Topic: Hidden Corruption: Aftermath
Subject: Meadowbrook Nights: Part II
Samuel scowled at the weight of the bag of nails that bounced from his hip as he stomped from the Lakeshore; scowled at Rakiim’s intervention; and scowled even more that the Khord had spent his day in the tavern as opposed to at the forge. All of this, and perhaps more, grated on the Kazari’s nerves as his feet fell from the coarse woodworked porch of The Lakeshore and met the packed chip and dust street that ran before it. His tail lashed angrily behind him and his ears, once again, flattened against his head as he cast a disparaging glance over his shoulder at the still clattering door of the pub. Were this any other place, he fumed silently at Simon, any other time, I would have had your arm before you had drawn that fish poker free of your belt…
The karazri snarled softly. Then sneered. Then snorted and shook his head, forcing his tail to still and his ears to stand up as he tore his narrowed gaze from the weathered clapboards of The Lakeshore’s frontage.
...But this is no other place and no other time, he reminded himself, It is here and now and Ara does not need that sort of trouble brought to her feet. Following another deeply drawn breath and the low rumble that followed when he let it go, Samuel turned homeward, trying to put the day’s irritation and annoyance behind him for Sara’s sake… and for the sake of those v’tun’gu who do not know better.
He prowled along the narrow track that wound along the town’s lakeside edge toward his and Sara’s cottage; intent, at first, at simply returning home and forgetting the day for what it had been. As he came to the junction where the path intersected with the road leading to the fish-market and the harbor, though, Samuel felt himself drawn by the gentle lapping of the lake’s waves and, almost absently, turned his feet to follow the sound. Before long, he found himself standing at the edge of the fisher-docks, staring out over the black waters and marvelling at the reflection of the stars on the gently rippling surface of the lake.
Crouching down, Samuel stared out over the water or a long while before lifting his gaze skyward and regarding the moonless night sky undistorted by the motion of the waves. Finally, still trying to let go of his anger at the confrontation with Simon, his gaze fell to the palms of his hands and the tips of his fingers as he slowly extended the claws, there, and sighed; “Where are you Kithran?
It has been too long in this town, already, kibibi, and Ara will not be the same until we have you back.” He sighed over his whispered rumbling and, with the claw of his forefinger, reached between his knees to carve the Kazari approximation of the half-syl’s name into the deckboard. “She gets better with each passing day… your father helped with that, you know? ... and, yet, still blames herself - as I do - for the place in which you find yourself…”
He brushed away the shavings from the board at his feet, then blew the dust from his claw before retracting it back into his finger. “I do not know that you even hear me, Little Kitten,” he breathed into the Autumn mists hanging over the waters, “but all we need is an omen… a small sign to point us in your direction… That will be enough for her to…”
“Oi!!!” The voice took him by surprise only in that he had not truly been expecting to be interrupted in his thoughts. The tone, though, and the distinctive timbre were far from unexpected. “What’re ya doin’ t’ m’ boat?!?!”
With yet another weary sigh, the kazari stood and turned, his gaze falling briefly on the skiff lashed to the dock beside him before turning to where Simon and his crew swaggered down the road toward him. Of course he had chosen the dock where Simon had chosen to moor his boat. Why would the fates see fit for him to pick another dock, today?
“I have done nothing to your boat,” Samuel answered, prowling back along the dock to the fish-market, his assessing gaze flicking between the silhouette of Simon and the darker ones of his companions further behind, “I simply sought a moment of peace at the…”
“Half-truths and horse shyte,” Simon cut him off, meeting him at the head of the pier, filleting knife in hand and red-rimmed eyes narrowed, “I made ya look a fool in there an’ yer lookin’ ta mess with me boat ta have yer revenge… I know yer kind…”
Samuel allowed a fractional glance at the blade, another similar glance at the monkey’s eyes, and then let his gaze fall to the man’s chest. “I doubt this, very seriously, t’mbiil,” he chuffed, “else you would not be here.”
“Ya think, just b’cause ya’ve got yer elven wife ya can s’duce mine wit’ a bag o’ nails an’ some comments in th’ pub…”
“I sought only to help a neighbor,” Samuel snorted, shook his head and, placing a paw in the center of Simon’s chest, gave a shove that sent the man reeling back a few steps. “It is you who are mistaken in my intent,” he added, stalking past the agape monkey.
It was his own mistake, Samuel would realize later; t’mbili and alcohol rarely made a good mix and, for his own part, he should never have taken his eyes from Simon’s chest. Should he have maintained his focus, paid mind to his training, the man’s slashing attack with the thin blade would never have landed, let alone opened a bloody gash on his arm.
A short, barking roar followed Simon’s clumsy attack and the kazari stopped cold in his tracks. “You,” he growled, a thumb swabbing blood from the newly opened wound as his eyes turned on the battle-ready fisherman, “are making a mistake, Simon.” Samuel licked the blood from his thumb, then, glancing at the other three, still advancing, figures. “You do not want this anymore than I.”
“Oh,” Simon sneered, scooting sideways in an obviously street-fight trained style, “I think I do, cat-man! M’ wife’s cooed ‘bout you an’ your’s since ya come ta town an’ I’m tired o’ hearin’ of it! Startin’ ta think there’s more’n neighborly chit-chat goin’ on between you an’ my Ella…”
The kazari’s eyes rolled in his head at that. “There is not,” he tried to assure the man, “We spoke of your shed this morning and…”
“Yeah,” Simon lunged, making a wide sweep with the knife that Samuel avoided with a simple backstep, “You an’ yer fookin’ nails!!!”
Samuel flicked another glance over his shoulder at the sound of scraping gravel but returned it immediately to the man with the blade. “You do not want to do this,” he promised in a low rumble… but I do… “I have no designs on your wife… or your boat… I was only…”
Simon lunged again and, once more, the kazari easily sidestepped the attack, his arms spreading wide in hopes of signalling non-aggression. As he did, tough, and as Simon staggered past, Samuel felt the weight of a fishing net fall over one forearm, the weights on it’s edges providing momentum for the thing to wrap around and lay claim to the appendage. The kazari looked, almost in disbelief, at the netting and followed the tether of the thing from his elbow to where little, bow-legged Arthur held the far end. A quick jerk of Samuel’s arm was all it took to stagger Arthur forward and loosen the net’s tension and the kazari’s narrowing eyes went back to Simon.
“You are going to get your friends killed,” Ch’dau snarled, low and threatening, “if you continue with this foolishness.”
Simon sneered wickedly and, boldly, tossed his slender blade from one hand to the other as he continued his amateurish circling. “I see it otherwise,” he leered, the wooden hilt of the knife snapping clumsily into his off-hand grip, “There’s four o’ us and one o’ you! What’re ya gonna do… OOOOOH!!!”
Simon crumpled to his knees as the Kazari’s paw hammered into his nose. His vision went white and a high-pitched keening flooded his hearing. Over it all, though, he heard (or was it felt) the reverberating thrum of the cat-beast’s roaring. Even as he clutched at his broken nose, tried to secure a grip on the knife he had almost dropped, and forced himself to his feet, he felt the whoosh of air as a body flew passed him… heard the scream and abrupt expulsion of air from lungs as that same body landed with a heavy thud on the dock beyond him. Shaking his head and wiping the blood that filled his hand, now, onto the leg of his trousers, Simon’s vision cleared enough to see Oron and Leo charging the cat-beast even as he levelled his own strike with the knife at Samuel’s shoulder. Leo went low, aiming for the kazari’s knee, while Oron, with his long legs, launched himself at Samuel’s upper torso or throat…
The assault was clumsy but woefully effective. Oron thumped into the kazari’s chest, spinning the cat-beast around just as Leo’s tackle buckled the kazari’s fuzzy knees and, so, enabled Simon to land, with all his weight behind the stab, atop Samuel and drive the slim-bladed knife into the cat-man’s shoulder.
...The roar that escaped Ch’dau then echoed through the entirety of Meadowbrook. Whether it was a roar of pain or anger, though, can still be debated. Either way, all three of the fishing crew exploded away from their furry quarry and, in an instant, the kazari was back on it’s feet, teeth bared and claws extended as it roared another challenge into the moonless night. “Come!” The monster bellowed. “Bring me your blood! To the Hunt or blood for Kithran!!!”
The sound of the first roar had sent a chill down Sara's back. Sara had never heard that roar before, and she froze mid step, the broom in her hands stilled as she looked towards the source with frightened eyes.
No. I won't lose anyone else. I will not!
Aranwen's eyes narrowed and she leapt over the fence, rushing towards the sound as quick as she was able. A hand went to her side, fumbling for a sword that wasn't there. She shook her head, and instead adjusted her grip on the broom she held.
In the moonless night, she couldn't see the men around Ch'dau properly. But it didn't matter. Aranwen was once more lost in a memory, a battle already concluded that her mind was replaying for her. She didn't sing, but as she ran onto the dock, her golden eyes clouded by delusion, she rushed the first man she saw. She brought her momentum around into a wide swing, smacking the unfortunate Oron with enough force to throw him into the water. As she brought the improvised weapon back into a ready stance, she breathed deeply, as if to sing a song that did not come.
“Ar…. Sara?” The kazari’s eyes went wide even as he grabbed a monkey by the throat and tossed it after the one his wife had just sent sprawling into the lake. None of this is what he had expected, but in the same breath, sword or not, he was happy to see the Sylvari woman in action and the sword he had been forging shone in his mind and imagination as she pirouetted through his attackers.
Despite the surprise at Sara’s sudden appearance, Samuel didn’t let his awareness of the assailants slip. As Arthur got to his feet, the Kazari whirled about, claws coming to a stop just beneath the little monkey’s jaw line, scarcely pricking the skin, and he snarled; “You want to run away, t’mbili…”
Arthur swallowed, wanted to nod but, at the feel of the claws at his neck, thought better of it. “I… I… do,” he gulped, daring to move little more than his eyeballs in the moment.
“...Then, go,” the kazari snarled, tossing the little man away and not bothering to look after him as he landed, arse first in the road a few feet away.
The sound of scrabbling and scraping of gravel was quickly replaced by the noise of hastily retreating footsteps as Ch’dau rounded on Simon. The shave-pate scrambled back as, slathering and snarling, the cat-beast stomped forward and reached for the front of his shirt. Simon managed a grip on his knife before he was lifted from the ground, but that grip was quickly forgotten and the blade clattered to the dock. “Go home, monkey,” Samuel demanded, hauling Simon dangerously close to his sharp-toothed maw, “and treat your wife as she should be. If you do not, I will find you and kill you, yes?”
“Samuel!”
At first, the enraged cat-man didn’t register the voice.
“Samuel!!!”
“Yes?!?!”
“Y...yes! I swear!” Simon croaked.
“Good!”
“Ch’dau!!!”
The kazari blinked… Her voice was strong, commanding, and broke through his rage… he blinked again, almost as if he didn’t recognize the creature clutched in his paw. Then, he threw, more than tossed the gawking, choking form of Simon away from him and turned to where his wife stood with her broom… “Ara?”
Aranwen's eyes had refocused after hearing the splash Oron had made in the lake. Water didn't make sense. There was no lake in the underground. No. It was dark because it was night, not because they were underground. With the delusion gone from her eyes, she looked up at Ch'dau, her eyes soft around the edges as she raised her free hand to his chest, "Are you hurt?" she asked, before leaning into Ch'dau's warm fur, "I heard you and I- I panicked…"
The kazari blinked, then, the growl that rumbled in his chest dissolving into a low purr as he felt Aranwen’s weight press into him and the muscles of his arms loosened. Those arms snaked around her, then, and his cheek pressed to the top of her flame-tinged head. “I am fine, m’penzi,” he rumbled softly, even as the blood seeped from the stab and slash wounds he had foolishly let himself incur, “Scratches. Nothing more.”
Sara smiled, "Let's head home, melamin" she suggested, resolving to see to Ch'dau's injuries once they had returned.
“Yes,” Samuel nodded faintly, his eyes lifting to track the pair of shadows retreating into the dark of Meadowbrook’s streets, “Let’s.”
Behind him, the sounds of Oron and Leo extracting themselves from the lake snatched his attention and, as his arms unfolded from around his wife, the kazari leveled a glare at the two. Both elf and man froze in their tracks, dripping wet and blinking dumbly, first at one another and, then, at Samuel and Sara.
“Hiraetha amin,” Oron was the first to find his voice and, perhaps, his shame. He offered a stuttering bow along with his apology and, when it appeared that neither the kazari or his Syl wife would be making any attempt to stop him, found his feet and began walking tentatively past the couple.
Leo hesitantly followed and, as they passed Samuel and Sara, the lanky human offered a nod and an apology of his own. “Sorry,” he muttered on the back of a sigh, “Simon told us you were… well… and we just wanted to help… and…”
Samuel snorted and showed the man his teeth. “Keep to your fishing,” he growled menacingly, causing the man to skitter a few steps farther away, “and do not cross my path again.”
“Right,” Leo gulped, taking Oron by the elbow and urging him back toward town, “I’ll do that…”
As Leo and Oron skulked away, Samuel gave a slow shake of his head and, taking Sara’s hand in his, chuckled softly. “Even in a place such as this,” he mused aloud, “it seems that trouble has a way of finding us…”
Posted on 2019-12-30 at 11:53:46.
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