The Rundown
Posted on Tue Oct 23rd, 2018 @ 5:07am by Thane & Rusasha Djehuti-Lahan
Edited on on Thu Nov 29th, 2018 @ 9:39pm
2,642 words; about a 13 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Vlaand (Capital), Holdings of House Verus, Caanus
Timeline: Hours after "Cultured Reception"
ON
For all his fleetness of foot, the two mercenaries were hot on Drel's heels like a pair of foxhounds on the hunt. He had two past warnings to pay his debts to House Vuul: the first involving a rough shove and a moment of intimidation at knife-point while being held by his shirt collar against a wall, the second round resulted in a broken nose and his gut getting punched in by what felt like a ton of bricks. Now the third time was upon him, and this go-around had the almost certain punishment of a one-way trip to one of the local undertaker's newly built coffins.
Already, he had tried to pass out of the sight of the two lackeys chasing him through the ancient cobbled streets of Caanus' capital city. Through winding pathways made in times long-forgotten and down alleyways rich with the history of many lifetimes' worth of Caanan struggles and strife, Drel had narrowly avoided crashing into several of the locals - most of which he recognised, at least in some capacity.
Whilst Vlaand was the capital city, it was was divided into several small sectors, each with their own distinct personality. This area was formally known as Claad Plaza, due to the old ceremonial gardens at the centre, but was general called Taamus Row, so-called after the native tree-dwelling rodent of Caanus for the prolific crime and sheer number of beggars and poor that called the area home.
Now, bustling past an elderly man shuffling along with a cart full of calberries and swamproot, prompting a few grumbled curses to be flung his way, the young man slipped down yet another alley. Thick smoke and steam billowed out of a nearby apothecarist's shuttered window that backed onto the hideaway, entirely obscuring the view of the far end of the alley.
After just a few running steps, Drel realised he was cornered - and now out of breath. He cursed himself for idiotically taking the first left-hand alley on Columnton Street rather than the second which had no dividing wall.
"Look, we can be reasonable blokes here, hey?" Drel held up his hands in surrender, his back pressed heavily with terror against the wall as his pursuers caught up to him. "I have the money. I swear! I just need a little more time to liquefy some assets. No fuss, no muss. Everyone goes home happy. Whaddya say?"
"Heh. Bit late for that now, ain't it?" The larger man spat some thick yellowy glob from his cracked lips, and it spiralled with unnatural weight to the cracked cobbles below, barely splattering. Vuruun was his name, and he was as tall as he was wide, courtesy of both muscle and fat. He also had a far worse temperament than his colleague, the amusingly-thinner Halvarr (known to his friends as Hal), who was typically considered the brainier of the two enforcers (who were both surprisingly not as out of breath as their scrawnier quarry).
"Yeh, that's right!" He stepped ahead of Vuruun, and a slick blade zipped up from within his tatty longcoat. Hal brought the jagged blade up to his scarred narrow visage, which glinted despite its rust and lack of sheen in the dim violet light of the sun, which just about shone along the smokey alleyway. "Our lordly benefactor has been more than patient with your fine self, Mista' Drel," he continued in a mock-posh voice, tipping the flat cap perched on his head with the blade of his knife. "I'm reck'nin' there ain't much you got left to bargain with, eh? That said, I'm sure me and Vuruun 'ere might be open to a little barterin'. Fifty saaphias*, and maybe we give you another half-day's head start!"
"Fifty?!" Drel protested incredulously as the knife was flashed and came dangerously close to one of his eyes. "I-I-I got ten in me pockets. I-I'll scrounge up forty more by tomorrow, yeah? Another hundred by week's end. Promise!"
Hal let out a false sigh, and looked at his corpulent companion with dry resignation. "I don't think this here fella is gettin' it, Vuruun." It took nothing more than the slightest of nods for Vuruun to then launch forwards, huge meaty digits outstretched for Drel's face.
"Oh no...please, don't k--!" Drel squeaked right before Vuruun put a hand over his mouth to shut him up right as Hal's knife was poised for stabbing.
"I think that poor gentleman made you a fair offer," were the gentle words of a young woman behind the Vuul thugs. "Harming him would only make repayment less likely, wouldn't you agree?"
"Eh?" Vuruun grumbled, letting his thick fingers spread all over Drel's face as he turned to face the newcomer, smothering most of his eyes and mouth.
In turn, whilst Hal left the blade up close to the apple of Drel's throat, he turned his narrow face to look at Ru. A flash of disgust ran over his face, before it turned to a vague impression of dismissal. "An' who on Vaa do you think you are? Can't you see we got business with this here gentlemen. Kriff off." And with that, Hal began pushing the blade up further into Drel's throat again, causing a muffled squeal to escape the man, even if the point did not yet pierce his pale flesh.
"No one of consequence," Rusasha replied modestly. "For whom do you collect a debt that approves of such brutish manners, hm?"
Hal let out an exasperated sigh and his shoulders hunched. Whilst Vuruun did not release Drel, Hal took the blade from the man's neck and spun in his grimy black boots to face Ru, his blade held up with more than a hint of menace. Although there was a brief moment of surprise at properly looking at the alien woman, he seemed to show no fear as he slowly advanced towards her, that dismissive air remaining.
"Listen, offworlder, this ain't none of your business, is it? Ain't you got some perfumed skal you should be off pawing at, eh?" Hal inclined his head at the Jedi, an ugly scarred chin jutting out as he did. "Or are you looking to get your claws a lil' trim? Be a real shame to make a mess o' that pretty skirt o' yours. Now, scram!"
Ru furrowed her auburn brows at Hal, annoyed with his gruff uncouth ways and shook her head at him. She decided to defuse the situation with the lightest, yet most persuasive means she knew how. "You want to lower your weapon," she said in a calm, almost sultry voice and displayed a reserved wave of her hand to direct her subtle mind-trick prestidigitation. "You don't want to be here. Go and tell your master that I will be waiting for him at the Keynesian Arms Inn to settle the debt."
Hal's eyes went vacant, and the knife wobbled slightly in his loosening grip. "I..." he began to stammer, his blade dropping slowly. "I... I want to lower my weapon... I don't want to be here."
"You what, 'Al?" Boomed Vuruun, who gripped Drel tighter as he watched his accomplice changing tack before his lazy eyes, incredulous.
"I am going to go tell my master you will be waiting for him at the Keynesian Arms Inn to settle the debt," Hal continued.
At that, Vuruun threw Drel to the floor and took two large and lumbering steps towards Hal and Ru, his bulbous cheeks wobbling with rage. "You karkin' coward!" However, the minute he stepped close to Hal, his own eyes appeared to glaze, and all rage left his face. With his eyes now set on Ru, entirely distracted, his mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound escaped him (aside from some laboured breathing - likely weight-related).
"The Keynesian Arms," he mumbled, his gruff voice barely audible, a sound made only worse by the phlegm Ru could hear caught in the hulking figure's throat and chest.
The two enforcers then slowly walked away, their faces blanks and motions stiff. Even as Hal's foot plunged deeply into a murky puddle, he showed no reaction. They turned the corner from the alleyway and disappeared from sight, their new objective leading them from Drel and Ru.
Seeing the result of the mind-trick gave Ru no pleasure or pride. She sighed and shook her head at the whole awkward business in spite of its momentary positive outcome. Loren used to say that using the Force before resorting to physical violence was the preferred choice when words weren't enough, but even a non-violent solution had consequences; one must never let their guard down in the field. Ru had no idea just what exactly her interference might have caused, and briefly pondering the possibilities gave her pause.
"Are you alright, sir?" she asked Drel with a friendly tone, slowly approaching him after she was certain the thugs were gone for sure.
The Caanan coughed a couple of times, bending forwards as he leaned his body against the brick wall behind him, rubbing his throat where Hal had been threatening to pierce it just moments before. He too wore a slightly incredulous look as he looked the felinoid offworlder up and down a few times. There was a distinct fear in his face and Force aura, too.
"Uhh... sure, love. Ain't nothing I ain't dealt with before!" Drel gave a nervous laugh, apparently still not sure if he was entirely in the clear. His eyes darted behind Ru, perhaps looking to see if he could maybe run past his mysterious benefactor.
"My name is Rusasha," she explained. "I was just passing through when I saw you get yourself in some trouble with those loathsome bullies. Who were they, and why do you owe them a debt?"
"Just a bit o' business, is all," Drel answered hurriedly, still rubbing his sore skin and looking worried, not ready to pick another fight - certainly not one with a strange alien with the power to apparently control minds. "Look, what exactly is it yer after? It ain't that I'm not thankful or nothing, but what you did back there - whatever that was - I 'aven't got anything to give yer." His face dropped, and his hands instinctively went to clasp the ten coins in the right pocket of his tattered striped trousers.
"For the moment, I wish to know more about those men that waylaid you," the Jedi replied. "Are they associated with one of the Great Houses here?"
"Who are you?" Drel demanded, discovering a bit of bravery within himself. Glancing the Cathar's garb up and down, he continued, "You clearly ain't a lawwoman, and you ain't from 'round here. Who do you work for, eh?"
"I am a Jedi diplomat sent here on behalf of the Republic," she answered knowing the Republic part wasn't exactly true. Her mission wasn't sanctioned by the Senate or the Jedi Council, although travelling Jedi did have some measure of political autonomy, but she was nevertheless walking on shaky legal ground. "I have peacekeeping business with House Verus. And it's a good thing too. You're the third victim of crime on these streets I've witnessed in less than an hour. Has it always been so violent like this?" Just as she asked her question, one of her ears twitched at the sound of glass being smashed, and lots of shouting the next block over. Even as a Jedi, at the rate law and order was breaking down in Vlaand, there was no way she could prevent all of it from happening.
"A Jedi, you say? Huh." Drel said the word with a certain amount of stress, as if trying it out for the first time, but it did seem to settle the man slightly, certainly no longer viewing Ru as any sort of foe. "Ain't been none of them around 'ere for a long time. Apart from HoloNet stuff, I'd never seen one. You did me a solid, though, so I'm supposin' I oughta answer your question."
The Caanan came a bit closer towards Ru, looking to walk past back to the main road beyond. As he did so, his pale eyes could be seen to be searching around the Cathar's hip, presumably searching for the lightsaber she carried. Regardless of what he did see, he did seem satisfied.
"Vlaand's been as bad as this since I were a nipper," he explained, placing his hands in his pockets as he made it clear he intended to leave with the alleyway, not waiting for Ru to follow. Reaching the entrance of the Taamus Row alleyway, he looked either way with sceptical eyes before deciding it was safe to emerge. By his nature, he almost fit the taamus rodent description of the road itself.
"So, yeah, as I were sayin', place 'as always bin bad," Drel continued with a shrug. He looked up with a slight scowl as a few light drops of rain began to patter down onto his mess of black hair. A few of the nearby denizens and ware-sellers began to cluster under the awnings of buildings and stalls. "The Verus ain't worried about the law no more. It's Vuul wot runs things now," he added with a sniff. "It's them that were fleecing me. I ain't even done nothing wrong," he lied.
Whether Drel was innocent or not, it wasn't for Ru to decide. Her focus was politically more macro than micro, at least for now. Now she had some local level corroboration of Lord Zaruul's claims about Vuul.
"I'll see what I can do about your debt when I meet Lord Vuul, though I make no promises," Ru said and pointed the way to the street behind her. "Now go, and thank you for the information. Be safe out there."
Drel eyed the Jedi with obvious scepticism, one suspicious eye narrowed deeply. "Uhh, yeah. Fanks for that, offworlder. Watch yerself 'round here though, yeh? Vlaand ain't no place for aliens - p'taricularly ones with so much fur." He gave a low laugh and then began pacing quickly away from Ru, which soon turned into a slow jog. Before he turned completely out of sight, he spun on his heel and shouted, "And fanks for yer help with the Gruesome Twosome!" before finally disappearing into the storm now claiming the city.
Ru drew the hood of her purple robe over her head noticing a few droplets of moisture having lightly tapped her on her slim feline nose and furry high-boned cheeks. Her green eyes followed Drel's departure and then she looked down as she dipped a paw under the collar of her burgundy red tunic and withdrew her bright green crystal pendant. She cupped it in her hands and it glowed faintly. She closed her eyes and focused on it, and she could almost hear the voice of her late mother speaking to her from some far off otherworldly realm tucked away deep within the impenetrable dimensions of the Force.
"I wish you were here, maitũ," she said quietly to herself using the Djehutian tribal word for one's own mother. "I'm afraid...for myself and what I may yet do, and of this darkened city. I can feel the despair all around. Please guide my steps. I beg your wisdom to inform my decisions. And...please say hello to Master Loren for me. I miss her so much."
She tucked the pendant back underneath her shirt, started back out into the street, checked both directions, and made her way towards the Keynesian Arms where she would await the agents of Vuul.
TBC
*saaphia = Caanan local currency (still in circulation on-world, although Republic credits are generally accepted and standard-use for trade)
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