Participants:
NPC's: Wayne (Max)
| Date: | June 19, 2011 |
|---|---|
| Location: | An hour south of Landing. |
| Synopsis: | Max and Wayne use the thug's runners to track down and rescue Kaskan. |
| 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
LOG:
The runners are erratic at first, hesitant in their choice of direction as fear blinds them. But as their reins remain loose and the lead given to them their path becomes more clear. Their quick pace makes short work of an hour's ride to the low-lying fields south of Landing. Mountains rise in the distance to either direction, ensuring the flooding Crud mentioned with the next rainfall. Eventually they come to a crude shack set in the middle of nowhere and slow, prancing a bit as their sides heave from exertion.
After an hour of hard riding that sends painful jolts through Max's body with each pound of hooves beneath him, the crimelord is pale beneath tanned skin and covered in a cold sweat. The flow of blood from the knife wound across his face has at least slowed to little more than a thick trickle thought it's starting to hurt like a //bitch. //
When the shack comes into sight and the runners finally slow their pace, it's Waine that takes the lead, swinging down from his mount even before its come to a complete halt. "Here catch, pretty boy," that in a darkly sardonic tone to Max as he tosses his reins over, "I'll go check it out." The crimelord fixes his second with a tight look followed by an entirely crass comment about the man's mother. While he catches the reins, he ignores the unvoiced suggestion to stay where he is and his boots thud to the ground shortly after Waine's. Stubborn to a fault! "That ugly bastard said somethin' 'bout a hole and floodin'. He's gotta be around here somewhere," and then inhaling as deep a breath as he can and heedless of what other thugs might be lurking, Max bellows, "KASKAAAAN!?"
Two dragonlengths away, deep within a hole twice again over his head, Kaskan stirs at the sound of a voice. Numb from pain and exposure, covered in dried blood and caked dirt, the Bollian guard misses the pounding of approaching hooves that precedes it. The ringing in his head from having it battered in by fists and boots alike is still enough to make him question what could just be the howling of the wind - or worse, a wild animal. Misery has sunk him into a stupor of pain and self-pity, knowing the extent of loss will go far beyond himself. He knows from the thug's threats that his location is all but unfindable and that rainfall will drown him, especially considering the extent of his inuries making it impossible to climb or swim. So secure in their plot were the thugs that the path from the shack to the hole is fairly well trodden amidst the surrounding wild grasses.
Nothing but the wind starting to pick up from the gathering storm greets Max's call; dark clouds scudding overhead block the moons temporarily from view and cast everything into an ominous gloom. Again, the crimelord calls out as he and Waine move toward the shack on separate trajectories, the exhausted runners led behind them. Waine's voice lifts up next when his boss pauses and coughs painfully as ribs and lungs battle against each other. "Kaskan, you ornery bastard! Where the shards are ya!?" But the wind just tosses the words back at him, thunder obliterating his voice momentarily.
It's when Max took that pause, bent over with hands to knees that the clouds are driven from the moons and he finds himself staring down at a path. "Waine," he croaks and lifts a hand in beckoning gesture, "over here." One look at the path and the burly second sets off at a brisk jog in the direction it leads leaving his boss to follow at slightly less exuberant pace, their voices echoing each other as they call Kaskan's name.
There it is again! Sure that he's sunk into delirium, Kaskan tilts his head upward slowly. One light blue eye, the other bruised and swollen shut, notes that the sky is dark, stars and moons alike obscured. The roll of thunder confirms that his end is near. 'Stupid ass!' he chides himself. He should have let Max know before he left the weyr but he he panicked when he read the note and thought he could handle things himself. Now he can almost hear the man's voice yelling at him for being so bloody prideful… he can even hear the way the vowels are stretched out by anger… the gruff clip of forthcoming ass-chewing… the… the… the actual sound of his name coming over the lip of the hole above!! Stirring, he tries to push up from the ground with a loud groan, hope pushing him past the pain. Drawing in breath to shout he is hit by a fit of sharp coughing as broken ribs and bruised lungs protest.
Waine scanning the ground as he goes almost misses the open maw of the pit in the shadowed night. It's the coughing fit that draws him up short and almost has Max crashing into his back. "Watch where ya goin' ya big eejit!" the crimelord's accent coming thick and roughened with laboured breathing. "Boss down here," the burly second's deep voice lifts a notch with impending triumph as he steps off the path and edges carefully to the lip of the hole.
It takes Max a moment or two to switch from one-foot-in-front-of-the-other mode and push through the haze of pain that threatens to override his senses to realize what it is that had had Waine coming to such an abrupt halt. Moving cautiously up to his second's side, testing the ground for give with each step he peers over down into the black pit. "Kas? You down there?" a notch of cautious hope threading into his weary tone.
Kaskan doubles over from the coughing, feeling something warm and wet coat his lip. Not good. As he gains control over his breathing again he hears more voices above and then finally that familiar voice asking for him. "Down… here!" he calls up hoarsly, clutching his stomach with one arm while trying to find purchase on the grimy dirt wall with the other to stand.
Relief and a sense of urgency flood Max's next words once Kaskan confirms his identity, "Is Jhorn down there with ya?" For that had been his hope all along. That he'd find both guard and charge, together in one location. Waine in the meantime wastes no time and already has the rope that was attached to his mount's saddle free and is securing it to the ends of the runner's reins in a bid to add extra length and pulling power. Returning to the edge of the hole he hunkers down next to his boss, "Kaskan, you reckon you'll be able to tie a rope about ya'self and hold on while we pull ya up?" not sure of the extent of the injuries the Bollian guard might be suffering from.
Max's question sends a shaft of renewed fear through Kaskan. He'd hoped since they found him that meant they'd found Jhorn as well, the comments dropped by the thugs within his hearing having confirmed that the boy was being held elsewhere. "NO!" Kaskan yells upward with more force than necessary. Another fit of coughing ensues so that it takes a moment for him to repond to the next question. Digging his fingers into the dirt wall he tries harder to pull himself aright, a renewed sense of determination coursing adrenaline through his veins now that Jhorn's situation is worsened. Pain lances through his body, causing him to fall against the wall with a loud grunt. Leaning hard on his shoulder he takes a deep breath. "I'll try!" he calls with a lift of his chin.
"Shit!" Max darts an anxious look Waine's way and then lifts an arm to wipe at his face with a sleeve when a large fat drop of rain lands on it only to utter a sharp curse when fabric slips across the open wound. While not much can be seen of Kaskan given the depth of the pit and the dark stormy night, there's enough audible evidence to suggest he's not going to be able to make it out on his own. Without a word, Waine stands and heads back to the shack, hoping to find the ladder that must have been used in the digging of the pit. Max remains where he is, another few portly drops of rain falling in disjointed pattern, "Waine, hurry up for fuck's sake." Back to Kaskan, "They say anythin' 'bout where they got the kid held?" Using the question both as a means to try and distract his friend from the pain of injuries as well as gathering what information he can while Waine works on freeing the man.
Scattered drops of rain fall into the hole as well, mixing with blood and mud to make Kaskan's situation even more precarious. "Daaaaaaam-/it/!" Kaskan growls as he pushes hard with his legs and slides up the wall a few fingerwidths. His lower half, at least, seems more functional. The thugs were sure to deliver most of their damage to the areas that house vital organs. Jhorn. He has to get to Jhorn. Max's next query aligns his thoughts, teeth gritting as he concentrates to think back over the last few hours, though they seem like days to him. The calculating brothers hadn't expected Kaskan to live so weren't anymore cautious of their conversation than they were of their camp. "Yes, yes… Crud mentioned it a few times… lots of water - gathering wood." Another groan is followed by a few coughs. "On the coast, I think… or by a lake? What's closer? Something with a waterfall and bluff?" Anger wells. He doesn't know the area well enough to put the pieces together.
It's not long before Waine is back and securing the ends to two iron pegs he hammers into place, drops a rope ladder down into the pit. "Coming down," he warns Kaskan as a means to avoid squishing the injured man with his bulk as he descends. Once at the bottom, the Bollian is given a quick looking over, an approving smile peeling out for the effort and determination that Kaskan shows in his determination to get out. "Righty-ho, up you get, we got ourselves a youn' un to go fetch." Waine sounding everso chipper as if they were simply to pick Jhorn up for a Sunday afternoon spent fishing.
Max utters a soft snort at his second's mannerisms and then winces, coughs and puts his attention to what Kaskan had said carefully going through a list of possible locations. With the rain starting to gather and the hiss of the approaching downpour snaking across the ground, Max gathers what breath he can and lifts his voice, "Aye, there's an abandoned logging camp 'bout a dragonlength upstream of the river." The location abandoned when a rockfall collapsed most of the structure resting at the foot of the cliff that overlooks it. "Waine get him outta there NOW!" that as lightning flashes overhead and reveals deep gouges dug into the sides of the pit that were likely intended to feed rain runoff at a faster rate down into it.
Kaskan pushes himself somewhat aright as Wayne arrives, tilting a relieved look to the man through black layers of matted dirt, sweat, and dried blood. Wayne doesn't have to say it twice - Kaskan is to the ladder and heading up the best he can before the man is even done speaking. The way is slow going as pain constantly stiffens the young man, making his hold precarious and sweat break out across his brow.
Reaching the top he can't stop a short yell as one last pull hauls his aching body up and over the ledge, falling to his knees and breathing heavily. Having heard Max near the end but unable to respond, he nods now and lifts a hand to push lank hair from his view.
"Yes, yes… that sounds right. But Max…" Reaching out a hand his voice grows suddenly firm as he straightens. "We have to find Nenienne! They know! Stud and Crud - they guessed she has the carving and I…" he pauses, swallowing the guilt that's eaten him up since the thugs left him. "… I guess my reaction gave it away. Max - they'll hurt her."
And Waine is right behind Kaskan as he makes his way painfully up the rope ladder, lending his big body as support should it be needed. Once Kaskan emerges Max reaches for the hand the Bollian guard lifts up and setting his arm about the battered and abused man's waist will help him to his feet. There's a rough sound of black humour that holds the cold of the Reachian landscape to it, "Neni's just fine, Kas. L'han took her back to the Weyr," glossing over the bit where the young woman is need of a healer attention as he tries to reassure his friend, "And Stud ain't gonna be botherin' no one no more." Tone hard and unforgiving over the last words as lending Kaskan bodily support, teeth gritting against his own much milder aches and pains, he leads the other young man toward one of the runners. "Crud got away," Waine helpfully adds in as he hauls himself up out of the pit and joins his boss, offering what help he can to get Kaskan up onto a runner, "But we'll get that kid of yours Kaskan, never you worry."
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.
