RP:To Lose a Thumb
Mahri is still in her wolf form, the remains of her clothing scattered across the store room. In her paws are the remains of what could have been, and probably is, a pixie. All save the bones and wings have been consumed and she dozes fitfully under the barred window. An ear twitches irregularly, listening for the sounds of footsteps or anything else out of the ordinary.
Jacklin ascends the stairs in only the manner Jack could, with a parade of huffing and whiskey. Behind her trailed an unnamed guard of Larket and Saphuel, her own swarthy warder. The guard dutifully unlatches the door with a key rusted to perfection, the easy whine of hinges past their prime were just melodic enough to bring a hazy half-grin to the face of the elder as she presents herself to the newcomer, “Back in Larket for a visit, strange talker?”
Mahri cracks open a lupine eye, the glimmer of silver irises catching the last rays of sunlight as she looks towards the door. A huff of breath and the oversized wolf lumbers to her feet to pad behind a pile of crates. The sounds of flesh and bones stretching, popping and rearranging themselves can be heard before she re-emerges. Uncaring of her state of undress, Mahri idly picks out her teeth and slides atop a barrel to regard the Queen with something bordering on boredom. "Extended it seems, Majesty." Crossing one leg over the other, she tucks a strand of hair behind one ear.
Jacklin gestures toward the plain guard with a flask gripped hand, “Go on out. You’ll hear if I need you.” Sapheul was left alone, however. With an eye lent toward the scruffy canine he inched off to the corner in search of something to occupy his time while the pair spoke. “Maybe you should do better when blowing up things. A smart person would have done better. I’ve been briefed by Sapheul and Parsithius on the events that transpired. Arien also sent me a thoughtful note, though I stoked the fire with it shortly after. Any ideas on what you’d like to happen? I have a good few, but somehow I can’t imagine you’d like them.” With a tap of her chin in the manner of dramatics, the elder shrugs with an added wink, “Though it isn’t really up to you.”
Mahri winks at the guard before he leaves, sending herself into a fit of giggles when he blanches and hurries out. The dog..well, she doesn't pay much attention to him at all. "I really don't see how it is that ye'll be t'e one to decide me punishment. It weren't Larket I attacked, it were a damn wall." With a shrug she inspects her nails. "Some o' t'e damned explosives failed on me." Lifting her cool gaze back to Jacklin's, the alpha-bitch arches a brow. "Ye could jus' lemme go and believe I won' be tryin' again."
Jacklin clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “That’s where you’re wrong.” Moving closer to the bare strange-talker as she continues with the conversation, “Arien sent you to me because she knows the type of person I am. That’s why we’re allies. Hell, that’s why people want me as an ally, ya know? I do what they won’t. This includes roughing up a canine from a clan Arien fears. Parsithius won’t do it because he has connections in that group. Arien won’t do it because he hands are too clean with that fresh ‘governor’ title. I’ll do it because, well, I have nothing to lose. And that’s a dangerous situation.” Leveling her own steely sight with that of Mahri’s the Executioner explains her method, “I want your thumbs, probably an ear. People don’t realize how important these things are until they are parted from ‘em. And I want you to acknowledge the true ruler of Vailkrin. Also, tell that damned Snow Queen of Frostmaw that if she doesn’t speak with me soon I’ll be coming up there with spear in hand. What say you to this?”
Mahri's brow seems to raise higher the closer the Queen gets and the more she talks. With what could be construed as a regretful sigh, the lupine shakes her head, "Well, ye can beat on me if ye wanna, but ye cannae have m' thumbs or ear..eit'er o' t'em." It was, however, gratifying to know that Arien and her group were afraid. She'll hold that one close to her heart. "I ain't got not'in t'lose, Majesty so I'll be akeepin' me parts right where they damn well are. As for Vailkrin, if ye t'ink dat green pixie t'ing rules it, ye be sadly mistaken. Far as I know, she agreed t'be sharin' Vailkrin an' a counsil bein' formed. The Snow Queen, herself..well, she I might be able t'get t'ye. An' if I promise t'do dat fer ye, I fully expect a pardon an' the keepin' o' me bits." She might be naked, but she isn't exactly weaponless and if the toothy grin she sends Jack's way isn't enough..well there's always magic.
Jacklin sighs, overly so in fact. The Queen begins lifting the soft black helm from the back of her head toward the front, the mesh substance slipping easily over an age worn face. With her free leather wrapped hand she twists serpentine digits around her backside, remaining stoic as they quickly unleash Uabhasach from its abode against her back. The thin metallic instrument arrives into the view of Mahri within moments of its stripping. Jack’s spear, unfortunately, seemed less than thrilled to have been stirred from its slumber. The moonlight glinting along its neck appearing fairly menacing, as much as a spear could at least. “Alright, strange-talker,” started Jack as she took another step toward Mahri. “I want those thumbs or I’ll be taking them by force. Sapheul here will get your some ice afterwards. I don’t want you bleeding out up here.”
Mahri climbs atop the barrel she's using as a chair and stares down at Jacklin. "An' I said ye cannae have them. Ye want t'ings done, I'm goin' t'be needin' t'em." Blowing hair out of her eyes, that blade is given a quick once-over. "Ye might as well be killin' me, ye daft woman. I ain't given ye what ye want. No' now, no' ever." As she's talking, steps are taken towards the steps of crates next to the barrel. The higher up she is, the less chance Jacklin will have of cutting her..and just maybe she can make it to the unlocked door and take her chances with the guards. For the God's sake, why hadn't Parsithius just done her in when he had the bleedin' chance to.
Jacklin whistles sharply to Sapheul, the swarthy cigar-smoker tensing at the shrill sound before swinging his smoky face to find Lady and Uabhasach. That wasn’t a good sign. “Get your sorry self over to that door and bring in the other. You two stand by while this girl and I examine the process of thumb removal.” Sapheul did as he was told, of course. The other shining sentry stepping within the room with eyes lowered to the floor instead of the wild women beyond. It appeared he knew exactly what to do in these situations. Jacklin returned to Mahri, though the woman had shimmied up the stacks of barrels and crates to provide a decent height advantage. “Oh, for Cyris’ sake…don’t go running on me dog.” With one intense motion the spear-arm of the Executioner was pulled as an Archer would his string, release coming at the exact moment of muscle exhaustion. Uabhasach’s apex was not aimed for Mahri, but for the supple wooden crates she stood atop. Then came an array of splinters and rusted nails erupting toward Jack and sticking, rather humorously, to her mesh mask, “I’ll break every last one of these until you’re down on the floor.” Another was smashed, then another.
Mahri is rather talented, leaping from one to the other crate just before they get smashed. "Damn it Jack!" she huffs until she's on the last crate, then that too is gone and she finds herself without cover or perch. Glaring at the woman, Mahri curls her lip in a snarl, "Don' ye t'ink bein' locked up is enough?" Sucking in gulps of air, something inky-black slithers across her eyes. Outside, shouts from trainees drift upwards, as well as a distant thunder-like rumble. Up the stone sides of the tower, vines climb. Twisting and writhing until they reach the barred window and make their way inside, even if it means breaking glass. Still coming now, thorns errupt from husk-like skin the tips turned back in a barb that drips with clear fluid. Not one, not two, not even three vines but half a dozen come into the demolished room. All of them making a beeline either for the two sentries or Jacklin herself. Once contact is made, the pythonic vegetation grasp their victim with the intent of digging those poisoned ends into flesh or through armor to incapacitate the victim. Not deadly, just toxic.
Jacklin was selfless if nothing else. Instead of her warders being caught within the slithering vines of Mahri’s creation, the human hurls herself in their path. The vines, in turn, welcome the lithe body of Jack into their strapping grasp. Two snarl themselves around her nude footing, a pair nearly eviscerates her midsection from the pressure, and the others simply find whatever hold they may. From the flood of expletives seeping from the paling lips of the Executioner one might believe that there was some amount of pain being felt. And buddy? There was more pain shooting through the limbs and core of Jack than could be imagined. Wan lids were welded shut against steely cobalt optics as the pair of guards rushed to the air of their Queen. Jacklin struggled against the vines valiantly, but a human could only do so much against the forces of magic until their toll would be taken from the enemy. As Sapheul and the other stabbed at the flora-gone-wild, the gut wrenching crunch of breastplate beneath the weight was heard. Immediately a steaming stream of cold, warm blood erupted from the nostrils of Jacklin. That blackened steel had infiltrated something alright. Finally, several vines were cut and the others, through quick thinking of Saphuel, were burned free by way of a nearby wall torch. With the furnace of fighting fueling her caved in figure, the Queen rose. And she was pissed. The next movement was sharp and fierce, launching herself toward Mahri without spear in hand and guttural cry. A brawler was never one for manners.
Mahri did love a good brawl, so while the duo were busy hacking and burning the supple vines who, though they fought back valiantly, were finally vanquished--she was getting into a better position for the coming assault. Crouched, her outstretched arms caught the leaping form of Jacklin. With the amount of blood coming from the Queen, Mahri's naked form quickly becomes slick and slippery, which works to her advantage in slipping out of that grasp. She isn't above wrapping her hands in the Queen's hair and jerking her head back while she slips behind Jack. With her strength, it'd be easy enough to simply break that royal neck. Instead, one blood coated hand searches for a wrist to twist the arm back and jerk it up to near dislocating and turn Jacklin towards Sapheul and the armour clad guard. Snarling over Jacks shoulder, she says, "Get the bloody hell outta m'way or ye lovely Queen is goin' t'find it hard t'be walkin' come the morrow."
Jacklin was now in the hands of Mahri. Grubby, blood covered and furry they were. All the greater her hatred for the strange-talker became. Never bothering to hide the vicious wince that erupted as Mahri jerked her arm from its comfy place before her. Another rasp of whiskey-laced curses filled the air and it was easy to see why. Her abdomen had been greatly injured by the vines. It was their strength which cracked her ribs and created a union between metal and flesh, the rivets of deep crimson webbing out along her bare feet. But Jacklin did not bend to the will of any living creature within Hollow. Oh no, this woman hadn’t lasted this long as a warrior without learning a trick of two. Even if it meant she became worse for wear. Sapheul and the other guard were halted by another whistle. Lips were soaked with the blood still squirting from her left nostril, pearly teeth long deprived of a clean surface to utter orders. Jack’s tongue had also taken a blow, teeth marks imbedded in the fleshy surface. She’d bit her tongue….hard. “Stay back and watch carefully.” Mahri had made one very dangerous flaw, especially with a born brawler. Feet and one arm were not secured by any strong means. Her right, stronger leg was wrapped around that of the canines and her idle hand stealthy slid upwards toward the sopping-blood face of her enemies. With the silent, unadible count of three the elder human jerked the leg of Mahri back, fingers took aim at the throat of Mahri. A snap was heard of Jacklin’s shoulder, but the pain didn’t blemish her complexion in the least. Slipping free of the hopefully downed female the Executioner lunged again. But this time with teeth aiming for the thumb of the wolf and working hand wielding a knife for the other. Courtesy of a quick toss by Sapheul.
Mahri jerked her head back to avoid grasping fingers, which only meant her grip loosened on the arm that suddenly wasn't in its joint anymore. And though she fell back, her hand was still locked in Jack's hair and tightened when those jaws went to literally bite off her thumb. Her chest heaving with every copper-scented breath she takes, the lycan tries to get her feet up under Jack..and right into those broken ribs, to push the woman up and over and hopefully onto her back with the lycan following to land sitting on the Queen's chest. The knife didn't go unnoticed but it didn't worry Mahri so much as those teeth did. "Ye don' wanna taste m'blood, Jack," she rasps out between clenched teeth. Scratches line her throat where nails had gotten her and a cut at the base of her thumb bled profusely, mingling her own with Jacks. "Jus' lemme go, damn it!" Her whole body trembles, the wolf's soul aching to be free and taste Jacklin's blood.
Jacklin never relented to pain. Rule one in the manual of how to live a long, horrible life: Pain is fuel. And Jacklin? She sure as hell had a lot of fuel going at the moment. This is what drove an Executioner to kill, to see the pain on another souls face right before their death. It was an exquisite sight to behold. Jacklin played right into the hand Mahri had expected her to; another dose of pain was exactly what the human drove for. Jack hit straight on the kicked-up heels of her canine companion and instead of being bounded onto her back as if some forlorn turtle in an awkward position, the Queen stumbled a ways from Mahri. At the stumble came the vain attempt to stay upright, her feet slipping and sliding beneath the fresh coat of vitae paint spilled across the cold stone beneath them. Both Saphuel and the other guard tensed in response to the beating their master was receiving, but followed orders strictly. They knew Jacklin could handle herself in any situation presented. Thus, they remained by the door in careful consideration of the mess before them. “You’ll be free when I get those damned thumbs!” boomed the brawler as she again raced towards Mahri. This time, though, Uabhasach was gripped in her good hand. In the rush she leapt over the reposed figure of Mahri, making a quick turn with the aid of her spears apex against the wall, and halted just short of the canine. Oddly enough, the spear was reinstalled against her back and the Executioner turned to brawler ways again. Knight and teeth made another go for the thumbs, knees aiming to pin the beasts arms down long enough to get them.
Mahri lets the wolf free, her body twisting and contorting just as Jack stumbles way so that when she does come down on Mahri..it's to find not a woman but a wolf snarling up at her. Silvery-grey eyes stare maddened up at the Queen. With no hands, there are no thumbs to cut off and the claws extending from those saucer-sized paws are more than capable of ripping reaching hands to shreds. Canines snap at the Queen's knees, uncaring if she breaks skin or not, the scent of prey..of blood was driving her near insane.
Jacklin jerks her hand back hastily from the outreaching claws of the canine. The female was seeming more feline than canine at the moment, a muffled groan escaping Jack’s mouth as she noted the canine crunch a few moments too late. Luckily for the Queen, she’d been prepared. For once in her pathetic existence she had, in fact, worn suitable clothing to a dog fight, so to speak. Instead of catching flesh between those rippers, the canine would catch only a supple material several inches thick of the Leggings. After impact, Jack wrenched the armor from the mouth of Mahri and continued onward for her drive of thumbs. “One thumb, then!” Snatching spear again from its barley-tied home she took a step back, right leg before left, and heaved the weapon over her shoulder and toward the arm of Mahri. Hoping the break the appendage and render it useless against assault. With the swing of her spear she followed its trajectory, with a hard kneel to the ground in anticipation of the thumb being removed.
Mahri yelps and whines when that spear hits its mark, rendering her left arm useless. Whimpering pitiously she belly crawls as far away as she can before cornering herself amongst the splinters of the last broken crate. Trembling with pain, fur sinks back into skin, bones and muscles contrort and realign into the form of a woman. Cradling the broken and useless arm against her belly, the lycan nods. "One thumb, no ear." A bargain? Painfilled eyes drift upwards.
Jacklin again whistled. Why were these two guards so intent on ruining a bout of fun? Sapheul eyed the battered Mahri curiously, his swarthy skin marked with perspiration from having witnessed the brutal battle unfolding. Yet, he did nothing. He was loyal to the word of his Queen even when the impact against her was so overwhelmingly negative. Jack heaved a ragged sigh, working hand rising to unveil the soft mask from her head. Blood hung in those deep wrinkles, nose had stopped gushing but the corners of her lips had taken up the task for now. Digits wrung the mask with a squeeze and out poured more life. It was a mixture of both Mahri and Jacklin at least. Not only had the Queen bled, but her foe as well. It was a victory all around. “I’d be up for more running if you’d like Mahri. This body doesn’t stop moving until the hearts fell out.” Stepping toward the strange-talker she shrugged the good shoulder, “I want a thumb and you to send word to that Snow Queen of your acquaintance. We got a deal by that.”
Mahri swallows hard and again, nods in answer. "Ye got yeself a deal, t'en." It's the broken arm she holds out gingerly cupped in her hand. "Ye take t'is one an' I'll be on m'way." Steadily she meets the queens eyes and smiles slightly. "Oh, I'm sure we'll be runnin' again." And next time, one of them would die.
Jacklin moves before Mahri with the stride of a laggard. Jacklin was indeed injured judging by the blood smeared across her face and leaking from her leggings, but she was also hardened. So many wars had created a being immune to the pains of cracked ribs and dislocated shoulders. Fear meant death. And for Jack, there was no room for error at her age. There was no room for error in her job. Lifting the disabled arm at the wrist she studies the smaller item of flesh and bone, twisting it here and there. “Look real close here, boys,” she beckons to the two guards huddled by the door. At the words of Jacklin, reluctant eyes lifted and turned to where Jacklin and Mahri were settled, irises locking on the appraised hand. The human’s neck craned downward now, blistered lips parting and teeth edging their way into life. Sinking around the thumb with a resounding ‘crunch’ exploding seconds later. Head wobbled side to side, working bone for several minutes, until finally the thumb was free from her paw. Jack held the digit between her teeth before spitting it into her hand, “Next time strange-talker…blow them walls up right.” With a nod to her guards they opened the door to allow the injured canine to flee from Larket.
Mahri sucks in a breath and holds it when Jacklin's teeth sink into flesh and remove the digit. Her lips thin and her comlexion pales even more but not one sound escapes her lips that might indicate the amount of agony she is in. As soon as it's done, the breath is released with a 'whoosh' and she slumps where she is. Hugh breaths are sucked in and exhaled. Oh, yes. Next time, the fecking wall was coming down. In some small part of her mind, the lycan found respect and a grudging admiration for the Queen. Not..that she'll admit that to anyone. "Call 'em off the two they search for," is her last request before her whole body falls limp and the stump seeps thick crimson.
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