Through gnashed teeth and a warped face, K'lo is goaded into a reply “Fuck you, you bald headed freak†is all he sputters out before I take to clamping even harder; reaching near the maximum of my arm strength. I can only imagine how out of character I look and I know I would hate it. I pride myself on staying calm, not breaking stride or composure as I handle business. It's part of the reason on how I have gotten this far, people keep attributing to me some sort of extreme malice behind my smiles and honeyed words even in the face of danger, threat, or even good business tidings. I'm too proud to let the outside world see me like this but sometimes even the greatest men are bothered by surprisingly small things – like K'lo.
With a heavy sigh I shake my head in genuine disappointment as I use every bit of strength I have in my arm and core to come down on K'lo. All of my might, all of my determination weighs in on this Miqo as I try and cripple him – and it's working. His hand folds in my grip. I am squeezing and crushing it into a something resembling a tube; gnarled and lame. Finally this elicits a yelp and then a scream of pain as his bones crack and I ensure his primary hand is forever useless to him since there is no chance he can afford the right kind of healing for the 'lofty' contracts he pulls in. He desperately uses his left hand to claw, pull, hit, anything to get him out of my grip but I'm lost as I just focus on putting all my power into my grasp. His attempts to break free are pitiful since he is in overwhelming anguish and his efforts are useless.
His scream of pain also breaks me out of my own hateful trance a bit, and I yank his hand up to yank him from his stool. I do this to make him hurt even more but to also exert control. Angrily I ask him “Have you ever killed a stranger before K'lo?†By the point he is out his seat, acquiescing to my jerking him up, and standing as best he can, directly again me since I am so close to his stool. He is awkward, afraid, and wishing he had never crossed me. Funny how that always works. I make sure to repeat myself, slowly and with a slightly raised voice indicating that I am far and beyond over this and ready to move on.
Out of nowhere, and entirely unexpectedly, a mailed hand places itself on my shoulder. I only barely move my head, mostly looking to the side with my eyes to notice that none other than Coatleque Crofte has put her hands on me. Instantly, as if I was hit by a spell square in the chest, I release K'lo and let him fall limp to the floor like the pathetic piece of shit he is. I inhale sharply through my nostrils, opening my eyes wide for a moment as I regard Lady Crofte. She doesn't have to say a thing, her disapproving glare yet sympathetic hand on my shoulder tell me all I need to hear. Get the fuck out of the Quicksand so I don't have to regretfully do or say anything. This also servers to amplify her authority if she can wordlessly get me to leave and only barely touching me. I'll do this for her.
I take a moment to close my eyes, breathing slowly to right my mind and regain my composure. I reach up to my tie, sussing it and making sure it looks presentable before giving an apologetic nod to Crofte. I just wanted to go shopping. I turn on my heels, making my way to the door. I'd leave but as I walk up the incline to the upper part of the Quicksand I notice the railing supporting its normal host of patrons I stop and think for a moment. I quickly make up my mind with a shrug and approach the entire host of strangers with outstretched arms as I greet them loudly to get their attention. With the way I am dressed, in this pink suit of mine, it doesn't take much for people to notice me. Which is part of the point of why I wear such gaudy colors.
“Gentlemen, ladies, adventurers, nobodies. My name is Otto Vann as surely some of you already know.†I reach into my suit jacket, pulling out a tiny bag of rich red silk and throw it on the ground in front of the gaggle of people. “Inside that bag is one-hundred thousand gil, pieced out into ten coins. Take it, head over to that bar, and remove the garbage with the hurt hand being stood over by that Paladin. Make it fast.†I do not wait for a reply, an answer, or even an acknowledgment. The right person from that crowd will read between those lines and scoop that gil up. Someone is going to beat that idiot to within an inch of his life after they wrangle him out of the Quicksand. As I stand in front of the exit, ready to push the doors wide open and leave, a younger man runs up to the doors and parts them for me.
“Please sir, allow me†is what he pipes out. I give him a curt nod and leave that gods-damned bar for the day, not one to return to it until tomorrow now. As I'm stepping through the doors I stop momentarily to reach to my pocket, pulling out a five-thousand gil piece to hand to the boy. I don’t want to know his name and I don't care for it. He is beholden to me now without a doubt. Its obvious as he can barely contain his jubilance on his face – probably never even seeing so much money.
It amuses me that I crushed the hand and livelihood of an idiot who boasted about working hard for 700 gil by ambushing someone while I made this boy rich for opening my door for me. I did all of that and not a single word was uttered towards me, and one never will be. That’s how power works in Ul'Dah, real power. Strangers run to open your doors and see to your needs without asking, Paladins give you wordless pleas to leave when you've caused a problem, men fold to you like paper when you show them you are not to be trifled with. Once you become as wealthy as I do it turns into a form of otherworldly oppression and I know full well how to exercise it. This is how scale works.
(To be continued...)
With a heavy sigh I shake my head in genuine disappointment as I use every bit of strength I have in my arm and core to come down on K'lo. All of my might, all of my determination weighs in on this Miqo as I try and cripple him – and it's working. His hand folds in my grip. I am squeezing and crushing it into a something resembling a tube; gnarled and lame. Finally this elicits a yelp and then a scream of pain as his bones crack and I ensure his primary hand is forever useless to him since there is no chance he can afford the right kind of healing for the 'lofty' contracts he pulls in. He desperately uses his left hand to claw, pull, hit, anything to get him out of my grip but I'm lost as I just focus on putting all my power into my grasp. His attempts to break free are pitiful since he is in overwhelming anguish and his efforts are useless.
His scream of pain also breaks me out of my own hateful trance a bit, and I yank his hand up to yank him from his stool. I do this to make him hurt even more but to also exert control. Angrily I ask him “Have you ever killed a stranger before K'lo?†By the point he is out his seat, acquiescing to my jerking him up, and standing as best he can, directly again me since I am so close to his stool. He is awkward, afraid, and wishing he had never crossed me. Funny how that always works. I make sure to repeat myself, slowly and with a slightly raised voice indicating that I am far and beyond over this and ready to move on.
Out of nowhere, and entirely unexpectedly, a mailed hand places itself on my shoulder. I only barely move my head, mostly looking to the side with my eyes to notice that none other than Coatleque Crofte has put her hands on me. Instantly, as if I was hit by a spell square in the chest, I release K'lo and let him fall limp to the floor like the pathetic piece of shit he is. I inhale sharply through my nostrils, opening my eyes wide for a moment as I regard Lady Crofte. She doesn't have to say a thing, her disapproving glare yet sympathetic hand on my shoulder tell me all I need to hear. Get the fuck out of the Quicksand so I don't have to regretfully do or say anything. This also servers to amplify her authority if she can wordlessly get me to leave and only barely touching me. I'll do this for her.
I take a moment to close my eyes, breathing slowly to right my mind and regain my composure. I reach up to my tie, sussing it and making sure it looks presentable before giving an apologetic nod to Crofte. I just wanted to go shopping. I turn on my heels, making my way to the door. I'd leave but as I walk up the incline to the upper part of the Quicksand I notice the railing supporting its normal host of patrons I stop and think for a moment. I quickly make up my mind with a shrug and approach the entire host of strangers with outstretched arms as I greet them loudly to get their attention. With the way I am dressed, in this pink suit of mine, it doesn't take much for people to notice me. Which is part of the point of why I wear such gaudy colors.
“Gentlemen, ladies, adventurers, nobodies. My name is Otto Vann as surely some of you already know.†I reach into my suit jacket, pulling out a tiny bag of rich red silk and throw it on the ground in front of the gaggle of people. “Inside that bag is one-hundred thousand gil, pieced out into ten coins. Take it, head over to that bar, and remove the garbage with the hurt hand being stood over by that Paladin. Make it fast.†I do not wait for a reply, an answer, or even an acknowledgment. The right person from that crowd will read between those lines and scoop that gil up. Someone is going to beat that idiot to within an inch of his life after they wrangle him out of the Quicksand. As I stand in front of the exit, ready to push the doors wide open and leave, a younger man runs up to the doors and parts them for me.
“Please sir, allow me†is what he pipes out. I give him a curt nod and leave that gods-damned bar for the day, not one to return to it until tomorrow now. As I'm stepping through the doors I stop momentarily to reach to my pocket, pulling out a five-thousand gil piece to hand to the boy. I don’t want to know his name and I don't care for it. He is beholden to me now without a doubt. Its obvious as he can barely contain his jubilance on his face – probably never even seeing so much money.
It amuses me that I crushed the hand and livelihood of an idiot who boasted about working hard for 700 gil by ambushing someone while I made this boy rich for opening my door for me. I did all of that and not a single word was uttered towards me, and one never will be. That’s how power works in Ul'Dah, real power. Strangers run to open your doors and see to your needs without asking, Paladins give you wordless pleas to leave when you've caused a problem, men fold to you like paper when you show them you are not to be trifled with. Once you become as wealthy as I do it turns into a form of otherworldly oppression and I know full well how to exercise it. This is how scale works.
(To be continued...)
