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Kalas' Writing Exploits - Kalas - 15-10-2014 11:05 AM
So, as most of you know, I'm a pretty bad-ass writer and I feel as if I should have somewhere to display my scriptures of epic literature. Thus, I have created this thread with the intention of doing exactly that.
These literary delights may vary in size and format but I can assure you, be it an RP Post, Short Story or simply Background Fluff, each and every piece will be crafted with the utmost care and attention that they deserve. However, only the best shall make it into this hallowed hall.
LOLJOKE!
READ MAH SHYT!
Operation: HUMMINGBIRD
Access to this document requires UNSC Office of Naval Intelligence Section-III level 4 clearance or above. If you do not possess such clearance and are viewing this material, you are currently committing crimes against the UNSC and by association, the Unified Earth Government. Punishment for these crimes will result in prosecution in a Military Court of Law which could end in Dishonourable Discharge, Lifetime Imprisonment and/or, in extreme cases, Execution.
Conflict: Insurrection
Date: 2545-2548
Outcome: Mission Objective Accomplished. Results are Ongoing. (See: Operation: WOODPECKER for further details)
Overview
Operation: HUMMINGBIRD was one of many Sub-Operations authorized by the Office of Naval Intelligence Section-III, under the umbrella of Operation: TREBUCHET, that were performed outside of the Epsilon Eridani and Eridanus systems. These so-called 'Black Operations', which took place during 2525-2550, were never meant to exist on record outside of Section-III's databases. Reasons being because the focus was supposed to be seen as fighting the Covenant and Operation: TREBUCHET had been 'officially' deactivated. As such, much of the data of these other 'Black Operations' has now been expunged. This report has not been altered, however, due to the continued events caused by this Operation. (See: Operation: WOODPECKER for further details)
The objective of Operation: HUMMINGBIRD was to infiltrate the Insurrectionist faction known as the United Rebel Front on the planet Victoria, by way of a double agent, to remain informed on the current movements of Insurrectionist Forces amongst all UNSC controlled systems. The target of this Operation was Insurrectionist Jonathan Anders; A known high-level Commander and well-respected Militant of Camp New Hope. After the capture and compromisation of the target, they were kept accountable and cooperative via blackmailing methods.
A specially drafted team was selected to perform this Operation. The 37th Tactical Deep Ground Surveillance Unit; An ODST Task Force, separate from UNSC Marine Corps control and answering directly to Section-III, was composed especially for the aforementioned 'Black Operations'. Five members of this Unit were chosen to complete the Mission Objective. The sixth and final member, Specialist Jason Anders (Now promoted to Corporal), who was at the time serving in the 53rd Armoured Division on Actium, was ordered to be redeployed within the UNSC Marine Corps and immediately assigned to the 37th Tactical Unit. Specialist Anders' inclusion for this Operation was seen as a failsafe in the event of non-compliance from the target. Gunnery Sergeant Matthew D. Brown, who lead the team, was ordered that, in the event of non-compliance, he and the remainder of the team were to torture and threaten the life of Specialist Anders, after revealing his identity, to assure the target's cooperation.*
*This section is due for Expungement upon deactivation of Operation: HUMMINGBIRD.
Timeline of Events
February 17th 2545:
Operation: HUMMINGBIRD was sanctioned by Admiral Margaret Parangosky, Director of the UNSC's Office of Naval Intelligence.
February 28th 2545:
Gunnery Sergeant Matthew D. Brown hand-picks the team from candidates of the 37th Tactical Unit.
March 14th 2545:
The five-man team board the stealth corvette UNSC Dark Favour and begins travelling to the Eridanus system..
May 5th 2545:
The UNSC Dark Favour stations just outside of the Eridanus system and awaits further orders.
May 27th 2545:
Specialist Jason Anders is redeployed to the UNSC Marine Corps and assigned to the 37th Tactical Unit.
June 13th 2545:
Specialist Jason Anders rendezvous with Gunnery Sergeant Matthew D. Brown and the rest of the team onboard UNSC Dark Favour.
June 17th 2545:
The team boards the DCS Freighter UNSC An Apple a Day (AAD-000679842) which is headed to Victoria.
January 5th 2546:
UNSC An Apple a Day arrives on Victoria.
January 6th 2546:
The team begins Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol to acquire target's location and ascertain most suitable opportunity for abduction.
April 12th 2548:
Team executes ambush of an Insurrectionist Patrol Convoy which target is confirmed to be moving with. Target is captured and offered opportunity to comply. Target accepts offer immediately after Specialist Jason Anders reveals his identity and tortures target, preventing the need for Gunnery Sergeant Brown's secondary orders.
April 13th 2548:
Mission Accomplished. The team is shipped off world after setting up a secure communications relay for the target to send information via.
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - Kalas - 15-10-2014 08:12 PM
Went through a really tough time a few months ago and I ended up writing some pretty dark stuff. After reading through what I actually wrote a couple weeks ago, I was fascinated by it. I totally didn't even realize the story I wrote in the second poem/rap.
I am the raw force of ten thousand impure thoughts of unlawful abortion,
Only the poor fortune of a small portion will cause the misconception of my words of caution,
Causing their minds to think that the red lights of warning,
Means that they can stand the heat of the fighting and warring,
But I'll leave their voices hoarse as they scream during the scorching,
And nothing shall survive the onslaught of my awful course of sick-minded distortion.
Despite my age, I've walked down the six paths of the hermit sage,
Searching for the beast, lurking in the darkest of caves,
Prepared to enslave the monster with these bars as a cage,
And now I have changed, finally attained the flame,
I am the all-consuming, unrelenting Fire of Rage.
So listen while I'm speaking, 'Cause I won't be repeating,
I'll immolate your body even if you lie sleeping,
And you won't endure the purgatory flames of my reaping,
Nobody saw this holocaust coming as if I was creeping,
But I just let the anger deepen,
Allowed it to reside inside while I tried to hide my true feelings of rage, I'm seething,
Until finally I confronted the beast and decided to unleash him.
And now all shall bow to the true strength of my power,
You won't ignore the blood and the gore that I shower,
I'll leave you scared and alone in the darkest part of the last hour,
And laugh darkly as I rip out your heart, whilst you cower.
Resistance is futile, you don't have it in you,
I'll burn off your skin then feast on muscle and sinew,
Courage, it's the same stupid trait within fools,
Just ask one from before and you'll see what he's been through,
But, oh wait, it's too late, he's already dead,
I've incinerated his body, taken my trophy; his head,
You can see his gaze of dread as it hangs above my bed,
Streaks run down his face but these are tears of red.
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - WeAreNobody - 15-10-2014 08:27 PM
Kalas man I really like these, especially the story and flow I the second poem/rap you wrote. It's plain to see like you said the influence of that rough time you went through, maybe because I went through something similar.
"Despite my age, I've walked down the six paths of the hermit sage,
Searching for the beast, lurking in the darkest of caves,
Prepared to enslave the monster with these bars as a cage,"
"I've incinerated his body, taken my trophy; his head,
You can see his gaze of dread as it hangs above my bed,
Streaks run down his face but these are tears of red."
These two parts gave me mad chills.
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - Kalas - 15-10-2014 08:41 PM
Thanks man, I'm glad that you like them and it's good to see that others can relate to the feelings behind the words.
"I'll leave you scared and alone in the darkest part of the last hour,
And laugh darkly as I rip out your heart, whilst you cower."
These two lines were always the ones that struck me the most when I read it over and over. Not just because of the words though, but the constant rhyming in such a short space. As if i'd reached the peak of my anger. It's weird.
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - Kalas - 13-11-2014 05:00 PM
Check it, Yo!
The Thief Prince:
Cloaks & Daggers
Prologue
Cloaks & Daggers
Prologue
Pain. I could feel it washing against me gradually, as if slowed by time somehow. It was a dull pain, however. More akin to an ache rather than the piercing heat of searing flesh. It was a feeling I'd experienced before. On the few occasions that someone had taken such a disliking to me that they’d then saw fit to beat me half to death. This happened to be one of those times. Another explosion of pain ruptured within my abdomen, harder than before. I lurched forward, unable to control my reaction to this new hurt. I vomited. A coagulation of blood, bile and my half-digested breakfast. It hit the stone floor with a warm splat, also managing to cover the dark, leather boot of my assailant.
"You bast-" He began before another voice cut him off.
"Come now, Master Alseif. I expected you to take much more than that before showering the floor with your breakfast."
I gasped for air, breathing heavily due to the retching I'd just submitted my body to. I eyed the man through the sweat-soaked fringe of my dark hair, draped over my face during my latest beating. "Go fuck yourself." I breathed. It was my pleasantly defiant nature that normally got me caught up in these type of situations. This time was different though, they had taken me during the night. A bag-over-the-head job. Quick and organised. Like someone had been watching me for a while and had planned it all. Most of all it was clean, way too clean. I mean, sure, they were laying into me now, but if this had been any of the usual scum that writhed within the Undercroft, I knew at least one of them wouldn't have been able to resist giving me a quick hiding before hand, 'Just in case'. No, this wasn't just some ordinary rabble of crooks, sent to pluck me from my less-than-infrequent moments of peace and tranquility. These guys were professional, which was far more than I deserved, but I very much enjoyed my sleep, so I was right to be pissed off.
Another strike hit me across the face. The calloused hand causing me to spew more blood and more spittle from my slack-jawed gob. Amidst the pain and the tiredness, I kept asking myself only one question: Why go through all this trouble for a clean snatch only to beat me senseless without asking any questions or accusing me of anything? And then it hit me, just as the follow-up hand did on the other side of my face. There were only two suspects to who could be behind it. Either it was Sloan, a Topman from within the Undercroft. One that held more than his fair share of power throughout the City of Shadows. Or it was the Royal Guard, sent into the arsehole of Balast to fish me out for reasons unknown. Sloan's motives I could probably understand. My operations had been more than a thorn in his side for a while now.
But the Royal Guard? Which of the Gods' vengeance could possibly motivate them to come all the way down here for little old me? Assuming 'here' was still the Undercroft, of course. When they'd taken me, I had been asleep but they'd woken me without any trouble. However, aside from the injuries I now owned, I didn't feel as though they'd hit me to knock me out. Which meant the use of a spell or a potion. Both of those things being far beyond even the powerful reach of Sloan. Which left only the Royal Guard, backed by the King and his Order of Magi. Witch-men and women who devoted their lives to ancient texts of power and the concoction of potions and poisons for the exclusive use of the King. And if that was true then I was in a lot more trouble than I'd first thought.
"Fucking Royals." I grunted, the pain in my jaw making it difficult to talk without it hurting.
"I see you've finally figured it out." The hidden voice said. "It only took you three days."
Three days? When had that happened? And how was I even still alive? I gazed upon the mess I'd made of the floor, noticing that, instead of the usual mush of sausages and beans, it was a mixture of milk and oats; typical guard slop. I spat on it, contorting my face into a look of disgust. Well, as much as I could given the bruises and blood. It meant that they'd been beating, drugging and healing me for three straight days. And they probably didn't heal me completely anyway. Knowing them, they'd have left me in just enough pain to attempt to sleep with, whilst some sop spoon-fed me a bowl of crappy oatmeal. Then they blanked me and started the process all over again.
I almost began to ask them why. Why bother for three days? Why not just K-. And that's when it clicked. They couldn't just kill me. They needed me. They needed me alive. A wry smile crept across my battered face. Bloodied welts glistened in the meager light emitted from the low-lit candles that were scattered around where ever the hell they were keeping me. It was a well-known interrogation tactic used by the Royal Guard, but considering my situation and being bashed around the head more times than I could remember, it’s only fair that I’d forgotten that they were using it on me.
"And yet you still haven't dusted me. Which means I must be important." The coy tone in my voice caused the owner of hidden voice to step partially into the light. The dark stubble of his wide jaw and his dry lips being the only features he allowed me to see. But it was enough. I could see the snarl formed by his mouth, one that spread across the entirety of his face. I could see it clearly, even if the upper half were shrouded in darkness. "So then, how insane is this request that you've been trying for three days to convince me to accept?"
"What makes you think it's a request? Surely you don't think you're that important, do you?" He replied. Answering questions with more questions, how typical of a Royal.
"The clean snatch, the use of potions and healing spells, then blanking me so I don't remember the daftness of it when you next come to question me? Someone obviously thinks I am." I smiled again and he clenched his jaw.
“You’re not as clever as you think you are, boy. But you’ll do.” He said. Stepping further into the light, I finally got a good look at his face.
“I’ll do for what? Some crazy scheme that neither you nor any of your witches can summon up the balls to do for themselves?” I spat as soon as I finished the question, more blood mixed with saliva. Magic was a foul thing. There was no place for it among the world, not when men could carry out the same tasks just as easily, or so I thought anyway.
“This ‘crazy scheme’, as you so adequately put, has been sanctioned by the very order of the King Himself.” He stated, very matter-of-fact-like. I watched the man in silence, trying to gauge him and whether what he said was the truth. Clearly he hadn’t convinced me before, otherwise I’d have been out and skipping along to the King’s tune already. "Bring her out." He ordered. Her? What the hell did he mean by Her?
I heard a heavy door open and then close quickly. It made a thud as it closed which reverberated around the room. I could then hear shuffling steps as whoever it was moved through the darkness. They seemed to take forever and my body was growing increasingly more tired. Another hit around the back of my head soon woke me, however. It was then that she reached the edge of the light, the furrows of her white dress barely revealed by the poor emittance, but I could tell that was where she stood.
With another step she was cast fully into the light. I was just able to make out the features of her face. Her high cheekbones, her dark eyes, a small nose and soft, pink lips. She looked extremely familiar to me, but I definitely would have remembered if I'd bedded her. Long, raven hair draped over each of her shoulders and down over her breasts, stopping at around her midsection. It reminded me of when I was merely a boy eight summers, maybe even seven. I had definitely met this girl before, but I couldn't figure out where or when. By the time my gaze had returned to her face, she'd fixed me with an unimpressed look before uttering two words, "Hello Kalas."
Then I remembered. We'd met when we were both children. My mouth dropped open as much as it could, given the beating it had taken. I stumbled on a few words before finally managing, "Oh shit." It was all I could say in return.
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - WeAreNobody - 13-11-2014 06:08 PM
Very good Kalas! I greatly enjoyed reading this masterpiece and look forward to more
As I read Alseif I was like, "that sounds so fucking familiar" and then of course it hit me haha good job with the first person pov, not something I usually do and I don't think I've seen you do it too often but nonetheless it was fantastic, lovely flow and descriptions. And I've always got a soft spot for sneaky thieving bastards
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - Kalas - 13-11-2014 06:23 PM
Thanks Bruh! I'm glad that you liked it.
Haha! I did consider a different name but I liked my usual one
And this is really my first proper attempt at first person. But I've been reading some incredible books written in first person so I guess they're what inspired me. (Prince of Thorns & Among Thieves if you're interested)
I have plenty more written for this at the moment but I'm holding back until I have a few chapters under my belt. Transitioning from short stories to novels isn't an easy task. O.o
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - WeAreNobody - 13-11-2014 06:26 PM
Tis a good name
I've been meaning to read the Prince of Thorns and that series, been reading Scott Lynch's Lies of Locke Lamora and that series and just finished. About to start Glen Cook's Black Company chronicles now.
I feel you man, I've been toiling away at short stories and trying to get into novels, actually writing about thieves myself at the moment haha but keep up the good work and I look forward to what's under your belt in the future
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - Kalas - 14-11-2014 11:10 AM
Oh man, Locke Lamora! I love that series. And if you like that then you definitely need to read Among Thieves by Douglas Hulick, also the sequel Sworn In Steel. I've taken a lot of inspiration from those books alone and they were the reason I wanted to try first person to begin with.
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - Kalas - 14-11-2014 01:33 PM
Also, here you go Wolf. A present for you.
Chapter One
The day before.
I whistled as I walked down the main road of the Bright Well Cordon, my birthplace and my home. It's also my territory. Bright Well was one of the many Cordons that made up the Undercroft. Each of them had their own markets, taverns and barbers, including houses of varying size and disrepair. They were small towns really, except the borders were crammed next to each other, which was cause for a lot of blurred lines and confusion. A top-down view of the Undercroft would look something like a roughly-shaped hexagon, filled with twelve smaller hexagons, or so the architects drawings I'd had pinched showed.
Each Cordon had its own Topman, an unofficial boss that would govern crime and run their organisations within those Cordons. Some Topmen governed more than one. Sloan owned four, followed by Coale who held three. I owned just the one and there were four other Topmen too. The Cordons nearer the center were generally the most populated and, without a doubt, the richest. Which is what gave Sloan his pulling power, since he held all four of the richest Cordons.
Originally, the Undercroft had been built by the Orlanthian Clan leader on the eastern side of the city of Balast to house refugees camped outside of the walls after the various wars that had plagued the Empire had destroyed their homes. This was back when the Empire was broken into many different countries and ruled by warring clans. The Orlanth clan had emerged victorious in uniting the Empire after centuries of fighting. But rather than moving the refugees into the city or rebuilding the old towns and hamlets, they decided to expand upon the Undercroft to house more refugees and even began housing the poor. In a matter of months, Balast, the new capital of the Empire had been transformed into a beacon of wealth and power, all whilst the poor and homeless were housed in poverty and squalor. Which, in the eyes of the rich, was more than they deserved.
The truth is that while the rich merchants and traders drank wine and ate lavish meals with the nobles, the Undercroft had grown larger, expanding out towards to east, eventually reaching the shore and developing it’s own Docklands. Vagrants and criminals from all over the Empire soon began to populate the refugee city, finding it to be the perfect place to commit terrible crimes and get away with it. The Royals had once policed the Undercroft, making sure crime rates were low and the people lived in peace. But since the start of the war with the eastern emperor by the name of Malik Nassir Al'Habad, the Guard's numbers had become too thin and unable to cope with serving two cities and fighting a war. So the King ordered the Royals to withdraw from the second city, leaving it to descend into squalor and evolve into the City of Shadows. Where Balast had become the trade capital of the Empire, the Undercroft had taken the mantle of the capital of crime.
The main road was filled with people. Stall traders, laborers, butchers, craftsmen and, of course, the unsuspecting victims of the crimes that ran high throughout the cordon. We call them Civs. Just your everyday civilian or city-folk ready to be served upon at any point during the day. To be served upon is have a crime committed against you. Whether it's being lifted, snatched, dusted or any other criminal act performed against your person. To be a Civ meant you’re a potential target for any of the Undercroft's true children. People like myself, the criminals and vagabonds that litter the shadowed streets of this rotting city. We are the Akh Nar. In a far off land, where the inhabitants speak in strange tongues, that is the name for us thieves and murderers. It is under this name that we commit our heinous acts. In some ways it unites us, tells us apart from the everyday dross that clings to life within these wretched streets. We rally to the title and strive to live up to its meaning. Being Akh Nar, or Akin as it is often shortened to, is like being accepted in a world that was made to shed people of acceptance, to strip them of worth and grind them down to nothingness.
Today, in this market, both Civ and Akin were out in force. With a learned eye it's quite easy to pick out who is from either group, but just because you can spot an Akin that doesn't mean you can let your guard down. Fortunately for me, I'm a Topman, which meant that all of the Akin in this Corden worked for me. Though it may not have been directly, these low-level Scrubs had Heads who had Bosses who worked for Lows who then did work directly for me. It can be a confusing arrangement at times but as long as you kept your face known, which I was currently doing, you'd have no problems with the Scrubs not recognising who you were and mistaking you for a Civ. It gets rather messy when that happens. I walked down the main road alone, no one stood in my way and those who knew me greeted me with a discreet nod or tip of the hat. Some would wink, whilst others would twitch their noses. They all had own different greetings but they all meant the same thing. They recognised me. Seeing a Topman in person wasn't usually a common thing, most of my fellows prefer to sit back whilst their Lowers show their faces. Not me, I valued the fear in a man's eye when he knew my face and what it meant for him to be seeing it. I kept myself well known so that if anyone got a slight inkling of a notion to fuck me over, my face would pop up out of memory and remind them exactly why they shouldn't.
I neared upon a fruit and veg stall, one of many in the long line of stalls that stretched all the way down the main road on both sides. This particular one, sold a rather rare fruit known as Red-Fleshed Dragon Fruit. It was pink in colour and looked somewhat like a small Pineapple, though only in shape and texture of the skin. Inside the fruit resembled a kiwi, but with red flesh instead of green, or white if you've had a standard Dragon Fruit. The flesh mixed with seeds tasted mostly bland but managed to hold on to a mild sweetness that only revealed itself after swallowing. It was an amazing thing and curiously deceptive. But it also turned your piss red if you ate too much of it.
I held up one of the exotic fruits and eyed the stall owner. “How ripe are these?” I asked. It was a direct question, one that should be easily answered by any experienced fruit vendor, but the aging man who stood behind it hesitated as he regarded the fruit.
“They arrived from the Docklands yesterday. Only two crates in total, but packed full. My youngest son hauled them all the way by handcart.”
“When are you expecting the next shipment?”
“Tomorrow morning. My son has already made his way and should arrive at the Docklands early this evening.”
“I’ll take the two crates that you have now and I’ll come and inspect the others tomorrow. Have the crates delivered to my warehouse, as usual.” I pulled out a medium-sized, brown leather pouch and offered it to the vendor. It wasn’t bulging too much but the stall owner could easily tell that it held a generous amount of copper coins. “There’s a little extra in there for your son.”
“Thank you, Master Alseif” The man gracefully took the pouch and bowed his head slightly. I tossed the Dragon Fruit in the air a little and caught it again before walking off. To a Civ, the conversation I just had with the man would have been nothing out of the ordinary. Just two gentlemen discussing the shipment and purchase of exotic fruit. But really, it was about the delivery of stolen goods to my warehouse which I would be selling on. When vendor had told me that the crates were ‘packed full’ he meant that they held stolen goods I had offered to buy from him.
The stall owner was one of my Bosses, Tenjin, who ran a theft operation under the guise of a fruit delivery service. He would specifically order in exotic fruits, far too expensive for the common Civ, but they did attract wealthier customers from all over the city. Once Tenjin had established a good customer relationship with these wealthier folk, he’d offer his special delivery service, where one of his ‘sons’ would deliver the orders directly to their doors. More often than not, the boys were then tasked with bringing the orders inside the houses of the wealthy customers, where they could then begin their real jobs. Casing the place for expensive ornaments to steal. They’d then return a few the nights later and lift the place of its valuables. The goods would then be packed into his fruit crates and delivered to my warehouse so that they could be sold on.
It was a rather lucrative arrangement for both of us. I paid Tenjin a handsome sum for his services, minus his fee for operating in my Corden, and I would then fence the items through one of my Lowers, which kept the money flowing verily through all of our pockets. Being a Topman, however, I didn’t need to do any of this. I could just happily sit back and reap in the ‘taxes’ I earned from all the Akin working within my Corden. But that would be boring, I found the working life of a Lower much more enjoyable, even despite the dangers it possessed.
But that’s where Gibari came in. My right-hand man, so to speak. A hired sell-sword who had been in my employ since before I could even remember. He was at least ten years my senior and well-built with glowing golden skin, littered with a fair share of scars. He had brown, close-cropped hair that he kept slicked over through the use of some kind of wax, which was far too expensive if you asked me, and deep brown eyes. The kind that could stop a man’s heart mid-charge and make him turn on his heels. To any man, Gibari looked every bit a killer. Except that he was often draped in expensive silk shirts and leather hides. He kept an over-sized claymore strapped to his back, accompanied by a long, curved sword at his hip. To the women, he was a stallion. The type of guy that would swoop you up off your feet and whisk you away to somewhere exotic to make sweet love to you and all that other crap. But, despite the fact that Gibari was far from being any where near that kind of man, he didn’t mind playing up to the image they expected him to be, which often resulted in more than a few loud nights. Not that I was bothered, as long as he was able to fulfill his job, whatever he got up to during the dead of night was none of my concern.
I glanced over my left shoulder, easily picking out the large form of my dashing protector as he came up to walk at my side. “I can never understand how you could be comfortable with red-coloured piss.” He said.
“Easily.” I responded but didn’t expand on my answer. I had decided that today would be a good day to be facetious, it’d annoy Gibari which was always a good thing.
“Care to explain?” He said, raising his eyebrows with a slight shrug as he always did whenever I responded flippantly.
“Not really. Say, how did your little venture with that brunette go last night?” We’d spent the evening getting ourselves suitably drunk in my local tavern. And by ‘local’ I meant ‘owned by me’.
“Ah, you know, how it usually goes. What about you? That raven-haired girl looked promising.”
“Eh, I fell asleep.” I looked at the floor as I said it, my cheeks flourishing slightly pink. Gibari couldn’t help himself, a burst of laughter escaped his lips startling the people walking by.
“Again? What is that, the fourth or fifth time now?” He asked with a smile playing at his lips. It was becoming more of a common occurrence. We’d spend the night drinking, charm a pair of half-decent ladies and then I’d always doze off when it came to the fun part. It was beginning to annoy me, but I allowed Gibari to amuse himself.
“I think it’s the fourth. Honestly, I’m beginning to think that there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I should speak to Old Man Rivers. Surely he has a herb or a plant that could help?”
“Or maybe you should just drink less?” He replied, already knowing what my reaction would be.
“Blasphemy!” I exclaimed, mockingly showing an expression of shock. We let out a small laugh as we continued to walk down the main road. It was the same ritual with Gibari. He’d show up, watching my back from out of nowhere, we’d share a laugh about the previous night’s exploits and then we’d get on to business. “Any word from Devin and the others?” I asked, settling the tone.
“Just the usual squabbling. Nothing that can’t wait for Church.” Church was a weekly meeting I had with my Lowers and Bosses. It was the only way to contact me, unless the need was absolutely urgent. This week we’d be a man short. Sid, a rather new Boss, had recently been found guilty of being a rat, working for Sloan no less. So I’d had Gibari cut him into pieces and leave his body parts sprawled all the way down the main road, which caused quite a stir as you could imagine. However, I’d sent his head to Sloan just to keep him off my back for a while. He wouldn’t rush to try and install another spy within my ranks so soon after he knew I’d found out about Sid. Today’s session was going to be an interesting one, mainly because I was going to shout at people. Finding out about Sid was great and all but he’d been a Boss for nearly three months before he’d been caught out. And a lot can be said in three months.
We continued walking in silence, eventually leaving the hustle and bustle of the main road. We entered the maze of narrowing side-streets and darkened alleyways that made up most of my Corden. The buildings were almost squeezed together. They each had their own tiny doors and windows that were as run down as the rest of the buildings. They were homes mainly, but the odd shop would pop up and occasionally a back-alley watering hole, over-packed with drunkards and the like. At the sides of the street were a mixture of the homeless, street urchins, prostitutes and the Akin. Those who knew me gave their respective acknowledgements.
The pair of us turned down a particularly dark alley. This one had its very own stream of piss trickling down the right side. The stench of it made my eyes water. If Gibari could smell it too, he showed no signs of it. Eyes watched us as we walked past, they were ominous and predatory but I strode tall. No one would dare attack either of us. There weren’t many who hadn’t heard of Gibari’s skill with a blade and he was protecting me which meant that I was clearly someone important, too important to be getting yourself cut in half by Gibari’s massive claymore. Not that I was useless with a blade. I had used mine on one or two previous occasions, with some impressive skill if I do say so myself. But when you’re a Topman, you’re expected to let others do the fighting for you, it was something to do with honour. Or was it respect? I forget the reasons behind it. All I worry about is whether my back is covered. And with the big man at my side, I could expect that and more.
Gibari slowed his pace so I followed his lead. He let out a quick bird-like whistle, a signal to one of the guards up above. Among the Akin, there were those who preferred to travel across the rooftops. It was known as the Skyway and it was quite often used by Thieves, Shades and Blades, agile folk who had a knack for escaping. Ever since I'd stepped out of the tavern this morning, a group of Shades had been following my every move. They were my very own protection detail, provided and paid for by my Lowers. Gibari would command them, even despite him only being an associate to the Akh Nar. He'd been around long enough for them to follow his lead. He motioned for them to hold here and waited. We had arrived at an old, abandoned chapel. A prayer house to the Gods, back in a time when people actually prayed. Now it was the designated place for our aptly named Church sessions.
The following whistle was a reply to say that the surrounding area was secure, that it was safe to enter the chapel. Gibari lead me to the rotted, wooden doors. They were blackened from fire damage and completely stripped of any brass that was bolted onto them once upon a time. Too many winters had seen the wood begin to bow and break. A single bang of Gibari’s rock-like fist caused the doors to part slightly. A pair of eyes peeked out of the darkness inside. “Balthazar’s Beard.” Growled Gibari. It was the pass code, for this week’s session. I’d always found them unnecessary, to be honest. If I wanted in so badly, I could quite easily down the man with a well-placed thrust of my Blackamoor Steel Cutlass. As could anyone else, if they dared. But the others had voted on it so I was obliged to abide by it. The doors began to part even more and I strode in ahead of my bodyguard, descending the staircase that lead to a large hall. There were a few guards stationed with torches to light the darkened room but I paid them no attention as I rushed past them. Toward the end of the hall there was an altar and a massive granite statue of Balthazar, a monument to the God of War. But I wasn't interested in praying. I walked behind the large statue, beginning to notice the soft glow of firelight coming from the floor. The source of it was hidden behind a wooden trap door with another staircase that spiraled into the ground. After lifting the door open, I was greeted by sounds of loud shouts and arguing. The others had arrived before me it seems. Gibari closed the trap door behind us and we descended the stairs together.
This is the first half of the chapter.