fall through one filled with a highly coveted wine, surviving the fall, obtaining two bottles and keeping them hidden while two guards escorted you back to the temple. I wish you would not grin like that, Kithran.”
She could not stop, “Fortune favors the bold, Tara, and I love fortune.”
Tara scoffed, “Honestly, I do love your luck, darling, but the Lovers of Fortune burn bright and fast. There’s an entire world out there, and they’d waste it hopping through a roof.” She sighed, “Fortune favors who it favors. I apologize that I have not been able to be much of a mentor to you as of late, and until you join the--I mean if you would like to join the Laughing Maidens and adventure, I could do a much better job by you. But until then, be quick first in your mind,” she held out a closed fist, turned it over and revealed a familiar wine bottle stopper, donning Shinara’s symbol, “and then in your hands.”
“What?” Kithran patted herself down, “H-how did you get that?! I was paying attention! Was it--how long?”
Tara laughed and hugged the confused girl until she felt her relax and hug her back. She stepped away again then and booped her on the nose with the stopper as she had so many years ago, to a much shorter version of this half-Sylvari girl, and handed it back to her. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised you still kept that odd little trinket on you, but it does make me happy that you do. The Maidens and I are leaving for Calestra in the morning, and as I believe that shall be one of your next destinations as well, come find me once you arrive. I will stay put until you are there, as I would like to continue working with you where we left off in your studies. Would you like that?”
Kithran looked away from the stopper and shoved it into a pocket, “Yes, Tara, I miss our studies.”
“As do I, darling peach, I will see you then.”
28th Day, Sempore, 437 E.R., Coria, Coria, 01:26
Kithran crept through the darkness unimpeded, as the moon shone bright in the clear summer sky. Nevertheless, she neither saw, nor heard their approach.
A hand clamped over her mouth and pulled her lanky frame back into an alleyway. Fear gripped her stomach for just a moment before she was released and turned to face the grins of her Coria friends and fellow Lovers of Fortune. Tibbon, Mareth, and Etan were all human, donning matching Shinara pins, and all older than her by a couple springs. Despite this, Kithran would often be the one to lead them into whatever trial the others were excited to throw themselves at--partly because she was just a little quicker than them, but mostly because she could see best in the dark.
Tonight they would be raiding a Cinderfell storage room. There just so happened to be a very large hole in the top, and the others in their group were very thirsty.
Kithran would be leading them back to the storagehouse, warning them of city watch, or anything else that might give them away. Once there, they would spread out and lure the Cinderfell thugs away from the building: Mareth and Etan taking on the guarded roof, and Tibbon, the fastest after Kithran, luring the one at the door.
At Kithran’s nod, the other three dispersed and she awaited her signal to run in. Tara would surely not approve of this. Or maybe she would. She was difficult to pin down at times. She could be sneaky and sticky-fingered as well, but she was also always so poised, seemed so proper, almost regal. At least as far as Kithran could tell. She appreciated luck and chance more than tested it. Perhaps that is what she had been rambling about earlier about fortune’s favor.
She noticed movement on a rooftop just moments away from where the Cinderfell guards stood and her breath caught in her throat. Appreciation was nice, but it never made her heart race like this. Yes, failing was not preferable, but succeeding was exhilarating--better than making a sale on some hard-to-push spice, and better than just appreciating some stroke of luck. This was creating it, basking in your success or learning from your failures.
Mareth and Etan snuck poorly toward the storagehouse, finally making enough noise for the buffoons at the top to notice them and chase them off.
Kithran ran silently into a closer position as the rooftop guards returned. Tibbon’s job may have been the most difficult. He had to get the thug to actually chase him away. Usually you had to tease them a little first, make them angry, otherwise they give up the moment they realize they’ll never catch you. That was the hardest part. Once he was gone though, Kithran would run in, which was Mareth and Etan’s queue to truly go at the guards on the roof, until they finally took chase. By that time Kithran would have the bottles, and have climbed up to the hole, escaping before they came back.
She had gotten a good look earlier when she had “accidentally” fallen through, and was confident she’d be able to climb back up without issue, even with a couple bottles strapped to her.
A rock hit the brute at the door square on the side of his head. Kithran was sure any normal man would have crumpled to the ground at that, but luckily for him, his skull looked to be thicker than a donkey’s, the bray that followed only further proving her thought. It was easier than she had anticipated, though she did not anticipate a man with the brain of a pack animal to be who Tibbon might be up against. The rock to the head had likely tipped him over the edge of rage a bit faster than usual, and the endless slew of perfectly horrible insults from the young Lover certainly helped.
Whatever the case, the moment Tibbon made himself visible, it took only a couple more taunts for the lumbering idiot to chase after him, and the moment he did, Kithran took her chance. She sprinted to the door. Once she slipped inside she took a brief moment to take a breath, grin at her good fortune, and hastily made her way forward.
Shwoop
In the near pitch dark, save for the bit of moonlight shining through the ceiling, she looked down at the dagger that now stood poised in the dirt at her feet. Its handle was tightly wrapped, and lettering she could not read cascaded down the middle of the blade.
Oh gods, she stepped back, looking around, but nothing caught her eye. It couldn’t have been the rooftop guards. Cinderfell must have planted someo--
Shwoop
Another dagger struck down even closer to her and this time, despite not seeing anything, she could hear the light, rapid footsteps approaching her. She spun around and ran back to the door, attempting to swing it open and flee, but even as the door began to move, it was slammed shut again. The two daggers that had just been at her feet now stuck in the door on either side of her head. This time, with hands gripping the handles.
“Clever,” the voice came from just above her head, “your friends riling up his hired lot, not that it’d take much. Lucky for him I am a bit more worth my coin.” The dagger on the right side of her head was dislodged and a moment later she could feel it poking through the fabric of her tunic at her back and he sighed, “Don’t shiver like that kid, I’m not going to hurt you unless you do something even more idiotic. That will be for Lord Cinderfell to decide. So be good.”
Kithran’s heart pounded heavily in her chest. She didn’t need her father or this person to warn her of Cinderfell’s cruelty. The rumors were well-known and far-reaching. It was said that not even children would be granted mercy from his ruthlessness. Through heavy breaths, as she tried to calm herself, she asked, “Wh-what is going to happen to me?”
He laughed, “Oh, scared? You should have thought about that befo-”
Kithran jumped up, smashing into the bottom of his jaw, stopping his reply and knocking him backwards for just a moment. A moment she tried to capitalize on and run out the door, but he was swift and reached out as she reached for the door, pulling her back by her collar and shoving her to the ground before turning on her and shoving his blade in her terrified face, “Gods damn it you little--”
“Castien?”
She watched the anger from the pain in his jaw begin to dissipate as his eyes narrowed suspiciously at her, the point of his dagger pressed against her neck, “Should I know you?”
She didn’t know many Sylvari, but since that day in Calestra, she had never met one with hair quite as bright and orange as his, “Yes you should, you owe me a wine stopper.”
He blinked, his face scrunching first at the odd comment before clarity washed over him. He shook his head and sheathed his dagger, not bothering with the other still stuck in the door, before sitting down next to her, rubbing his chin, “Of course it’s you. Still at it I see . . . Kithran?”
She nodded as she sat up, rubbing the spot on her neck where his dagger had jabbed at her, and looked him up and down. He was far taller than the boy she remembered, but somehow even more lanky, and looked much older than he should be. She hadn’t seen him since that day and did not trust yet that she was safe from him.
Searching for something that would keep him from dragging her to Cinderfell, her tone was light in reply, “I didn’t take anything that day,” she grinned, ”And as you know, I’ve taken nothing today either.”
He scoffed, “I know well and good you took that stopper, and you would have taken from Cinderfell again had I not been clever enough to outsmart your troupe.”
Kithran scoffed this time, despite herself, and wished that she hadn’t, but the corner of his mouth raised at it, “At any rate, orders are orders, and I have always followed mine.” He stared off for a silent moment before jumping to his feet, “Come, I’ve caught you red-handed both times, it is only right that I let you go both times.” He lowered a hand to help her.
She stared at the outstretched hand wearily before taking it, “Won’t you get into trouble?”
Castien pulled his second dagger from the door and shrugged, “I don’t know, as I said, I have never disobeyed an order.”
“What was your order?”
“To catch anyone trying to sneak into his facility and bring them to him to personally . . . deal with. Being ‘dealt with’ is never as good as it sounds, and I am sure it doesn’t sound great.” He reached for the door and stopped, whispering, “The guard is back. You will need to run as fast and as far as possible. And, I would not go home straight away if I were you, do you understand?”
She nodded before whispering back, “You do everything he wishes to the very end?”
He nodded, “I would have no life without that man, I owe him everything and more. Now, get ready.”
In one swift movement, Castien flung the door open and slammed the butt of his dagger into the back of the thug’s head. Unlike Tibbon’s rock, the blow knocked him unconscious immediately, and Castien caught the man before his large body hit the ground, growling at Kithran, “What did I say?! Go!”
And Kithran fled.
28th Day, Sempore, 437 E.R., Coria, Coria, 03:14
“Wha-oh gods it’s you. Kithran, you’re getting much too big for this.”
It had in fact been quite some time since the half-Sylvari had snuck into Tara Ikhari’s room to fall asleep. When she was younger she had thought herself very sneaky, tiptoeing in without the Maiden knowing she was there, and allowing her to steal some comfort from the woman. Looking back she was sure Tara had never been fooled by her once, in any circumstances.
Now though, Tara dropped any pretense of obliviousness as Kithran unceremoniously threw her covers aside, and hopped in next to her, throwing the blankets back over them both. The Maiden grunted at the intrusion but draped an arm around the girl’s shoulders, stroking her matted hair, “Fine, but seriously darling, this can’t go on much longer.”
Kithran scooted closer and took in Tara’s sweet scent. She had never had a mother, or an older sister, or anything of the sort. She liked to imagine that someone in that role, who could have actually cared about someone like Kithran, would be like Tara. Once or twice she had contemplated trying to find a way to get her and her father together, but the Maiden was much too adventurous, and probably a bit too young for him. Instead, Kithran sought out simple, easy moments like these with her.
“Find a bigger bed then, Tara. When and if I join the Laughing Maidens, do you expect me to sleep anywhere else?”
Tara chuckled softly and sighed, “I suppose not.” She gave Kithran a squeeze, “Though I do expect to sleep through the night. I have to be up fairly early, little peach. Can you manage, or will I need to smother you with a pillow?”
“I can manage.” She yawned, and in the brief silence that followed, Kithran’s night played over and over in her head, before finally she tapped Tara’s chest with her forehead, “Are you asleep yet?”
“Mmmm,” she said, on the absolute cusp of oblivion, “what is it, darling?”
“I saw Castien.”
“Oh? An interesting one, that boy. I buy wine from him every now and again, when I can afford the price of a mansion.”
Had Tara been even half awake she would have seen or felt Kithran’s eyebrows raise at that. Had she kept in contact with the Sylvari boy this entire time? What did she know of him? “I met him after trying to sneak into the Cinderfell storagehouse tonight with Etan, Mareth, and Tibbon. He nearly killed me, several times actually. But he let me go and probably followed me here.”
Tara’s eyes flew open, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
Kithran grinned and snuggled in closer to Tara, “Never mind, I will tell you all about it in Calestra.”
Tara sat a moment in surprise before allowing exhaustion to take her, “Okay, I suppose . . . Good night, darling.”
Kithran smiled, “Good night, Tara.”
Posted on 2019-10-23 at 16:30:11.
Edited on 2020-01-14 at 18:18:26 by breebles
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