Participants:
(NPCs:)
NPCs: Crud (Kaskan), Wayne, Yaron, Exon, Laskin (Max), Durgill & Megull (Bast)
| Date: | June 19, 2011 |
|---|---|
| Location: | Landing and abandoned mill near Landing |
| Synopsis: | Re-grouping after having rescued Kaskan, a mad dash is made to save Jhorn. |
| 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
Gaelene
Long straight hair the pale blondish-brown of beach sand frames the pixish face of this pre-teen. Her eyes are sea-green and slanted ever-so-slightly. While clearly no longer a child, she appears to be a turn or three away from adolescence. She has definitely outgrown any baby fat she may have had, and in fact is on the slender side of childhood angrogyny.
She wears a tan shirt which is a little too large for her… at least for the next hour or so. In contrast, her brown pants are a bit too short. Both her pants and her shirt are grass-stained, and the pants have been mended at both knees. When she actually wears them she has shoes of a material not available before AIVAS was found. — 12 turns
L’han
This young man is a somewhat tall and solid fellow. His round head is capped by chin-length brown hair that frames his face, his grey eyes surveying whatever has his attention at the time. His face is rather plain featured with a thin nose positioned above light-red thin lips. A stout neck leads to a toned body that is kept well in shape by appearances.
His clothing consists of brown breeches and leather boots into which are tucked a white linen shirt. That is covered by a tight leather vest with pockets for anything he might need easy access to in flight. His breeches are held up by a leather belt at which hangs a sword and dagger sheath as well as a coiled length of rope. All of this is covered by a white cloak held at the neck with a clasp of silver. A white and red bandana covers his head and hair, keeping it out of his eyes during flight. –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:
Landing: Main Square
Landing is surrounded on three sides by water and stone, but there is ample room between her buildings for a wing of dragons to land easily. To the north, the land becomes sandy and leads out into the open seas, where dolphins play. To the west, the Black River flows from the Southern Mountains into the sea. The Eastern Barrier Range winds across the southern side of the complex. One of the closest peaks is the Two-Faced Mountain—the volcano that buried the place in lava and ash thousands of Turns ago.
The complex itself contains four parts: the famous AIVAS Complex, containing the Automated Intelligence Voice Address System, classrooms and conference center; the Archives, which houses all the information gained from the computers and all the contributing Halls; the Dining Hall, where the residents of Landing eat; and the Barracks, the cluster of buildings where they sleep. At certain times of the day, the solar panels on the tops of the various buildings reflect down into the square, making the dragons' ability to land without visual cues nearly invaluable.
LOG:
Kaskan is silent much of the ride back to Landing. Sheer pain is half the reason; every step and sway of the runner sends a jolt of agony through his battered frame. Definite damage – inside and out. But Faranth help any healer who tries to make him stop before Jhorn is found. The other half is mental distraction, his mind whirling with the news Max brought. That Nenienne is safe garners vast relief and that Stud is dead leaves a chasm of shock, but what keeps his adrenaline pumping and nerves on edge is that Crud is still on the loose and a hundred times more dangerous without the restraint of his brother to contain him. That he’ll lash out Kaskan has no doubt – and the easiest target left to the thug is Jhorn.
If Kaskan could kick the runner into a gallop he would, but even a quick trot is nearly too much to handle. Still, he bears down, teeth grinding and determination stiffening his spine. The roll of thunder seems to echo is dark emotions, the occasional flash of lightning bringing the path into brief, sharp relief. Latching onto the pain to keep his senses alert he looks ahead and sighs with relief when the rectangular shapes of Landing’s unique buildings rise in the distance, limned by the contrast of the slowly dawning sky.
It may be dawn, but some people are up and stirring. Gaelene, for instance, is already up and about, yawning though she is. She is mostly chatting with a knot of youngsters, all of whom chatter exitedly about some sort of disturbance which woke them up in the night.
Having seen enough injuries in his life to realize the severity of Kaskan's and that he should probably be in an infirmary and not on the back of a runner, let alone riding to free Jhorn, Waine had taken it upon himself to ride double with the guard. Just as well their mount is of stocky breeding though given its mad dash of earlier the creature is definitely taking some strain. Hard-faced and jaw set, sidelong glances where sent over to the pair on the other runner during their ride by Max. That he was relieved to find Kaskan alive, goes without saying, the extent of his friend's injuries though, those serve to have him setting the pain of his own aside and focussing instead on the task at hand.
As they return to the starting point, bloodied, muddied, bruised and looking like something a dragon had just dragged through a feeding pen, dark eyes immediately land on the smithworks and locating the shadowy figure of Yaron leaving the building, there's grim look of satisfaction that touches to Max's mouth.
Kaskan turns his head too fast looking back and forth as they enter Landing and sways in his seat, a deep frown and annoyed grunt escaping as the ground suddenly tilts and gravity upends itself. Only the steady presence of Wayne at his back astride the runner keeps him from falling off completely. Digging deep he pulls himself aright again and glances to Max. “Just get me some numbweed, maybe some fellis, and I’ll be ready to go, Max. We don’t have a moment to lose.”
Gaelene is the first of the children to notice the runners and their burdens. She manages to say "Oh wow," and points for the others to see. Two of them she may have seen once or twice, but one is definitely familiar. At least she has the grace not to shout a merry "Hello" to Kaskan. Instead she looks a little worried and hurries over.
Max shoots Kaskan a worried look as he starts to topple sideways and Waine tightens his grip about the guard to keep him in the saddle as they guide their mounts toward where Yaron is waiting. The group of children nearby are darted a glance and the young crimelord frowns as one of them breaks away and moves toward them, a low curse spilling as that action pulls at the knife wound across his face. "Yaron'll have what we need," he gives quietly to his friend as with one eye (actually the only one that he can see out of right now) on the approaching child his next words are for Yaron as they pull up alongside him. "Everythin' squared away?" - "Aye," Yaron replies a heavy frown worn for the injuries to the young men are sporting. "Here, you'll be needin' this," a 'skin is tossed up to Max and Waine both, "and this," two small pots of what look to be numbweed handed up next. The 'skins contain watered down wine with a touch of fellis enough to dull the edge of pain. Waine immediately uncorks his and hands it to Kaskan.
Kaskan has trouble focusing on any one thing, images tending to blur if he looks straight at them for more than a few seconds. So the children are noted, including one moving ahead of the others, but he doesn’t recognize Gaelene yet. Yaron’s voice is familiar though, the guard’s attention perking in the man’s direction as he starts handing over supplies. With a grunt of relief Kaskan takes the skin from Wayne and tilts it aaaaaaaall the way up, downing a large portion of the dosed wine before appearing to breath again but not looking like he’s going to stop till its empty.
Unfortunately, there's one in every craft. Including the Vintners. Megull is the younger son of a minor lord, sent off to seek fame and a better knot as a cousin's apprentice in the Vintner Craft. And Megull's cousin has decided he wants to serve the up-and-coming of Pern. So, he drags the young, dark haired, stocky apprentice to Landing to ply his craft there. But the common life at Landing can be pretty dull, especially when your Craft is a practical one, and Landing's all about theory. Megull is a curious lad, and he hears a commotion. So, he steps out from the men's dorms, sure he will be able to either help or at least observe the new activity.
Gaelene has been moving at a fast trot and reaches the men, two fairly well-battered and two looking more or less whole. She hones in on Kaskan, saying, with all of the bluntness of a child, "Wow, Kaskan, you look awful! Are you ok?"
When it looks like Kaskan is about to down the entire skin in one sitting, Waine reaches around him and puts a staying hand to it, "You wanna go find the kid or fall off the runner and be carted back to the Weyr?" It's a warning delivered with morbid amusement that drinking any more of the wine, lightly laced or not, and it might have the effect of knocking the young guard out. The pot of numbweed is then opened and held out for Kaskan to make use of as he feels the need to.
As to Max, he takes but a swallow or two from the 'skin and then stoppers it and attaches it to a ring on his saddle, preferring to use the dulling edge of pain to keep him alert. He does however make a sloppy attempt at trying to apply the numbweed across the gash on his face but gives up halfway through when the sting and burn of touching fingers to the wound are simply too much. Its only when Gaelene speaks up that Max realizes the child has made it all the way over to them and he shoots the Bollian guard a look, "You know this kid?" Those emerging from the men's dorms are then spared a look with the young crimelord becoming antsy about the attention they're starting to draw. "We need to get outta here."
Gaelene's youthful pitch cuts through the roar of alcohol and adrenaline roaring in Kaskan's ears and the battered guard finally lowers the much thinner wine skin just as Wayne reaches to do the same, sloshing some down his chin and shirt before lifting an arm to swipe across his mouth. Brows furrow as his light blue regard casts sidelong to the man behind him but he hands the skin over knowing Wayne is right and takes the jar of numbweed. Then, digging some out, he looks downward and focuses on the girl below, recognition finally connecting. "Thanks, Sticks," he says, recalling the girl's love for the game. "l rolled off the wrong side of the bed. Let that be a lesson to you and always push your cot up against a wall."
Groaning, Kaskan sits up straighter and lifts his torn shirt enough to apply a glop of the medicine to his bruised side, hissing through his teeth as the painful movements hinder his efforts. Other voices are heard but barely register, interaction and planning left to Max. All Kaskan cares about is masking the pain long enough to get him to Jhorn before Crud.
"Hey." Megull sees his in. "D'you need a refill on that?" He doesn't catch the knot, if it's even there, so he doesn't address Kaskan properly. "My cousin's got some good brews that will travel well, and I can get you some for a very decent price." It seems to be a ploy that's worked before, because he oozes confidence in his cousin's wares.
Gaelene says, "Fell on your boots a few times, too. Should I go get my parents? They're both Healers." She cocks her head and listens to the adult conversation, and muses, "The kid?" Then she frowns and asks, "Where's Jhorn?"
As the two men step forward, its Yaron the bald-headed stocky smithy often seen about Landing that inserts himself both physically and vocally, "Know how to use that?" A thrust of chin goes the way of the sword hanging at the guard's hip. Annoyance clouds his visage next as Megull starts trying his sales pitch on them, "You're not very bright are you?" Yaron asks of the younger man and then snorting he turns away from them beckons two strapping young men on runners forward, "The boys heard of the trouble and volunteered to put your trainin' to use, boss." A wolfish grin appears for they are none other than two of Max's fighters-in-training.
The skin handed back to him, Waine corks it and attaches it to his saddle and then snorts his amusement for Kaskan's reply to Gaelene. "Aye, and don't go mussin' with them stable kittens neither," Max adds on the heels of his friend's comment to the child. Though when she asks after Jhorn his expression closes about a tight line and then Megull and Durgill are set with a withering one-eyed look but he leaves them to Yaron to deal with a dark mark of amusement twisting onto his battered features as Exon and Laskin join them. "Good lads." A glance goes to Kaskan next, "Ready to kick Crud butt?" Max sounding far more chipper about the whole sorry mess than he's currently looking or feeling. "Time's awastin'," and with that and a nudge of heels to runner flanks he sets off again, simply expecting those that are joining them on their quest to do follow.
"Jhorn's missing?" Durgill frowns, and nods. " 'Course I know how to use it. Wouldn't strap it to my waist otherwise." This last is muttered a little more softly. "You need a hand, then?" It's not an offer borne from boredom or need, but from skill and sense. The older man glares over at Megull, and growls. "Don't you have any sense, boy? That's a good way to get run over or run down, one." He rolls his eyes and waits for the response to his query.
"Uh…" No, Megull is not that smart, and it really shows. But he loves to turn a mark or two, whenever he can. He scowls grumpily at the old guard and at Yaron's words. "Clear trails then." Fine. He'll go find some other sucker to buy his cousin's wine.
Regrettably, Kaskan responds to Gaelene’s offer with too quick of a head shake, immediately eliciting a shooting pain through his skull that scrunches his rugged features into a sour cringe. Taking a deep breath he tries to even his tone, saying, “No… thank you. Just needed a quick fix. We’ve got to go.” Her question levels his gaze, his non-swollen eye fixing on the girl with more concern than he means to show. “He’ll be fine. We’re going to get him now.”
The young man hawking wine is given a short stare, then ignored as others berate him. The inclusion of a guard and others is noted with approval, though Kaskan’s fingers curl with the need to encircle Crud’s neck first. Max’s comment and question are heard with relief, the fervent urge to get moving growing more intense with each degree of effect the medicine has in lessoning the pain. With much of his ribs, an elbow, a shoulder and both fists now messily doused with slabs of numbweed Kaskan is quick to nod and set his posture as warning to Wayne before kicking the runner into motion. “I couldn’t agree more!” he shouts as they take off.
While the young Vintner isn't very intelligent, Gaelene is, and she realizes that the adults are in a rush and gets out of their way. She watches them off, then skips back to the other youngsters and immediately begins chattering with them about everything she overheard.
Yaron isn't going with the small band but he does have his runner tethered to a nearby railing. Durgill's return earns him a mark of respect and an approving nod of head. Swinging a look up to the battered Max and Kaskan his attention goes back to the guard, "Help keep these two morons in one piece and I'll take it as a favour." His gruff tone mildly admonishing for the two young men and the folly of youth that had gotten them to looking the way they currently do. "You can take ole Bess here but mind you don't run her into the ground, she's just been freshly shod." And with that he'll hand the reins to his shag-haired mount over. Before Megull can leave, Yaron will quite literally try to collar him by the scruff of the neck, "Oh no you don't, you gonna stay and help me." Whether he wants to or not if the stocky smithy's tone of voice implies.
In a thunder of hooves the motley crew leave Landing and likely a stream of gossip in their wake leaving Yaron to employ what damage control he can. Their heading is that of the old abandoned logging mill that Max had spoken of earlier to Kaskan, a short ride outside of Landing itself and set back against a steep cliff over which the river thunders and roars.
Megull is collared now, and he struggles like the lazy good-for-nothing mark hunter that he is. "You can't do this to me! I'll tell my cousin." His cousin is a mid-ranking Journeyman who's much more easygoing than his apprentice. "Shaaaards!" Well, there goes his easy day.
It doesn't take Durgill but a couple of moments to swing astride old 'Bess', and ease her up alongside those headed toward the mill. He clucks softly to her, easing her along, but taking a steady pace; clearly an expert runner rider. "Damn fool apprentices." He nods to the spoiled Vintner brat being dragged along to work. "C'mon then. We're wastin' daylight."
Kaskan let Wayne hold the reins on the fast ride, the jarring too much for his injuries, but as they approach the mill he grabs ahold and pulls back making the runner rear and whinny. Leaping ungracefully, or more accurately described as falling, Kaskan is off barely after forward momentum stops, but as his feet hit the ground he has to lean over and press an arm to his mid-section for a moment. From somewhere above, the echo of an angry shout is heard, the words muffled by distance and the roar of the waterfall. Even if the words are unclear, the meaning is not: someone is in deep trouble. The echo jerks him aright and he looks to Max as if to confirm his hearing. "That wasn't from inside," he blurts, dismissing his initial intent of rushing into the mill.
Yaron gives a shrug of thick shoulders to Megull playing tattle-tale to his journeyman cousin, "Shall we go do that now?" He could care less by the looks of it. "Awright you lot," his voice lifting to carry to those that loiter and linger, gossiping in small pockets, "Move it along, nothing to see. Just a couple of boys what's got a beef with each other." Suggesting the injuries Max and Kaskan were sporting to be inflicted upon each other. "You," he gives Megull a little shake before releasing him, "Can go find me some buckets of sand and a stiff broom." Er what?
Waine is caught somewhat unawares by the quick stop and rearing runner and almost bails arse over kettle off its back given that he'd been seated behind the saddle and so had had little purchase. When his riding partner all but throws himself to the ground, Waine follows with a sharp look sent Kaskan's way, "Give a man some warning next time," he grumbles casting a glance to the others as they too rein in and dismount. Max hears the shout at about the same time Kaskan does and is boots to ground with a grunt for jarred ribs and the pounding in his head but is already casting about for a way up the steep cliff. "You two," he singles out Laskin and Exon, "up to the right. You," that to Durgill, "take the left with Waine," handing out orders in swift succession, "You and me," that to Kaskan, "straight up the front." For perhaps with them splitting up a foot path to the top of the cliff might be found.
Durgill takes a little bit longer to get to the point, since the runner's newly shod. He takes her easy, as he was told. He's not too far behind, but arrives just as Max is barking out instructions to those around. "Was told to make sure you two…" He gestures to Kaskan and Max, "came home with no metal implements stickin' out of you." Well, that's how he's interpreted the words Yaron spoke to him. "Mayhap I should switch with one of you." He continues to look between the two. "Keepin' all the piss and vinegar in one place ain't always the smartest thing to do." It's not an — objection, per se, more like an obliquely worded suggestion.
Kaskan is unrepentent as Wayne chides him for their abrupt stop, his attention already gone elsewhere as he turns to follow Max’s quick directions and look for a path. He pauses briefly as Durgill arrives but nothing the older guard says is going to stop him from getting to Jhorn. With a darted look to Max he turns to Durgill and rolls one hand in gesture, tone firmly determined as he says, “Come along then but neither of us is staying behind.”
It doesn’t take long at all before a path is spotted, the grass trodden and dirt well tracked not far from the back door of the mill and heading up the cliff at a fairly straight angle. In fact, the tracks get more distinct the closer and further they get along the path as if someone did not tread willingly up the side of the cliff; long scuffs and dragging lines, deep fresh indents. Another angry shout ripples down the cliffside, shrouded in heavy mist and crashing water.
Even although it sends pain lancing across his face to do so, Max sends Durgill a furrow browed glare as he relays Yaron's instructions to him. But he can't deny the logic in the guard's suggestion and so with a disgruntled and colourfully peppered mutter about not needing a nursemaid, he concedes the point. "Fine you take centre lead with him," Kaskan, "I'll pair up with Waine." Waine of course, is highly amused by Durgill's forthrightness and doesn't bother trying to hide it, "He got your number, boss." Snicker. By the look the young crimelord shoots his second, he'll be landing himself a thick ear if he's not careful.
The three pairs have barely broken apart and set off before the shout goes up to the path having been found and without hesitation they blend back together again. Waine spots the tell-tale signs along the path and utters a low growl, "The boy and one other." He remarks on them. Max shoots a look Kaskan's way, opens his mouth to say something and then ends up coughing painfully as lungs fail to draw in the required air against cracked ribs for the exertion of climbing the path. Wiping his sleeve across his mouth he ends up saying nothing the shouts and sound of the scuffle up ahead spurring him back into action.
Having heard another shout and with a clear path ahead, Kaskan doesn’t wait for anymore discussion but races up the path with his breaths coming in lung-wrenching gasps by time he gets far. Time seems to freeze as the men burst from the path at the top of the cliff. Kaskan comes to a staggering halt, blood running cold as ice through his veins as blue eyes widen sharply.
Crud beat them to the mill alright, and as the trail seemed to indicate, he dragged Jhorn kicking and protesting up to the top of the cliff. The boy’s hands are tied behind his back, his appearance as ragged as Kaskan and Max only without visible injuries. His drooping gaze belies the struggling he displays but grunted insults are slurred enough to betray the drugs affecting his efforts. Crud barely seems to notice, his muscled frame easily several times the boy’s size. The pair are standing at the water’s edge, Jhorn leaning precariously backwards over the several story drop while Crud clutches his throat with one beefy hand. As the men arrive Crud turns to look, his one eye still crusted with dried blood and spouting a glaring purple bruise. A cold glare dimly lights that single brown iris, sizing up the new arrivals till unerringly landing on first Max, then Kaskan.
Kaskan breaks the silence first, lurching forward several steps and waving one arm. “Damn you to the Red Star, Crud, if you harm that boy! I’m the one you want – look! I escaped your little hole. You’re so inept you can’t keep me down. I’m free. Let him go and come get me!”
If Max catches that rolling of eyes sent his and Kaskan's way from Durgill, he gives no hint thereof but instead sets his focus to quelling any further coughing fits and getting up the last few steps of the incline. Colour drains from his face when he takes in the tableau playing out before them and then his lips curl back in a snarl that greets the glare sent by Crud. "You awright there, Jhorn?" Max sends to the Bollian teen as a means to try and reassure the lad that help is now at hand but doesn't take his gaze off of the thug that has him by the throat. A step out to one side of Kaskan is taken and a cold smile appears lending his bloodied and slashed visage a grotesque look. "You drop that boy over the edge, you're goin' after him," Max states with more calm than is currently his to own. "At least your brother died fightin' like a man and not cowerin' behind a boy like a woman," deliberately taunting the man in the hopes of drawing his anger and focus onto them enough that he might let Jhorn go.
"Dammit all to the shards of the Star," Durgill swears, in a new epithet that's been making the rounds since the split. "That's the best way to get your fool self killed!" He's not yelling, but it's a command tone. He unsheaths his sword, and sticks it forward in a threatening manner. It's too late to play this any other way, so, he'll go along. He's still going to have words with the man who stayed behind though. Or at least scowl at him for a while. He's too old for this shit. "Crud…" He catches the kidnapper's name, and uses it. "You want somebody, you got plenty of big men here to choose from. Let the kid go." He listens to Max's words, and sighs. Playing 'Good Harper, Bad Harper.' Fun.
Crud is not a fighter. He’s a bully. And with odds stacked so thoroughly against him he isn’t about to try that route. At this point all he cares about is revenge. With the thirst for vengence on Kaskan suddenly ripped out from the satisfied corner where it had been flung Crud’s limited intelligence focuses on one single avenue of action.
His face flushes with red-hot anger as he stares at Kaskan. A sneer curdles his lips as his gaze slips to Max. And with the gleam of morning’s dawning light reflecting off Durgill’s newly drawn blade he makes his decision. No need for mincing words – that was Stud’s court. He merely looks back to Kaskan, then to Max, including them both as he utters one sentence: “You killed my brother.”
And then he lets go.
With a loud laugh Crud steps back as Jhorn screams and topples over the ledge, falling with sickening grace into the rushing water of the falls. Kaskan bellows and bursts forward, not even stopping to think as he passes Crud and throws himself off the cliff after the boy. Surprised, Crud looks on, then burst into another laugh. “Two with one stone!” he cackles before turning toward the others and singling out Max for a maniacally glaring sneer of success.
Max sends Durgill a sidelong glance when the snick of metal against leather is heard with Durgill drawing his sword, his mouth twisting around a tightly approving line and then his focus goes back to the menace that is Crud up ahead. Hands to the hilts of his knives he fits the thug with an implacable look that turns around with an icy smile of relish, "He was as good as dead the moment you two shit for brains laid hands on the kid and my friend here." Max counters and then a cry of horror comes strangling out when the thug indeed does as ordered and…let's go of Jhorn.
He's but a step behind Kaskan and then comes to a dead halt when the battered and beaten Bollian throws himself off the cliff after his young charge. "Kaskaaaaan!" It's a yell of desperation and fear for his friend's life and that of Jhorn's that then curdles into cold fury that gets slammed into Crud as both knives come free and he leaps at the man with the intent of killing him.
Durgill is appalled. He calls down to the other men, and just stands, looking over the edge. Crud seems to be … well in hand. "The boy and — Kashun?" He briefly heard the name — "dropped off the edge!" Maybe there's some way they can be caught, especially with the river involved. He stares down, then returns his attention to Max. He'll let the man kill the idiot. It's as good as a duel and it saves a trial and trip to exile. He stands ready, in case the man somehow gets past the hothead. It's not likely.
A white wall of fury is buried in the blinding rush of water as Kaskan is grabbed by the falling cascade and slammed downward with furious force into the roiling maelstrom below. Even as the air is knocked from his lungs and his chest burns with the need to breath, vision spins and blurs with the dizzying loss of direction and balance, and every inch of his body is a pounding mass of pain and agony, Kaskan doesn’t give up. Pure logistics keep him from useless struggling, muscle control a losing battle. Inertia helps him turn aright and float so he can find the surface and burst through with a gaping gasp of air to fill his lungs. As he bobs downward again he’s already turning, searching, voice a haggard version of his norm. “JHORN! JHORN!” he yells repeatedly. Then, drawing in as much air as he can he dives and pushes downward, turning as he does and trying to see beneath the surface.
At the top of the cliff, Crud watches Max hurdle toward him without seeming to care. He’s had his revenge. Nothing else matters. One thick arm automatically rises in half-hearted defense, a yell escaping as Max’s blade bites deep into the meaty appendage. Anger stirs, but too late. Even as Crud turns to use Max’s momentum against him and try to fling the smaller man to the ground, the other knife finds his shoulder and sinks easily through cloth and skin, sinew and muscle, to ring hard against solid bone.
The moment Kaskan had flung himself over the edge after Jhorn, Waine had uttered a loud curse of disbelief, done an abrupt turn around and then gone scrambling down the path as fast as his big bulk could carry him almost bowling into Exon and Laskin who were on their way up. "Down, down, down," the burly second yells, "He threw the kid over the edge," slipping and sliding in the mud created by the fine mist thrown up from the waterfall, "and that wherry for brains sharding went right after him!!" Shock is still evident in his tone as he nears the bottom of the path in a shower of pebbles and loose dirt and then without hesitation dives straight into the pool at the bottom of the thundering rush of water in the desperate hope of being able to find both the Bollian guard and his charge before they get carried away by the current. Or worse still, drown. When Kaskan's head appears above the surface of the water Waine sets out with powerful strokes toward him.
Durgill winces as he looks over at the man torturing the thug. He's started down this path, though, so he'll stick to it for now. In fact, discretion guides him back toward the runners, standing guard further back. Time- and stress-roughened hands hang on to the reins, freeing the other men up to dive in to the water, or go do Max's bidding. He's prevented one of them from getting skewered. The other one, well… The only words the old man has now are the soft whispers to ease the runners as the swimmers yell to each other, trying to find their men.
A trial and or exile were never in the cards for Crud, not the more civilised type of affair that Durgill might be acquainted with at any rate. No, this was one man that was going to rue the day he was born if Max has anything to do with it and possibly wish he had ended up dying on the same day his brother had. Cold triumph greets the slip of well honed blade through muscle and flesh of the man's forearm and then the shock of metal striking home against bone reverberates through Max's already abused body pulling a grunt from him. He doesn't however loose his grip on his knives and instead twists them both where they're embedded in the thug for maximum pain. Bringing his damaged and bloodied face up close he snarls out low, "A quick death is too good for the likes of you," another jerk of hands around the hilts of his knives, "I think I'm gonna take you back and let Kas play with you for a bit. Sound like a plan?" Right now he doesn't seem too concerned with whether or not Durgill is an official guard or not and what he may have to say on the matter. This man is his!
Kaskan stays under as long as he can, turning and twisting till his eyes and lungs both burn. Not spotting the boy he throws himself upward angrily and bursts from the water as before with a great gasp for air. Adrenaline is all that is keeping him functional now and when it runs out he’ll have nothing left for himself. Filling his lungs he dives again, determined to push past the fear that this might be his last attempt.
He will not lose Jhorn.
He simply won’t allow it.
There! A shadowy form appears and Kaskan dives toward it, tortured limbs screeching in protest as he cuts through the water. At the last second his misted vision coalesces into the pudgy outline of Wayne and Kaskan curses, slamming the water with his fists. “Leave me alone – go look over…” he starts to yell as Wayne continues toward him, but then he stops as something catches his attention behind his erstwhile rescuer. “JHORN!” Kaskan shouts, nearly insane with the renewed burst of energy that flings him past the other man. Closer to shore, he finds Jhorn floating nearly aright with just the top of his head breaching the surface. Diving down along the boy’s body Kaskan finds one of Jhorn’s feet snagged in some rocks. Grunting, he grabs ahold of one and tries to pull it from the earth and mud.
Crud is made of a lot of muscle. Anger keeps him on his feet despite the severity of the injuries Max inflicts, his entire face turning a deep shade of purple that creeps down his thick neck and blends like a big ugly bruise with the deep russet color of his hair. Blood pours from both wounds, darkening the brown of his dirty clothes and spilling onto Max as well. Deadly anger answers the call of Max’s own as the two face off, nearly eye-to-eye, oblivious to anything else. Crud uses brute force to win his battles. He needs space. Max’s wiry quickness is beyond him at such close quarters. His chest rumbles with a dragon-like growl that bursts from his throat as he braces and gives Max a hard –shove-, whether the knives go or not.
Kaskan's angered yell does little to ruffle Waine's feathers for he both realizes and understands where it's coming from. "You're about fit to drown ya'self," the big second points out as he treads water and looks about ready to haul the guard from the river and onto the bank when he lets out that yell and throws himself passed Waine. Jerking his head around he then sees what Kaskan had and is right behind him. "Leave it, I'll do it, you get his head," Waine directs and then gulping a deep breath of air dives and sets that brawn of his to good use as with the muscles in his arms bulging from the effort and strain involved, he's able to move at least one of the rocks enough so that Jhorn's foot comes free when given a good tug by Exon who has waded into the water to help.
The warmth of Crud's blood seeping into Max's clothing and mingling with that of his dead brother's goes unnoticed by the young crimelord, his focus wholly on the other man's darkening, ugly face. "Aye that hurts, don't it?" seeming to revel in the other man's pain and suffering, savouring that threatening growl of his prey. But then without warning he's being shoved backward, the tight grip he'd had about the hilts of his weapons, pulling them free as Max already exhausted stumbles and lands on his arse on a flat water slicked rock. Painfully he scrambles back to his feet and almost slips again when the sole of one of his boots glides over a mossy section. "Hey old man," for he hasn't learned Durgill's name yet, "bring us some rope would ya?" This yelled backward as with knives held before him, he keeps a weather eye on Crud. "Do that again you toe-rag, and I'll cut your ears off and feed 'em to the fish," growled out in warning.
Oh, wow. The man is actually going to tie up the miscreant. There is hope. Not much, but some. Durgill drops the lead of the runner he's easing, and slowly moves back to find some rope. "Got it." His gravelly voice carries well, so he doesn't have to speak up too much. "Assumin' you want enough to tie the bastard up?" He looks up toward the man, then just goes with his assumption. If he doesn't need that much, he'll use the rest to drag the man along.
The old guard cocks his head toward the river when he hears the loud yell. It sounds like they found at least one of them. He glances up to the sky, as though the star-shards have wisdom and patience for him to collect, then strides with measured steps toward the top of the hill again.
The sound of wings beating can be heard coming as a green dragon comes along the way from Landing. The dragon circles the cliffs and river area where the party is gathered and trumpets a call to those below as she looks for a good place to land as she circles lower before finally backwinging to a landing down below the hill and far enough away from any runners. Her rider climbs down from her neck as he runs over towards where Kaskan and Waine are trying to pull Jhorn out. "You got him?" He looks up towards the hill where Max and the rest are before he returns his attentions to the men in the river.
Kaskan’s sorely abused lungs run out of air faster than he’s willing to accept. He continues to tug at the rocks with numb fingers until Wayne arrives and nudges him upward to hold the boy’s head up instead. Knowing Wayne is in better shape Kaskan quickly follows the man’s direction and lurches upward for air, only to find once he breaks the surface that the two other men who joined their group are already wading close and reaching to lend their own support. His blurry vision seems to note yet another man at the water’s edge and shouted voices clash with the roar of the waterfall, all ping-ponging with dizzying speed within the recesses of his brain, their urgent tone more recognizable than their actual words in most cases. Grasping Jhorn’s chin he lifts the boy’s head and flinches at the pale pallor of his skin. “Jhorn!” he shouts. “Wake up, damn you!”
“You are gonna die, little man.” Crud takes a step toward Max, intending to take advantage of the man’s fall, but when he gets to his feet the bigger man hesitates. Favoring his bloodied arm and shoulder, Crud huffs and shakes his head, heavy blood loss obviously having a quick effect. Rope, indeed. If he can just get0 his hands on Max he’ll end this fast enough with a quick trip over the cliff’s edge where only hard-packed ground will break his fall.
Durgill trudges toward the top of the cliff, quickly bringing the crimelord the rope. "Here." He holds out one end and waits. While he does, he looks over toward the river. A dragon? "Rider!" He calls. He recognizes that dragon. He should. It's that watchrider. "Get the boys out of the water! Little one first!" Jhorn may not be a 'little' anymore, but in comparison to old Durgill, he's a babe in the woods.
Only when Kaskan shouts at Jhorn to wake up, do Waine, Exon and Laskin notice the unnatural pallor to the lad's skin and a strange hush settles over the area with just the roar of the waterfall in the background intruding upon it. The arrival of the green and her rider barely paid notice given the situation at hand.
Exhausted and in pain as he is, Max manages to flick Durgill a smirk as he arrives back up at the top and draws on dark humour, "Naw, I'm gonna tie it round his pecker and kick him off the cliff." With adrenaline starting to wear off he's in no shape to be trying to wrangle ropes around Crud and so a flick of a knife wielding hand gestures for the old guard to come forward, "Mind doin' the honors?"
The yell that goes up from the river down below washes relief across his expression and then a tight smile curls into place and Max pokes the tip of one of his knives at the thug's mid-section, "Two with one stone, eh? Guess you fucked that one up too." The beat of wings that signal the approach of a dragon has him glancing quickly skyward and then his focus goes back onto the thug keeping a tight eye on him while waiting for Durgill to do his thing.
As soon as he realizes Wayne has freed Jhorn from the rocks, Kaskan hefts the youth toward shore. His own strength is waning though and as soon as the buoyancy of the water no longer aids his effort but instead soaks the boy’s clothes and makes him even heavier Kaskan sinks to his knees, water splashing up around his shoulders and making him cough as he swallows some. Loosening his hold, he reluctantly realizes he’s going to have to let the other men help if they’re to get Jhorn to shore. But then there’s a commotion and he looks over his shoulder, blue gaze narrowing at the surprising sight of a dragon in the water.
Crud isn’t about to let Max slip away. “You talk too much,” he snarls and takes another couple plodding steps to reach for the slimmer man’s throat, momentum barreling his bulkier frame forward. “I can fix that.”
"His pecker?" Durgill eyes Crud appraisingly. "Likely not enough there to tie a knot. Got a better idea." He steps between Max and Crud, and drops the bulk of the rope, hanging on to the end. "Like this." Barring resistance, he ties the rope around Crud's hips, then twists it around his crotch in a confining knot. "Tie this to somethin', and every pull'll yank him there." Yes, Durgill's learned a lot over the years. And someone who shows a blatant disregard for life is pretty much worthless himself. "Tried the other way once…" He doesn't elaborate as to the circumstances of that experiment, "and only ended up with the man's pecker getting rope burned. You wanted him around for that Kash fellow to — talk to." He mangles Kaskan's name again.
When Kaskan sinks to his knees Exon and Laskin, wade in closer with Exon reaching to loop his arms under Jhorn's shoulders and Laskin moving to take up his feet and then suddenly there's a dragon right there. Both men startle and almost drop the teen but being as how they're but a few steps from dry ground they spur back into action and haul the drenched lad up and out of the water. "He don't look good," Waine mutters grimly as he wades out after them though its Kaskan around whose shoulders her loops a thickly muscled arm, lending the Bollian guard support to get him out of the water too for the knows nothing about reviving the near drowned.
Crud's reach for Max's throat is almost successful given that his attention had flickered briefly to what is going on below but it's thanks to Durgill stepping between them that he's saved from having his windpipe crushed. Lips draw back in a snarl and reaching passed the old guard his knife flashes toward the thug's ear in a bid to slice it clean off, "I warned ya." If successful it will hopefully be distraction enough for Durgill to get that rope situated about the thug's loins in the manner in which he's going for. Dark amusement plays out for the older man's comment about having tried the 'rope around the pecker' bit before. "I like the way your mind works, old man. You and me gonna be havin' a drink after all this is over." Uh oh?
The dragon and rider are ignored as far as helping go as the men clamber onto dry land as L'han rolls his eyes and says, "Fuck it, you try to help…" The dragon snorts as she climbs out of the river down from where the rest are getting out before Escaeth looks up towards Max and the rest before L'han shakes his head, as they look up towards where Max and Durgill are wrangling Crud. The green just watches while L'han looks to the group and lets them decide what the heck to do next, since it's them that's thinking.
Kaskan leans heavily on Wayne, his feet barely able to shuffle one in front of the other as he staggers from the water. Releasing his support on the other man he drops beside Jhorn and tilts the boy slightly, reaching behind his back to yank at the ropes securing his hands. “Knife!” he yells. “Get me a knife!” Not waiting, he grips the youth’s shoulders in both hands, fingers barely registering the sodden cloth and shakes him. “Jhorn! Blast it - breath kid, breath!!” Suddenly Jhorn convulses, slim frame hunching and then he chokes and spews up water. Kaskan pushes him up on his side with frantic relief and Jhorn looses even more water, coughing. “We’ve got to get him to a healer, fast,” Kaskan blurts. No hour-long ride on a bumpy runner is gonna do.
Crud is a big man. The sheer audacity of someone attempting to tie a rope around his girth is enough to keep him from resisting in a useful manner until it is too late. With the older guard standing so close Crud simply swings his good arm in a sharp arc and attempts to clothesline the other man across the chest with a solid, muscle-laden blow meant to send the man sprawling. Unfortunately for the one-eyed thug, Durgill is quick and the rope is in place before his dulled responses register what’s happening. “What the hell…??” Crud growls bear-like as the rope tightens.
"You're buyin'." That's all the man says in quiet bemusement when Max makes his statement. "We're doin' a little experiment." That's all he'll say. Firstly, he didn't catch this goober's name, and secondly, it's all that needs to be said. "You think they're all right down there?" He gives Max a once over. "Are you all right?" He finishes up the knot, and gazes around the cliff to see where he ought to secure the other end.
With Kaskan dropping back to Jhorn's side once he's out of the water, Waine wastes no time in unsheathing his knife and is about to hand it over to the Bollian guard when he grabs at the boy and turns him over on his side. As Jhorn starts coughing and spluttering there's a collective sigh of relief and Waine quickly gets to work cutting the ropes binding the boy's hands. A jerk of chin goes the way of L'han and Escaeth standing a short ways off, "Dragonback." The burly second gives a single worded solution to getting Jhorn to a healer quickly. "Going to need to wrap him blankets first or he'll freeze Between." And likely then add pneumonia to his list of ailments.
"Hey!" Max barks out when Crud has a go at Durgill and then winces as his chest complains for the sudden and deep breath taken, which sets him to coughing. Recovering some breath, his open eye watering he manages to wheeze, "Buy you all the ale you can drink, old man." Straightening slowly he eyes the guard's handiwork, "Right purdy that is." Some of the shouts from down below have filtered up and the young crimelord sets Durgill with a worried look which then hardens, "That kid dies…." And suddenly all patience with Crud is lost and he points to thick sturdy tree with its roots tangled about the rocks, "There." As to where the rope is to be tied a dark and sinister glint twisting about his marred features.
L'han watches from dragonback and then when Waine speaks on what is next, the rider starts moving some clips on the dragon's straps so he can hold onto Jhorn when they eventually do pass him up to him. "That's right, we need to dry him out so strip him down and wrap him up. Those clothes on him will shock him going between, may even kill him." L'han's gaze goes once more to the cliff as the men work on Jhorn. "What the… what is he up to there?" More to himself than anyone else.
Kaskan nods with approval as Wayne cuts Jhorn’s bonds, only sheer determination keeping him aright until Jhorn is safely breathing again and he can scoop the boy up in a rarely seen and fiercely intense hug. “You scared the shit out of me, kid,” he says in a tight voice. Jhorn groans softly, obviously not completely coherent, and Kaskan looks to the other men with a grimly worried expression since his own clothes are too wet to be of any use in prepping the teen for flight.%r%rCrud sways as his swing finds only air, the strength behind it left without recourse. Confusion spikes through the man’s blinding anger as the continuing banter of the other men dances around his deadly intent with mocking ease – and now he has apparently been tethered. Taking a step back he’ll simply pull Durgill along if possible, his beefy fingers seeking to unravel the rope’s hold. Catching Max’s half-finished statement, he casts a seethingly pleased sneer at the beast manager. “He’ll die alright. And its on your head!”
Durgill snorts at Max's comments about his handiwork as he sets to securing the line to the thick tree. "That's perfect." He nods, giving Max a conspiratorial little grin as he works. "You sound like you could use a Healer before you get anything, though, young pup." This in response to the 'old man' comment, of course. "There." The rope is as secure as the man can make it. "You want the honors?" He snorts again, having amused himself a little. "They better get him home, hadn't they?" That's his only comment on the goings on down there.
Crud's swing was off by at least a quarter of a runnerlength, so Durgill didn't really even need to duck or weave that much. It was probably off because of blood loss, or stupidity, or both. Durgill moves over toward Max, insinuating himself into the situation, making sure the younger man stays both upright and safe. He won't force his help on the man, but it's available. "I think the only thing gonna be on anybody's head, ruffian, is the wherry shit when you're hangin' like a herdbeast in the baker's rooms."
Waine is about as soaked as Kaskan is, Exon and Laskin however still have some dry clothing on their person's. "Get your kit off," he suddenly directs them both. "Er what? No way." - "Fuck that for a joke." Their voices co-mingling as they start to back away from Waine who simply continues to advance on the two young fighters, "Get it off or I'll do it for you. The lad here needs some warmth." - "Well why didn't ya say so," Exon grumbles when explanation is given and in short order strips off his shirt and hands it over. As to Laskin? Weeell, he's not so lucky for he's the one with the dry trousers but considering the look in Waine's eyes he's not about to argue with the big guy and so is soon stripped down to nothing but his undershorts and boots. A most amusing sight if not for the seriousness of the situation at hand. Both shirts and the pair of trousers and then handed carried back to Kaskan, "You want I should do it for ya?" The offer made as the Bollian guard's greying pallor is taken in.
Er no, Max isn't doing too well for both the fellis and the numbweed have all but worn off. Swaying on his feet a little he reaches out a hand toward Durgill once the other end of the rope is securely tied to the tree, looking to lean on the older man's shoulder for support. "M'fine just gonna need ya too" gesturing vaguely toward the edge of the cliff and then back at Crud. Yeah he wants Durgill to position the idiot at the edge for him. Once that's done, with some prodding of sword from the old guard no doubt, Max sends a wolfish grin to the older man, "Here we go." And with hand to Durgill's shoulder for balance and a shout of, "Look out below," he sets his boot firmly to Crud's arse and shoves, sending the man arse over kettle off the edge of the cliff where he'll remain dangling until the wherries have had their fill of him. So much for taking him back for Kaskan to play with.
No doubt Kaskan will get a hearty laugh in retelling this part of the story to Jhorn later, but no, at the moment humor is the farthest from his emotions. Giving Wayne a nod he sets a hand on Jhorn’s back, saying, “Jhorn, can you understand me? They’re gonna get you in some warm clothes so you can fly *between*, ok?” A soft sigh slips past his lips at the lack of response. “It’s all over. You’re safe.” Safe, but how far out of harm’s reach? Only a trip to the healer’s will tell. Hearing L’han’s offer Kaskan is quick to nod, but adds, “First I have to make sure Max is…” The yell from above cuts his comment short and jerks his gaze upward as well, blue eyes widening at the sight that greets them.
Crud was not prepared for a push. Stocky hands pulling angrily at the rope he managed to loosen it, but not enough that it wouldn’t trip him up when suddenly he found himself shoved in the direction of the cliff. About the moment that gravity kicked in and pulled him over he was hoping that he hadn’t done so good a job at removing the rope and seconds later he found out exactly how good the hold was. A loud shout is cut short as the rope jerks him to a halt, his hefty bulk putting quite the strain on the tether. Scrambling to get a grip on it he bangs several times against the rocky cliff face, the entire time shouting curses foul enough to make a sailor blush.
The shout from above has Waine throwing a look upward and then his mouth curls about a wide grin when Crud comes hurtling over the edge of the cliff. Exon and Laskin openly chortle with darkly tainted glee at the sight. Clearly none of the three of them are surprised by Max's actions. "That's it you heap of dung. Swing!" the burly second roars out his approval and then turns back to the task at hand. Working as quickly as he can though not as gently as a woman or healer might, Waine soon has Jhorn out of his sodden garments and into the much bigger but dryer ones on loan. In short order, the teen is carefully lifted in big arms and carried over to L'han to strap in and take back to the Weyr.
Its not moments later that the air suppresses and then sucks back in again sending a downward draft of chilling air that signals the arrival of a large brown dragon from Between. Landing a short distance away from Escaeth so as not to crowd her, M'las dismounts and stares about him, "Daaaang, you boys really know how to have a good time!"
It takes some effort and a whole lot of leaning on Durgill but Max and the old guard soon join the others the edge of an exhausted but triumphant grin crooked onto one corner of the crimelord's mouth. It slips as dark eyes track to where Jhorn is, "He gonna be okay?" That to Kaskan as Exon steps forward to offer the Bollian guard a literal shoulder to lean on to take him to either the green or the brown. Laskin and Waine will take care of getting the runners back to Landing.
L'han looks up as soon as the other dragon emerges from between as Escaeth trills a welcome to the brown as Jhorn is finally handed up to the greenrider. The boy is seated in front of L'han so he can hold onto him as he straps Jhorn in as best as L'han can. He looks over to M'las and gives him a riderly salute. "Ok then, last call, anyone that wants a ride, get on now, otherwise we're going." Escaeth stirs as gets ready to fly, although L'han will have her wait for anyone to hop onboard, be it Kaskan, or anyone else before the green will finally lift off and head into between for Eastern.
Kaskan eases an arm around Exon’s offered shoulder even as he looks to Max, light blue gaze a stark contrast to the ugly and colorful bruises marring his visage. . “I hope so. He’s probably got a concussion. Faranth let that be all.” Holding his friend’s gaze for a long moment of silent understanding, he lifts his good arm to grasp Max’s forearm against his and give it a squeeze. “Thanks for watching my back, mate,” he says with a grin, and then he lets Exon lead him to one of the dragons for a lift back to Eastern.
Finally, it’s over.
(Or is it………..?)
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." – Mad dash by all to save Jhorn.
