[P] [M] I have the devil on speed dial

[Kamari Kaiser]

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: Just in case.

(+638)
Optime | Sticks & Stones (Isthmus of Chignecto) | Dated: Early December; night | cNPC: Mirko

Kamari’s scent is disguised.

Sorry for the wait on this @___@

Ideally, Kamari would have liked to have had a more gradual return to her duties. As she knew too well though, the world did not stop moving, and enemies did not wait until it was convenient for them to appear. New mother or not, there were certain matters that the Emissary could not simply pass off to her apprentice or another to fulfill. With other preparations in the works for endeavors to come, it was vital that the Shadow return to do what she did best.

Thankfully, Warden Mirko had done all of the hard work, and all she’d needed to do was extract a specific bit of information from the target. With pups to return to, Kamari had had every intention to make the outing from her home short and quick. To help expedite things, she’d had Mirko fetch Henchman Wrath for her. Having worked with the scarred male before, she’d thought he might be of particular use in a speedy success in her mission. Besides, she thought he might like being encouraged to be intimidating and threatening to someone.

When the time had come to move out, Kamari had disguised her scent and dressed in a way that hid her figure well. She wasn’t ready for the pack to know that she’d had puppies just yet, which meant going to the painstaking extent to ensure that Wrath was left as much in the dark as their target would be about her recent developments. Her attire was typical of her usual outing gear; bland and darkly colored; light, leather armorment; hidden, auxiliary blades in addition to her main one; and her hooded cloak.

From their rendezvous point, she and the dark beast had traveled north out of the Kingdom, following the intel Mirko had provided her as to where their target would most likely be found. The cold, darkness of the winter night had long since fallen upon them by the time they’d neared the area. The sky was overcast, blocking out the stars and moon and making the world feel incredibly dark despite the frigid, white powder that covered the forest floor. Thick, fat flakes of snow fell soundlessly through the gaps in the canopy overhead.

Her apprentice, Mirko, emerged from the dark woodlands with a soundlessness learned from many months of shadowing her. He, too, had disguised his scent and had dressed in a somewhat similar manner as she. The Warden confirmed that he’d found their target, and their plan of attack was quickly crafted thereafter.

~ * ~

Tired and disgruntled from having to collect more kindling for his dying fire, the wolf grumbled quietly to himself as he made his way through the dark forest. His arms were burdened with sticks, and his feet were heavy with reluctance as he trudged sloppily through the snow. It was clear that the man would have much preferred to have gone to sleep already, however, his fire had needed tending to if he was to comfortably get through the night.

Spent from the day, he was too weary to notice the subtle, instinctual pricklings of his body warning him of danger until it was right in front of him.

From the darkness of the cave, the Emissary materialized, her cloaked figure illuminated only by the dying flickers of the fire.

“Bonjour, Jean.”

The wolf stopped dead in his tracks, and his muscles stiffened. Though she was smaller than him, it was clear that Jean had not expected company, much less, someone who spoke French and greeted him by name.

“Qui sont—!”

His words were cut short when he heard a thunderous snarl erupt from behind him.

Mirko, too, stepped into the dying light of the fire to stand beside Kamari. In his hand, he held the wolf’s bag.

“Je crois que vous avez des explications à donner.”

[Wrath]

Once more feeling run-down and nauseous, Wrath believed more than ever that the Thistle Kingdom was to blame for his upset stomach and general lack of energy. It was a land he felt, for years, compelled to reside upon, as if drawn by a calling, but the reality seemed far more sickly and shitty. Every time he went away, he felt better. Every time he came back, it was again as if his essence was being drawn down into the dirt he tentatively called home.

When Mirko came to collect him, Wrath was reluctantly devouring a snowshoe hare. The big Lagomorph was barely enough to keep such a large wolf adequately nourished, but Wrath would take whatever he could get, despite his awareness of how rapidly the hare would pass through his digestive system. Whatever curse had befallen him would hopefully be lifted. If not, he'd take more time away. He'd have to live in this state if he remained on the pack lands.

"Emissary Keiser requires your assistance as a matter of urgency." Said the apprentice. 

Wrath lifted his snout from the dismembered mammal.

"Perfect." Said Wrath. Kamari's tasks always brought satisfaction as she seemed to require most what he did best.

-----

Wrath enjoyed language in many forms. He was surprisingly adept with the written word and had learned something of other languages. Not enough to speak fluently or even speak with any degree of confidence in french, but enough that he could understand some words and piece together the gist of the scene unfolding before him.

The Frenchman was surprised, of course, and Kamari, Wrath already knew, wanted explications.

Wrath could see the tension in their two-legged source of information, and rightly so. Two Salsolan's before him and one Secui wolf—almost able to meet the shorter of the two at eye-level due to his immense size—rounding in from behind.

The man turned slightly sideways in a vain attempt to keep an eye on all three.

"Non! Vous avez la mauvaise personne!"

Wrath shot a glance to Kamari. Once again, he'd been called to arms in a weakened state. He felt terrible; his bowls were churning, and his head span. He didn't have time to stand here through a thorough and clever interrogation. The wretched beast already lacked patience, but that sentiment was intensified today. 

"If you like breathing, I shuggesht you tell her what she wantsh to know."

Again, he glanced at Kamari, having a feeling his words would need to be translated, but to offer some assistance to the Frenchman, he added with his limited vocabulary: "Parle, ou je tue."

He took a step closer, and his paw came down with a thud respective of his size.

-----

WC:450

[Kamari Kaiser]

(+641)
cNPC: Mirko

Sorry for the wait on this! I’ve been prioritizing Naomi this month because of the disbandment stuff Dx

Feel free to have Jean react however you want to Wrath’s “persuasion” to get him to talk while Kamari’s speaks XDD

Kamari clucked her tongue. “Mauvaise personne? Jean, nous n'avons même pas encore vraiment commencé à parler.” It was laughably easy sometimes to do her work. Immediately denying involvement in something before she could even accuse him of anything was certainly incriminating. An innocent man might have continued to demand who they were, or even asked what she was talking about.

But, no, Jean’s first, completed sentence had been that of denial.

Despite feeling Wrath’s single-eyed gaze upon her, Kamari kept her eyes on Jean as the Henchman made his lisped threat. She wanted Jean to feel intimidated, pressured. Kamari had a timeline to meet, after all, and didn’t have all night to try to fish out information from the man before them. Wrath was terrifying enough to look at, much less, to be the focus of his attention. Hopefully, picking him for the job that night would have been as successful as all of their previous endeavors.

“Je-Je ne suis pas celui que tu penses que je suis!” Jean cried out insistently at Wrath’s threat. He stumbled over his own words as he tried to figure out who was more of an immediate threat to him in that moment; the hovering Wrath, or the short Luperci asking questions.

The branches and twigs in his arms rattled with each flinch of Jean’s muscles. Behind Kamari and Mirko, the fire crackled and popped, begging for the tender that its creator had brought to make it strong again.

Kamari gestured to the space between her and the wolf. “Eclaire moi alors.”

For a beat, Jean remained silent, stuck somewhere between wary, fearful, and trying to figure out how to get himself out of the situation he’d found himself in. He glanced at Wrath, then to Kamari, and then to the bag still held in Mirko’s grasp. He dropped his bundle of sticks and twigs to the floor, and his fingers curled and uncurled as he built up confidence to speak. “Call off your chien first,” Jean demanded in Common Tongue. His words were thick and twisted with his heavy accent. “Only then will I speak.”

The Emissary leveled the wolf with an impassive stare despite her growing irritation. Eventually though, she let out a sigh, and gave a subtle nod in gesture to their target, a wordless command that released Wrath to do as he saw fit to expedite their interrogation process.

“I’d watch who I call a dog, monsieur.”

Jean let out a screaming yelp as the dark beast moved.

“J’attends, Jean.” Kamari reminded him in a bored tone as she let her voice carry louder over the man’s fearful sounds. She gestured to Mirko then, indicating for him to dump out the bag. The contents clattered to the floor. “Expliquez-moi pourquoi vous n'êtes pas la personne que je recherche alors que vous portez la marque personnelle d’Ironstep?”

From the pile, she picked up a letter with a broken, wax seal. She held it up between two fingers, twisting her hand as the dying firelight glanced over the pale parchment’s surface.

“Vous avez utilisé un intermédiaire pour communiquer en toute sécurité entre vous.” The Shadow continued as she casually flipped open the letter. The words scrawled across the page were in French, coded in a way that only Jean would have known its meaning.

Kamari did not have time to spare in deciphering it. Not that night or any other. With the Thistle Market only a short time away from opening its gates to Outsiders, it was pertinent that certain problems were removed before they could properly fester.

Jean screeched loudly in French as he dealt with Wrath.

“Je veux savoir où Ironstep réside actuellement,” Kamari concluded, snapping the letter shut once more.

[Wrath]

Despite his sickness, Wrath was still a formidable unit. In the dim murk of the cave, he was a monstrous shadow. A nightmarish creature enlarged by the fire's fading light and the closeness of the cavern walls. His snarl was like the heavy rumble of a distant storm with nowhere to go. To Jean, it would seem as if the sound reverberated through the rocks and shook the ground—or maybe that was just his knees. 

Wrath grinned at being called a dog. It was more of a compliment than an insult. Wrath preferred that his primal nature was still so prominent on the outside, despite all the social and moral conflicts within himself.

The situation for Jean was hopeless. Three on one, even when the Henchman or the Emissary alone would have been enough to hurt the man. But Wrath's presence appeared to provide additional pressure, which transpired through Jean's erratic movements as he sought to increase the distance between himself and the dark wretch.

Wrath was frustrated by this reaction on many levels: Jean was outnumbered, outmatched, entirely; he was prolonging the inevitable; and, more importantly, Wrath was not feeling well. 

He wanted the situation dealt with as quickly as Kamari. He felt nauseous, irritable, tired and pissed off. This accumulation of negative sensations would soon be unloaded on their skittish adversary.

Wrath prowled closer, his large head hanging low to the ground by his thick long-furred neck, with a tacky, clear string of saliva trailing from his jowls to the dusty cavern floor.

"I don't have time for thish. Nor do you."

He said, and after the last rumbled word left his mouth, Wrath leapt forwards. Jean turned to run, but it was too late. Wrath was as strong as a lion and almost as heavy in his Secui form. He pinned Jean to the ground, and as the man twisted and turned in a vain attempt to scurry away, Wrath used his talon-shod paws to flip him over and then pin him down. Wrath was somewhat unkempt, and as such, his claws had grown into sharp points which pressed so firmly into the front of Jean's shoulders that they drew blood in several places.

The man wailed, screamed, struggled, and continued to deny that he knew anything at all. Wrath growled and leaned closer.

"If I thought you didn't know anything, I would have already have ripped the skin from your face." Fayche.

As Jean continued to deny knowledge of anything, Wrath began breathing heavily. The exertion, having been driven entirely by adrenaline, made him feel dizzy and admittedly a bit weak. He felt really fucking unwell. 

"You have to shpeak. Now" But Wrath's voice was fading, his concentration slipping, and his vision began to blur. "Now." This time the word was but a whisper.

Wrath managed to draw in half a breath before opening his mouth, and his body convulsed as he aimed to snarl again. Unfortunately for Jean, the only thing that came from the dark beast's mouth was a tide of blood-streaked and phlegm-ridden vomit. The chunky and acidic broth cascaded directly into Jean's face with ballistic accuracy, covering his head and neck and pooling a sulphuric-scented pile of bile, phlegm, blood and half-digested meat all around. 

The smell was atrocious, and even Wrath could barely draw in a breath for fear he might unload another round of chunder all over the place. He stared into Jean's eyes, panting heavily, his stinking breath washing back and forth over the face of the smaller man beneath him.

-----

WC: 592

[Kamari Kaiser]

(+401)
cNPC: Mirko

Sorry for the wait! We can wrap this up with your post (so you reach 1,200 WC!) xD

Jean screamed and shouted as Wrath did what he did best, and, to any passerby, Kamari was sure that the sounds that echoed loudly in the cave’s mouth would have been horrifying to hear in the dark, winter night. Used to violence and her darker works, she continued to watch the scene before her with an impassive stare. She had given the man ample opportunity to speak up and be compliant. If he wanted to remain stubborn, she would gladly let Wrath show him the consequences of his choice.

The scent of blood hit her nose when Wrath’s unkempt claws dug dragged across the wolf’s flailing limbs and body, and—once more—Kamari sensed that something was a bit off with the dark beast that night. Perhaps it was his scent, or maybe something with how he moved or carried himself since they’d left the Kingdom. Whatever the source, it didn’t reveal itself fully until the Secui Salsolan’s stomach suddenly heaved, and then proceeded to vomit something terrible down onto Jean’s unfortunate, prone figure.

Mirko cringed where he stood at the sight and turn of events. Kamari was experienced enough to school her outward reaction to it all.

Their quarry screeched as he felt the warm, stinking mixture of body fluids, stomach bile, and half-digested chunks basically melt into his hair, fur, and bits of clothing. “Mon Dieu! Saint John!” Jean howled in a dreadful, pitiful cry at his misfortune. His hands scraped and clawed to push the steaming bile away from his mouth and eyes as he weakly also tried to remove Wrath from on top of him.

His lips were curled in disgust, and it was clear that he wanted nothing more than to be out from beneath Wrath. “<He lives in a red-roofed shack on the east side! We were supposed to meet in Amherst in two days’ time to discuss ambushing a caravan going to the Kingdom of Salsola!>” Jean wailed rapidly in French.

The confiscated letter disappeared into the many folds of Kamari’s clothing, and she idly readjusted them afterwards as Jean continued to voice his unhappiness with having been thrown up on. “See how easy that was?” she hummed without missing a beat.

Jean whimpered as he pulled a chunk of putrid meat from his neck, and looked at his slime and fluid-covered hand.

[Wrath]

Wrath certainly felt better after expelling the contents of his stomach over his victim. No stronger, however. Whatever his affliction, it seemed to be continually draining his energy level.

The man struggled, but Wrath was large enough that, no matter Jean's effort to wriggle free, he could not move the stinking black beast.

Wrath stood, blinking down at the mess, then shook his head. He had no intention of clearing it up.

In fact, his work, as he saw it, was done. Kamari and her accomplice would no longer struggle to gain the man's compliance.

Wrath leaned close to the him, the hot stench of his breath wafting over his face.

"I will leave now. But, if they have to call me back, thish will not end well for you."

As he turned to leave, he purposefully placed one massive paw on Jean's bile-covered face, almost crushing his skull as he pressed down hard, smearing his face into the dirt and vomit.

Wrath left the cave on careful steps, listing slightly to one side as he stepped over the uneven surface and faded into the darkness once more.

-----

WC:180
OOC: Thanks for your help with this, Song.