Kahnopy

Kahn'a slowly shook his head. "I am afraid you heard but you heeded not. With all due respect, Madam, you are mistaken." The Miqo'te rolled his head, trying to appreciate what little movement he could have. He cast a sly side glance at her. Hyurs were... stupid. "Aye, you are," he carried on. "In those times of suspicion, you've surely heard the noise about the integrity of our Command, it seems grossly misplaced to summarize matters in such a simplistic fashion." The Miqo'te shook with a self-depreciation snicker. The game was on. "Look at me, Madam. I stand, nay, sit, like a discarded pawn on your board. You surely think I have much to tell you. But you are mistaken." Kahn'a averted his eyes, it was true that his current status filled him with shame. This word was... disgusting. Pouring onto his hair, his skin with the viscosity of a broken egg. Ears pinned down, he also lowered his voice. "I refused to follow," he reluctantly confessed. "I know naught."Kahn'a slowly shook his head. "I am afraid you heard but you heeded not. With all due respect, Madam, you are mistaken." The Miqo'te rolled his head, trying to appreciate what little movement he could have. He cast a sly side glance at her. Hyurs were... stupid. "Aye, you are," he carried on. "In those times of suspicion, you've surely heard the noise about the integrity of our Command, it seems grossly misplaced to summarize matters in such a simplistic fashion." The Miqo'te shook with a self-depreciation snicker. The game was on. "Look at me, Madam. I stand, nay, sit, like a discarded pawn on your board. You surely think I have much to tell you. But you are mistaken." Kahn'a averted his eyes, it was true that his current status filled him with shame. This word was... disgusting. Pouring onto his hair, his skin with the viscosity of a broken egg. Ears pinned down, he also lowered his voice. "I refused to follow," he reluctantly confessed. "I know naught."

Kahn'a awoke in the dark. Had he... forgotten how to open his eyes? Confused, he blinked. Once, twice. Still nothing. It was odd. He did not remember experiencing nothingness made of black and silence. Was he dead? Ouch! No, no this pain was very sharp and very real. The Miqo'te tried to get his bearings, almost losing balance when he turned his head left and right. His head was still heavy, and he felt even more surprised to be somehow kept relatively still. It was in this instant that he became conscious of his binds. Different than the chains but just as restraining. Vainly, he struggled in his chair, embracing the insane hope of breaking free. Were was he? Why was it dark? Kahn'a flared his nostrils to get a taste of the air. Warm dusty air. No doubt, he was still in Thalanan. But where? Calm down, they need you to talk. You're safe. But even reason only managed to dim the growing concern of the Keeper. His hunter was unknown to him, but for the great brotherhood he belonged to. Kahn'a belonged to it too. Still? He had little time to let his mind whirl. A flash of light blinded him and instinctively, he tried to shield his eyes from it with hands. Again, it barely shook the chair. Kahn'a glared at the people dragging themselves to him. The room. The chair. It was a setting he knew, and a little too well. It was meant to be an interrogation. A drop of sweat pearled on his forehead. This was uncomfortable. And it probably was going to get worse. Silently, he watched the "lady". Put some sodding emotion when you bow before someone. Your kind knows not humility, I can see it. Extending a weak smirk, the Keeper looked back at her. He took some time to settle his mood, aggressivity would not yield him much. "You're sorely mistaken."

A nasty ball of spit was rolling dangerously around Kahn'a's tongue. Never in his life had he wanted to mess somebody up like in that very instant. Did he have that disgusting face when Askier once shot at him, right in the face? A thought swiftly chased before it could settle, for it called another burn in Kahn'a's endeavours. Lifted from the ground, Kahn'a grunted, the chains were tight and he could feel an arm going numb. When he met the Miqo'te's satisfied gaze, a glint of madness passed through Kahn'a's own orbits. Twelve be damned, that sod was so full of it! He trembled, struggling to keep quiet. Everything, his scent, his sight, his sodding smirk, everything urged Kahn'a to just claw at his face, to seek out petty and fruitless revenge. But he would not give in. It was a test. A test of resilience. The teeth of the Keeper creaked in a sinister noise as he clenched his jaw shut some more. He had already fallen disgracefully, those sods would have to work for aught he would say. He kept a leveled stare at the other Lieutenant, not quite as fierce as it looked in his mind. The pain was twisting Kahn'a's features in a grimace, one he held in front of the other. For all he knew, the other was spitting gibberish at him. Treason? Right. Sweep your boss' doorstep lad, there's something brown and smelly down there. Still kept quiet, only wincing at the slight shakes he was given, as if that was supposed to encourage him to talk. He would not give in. Not before it was time. He had a plan.

Thump. Thump. Thump. This was the recurring sound pounding in his ears. His own head felt heavy, unresponsive. But a banging headache was the last of his worries. Through the mist of his eyes, Kahn'a could see multiple figures gathered around him. Don't look at me. Not like that. Like a child caught red-handed, the Miqo'te wanted to disappear. The ground splitting in two to form a mouth of earth, rocks and fire. Overly dramatic, but it would do the trick. Alas, this was fantasy. There would be no godly intervention for Kahn'a. Not that he truly expected one, his mind was just reeling stupid ideas to flee from the reality of his shameful situation. A Flame Officier struck in the middle of the city, and by his very brothers of arms. So to save what he felt was left of his honor, he complied as best he could. Clenching his jaw shut, Kahn'a struggled to keep the throbs snaking in his leg inside. But even if he could forget about the sensation, there was the smell of blood, so very strong. That, he could not overlook. His body would not let him. Just keep it inside, you've been trained strong. He also made a point to remain still as filthy hands lifted him, slid against him to bind him in chains. A weak growl that he could not help struck against his fangs in a feral reaction. There was no need, no point for struggle. But it felt no less shameful. Ears pinned downed, Kahn'a then picked up on a distrustingly loud voice calling out to him. He opened an eye, a mix of mild embarrassment and burning hatred shining through. It had to be that shite-eater. Yes, he was the only one with enough sanity to stand so far out of reach, perched high, probably feeling on top of the world too. A Miqo'te. That was all he could see from his uncomfortable lying place. It asked a question, Kahn'a steeled his resolve and smirked an ugly rictus for all answers. I care not, he attempted to convince himself. But his mouth twitched, threatening to spill all the venom the Keeper wanted to spit at the perched one. Filthy words. Pointless ones. The fallen could never inspire an smidge of regret in who had struck them down. Kahn'a swallowed the venom away. And it was painful to keep it in.

No matter where to, you just got to keep moving! Reading books of thrilling adventures, the mind thirsty of action could think that such a tensed moment unfolded in loudness. But it would be wrong. A hunt was never heard. Not the successful ones, in the very least. No, that game was meant to be played and sorted in a few moments. One could have all the preparation work one wanted, the outcome always depended on a single shot, just a few nonces. And there it was. The decisive shot. On the edges of the Keeper's sight, he saw a flash of light. He heard a noise, like powerful claps of thunder. But most importantly he felt. He felt hot. Was it the noise, it's suddenness or the shot itself that made him fall? Did it matter? Kahn'a roared in pain, he had been shot. It was as if his body stopped answering to his command, or rather, it was answering something else. Something primitive. A wounded beast. His vision blurred with tears and his jaw snapped open to yell in pain. He was falling. During what seemed an eternity, he watched the floor slowly closing in, and there was nothing else. On the floor, there were droplets of a red liquid spread out. It was his blood. This looks ugly, Kahn'a thought, and it is a leash they can pull on to get to me. He knew it, victory was in his enemy's grasp. Bullocks to that! He would run. Angling himself to land on his curled back, Kahn'a regained balance though his forces were rapidly escaping his body, and his right leg throbbed with pain. He spared a hasty look at it and winced. On the lower part, there was a red mess with a black hole at its epicenter. Damnit, damnit! In a miserable attempt of a jog, Kahn'a dragged himself into the corridors of the inner part of Ul'dah. Perhaps there was still a chance. He had enough sense of combat to grab his bow, and shot piercing looks around, desperately looking for his aggressor. The irony brought more tears in his eyes. He had been shot by one of those accursed devices coming from beyond the border. One of those he had to deliver safely. One of those that had been plundered. In the end, the pain was so sharp that he had to resort to his bow and use it as a crutch, but even then all he could do was stumble a few clumsy steps forward before he finally fell, barely attaining the red carpets of the better part of town. Face down, Kahn'a breathed out, hissing left and right to try and cope with the burning sensation. He waited for the one to come. He could already hear him. So before he arrived, Kahn'a worked himself on his back, and laid there, hands and legs spread, offering a pitiful sight, but also one of an individual neutralized. He was not maddened like fanatics. He wanted to live.

"Fire in the hole!" It bit. Found them, Cap'. This was all Kahn'a could think of before the shockwave hit him. For a moment that lasted not longer than a blink, the creepy hideout was lit in bright white light, dancing shadows of splinters hurled into the room, distorted as if the sudden flash of light had blinded them too. But in an instant, the mystical scene was gone. It became dust and smoke. The Miqo'te tumbled forwards, making the best of the sudden force throwing him further in. He scarcely had time to land that the sound of men, stomping the paved floor like a herd of aldgoats, thundered against the his ears. Tripwires, he thought. This was one of Askier's old safehouse. And the madman had rigged the entire place, forbidding any clumsy bloke to get in and run off with the place's secrets. They would most likely meet a firey end. Just there. And so would Kahn'a if he kept on standing so still. With very little time to assess the situation. He needed to get off safe and sound. That was the priority. But with his sight and sense of smell impaired by all the whirling dust and smoke, all that he could afford was a bold move. The lieutenant caught himself smirking. "You'd be proud," he said simply, speaking to someone clearly not there. And roughly at the same time the giant soldiers' boots tensed the thin cable he had gone over, just at the doorstep, Kahn'a threw himself on the floor, somehow managing to squeeze through their large frames. Mechanical contraptions be blessed, their timing were always impeccable for those that knew their purpose. A larger explosion lit the room a second time, and Kahn'a felt his body being pushed back out, to the street. Shadows, shadows! He needed cover, for in plain sight, he would be a goner. Picking himself back up, Kahn'a peered through the mess of flying particles. Smoke cloaked him, but he knew that as soon as he would see, so would they. He could not wait, he had to move first. Left... Or right? The Miqo'te barked out of rage, this was not the time to choke with doubts. Left it would be! Breaking into a mad dash, hoping to make for the cover of the Ul'dahn galleries, Kahn'a rushed towards Onyx Lane and the likes. Yet he was completely unaware of the presence on the rooftops. His mind functioned like that of a prey, the urgency of getting out of dodge hammering his thoughts. There was no sense of obedience, no allegiance or orders. No, none of that. Instead there were hunter and prey. And it was the first time the Miqo'te played that game as the runner.

Ul'dah. The busy streets bustling with life under the Sun offered a much different sight at night. Its pulsating veins, at all bells oft busy with low peddlers, dishonest merchants and those without the means to oppose their greed; those very streets were now nigh empty. Under the veil of the night, Ul'dah was not a Jewel but an unsightly wart, a nest rustling with what the plague of gold and power had brought in men. Greed. Thugs hired to make ends meet, or deceptively sent to meet their own end. Cutthroats clutching daggers and needles, lying in wait for any carefree soul carrying too much coin. Beggars, fossilized in their posture of shame and supplication, who have abandoned all will to fight. The scum of these parts. Scum. With the best of his ability, Kahn'a swept those grim thoughts off his mind. There always were filthy hands pounding against the walls of the city, vainly hoping to catch a spark, the secret of wealth, for themselves. And without any stalwart mind to take action, there always would be. Could that be the reason? A reason? Something that would explain why they suddenly became the hunted. The Keeper slipped through the streets silently, unnoticed but for the faint creak of his sandals. His steps were swift but careful. He knew that there were corners good people ought not to tread on, lest they fancied be associated with the unsavory, the shady, the cloaks. He also knew that there lived the true eyes of Ul'dah. Those that never really moved, and who were never truly seen. He meant to go there. "Where you off to?" Or so went the candid question asked by Mikh'a, a sweet little youth too clean and too gentle to be cast in the mud. He had asked the question suns and suns ago, but no matter, the voice of the boy still echoed in his mind. He did not really know the answer. Their Captain, Erik, had not given them much to go on. They, the Red Wings, must have upset somebody best left undisturbed, for they were now branded a disposable lot, a worn-out card to be thrown away, or so they had assumed. The air in the small streets of Ul'dah carried the fresh scent of fish, fesces, burnt meat. Enough to get hardened men's minds a good whirl. The smell was horribly oppressive, slithering into the Miqo'te's nose and down his throat. Kahn'a quickened his pace, nose wrinkled. It mattered little that he was put out of comfort, this was an ordeal that needed be taken care of. They needed information. If they knew the real face of the enemy, they could come up with a plan. A defense. He could do this. And after a final turn, there he was. Pearl Lane, and he had made it without raising suspicion. Kahn'a approached a wooden door, and memories streamed in his mind. He had come here before. This was an abandoned haven, its former owner a befriended enemy. But that night, it was not devoid of life when it should have. A cloaked figure stood there, a ray of moonlight cast on the dark piece of cloth. Kahn'a turned to stone under the frame of the door, eyes fixed on the figure. "Are you here to help?" Kahn'a managed to whisper, inching slowly inside the shelter, the door closing shut in an uncomfortable noise.

Are you looking to clear, or help: Help with Kahn'a Od'hilkas. Either T5 or T6. What time/day is good for you: Whenever What time zone are you in: GMT+1 What role do you wish to take on: BRD/SMN What is your ilevel in the role you want to go as: BRD-i113 / SMN-i106

Good friend, you deserved it! It warms the heart to know that you're now set one the path of your goal, and I wish the best of luck to you with it. Tell us about that crazy adventure when you can, we'll always look forward to the story time. With much love! c:

I am SO not surprised, and I love every bit of this. Thanks for the chuckle, pal. c:

Erik, for your IDGAF style... I love you.

[align=center][/align] Delial Grimsong turns her head ever slightly, to at least give the impression of her attention shifting. "Such a strange thing that I've garnered the favor of the law. And for what? If only you knew -all- this history." Again she grins, the twitch of her lips brief. "What can I do for you, then, my little darling?" ... /self-fanning intensifies

Might just be able to make it! That sounds fun. :3

Just thoughtful, in the worst of places to be like so, heh! MUST RP MOAR, grumpy cat!

Idgaf, those two are the sweetest.

Ta'kheo definitely sounds like one of the more intriguing characters. If paths cross, I'd be happy to have some RP with you sometime. c:

You're just a beast with that pen.

First and foremost, take good care of yourself. And secondly, yes, there is a solution. Just give yourself time to enjoy simple things, and let it come to you slowly.

Personal Profile Character Name: Kahn'a Od'hilkas Gender: Male Race: Miqo'te - Keeper of the Moon Domestic Profile Civil Status: Immigrant Political Alliance: Royalist Place of Residence: The Goblet Occupation: Immortal Flames Rank: Second Flame Lieutenant, Junior Staff Officer Social Profile N/A Meta Profile N/A

Dear Roen, Roses are red, Violets are blue, Saw your pos' today, ...I just had to. Sorrybutnotsorry.

TIL I was without a doubt a big culprit in the flood, but no more!

You're all crazy people with the french. Welcome to the RPC Salinis! The place is full of cool and chill people, if there's anything you'd like to know, I'm sure just about anyone would be glad to provide you with an answer. Hope your stay~

Last night I embarassed myself speaking this one, and Osric called me out on it. Like the vigilant mind he is. For Twelve's sake.

It's got nothing to do with the fact the sight might have been mildly enjoyable. Uh-hu.

Actually in the very same circumstances you can achieve the same results with: Leather Wristguards Hard Leather Wristguards Goatskin Wristguards