Whitepaws - Downtime//Freeplay

EPISODE 2

[Fighting Pits - Dusk]

Tekahionwake was dead.

He knew he was not a ghost. He could feel the breeze on his bare chest, amplified by the lines of sweat. His warpaint didn't smear. His eyes didn't blink. But he knew he was not a ghost. If he was a ghost, they wouldn't have cheered so loudly. Yet, in a twist of bitter irony, that was precisely how he knew Tekahionwake was dead.

They were cheering for "Big Joe."

His opponent was large. Well known. Favored. It didn't matter; the way his arms sagged, his chest puffed, his legs nearly buckled, all pointed toward an inevitability he had not yet come to accept. His name was Karmel. "Killer Karmel" or "Karmel the Killer" depending on which flyer one read. All he was killing now was time. He approached and "Big Joe" watched intently. A right hook was coming. He could see it in Karmel's eyes. It was all he had left. One last chance to win it all with an all-or-nothing haymaker.

It was his swan song.

Big Joe took a step forward. It was bait. It was no different than the late winter underbrush burns his people used to do, just before the spring rains. The clear meadows that resulted would lull in even the most alert game. Karmel was lulled in, not by hunger or thirst, but for the easy, desperate win. He thought Big Joe was the game, but he had another thing coming. The right hook came in heavy and slow. He didn't even lead with a jab. Big Joe was already moving away and to the left. In the same time it took Karmel to fully extent and hit only air, Big Joe had closed the distance. His right elbow whistled in like a scalpel through pig skin and cracked off of the bigger man's right cheek.

His head rocked back. Eyes glazed. Joe was already putting two lefts into his kidneys. Karmel's knees began to buckle, but it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot. Karmel had ceased to exist, no longer visible anymore. And he wasn't fucking Big Joe anymore either.

Tekahionwake stood defiant as Matchitehew fell to his knees before him. The Dog Clan's champion had been so sure of himself. So full of pride. So conceited. He was their best, and he knew it. And this fight was necessary lest an all-out-war break out. A war that Bear Clan was in no position to fight, let alone win. Tekahionwake had to win. He was the Bear Clan's champion. He was Whitepaws - fury bringer and harbinger of fire. He couldn't allow himself to lose. A loss meant the unthinkable; it meant the end of a line of honor and pride that stretched back thousands of years. It meant servitude. It meant only scraping by...

He had thrown two more right crosses. Matchitehew could not be allowed to win. He could not... Silence

It was the silence that had brought him back to reality. Karmel lay on the ground, broken and defeated. His chest rose and fell, but his face was blooded beyond what it needed to be. Big Joe took a breath and looked around. Someone was slowly approaching, clearly afraid, but the threat was gone. Joe gave him a nod. He raised Big Joe's heavy, muscled arm to the sky, declaring him the winner. Two physickers came and took Killer Karmel away. He would need time to recover. He was lucky to still be breathing.

Tekahionwake looked at his hands as the crowd slowly began chanting again. Whitepaws. Redpaws. It didn't matter.

He had another fight in him. At least one more. So, he stood and waited, listening with internal disgust at the name they praised.

Big Joe... Big Joe... Big Joe...

Perhaps Tekahionwake really was dead.

Stev slid between members of the crowd, unassuming, but definitely out of place in the fighting pits. He was here with for business, rather than pleasure. The one they called 'Big Joe' had just won a match, sweaty and utterly victorious.

"I guess the victor would be the reasonable choice" Stev mused. "Ash, Rake? Shall we?" Stev edged around the pit until he was closer to the big man.

"Big Joe, was it? I have a proposition for you, we have need of a man with your talents. If we could talk once you are... finished?"

Marius gave Ashlyn some side-eye as they walked to meet with the big Severosi. This was the man she wanted to add to the crew? He shook his head. Of course, that would be the kind of person Ash would want to hang out with.

When he looked up, Marius noticed one of the bouncer glaring at him. Only then did he realize his hand was clenched around the hilt of his knife. Marius forced himself to relax his fingers, peeling them off the grip. Noisy crowds were still hard. He nodded at the bouncer, who nodded back, visibly relaxing. Another veteran, then.

Once they reached the big man, Stev took the lead.

Theoretical wrote:

"Big Joe, was it? I have a proposition for you, we have need of a man with your talents. If we could talk once you are... finished?"

"There's plenty of coin in it," added Marius. He looked around at the raucous crowd. "Not as much acclaim, though."

Ash shrugged nonchalantly, sometimes she liked leaving her brother to torture himself with what if. She had never personally met Big Joe before, but it was fun having Marius think otherwise, for now.

She has however heard the ring talk and it had been enough to convince her Big Joe would make a nice match for their little crew. Group of outsiders trying not to get swallowed by the city.

"Hey there Big Joe, I'm Ash, don't have as good a rep as you but hope you have seen me around now and then." She greets. "I have seen you fight many times, you have heart, that is why a proposed my friends to invite you in on our venture. "

Somewhere behind her people cheered and the sound of feats hitting flesh was almost drowned by it. Despite this she could hear it clearly, the adrenaline prompting her to move, to hit distant ask questions later. She inhaled deeply and released the air slowly. <<Keep calm Helker, no is not the time, later. After getting some coming back you can get lost in here all night till morning comes.>>

Tekahionwake regarded the two men stoically, hardly giving them the pleasure of even a slight nod or grunt at their appearance. The trio had all said their peace, and while the talk of coin interested him, he gave no outward signal that that's exactly what he had wanted to hear. Where he came from, it was extremely rude not to introduce one's self. Neither of the men had done so.

With no name, there is no soul. With no soul, there is no trust. The mantra of the oldest sage in the village came back to him, as clear as it had been taught to him as a boy.

He took a towel handed to him by a bouncer and wiped his face. While it soaked up the sweat, the warpaint remained. His entire head from where smooth skin met the shock of braided hair on top down to his chin was painted. As was his chest and arms. deep reds met bright whites and blacks. They looked upon him and saw a typical Severosi, perhaps. What they were actually looking at was the shame of a life dedicated to the war path.

He regarded Ash with a deeper nod, not quite a bow, but respect reflected in his eyes. He met her eyes and spoke clearly.

"I know you, yes. You fight good; though, it is humbling to hear you are something of a fan. From what I have seen, you have a fire inside you. My people know say that when a babe is born with hair the color of the burning embers and the raging furnace, it will go on to do great things. It is foretold. Do you do great things, Ash?"

His intense light brown eyes never left hers for a moment. Not as he handed back the towel, or took water. He was as still as a statue.

"I would like to think I do." Ash answers meeting Big Joe's eyes and not letting go. "Alongside the crew, we do great things together, we could do even greater things with you on the team."

She inclines her head pointing at Rake and Stev. "They'll do their introductions when ready, to be honest, I'm too much of a daredevil sometimes for their liking. They prefer to be more careful, one never knows who might be listening, we balance each other that way." Ash kept her eyes on Big Joe, she couldn't read all that was showing in them but she could feel there was some kind of test to be passed here and she would never let herself fail without doing her best.

"Right, I am forgetting my manners. Please forgive me. Marius Helker. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Marius extended his hand to the tattooed Severosi. "Would you be interested in discussing this opportunity in a less crowded place?"

Tekahionwake's eyes stayed on Ash. "Balance is important. It is the only force that prevents the world from destroying itself."

When Marius stretched out his hand, Tekahionwake regarded the man truly for the first time. He took the hand with a grip like an iron vice - not intentionally trying to cause discomfort, but simply because that was how he shook hands.

"Did you have somewhere in mind?"

The audience's attention had shifted to fights elsewhere now. Money had been distributed, and standing around talking would draw unwanted stares. Somewhere else would be smart.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

================================

The Broken Anchor was a tavern in the Docks built in a network of natural caves that had existed in the island from which the district had been constructed. It occupied a series of small to medium sized caverns with only a handful of tables each, lit by a multitude of small and dim electroplasmic lights hanging from the wires crisscrossing the ceiling. Metal flooring had been installed over the natural rock, which made it hard to sneak around. As such, it was prized by Doskvol's criminal element as a place to discuss business.

Esme, the tavern owner, stood behind the bar in the largest room. Little was known about the middle aged proprietor, but rumors abounded. A large glass pot filled with money rested on the counter. For a few pieces of silver, anyone could try to take a guess at her past and, if correct, Esme had said that they could take the pot. So far, people had only ever put money in.

When the crew walked in, Esme indicated one of the hallways and said in her raspy voice: "That one's free."

The four scoundrels made their way into the small room and sat at the single round table.

Once Esme had brought them a round of drinks, Marius leaned forward, cleared his throat, and recited the pitch. "So, here's the deal. We're smugglers and we're looking for extra muscle. If you're interested, we'll take you on for a trial job to see if we like each other, and for which you will get an equal share of the pay. If we all decide to take this partnership further, you'll get an equal share and an equal say in all future endeavors. How does that sound?"

"How it sounds depends entirely on what you smuggle."

Tekahionwake had been all business on the short walk to the bar. It was an interesting place, but he had sized the patrons up as he entered, noting how loud his feet were on the metal flooring, but enjoying the smell from the natural cave walls. It somehow overpowered the alcohol, sweat, and piss of the patrons.

Marius was up front and to the point. That could be respected. But how he answered Joe's assumed question would dictate the rest.

Tekahionwake did not hurt children. If the score was anything that depraved or sickening, he would politely decline and walk away. If they persisted, he would put Marius' head into the cave wall and see which broke first.

Marius looked at Big Joe. His jaw was tight, his knuckles paler as they clutched the tankard of ale. He was tense, like a wildcat ready to pounce. There was a right and a wrong answer here. Marius took a sip of ale to buy himself a bit of time to think.

"We deal in arcane artefacts and products. If we ever decide to diversify and you're still with us, you will get your say. We've made all our business decision by consensus."

Ash  pipes in "We also provide room." Then takes her index finger to the chin.  "And food if things are going well, sometimes it may contain rat."

Tekahionwake sat for a moment in contemplation, then nodded at Marius and Ash. The job sounded like easy money, and he could still visit the fighting pits whenever he needed to train, blow off steam, or earn some side cash.

If things went extremely well, he may have found the first true companions since his leaving the sacred lands.

"There's a surprising amount of protein in rat, you know." He said it with all seriousness, but then his mouth broke into a slight smile.

"I appreciate you all being so forward and to the point. There is power in honesty. Your operation is agreeable to me. What and when is the first score?"

OOC Thoughts:

Activities 1 & 2: Craftin' New Kicks - Rolled a 3 and a 2//failures.

The first pair of Severosi footwear turned out to be complete rubbish. Frustrated, Whitepaws tossed them into the garbage and sought out the others. He was frustrated but tried not to let it get the best of him. There was always more time. Or was there? He felt the call of that blasted sword echoing in his mind. He would need to head out soon. When he found the crew he said straight:

"We really could use a workshop. If we get one, I can get to work on some items from back home that could prove beneficial to us in the future. It'll cost us, but in the long run I think it a worthy investment. Anyways, talk it over. I need to head out."

He grabbed the sword away from the eyes of the others and headed out into the night.


Tekhionwake knew that he but had to wait long enough and someone deserving of the sword's vengeance would either find him or make themselves known. It was with that in mind that he found a dark street with plenty of access to dingy alleyways and waited patiently in the shadows.

Tekhionwake makes his way into Crow's Foot - not hard to find unsavory figures there. After about an hour, he starts to worry he won't see anything deserving of vengeance tonight, but then there it is.

A boy is walking down the street. Teenager - holding a small bag. He looks scared, glancing over his shoulder every chance he gets. Probably a kid delivering money to some crime lord for "protection" - and the coin probably isn't his either.

Tekhionwake doesn't get much time to mull over the every day cruelties of Doskvol, however. A figure approaches the boy swiftly from the opposite direction, moving slowly but his body language screams ill intent. A middle-aged ruffian, balding, scraggly beard. He whips a pistol out of his pocket and sneers.

"C'mon, give it up."

The boy sits still for a moment, almost stutters a response, and tosses the bag to the man. The thief then barks at the kid to beat it.

meta:

Tekahionwake watched as the man stole from the boy. It wasn't ideal as he didn't actively harm the boy, but threatening a child with a pistol spoke of cowardice and scumbaggery. He waited for the child to leave. No witnesses would be better. No living witnesses at least.

The sword was in his hand. He had a memory of pulling it from the scabbard on his hip, but it was vague.

Sword:

Night was pulling in tight and the thief had begun to move. Tekahionwake followed, like a cat on the cobbles. The scum stuck tight to the shadows, and when he turned into an alleyway, the Severosi knew the time had come. So too did the sword.

There was the soft tap of feet on the cobbles, double time. Tekahionwake closed the distance in an instant.

No, this was not Tekahionwake. This was not even Whitepaws. This was Big Joe.

Duskvol's attempt to make the Severosi something they could relate to was the only explanation for this turn of events. At least, Big Joe was the city's creation, and the city was ripe for the vengeance of this sword.

The sound of taps on the cobbles stopped as the distance was rapidly closed; there was a whisper of incredibly sharp steel cutting air, then leather, cotton, skin, muscle, organs, bone. A dying gasp spent with a gentle spray of blood.

In the span of one second, the sword had entered and exited the body. Big Joe moved to clean the weapon before sheathing it, stopping only when he noticed that the blood was being... soaked... up by the weapon. It was feeding.

The sword was already back in its sheathe as the bells began to ring. Big Joe was put back to bed with his new tool of violence. Whitepaws the Bear moved briskly back down winding roads, heading home, as the spirit wardens moved in.

He had a small bag tucked away in his pocket.