Topic: The Adventures of Kith, the Cat, and the Khatun
Subject: Closet Conversations
The first thing Kith saw as her vision fell back into focus was that the beast’s jaw was wrapped almost entirely around the captain’s throat, two bloodied blades arching out of his squirming back. The fangs dug in deeper and the next thing she saw was the front of his neck being torn violently away from the rest of it with a sickening sucking sound, tendrils of flesh and muscle clinging to the body for as long as they could before snapping away.
Her breaths came now as soft wheezes and she coughed as the creature tossed the limp pile of human flesh away from her.
He was massive, and as he dropped down beside her she could see he was several times more worse for wear than when she had found him, though it didn’t seem to phase him now that he was free. Whatever this creature was, it was powerful. Even crouched beside her he seemed large, and too unpredictable for her liking, considering her state.
“You had better be careful,” he said softly, as if he hadn't just ripped a man's throat out, and returned her discarded daggers to their sheaths, “You may end up having to pay me back.”
Kith rolled her eyes so hard the bruises forming on her neck protested and he blurred again. The shaggy beast made a sound she would assume was a laugh, if it hadn’t come from an enormous cat-man soaked in blood. She made an attempt at a retort, but quit when it came out only as ragged noises.
A massive paw slipped under her head, lifting her to a seated position and she pushed it away. “Ah donneed help,” she rasped the words out as best she could while the world spun for just a moment, “And I don like bing touch--” she cleared her throat, “touched”. She rubbed her eyes, trying to get them to stay focused.
“We should go,” he purred and he scanned the dungeon, searching and listening for any approaching threats, “the witch still has many more men. It will not be long before they find their way here, and you have had enough battle for now, little kitten . . . .”
With a speed granted to her by both instinct and years of surviving only by being quicker than the person on the other side of her dagger, Kith pounced into a crouched position, one blade under the creature’s chin, the other at its crotch. Her teeth ground together as she forced the words up out of her raw throat, “The next time you decide to call me that you’ll also be deciding whether you’d like to keep your tongue or your furballs. Is that understood?”
The blood-soaked beast rolled his eyes, raised his paws in mock capitulation, and took a step backward, away from the points of the girl’s blades. “You are welcome to try,” he chuffed, as the amused flicking of his ears returned.
Kith leans back on her heels, and immediately falls on to her backside. The burst of anger had taken much of what remained of her energy. Forcing a scowl on her face in lieu of her impending exhaustion, she lifted her black eyes to meet his, “I agree that we should find some respite, you look terrible." She rubbed her eyes once more, willing him to stay in focus, "There will be more of these fuckers on the way as well.” She waves at the mutilated forms around them.
Grabbing a bar from one of the cages for support, she lifts herself up, "There are some storage rooms ahead that we may be able to find some cover in for a little while. Are you always so sneaky as with Captain Throatless over there, or do you need a sexy woman to distract your mark in order to get the upper hand?" Kith gestures to the blood and gore covering her face and body.
The cat glanced in the direction of the guard captain’s corpse, then, with a shrug of his massive shoulders turned back to the shadow-girl. “My folk are hunters,” he answered, “and know the value of being silent when it serves us to be so.”
She bounced back and forth on the pads of her feet a couple times, urging the sleep out of her legs, the fog from her head, and looked his massive form up and down, "We'll see I suppose. On me, big guy." She rasps and bounds silently into the shadows leading to the exit. Weariness had its place in her life, out in the open in a witch’s dungeon was not that place. A stuffy closet though?
Pressed against the wall, she pulls her hood up and looks back to the cages as she had before racing in to rescue the stray. This would have been so much easier had the guards just thought the cat was to blame. She had no doubt that the rest of the estate would be on to her now as well. She sighed and peered around the corner. Now she had to get above with this goliath in tow, a sore neck, and several new wounds.
Satisfied that the path forward was clear for now, Kith rushes ahead, sticking closely to the walls and listening both for any trouble ahead, and for any heavy footfalls from the large creature behind her that might give them away. While not quite as silent in step as she, she was grateful that he seemed much more lithe than anticipated, and had even managed at one point to be so silent that when she had turned to urge him to get by her side, he was already there, waiting for her to continue.
After several turns, Kith spotted the door she had been looking for and searches the corridor for any signs of movement before approaching. The halls had become a bit restless since their bout. On her way into the corridor with all of the cages there had been several patrols she’d had to dodge, or voices down hallways that needed to be avoided. This time the energy down every corridor was frantic.
This room was not too far from the entrance into the manor proper. She hoped that because it was so close, it would have been one of the first ravaged looking for them. The air down this corridor was much more stale, and she took it to mean she was correct.
She takes out a dagger and notices a similar tension in the cat as he readies one of the guards’ swords in his hand, and she slowly pushes the door open. The room is shrouded in darkness, but after a quick sweep her bastard blood allows her to confirm that it is empty.
“Can you see in this darkness?” she asks, the rasp in her voice still heavy, but better than before.
The cat beast offered a short nod even as his gaze scanned the room beyond the door; “I can.”
“In that case I must apologize for the mess,” she pulls her hood down and waves at the bloodied stone slab table tops with manacles for ankles, wrists, necks, and bowls with remnants of dark liquids strewn about the room, “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
The room is pungent with a mixture of alcohol and fresh rot, and Kith rubs her nose, trying to block the fumes attempting to suffocate her.
She walks to the left side of the room, where another door rests inlaid into the wall, “This is one of the places I marked as a possible resting area for myself should I have needed it along the way.” She opens the door to reveal a five by five foot storage closet for more bowls, chains, devices to help someone bleed quicker, more slowly, or to sew them up, and things Kith could not imagine a use for. The shelving ate at the space even more, which would have been perfect for her to tuck into, but . . . “I thought I would be able to hide easily in here alone, so it’ll likely be a bit cramped with the two of us. You can try to squish in here with me or find some cover out here. When you get caught again though don’t tell them where I am.”
She walks in and begins quietly preparing a space for herself under one of the lowest shelves. The beast seems to hesitate as she works, trying to decide if his luck would be better placed with her or in the bleeding room beyond her hiding space. Kith slips into place just as he decides to step inside and closes the door behind him. There truly was not much space for him, and she had to wonder if this felt better to him than being stuffed into that cell.
He plops down next to her with a grunt and leans back against the shelves.
“Excellent, they will never find you there.”
“Yes,” he grunted, wincing at the tug and strain of his injuries as he tried to settle his bulk into the tiny space, “they will. Just before they drag you out from your hole.”
Kith rests her eyes on the shelving unit above her, then heavily they close and she forces her crammed body to relax, though her mind refuses. The plan was a mess. Maybe, maybe she could sneak past some of the guards, wherever they were, but all of them? All the way up to the study? While they were actively looking for her? It was going to require a new plan to be sure. It would be difficult but it could be done. Possibly.
That reward would be hers, one way or another.
“Mr. Cat-Man, once I free you from this horrible place, what are your plans? Would you like to help the humble thief who rescued you to acquire the grimoire of an unimaginably powerful necromancer?” She felt more than saw him tense at the idea and included quickly, "The reward is incredible, I would be willing to give you a cut once we complete this task. What say you?"
His ears flicked and flattened against his head as the kazari snorted and, looking up from his inspection of his wounds, cast an incredulous gaze in the thief’s direction. “After what just happened,” he grumbled, “it is still your plan to scrabble about this place in search of some book?” He gave a shake of his shaggy head and that chuffing laughter escaped his mouth, again, but this time there was no hint of amusement in it. “You are mad, little kitten,” he said, his gaze returning to the inspection of the wound in his thigh.
Kith was able to grab at her daggers, but the angle and striking space were not ideal, "Tongue or furballs, cat, I warned you. Choose now and I shall oblige once we're out of this hell hole."
Ignoring her threat completely, he continues, “The witch has surely learned of my escape, by now, and her monkey-soldiers will be seeking us out in force. Both of us are already injured. We will be lucky to get out of this place with our skins, as it is, and you want to try and sneak deeper in.”
Kithran chuffed back at him, the money angle having failed, "There are always witches, and guards, and traps, and magic, and magic traps," she adjusts so that she can hold out her left wrist, covered from thumb to what she is able to pull back on her forearm in an old burn, "And everything is always world-ending." She pulls her sleeve back up over her ancient wound and shrugs in what little space she has, "You seem like a creature who knows their way around a battlefield. But you've been hurt, badly, so I can understand if you're afraid."
“I am a Kazari,” the cat-man snarled, eyes narrowing as they seek her out under her shelf, “I fear nothing!”
She feels his bristling at the suggestion and takes note, the pride and honor type, got it, "It is not often in my line of work that my reward is dependent upon fucking with an evil, cat-abusing monster, which makes this job all the more . . . I guess . . . exhilarating to me." She met his eyes once more, "I saw you fight though. I heard your anger. You have a chance to reign retribution down on this bitch, to ensure she never does anything like this again. Wouldn't you like to turn that fight and that anger around on her?"
Ch’dau blinked, his feline features twisting into an unreadable expression as he seemed to consider her words. She wasn’t wrong, he had to admit that much. After the abuses he had suffered at the witch’s hands, nothing would give him greater satisfaction than tearing her limb from bloody limb. A faint sigh of resignation prefaces a nod of his head. “I would,” he confessed, “I can think of nothing else, now, that would give me greater pleasure.”
His paw curled around the blade he had taken from one of the dead guards as his gaze slid toward the door behind which he and Kith hid. After a moment, that chuffing chuckle escaped his lips, once more, and, with a rolling of his massive shoulders, he turned his eyes back to the girl. “I am accustomed to going into battle alongside other warriors, not backstabbing sneak-thieves,” he said, “but you have a silver tongue, tiny shadow, and I cannot deny that you fight well.” His ear flicked and he sighed again. “I do owe you a life-debt, as well,” he confessed, “so, if it is your wish that I follow you into this madness, follow you I will.”
Kithran grins and silently congratulates herself, "You flatter me with your compliments, Cat Man, but Backstabbing Sneak-Thief was my father's name, you may call me Kithran. Or Kith, if you must." She traces the grooves of the bottom of the shelf with a finger and wishes she could stretch her legs, "And you've already rescued me from the actual death grasp of that guard. I am sure that before this is done you will owe me three, or possibly even four more life-debts, but as far as the first is concerned, you are free."
Again, the big cat chuckled. “Your tongue is not only silver, Kithran,” he offered, “but quick, as well.”
“I am called Ch’dau,” the kazari continued, “I have become used to hearing ‘cat-man,’ ‘cat-beast,’ and ‘monster,’ but, as it seems we are to spend, at least, a little more time together, I would prefer you call me by name, yes?”
"If you can manage to keep your terms of endearment to yourself, then yes, Ch'dau the fearless Kazari, I can use your name."
“I will do my best,” the kazari answered, his ears twitching in amusement.
They fell into a long silence, as both attempted to find rest.
Kithran closed her eyes and visualized the last couple corners they would have to get by before they were in the witch's manor, then the steps it would take to snatch the grimoire. Ch'dau would be helpful in a fight, but it had been a while since she had worked with anyone beside her. At least with anyone she didnt want to stab profusely. This Ch’dau had proven himself to be an incredible fighter, vicious and without mercy, as well as being capable of slipping silently around in the shadows with her. She didn’t know much about this witch, having only traveled to Sendria at word of the reward those Mystery Keepers were offering for some book, but she had dodged spell-slingers in the past.
She rubbed her burnt wrist. She had meant what she said, there were always powerful creatures out there doing nefarious things. You had only to be quicker than them to earn your prize and keep your life. And thus far she had been.
The outer door shuffled open and Kith’s gaze jumped to the door. Ch’dau had already jolted to his feet, allowing her space to silently scramble up. Sliding her daggers free, she looked up at him in their cramped space and grinned, “After you, Ch’dau.”
Posted on 2019-10-10 at 19:50:52.
Edited on 2019-10-11 at 08:47:16 by Eol Fefalas
|
What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
Return to Charadun - Recr
"damn it Jerry, it's your job to clean the torture room!"
that shall be incoming in the next few days or so as well.
