Participants:
| Date: | June 1, 2011 |
|---|---|
| Location: | EW: Bowl |
| Synopsis: | Max confronts Kaskan about the thugs who've been asking about him at Landing. |
| Rating: | PG |
| Logger: | Kaskan |
CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS:
Max
With some growing still to do, Lomaxin stands at an average 5 feet and 9.5 inches tall. Physical work outdoors has given this young man an overall wiry build of smooth taut muscle that stretches over a defined chest, flat stomach, lean hips, toned legs and sinewy arms.Dark brown hair is kept short at the back and sides with a fringe worn long enough to fall in his eyes at times. Prominent nose and dark expressive eyes pair with brooding brows and a mouth prone to near perpetual smirk. Chin, jaw and upper lip seem to perpetually be darkened with at least a day's growth of stubble.
Prepared for a hard day's work, Max wears a pair of tan trousers of good, thick material that seem loose enough and comfortable for hard labor in the stables, and yet tailored enough in fit that he's not tripping over himself or risking anything getting caught in loose fabric. Tucked into these trousers is a light button-down, long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves almost always rolled up to the elbows, with a wide, flat collar that is usually kept open and comfortable for his work around the runners and herdbeasts. Completing the look are the heavy leather boots that look like they've seen better days, but are still sturdy and functional if not pretty, and the brimmed hat is rarely seen too far from his head. — 22 turns
Kaskan
Thick wisps of ebony fall in half-hazard lengths to shadow rugged features, over-long layers typically in disarray as they feather pale blue eyes, flare about his ears and tickle the nape of his neck. Full lips precede a square-ish jaw, which often bears a dusky shadow of its own. Scars from too many fights mar what would be a handsome visage, most notably one that splices across his left brow stopping just short of his eye. A slight hitch ends his left ear in an oddly curved shape, though it's usually hidden beneath his hair. Darkly intense, his bearing is defensive and watchful, wiry muscles having filled out to create a solid, sturdy frame. Not overly tall, he is a grounded, immovable rock - just as thickly guarded on the inside as he is thickly muscled on the outside - a deceptive impression that suits him well for the panther quick grace that's displayed when he's on the move. – 20 turns
ROOM DESCRIPTION:
Eastern Weyr: Feeding Pens
The one area of the Bowl that is cultivated for the growth of grass, it is eerily empty now as the seed planted in the fertile ashy soil takes root. For now, the beasts must be grazed outside the weyr. When the growth takes root, it will be an impressive field able to sustain the Weyr's herd without trouble. To the north, the sounds of the weyrling barracks can be heard, but they're far enough away so as not to disturb the - currently absent - residents.
LOG:
Taking advantage of the relatively lower temperatures of the early morning, Kaskan is in the bowl working along the fence. In just a few hours the area will be sweltering hot, too much so for the physical exertion involved in painting. Brush in hand, the Bollian guard procedes steadily along with arms moving in a fixed rhythm: dip, stroke, stroke, stroke, repeat. Over and over, the monotony gives his thoughts lease to wander. The substance spread over the beams and posts is clear, a protective laminate. Only the reflective glisten of the sun’s rays marks his path, even that quickly fading behind him as the heat dries it.
Between one thing and another, whether Weyr or crime related, Max has been kept hip deep in work with little time for much else other than spending some time with his daughter and trying to catch an hour or two of training in, the concern over those reported to be on the hunt for Kaskan, gnawing at his gut.
Thus it is with some relief that upon returning from business that had taken him outside of the Weyr, he catches the familiar form of the Bollian guard hard at work…painting? Amusement curls one side of his mouth upward as handing Starflight into the care of a nearby stable hand; he makes his way over to where Kaskan is. "Who'd you piss off this time?
Kaskan turns a little too quick from dipping the brush into the bucket and a few globs of laminate are flung in Max’s direction. Not looking nearly as chagrined as he should, Kaskan merely turns the motion into a mini-salute to the man who’s nearest a male friend as he’s made in the south, despite the fact that the two beat the crap out of each other once. “Now why would you assume that to be the case?” he asks with a carefully pressed frown of surprise. “I couldn’t just be doing this out of the goodness of my heart?” Too thick, perhaps?
Coming to a halt with hands in pockets, Max flinches and then peers down at the droplets of laminate spattered across his shirt front and slowly a brow lifts, though amusement is still in place, "Cause it's what they get the weyrbrats to do when they've pissed someone off?" Ergo, Kaskan must have pissed someone off. Very Huckleberry Finn! Sauntering closer and coming to a stop next to the other young man, some of the amusement wanes and the young crimelord puts the Bollian guard under long study.
"I ain't asked about the trouble that's on your tail," Max starts out with, referencing their conversation after having beaten the crap out of each other, "and I ain't of a mind to…" there he pauses for those words to sink before adding, "until it steps across into my territory and starts to become my problem." His last few words lending open hint of the sort of sway he holds on the southern continent. "You wanna tell me why there's rough lookin' sorts askin' around about you down Landin' way?" He's done trying to hide his northern accent these days, though there is a slight southern drawl starting to creep in. And while he keeps Kaskan under intent study, there is however no accusation cast across his low held tone simply deep seated concern.
Humor is immediately smothered by the word 'trouble', and it only gets worse from there. Kaskan stiffens at the content, but not at the intent, recognizing the inquiry for what it is. Most telling though, is the lack of surprise with which he responds, his manner more cautiously leery. Lifting the brush-bearing arm he swipes his brow with the back of his hand, plastering lank, over-long layers to his head. Then the brush is deposited in the bucket and both are sat on the ground, motions smoothly slow as he stalls. Straightening, he turns and leans his hip on a portion of the railing yet to be painted. Wiry muscle apparent in the crossing of his arms and the sleeveless fall of his damp shirt, he looks to Max, his light blue regard a sharp contrast to the deepened southern tan he's acquired. “It won't be a problem. I'm taking care of it.”
Not having bothered to remove his hat yet, dark eyes catch to every nuance of Kaskan's reaction from beneath the shadows of the brim, as if trying to divine what was going on in the other's head. Attention falls momentarily to the bucket and brush as they're set aside and then follows the Bollian guard upward as he unfurls to stand and takes to leaning against the unpainted part of fencing.
"Really," Max returns, tone heavy with scepticism, "And just how you plannin' on doin' that, hmm? Look," a glance going about the area they're currently situated in and then landing back onto Kaskan, "you ain't alone in whatever this is no more. Whatever action you take is gonna fall back on young Jhorn. You want my help, you got it. But…" and here he pauses in pointed manner, "you gotta let me help. And to do that, you gotta tell me why those roughnecks were askin' after you."
Max allows for a small pause for Kaskan to take that in and then with a sigh he removes his hate and wipes his forearm across his brow, his tone held low and strung with the gruffness of experience, "I know what its like to have trouble on your tail, not to know who can be trusted and who can't. I also know that when a man gets desperate enough, he can do some pretty dumb fuckin' things. Things that can mean the difference of life and death for him and those around him. Just how dumb are you feelin' today, Kas?" Pressing in an attempt to try and figure out just how much his friend's back might be against the wall.
Kaskan colors slightly beneath his tan as he listens to Max's warning, biting his tongue against an instant rebuttal as the warning turns into a sincere offer of help. The other man's words set oddly on his thoughts, like an unusual new taste to the palate. Trust and not being alone are concepts still hard to accept. Leery caution is stretched thin though, the urge to cast them aside rising as surely as the sun beating down on their backs. A ribbon of protective anger flashes across light blue eyes at mention of his ward. The half-baked plan rumbling about in his head is based on keeping Jhorn safe. The fact that Max seems to have guessed as much, and judged his hasty plan badly as well, pulls a grumble of annoyance from his throat.
Tossing his chin as Max finishes he gives the southener a sharp look. "It's not a dumb fuckin' plan," he starts, confirming the other's suspicions. His own accent slips with the distraction of emotions in play. "I've no choice. Now that they've found me they'll not leave until they get what they want." Jaw setting with determination, his lips thin with a grim twist. "I can't run even if I wanted to, not with Jhorn." Faces flash before his mind's eye, most prominently that of a scarf-draped goldrider. "I'm not leaving… not this time," he snaps the last with a bitter tone.
Glancing sidelong at the Beastmaster, Kaskan sighs. He doesn't want to tell the other man his plan, not in the mood for critique, but the urge to share some of the burden he's carried for so long is strong. Max does have contacts that could be useful, after all. "The two who're asking 'bout me…," he begins, shifting his stance to aim his voice more directly for Max's ears only. "…are after a gem carved into the shape of a sleeping dragon. I took it when we were on a job together and left afterwards, leaving them to take the rap for it." Blue eyes watch Max's expression closely, wary despite his growing affinity for the man. Just where will Max draw the line when it comes to criminal activity? No going back now, Kaskan plunges onward. "I joined the guards at Boll thinking they'd never look for me there. It's been so long - I guess they're even more relentless than I thought." Or vengeful, which would be worse.
Still somewhat skeptical a brow lifts, "Its not, eh? How 'bout you share it with me then." Light challenge set into his tone and then brows pitch toward each other in a frown for what gets said next though Max does give an approving nod for Kaskan stating he won't be running this time, "Good. 'Cause then I'd just have to hunt you down and drag you back," wry the tease for the last. Max then drops to silence, rubbing a finger across his lower lip as the Bollian guard touches on the nature of his troubles.
That silence stretches, dark eyes meeting blue unwaveringly. Slowly but surely the touch of rueful quarter-smile edges into place, "Ain't not a one amongst us that ain't done somethin' stupid they wish they could take back," himself included. Impressed with Kaskan's means of having hidden himself in plain view amongst the guards, it shows in tone and expression both, "I could use clever thinkin' like that." Was that…a thinly veiled job offer? Either way Max shifts his stance, weight leaning to one leg and he tilts his head back as if contemplating the sky above. More silence and then he brings his gaze down, setting it firmly on Kaskan with a quietly and sincerely spoken, "Thank you." Knowing what it must have taken for the other man to have trusted him with such damaging information. "Where is the carvin' now?"
Kaskan drops his gaze, one hand rising to ruffle the damp hair atop his head and continue on down to the back of his neck. A short grunt notes his doubt of Max's success in chasing him down, lips twitching. Relief flavors the caution in his sidelong glances throughout the silences and various comments the other man makes, just listening and absorbing without response till a question is asked. That Max seems not only supportive but approving and not in the least critical completes the sense of relief. Kaskan is well aware that someone in a position of authority might feel the need to report what he'd just admitted. He'd gone out on a limb trusting the other young man and it hadn't broken beneath him. It felt good.
Blue eyes catch on the firm look and hold it meaningfully, chin dipping in a nod of acknowledgment. As for the question, however, he remains vague. "It's safe." As for his plan… more shifting as he moves his weight from one leg to the other and a subtle straightening of his spine denotes stubborn determination. "They want the carving. I'll give it to them. They'll leave. End of story." He hopes, anyway. If not, he'll make them. Period. "I've already made arrangements so Jhorn'll be out of the way."
Other than Randi, and possibly not even her just yet, there is no one else whose authority Max feels he should bow to which therefore puts the confession Kaskan has just made, in safe keeping. "They the type to just back off if you hand it over to them?" surprise evident in his tone if this were true for by the accounts he'd heard of the two men, they were more likely to take the carving and still work the Bollian guard over. "You left 'em to take the heat," he notes in a level non-accusatory tone, "That sits long in the memory of some men." And he should know given the troubles he'd had with Kelarad until just recently.
The faint sign of relief touches across Max's expression when the other young man speaks of having already made a plan to keep young Jhorn out of harm's way. "Right so…" a pause allowed for as he collects his thoughts together and then he tips his head in the direction of his quarters, "How 'bout you and me sit down and see if we can figure somethin' out, aye? Got somethin' interestin' from up Ista way in my quarters, we can throw down our throats while we talk." The promise of exotic booze used as enticement.
Kaskan hesitates a few seconds too long. "They used to be." He's banking on the fact that they'll still be money-blind, though Max's reminder and observation are ones that he's reluctantly considered. There hadn't seemed any other option, however, than to go with the obvious one and rely on his own fighting skills if need be.
The lure of something strong to burn off some of the anxiety piled in his gullet is a good one. Kaskan eyes the fence and glances down the line at what is left. He'd gotten a little more than half way and had planned on breaking during the worst of the mid-day heat anyway. Part of him resists involving yet more people in his personal mess, but another part notes that Max could be a real asset. It couldn't hurt to hear what ideas the other man might suggest - especially if he has alcohol with which to wash it down. Bending over, Kaskan retrieves the bucket and brush and lifts a sidelong grin at the other man. "I like the way you negotiate, friend."
"Men change," Max returns wryly taking a step back from the fence line and watches as Kaskan weighs his options. Agreement finally given to join him for a drink draws a faint smile into place that deepens into a cocky grin, "Is there any other way?" To negotiate that is.
The walk from where they were to the cool relief of his quarters isn't far and wraps the young crimelord in silence, thoughts heavy with the situation his friend finds himself in, mind already turning over the various avenues available for exploration.
Hat set to a peg in his office; Max moves over to his desk and extracts a blue bottle from one of the lower drawers along with two glasses. A sidelong glance is slid over to Kaskan as he pours a measure into each, "These two what's lookin' for you. Reckon they got any kind of back-up with 'em?" A bid to try and figure out just what it is he'll be dealing with.
Kaskan is just as quietly reflective on the walk, bucket and brush swaying from one hand as he keeps pace with Max. With Jhorn due back to Landing classes soon he knew he had to make his move. The simplest plan seemed best. Straightforward. Why then did he feel uneasy?
Shoring up his confidence, Kaskan yanks his attention back as the two of them enter Max’s quarters. Setting the bucket down by the door he turns to see the drinks being poured and an eager smile passes his lips. He crosses to the desk, plucking at his damp, sleeveless shirt with one hand. Adopting the minimalist style of the deep south has coated his skin with a rich caramel tan, obliterating nearly all remnants of the lighter northern pallor with which he was born. Stopping short of the desk he gives the corner a light kick with one foot. “Not gonna collapse on me this time, is it?” he asks with a lop-sided grin that only lasts till he gives the other man’s question some thought, answering with a slow shake of his head, “Going by what I remember of them I’d say no. They were rotten and reckless. But now…" One shoulder rises and falls in a quick shrug. "…who knows?”
Wryness with a flash of something else greets Kaskan's query over the stability of his desk, "Not this time, mate." An image of how his desk had gotten to be so unstable in the first place is very firmly pushed aside. Handing one of the glasses over to the Bollian, Max takes his up and takes a drink of the spicy exotic brew while he listens.
Swallowing a light frown creases his brow as he gestures for his friend to take a seat, "Unknown quantity then." Sprawling into his the other young man is set with a long look followed by a slow nod, "Tell you what. We'll do it your way. But…" and here a finger unwraps from his glass in staying gesture, "I'll have some of my men watchin' your six in case it goes South." Ironic really given their current location. "As for Jhorn…" Max lapses back into brief thought, "I can put a tail onto the lad while you're…otherwise engaged." In handing over the carving the two roughnecks seem to be after.
Kaskan samples the unknown drink with a cautious sip. Despite a slight grimace for the potency, the beverage apparently meets his approval as a slight nod is given the other man and a healthy dose subsequently swallowed. Following Max's gesture Kaskan folds into one of the chairs with a thud that nearly spills some of the liquid from his glass. Taking another hard dose of ale he appears to consider the other's words for a few moments, ebony locks partially shading his face as he tilts his head to one side. As for Jhorn, a flip of one hand dismisses the youth's danger as he explains, “I've told Jhorn he can spend the night with a couple friends of his and I'll catch up with him tomorrow afternoon. They have classes together in the morning here at the weyr.” The thought of having back-up has it's appeal – Kaskan can't find fault with that idea. “I'm going to Landing first thing in the morning to get the carving and then find them,” he tells Max, blue eyes narrowing as concern lowers dark brows with his next words, “If your men are spotted…”
Brows lift minutely along with a twitch of lips for the manner in which Kaskan plonks into his seating, “Careful now, don’t spill any. You don’t wanna know what I had to do to get that stuff.” This in reference to the booze they’re both drinking. A nod is then given to the plan in place for Jhorn, Max seeing no problem with that. There is however the touch of a smirk to that draws across the young crimelord’s lips for his friends latter comment, “Spotted any of ‘em yet?” A swallow of his drink is taken and then he leans forward slightly, “This is goin’ down tomorrow then, eh?” that has Max lapsing into silence from out of which comes a nod, “I got your back, mate.” That last stated with low sincerity.
Twisting slightly at the waist, Kaskan tosses an arm across the back of the chair. Swirling the liquid in his glass he casts a crooked grin over the rim for the rarity of the beverage and takes a long, savory drink. Appreciation duly applied, he looses a chuckle at the question next given. Touche.
“-I-,” he starts with emphasis, “haven’t been looking. Why would there be a tag on me?” Innocent expression is over-done for a moment, then sobers as he continues, “They’ll be suspicious though, and watching closely for something like that.”
An indrawn breath is slowly exhaled as he nods to the other man’s question on timing, obviously reluctant over the fact. The short silence weighs heavily in the stillness of the room, only the muted sounds of activity in the nearby caverns drifting through the closed door. For such tender ages the two of them have experienced much and carried more heavy burdens than should’ve ever been the case. Max’s reassurance of support strikes a rusty chord with the Bollian guard, that particular tune long gone unused. It feels good. Kaskan drops his gaze a moment, looking into the shadows of his drink, then blue eyes rise to brown and he nods, tilting his glass toward the other with a touch of imitating humor to his own sincerity. “Thanks, mate.”
For some reason Kaskan's query on whether or not there might be a tag on him, finds Max amused as he drinks but that soon passes as he nods his understanding on the matter of not raising suspicions. The thanks given, there the beast manager pauses and holds the other young man's gaze for a while and then turning out a small smile for it leans forward and tilts his glass the other's way in mirror of his action. "You'd do the same," or at least he's fairly sure the Bollian would were their roles reversed. Another swallow of the strong spicy Istan brew and then he's asking, "Where is the carvin' now?"
Kaskan drops his arm, glass lowering to his lap. Turning the drink idly in his hands, he studies it for a moment without really seeing it, blue eyes hooded. Max is right, he realizes. The relationships he has developed here in the south are already more important to him than any he’s had since leaving home. The thought scares him. Emotional connections can be used against you. Chin still lowered, he glances up at the man across from him and takes a giant step toward trust.
“Nenienne has it. She’s giving me an estimate of it’s worth.”
In the silence that forms, Kaskan is put under surreptitious study and while nothing is said, there is perhaps enough that Max has some idea of what the Bollian is going through, a recognition at some level. It doesn't get spoken and he instead draws his gaze away as the other looks up and a brow lifts, "Nenienne?" Surprise colours his tone and then lips form around a light frown as he poses his next, "She got it here," at the Weyr, "or down Landin' way?"
"Landing," Kaskan replies without hesitation this time. It may be on some level Max's unspoken understanding is felt - a fellow burdened peer. Whatever it is draws Kaskan out. "I gave it to her here but the tools she needed are there. I checked and she's there right now so I assume she has it with her." Shoulders setting back he gives his chin a toss, over-long bangs flung aside by the quick motion. "I'll get it from her, then go find Stud n' Crud." His nicknames for the thug brothers slip from his tongue without thought.
"Landing?" Max echoes in query once again, unease setting in given that Landing was where the two roughnecks had questioned Nenienne about Kaskan in the first place. A goodly swallow of his drink is taken, a short hiss for the rich burn and then, "Aye, best you get it back from her sooner rather than later." His tone conveying open concern for the little jewellery-smith's safety.
Kaskan nods before tilting back a long drink himself. “I plan on it.” The last thing he wants is to put the young woman in danger. He no longer cares how much it’s worth. All he wants to do is give it to the thugs so they’ll go away and he might finally be able to put his past behind him where it belongs.
With Kaskan's agreement coming, as was expected it would, Max sends what he hopes is a reassuring smile his way. "Before you know it, those two…what did you call 'em again? Stud n' Crud?" amusement wells up, "Will have their tails tucked between their legs and will go scarperin' off to wherever they came from and you can breath easy again, aye?" Oh if only things were just that simple. Despite his ranking in the crime underworld, Max is still young and so therefore retains some of the optimism of youth. Or perhaps that's merely a show for Kaskan's benefit.
Kaskan laughs, a wide grin forming. "Fits them, trust me. One will sleep with anything that haves legs and the other is, well…. just disgusting." Lifting his glass in salute he nods his head. "Breathing easy - what's that?" His own youthful optimism is matched by an inner confidence, sometimes well-founded sometimes not.
RELATED LOGS:
Two Thugs and a Computer Geek – The thugs arrive and start asking questions.
Two Thugs and a Gem Girl
Two Thugs and a Little Kid
— (side log) “Walk much, Jaya?” – Kaskan tells Jaya his history with the thugs.
— (side log) “C’mon little man, show me what you got.” – Max gets to know Jhorn.
“Can you keep a secret?” – Kaskan gives Nenienne the carving.
“I like the way you negotiate.” – Kaskan and Max make a plan.
“Where’s Jhorn?” – Jhorn’s disappearance is reported to Max.
“Now, let the lady go.” – The thugs go after Nenienne.
“Kas, you down there?” – Max and Wayne rescue Kaskan.
You are gonna die, little man. – Everyone races to rescue Jhorn.
