Tahira QuilKovesh
The ashen hound.
The unsightliness of the realm was often concealed from the masses. Yet deep down inside, everyone feared the iniquity of their neighbor. Good and evil were nebulous terms. One's the scientific method failed to procure sufficient metrics for gauging. Yet despite its immaterial nature, everyone could identify it whenever they bore witness to its fruits. Whether by happenstance or intelligent design, Tahira found herself wandering. More precisely, she was roaming from one aspect of her duty to the next. Only to find herself summoned by the guards to inspect a grisly murder.
Fate, a moniker that tinged hollow within the mind of an inquisitor, was a fickle mistress. And while her duties were accepted begrudgingly. The operative maintained an air of professionality. Marching through the sandy streets, she'd gawk up at the firmaments as the flickering of stars flouted against their blackened backdrop. There was an ambiance of stillness, which only made the discovery of the butchery all the more perturbing. Upon her arrival, the local guards explained their findings. Rather assuredly, they boasted, marking their detainee as the wrongdoer.
Justice was one such term steering her blade. A light within an otherwise despondent reality. And so Tahira didn't take well to their want to wrap things up quickly. And rather than rush to the scene. She'd order the local dispatchers of law to keep the citizens away from the crime's location. The vampire had a keen eye, quite the skillset in evaluating an individual's worth. And given what she had witnessed, along with the guards' accounts, denominated it as circumstantial at best. This delay abraded the men's spirits. Meanwhile, the inquisitor looked around to watch the gathering masses.
How riveting. On the one hand, society deplored such embodiments of their sinful nature. Yet here they were, each desperately trying to catch a glimpse into the abysses of another's soul. Tahira queried how many of them cared for the victims? How many of them could even recount their names? No, to the crowd this was all just a spectacle. An insight into the foulest facets of their society. Of which they'd willingly appropriate to circulate hearsay for their amusement. This epiphany churned her core, leading the agent to assess the denizens in a less than favorable light.
Sandslout, the breadbasket of the wasteland, stood as a cesspool. Those white stone buildings, wooden latticed windows, and tall walls kept the elements and predators at bay. Yet the dunes exceedings its barriers was anything by tranquil and were devoid of clemency. Their world was dark and Darwinian, filled with afflictions and tribulations. The very climate stood as a stark reminder that life was a privilege, not a right. Conceivably such a pitiless habitat fostered ghastly manners, laboring as an immoral catalyst. The throngs faces exhibited their thraldom, unveiling a disconcerting facet of their depraved condition. While the cosmos might be averse, it facilitated their yearning to gaze at such darkness scouring for entertainment.
The soldiers positioned by the door were met with a glower as the vamp ordered them to step away. The two sentries scanned the seven-foot elf, only to nod and comply with her directive. Inside those walls of heartless stone, an innocent was bound, wallowing in distress with but the periodic breeze to ameliorate him. No doubt the creaking of the door might warrant his attention, as from the threshold, the investigator emerged. That voluptuary figure bedecked in blackened scale attire, a skirt flowing behind her gait as she secured the door behind her. Upon her buttocks rested the severed head of a recent contract and the fur and pelts of prior game clinging to those shoulders. Upon that broad hip was her nodachi, a fangless implement that had felled many a great predators and kibitzers alike.
From the darkness, she sashayed, materializing into the pale moonlight as lanterns of cerulean and malachite peered at the potentially distressed lad. Her armored gloves seized a nearby chair, dragging the legs across the floor only for her to swing it to her front. The scraping sound was sharp, only muted once the mer roosted so that her bosom rested on top of the back support. Those feline-like pupils never desisted their surveying, studying the agitated "suspect" only for her to break the awkward silence by placing a cigarette between her lips. The smacking of that flint reached the man's ears only for its lighted tip to perforate through the umbra. A thick cloud of smoke wafted from puckered lips as Tahira hurled it the detainee's way. This eerie quietness had festered enough, and the operative judged he was tenderized so that she could extrapolate the facts.
"You didn't do it. I know. The guards are lazy and just want a quick resolution to appear competent."
She paused, flicking the ash-free from the tip before discharging another deluge of smoke the fox's way.
"But what I know means little if I can't corroborate it. Whatever your thoughts know this, I'm your only chance at freedom and life. So I advise you to explain everything you saw before your detainment. And I mean everything. The slightest details can be the difference between your public execution and exoneration."
She added, her voice as monotonous as ever. It was befitting of her external deportment that never veered from the confinements of total stoicism. Yet the way he reacted, his endless bouts of coughing, aired the illness that plagued his lungs.
"I-." Cough. "I'm not sure what corroborate means. But if you offer the chance to expla-" Mild coughing ensued. "explain myself. But may I ask a-" Cough. "question of you?"
The man was rattled. That dearth of spunk boded well for the jailbird. It additionally bolstered the mer's confidence in his blamelessness. The fox was likely swept up by the currents undertow and discovered himself within the tempestuous sea of ambivalence. And while she could extend her most heartfelt condolences, empathy alone would do nothing to keep the ravenous jaws of "justice" at bay. Those eccentric eyes withstood the shade of eventide. The sparse lighting rendered by the moonlight caromed faultless within those lanterns as the predator further analyzed the fox. She felt for him. To have bumbled across such a macabre exhibition of the condition of the sand's wasn't an ordeal most would prance away from unaltered.
The travesty that masqueraded around as righteousness was equally as deplorable as that heinous crime. His rigid muscles and how he fidgeted about illustrated that discomfort. The tension was palpable, far exceeding the shackles of his mortal coil. The vampire groused incoherently under her breath while the man underwent a coughing episode. His words were fragmented, yet they were easy enough to make out amidst the interlude of his hacking. The reproduction of life sighed, taking one final puff from her cigarette before dropping it to the ground. Those sandals stomped the embers out as she turned her head and released another murk of fumes.
The kitsune's jitteriness had no perceptible consequence on the operative. Tahira subsisted as ever unyielding, notwithstanding the myriad of introspections. Beyond these unfeeling restraints, the cacophony of the mob parroted in quick succession. The people were demanding his head as tribute. The boy's life appeared foreordained to be eviscerated upon that tabernacle that was their wrath. An outcome, while likely, could still be skirted. Lamentably for Kiritai. His ineptitude to answer her initial inquest was regarded as insolence. However, such chafing wouldn't doom the marksman.
"Corroborate."
She retorted while her voice maintained that monotonous tune throughout this cordial exchange. Those lanterns tapered while her feline foci gawked into the vulpine's orbs. The agent inched closer before leaning a bit forward, invading his personal space.
"Are you daft? I did offer you the opportunity to regale me with your account. Not only did you spurn such a gesture. But you have the gumption to consider yourself in a position to not only deflect but retaliate with a question?"
The elf's striking visage was within the boy's purview. Yet behind that veneer of beauty prowled the frigid essence of a seasoned killer—someone who had no qualms in parading their habitual nature to kill. Tahira may have been a dispenser of rectitude, but sometimes such a post conferred her the side job of executioner. The peoples' incessant hollers echoed, the door opening as Tahira swiveled her head to present the sentry a deathly stare. The man stepped back, once more securing the door behind them. The mer shook her head before redirecting her focus back to the detainee.
"Tell me, are you deaf? Do you not hear their pitiable chants? As I said before, I'm your only chance at salvation. So, once more, we will begin anew. The slate is scoured clean. Delinquency to capitulate this time will result in me vamoosing away and leaving you to your fate. Tell me everything in detail about what you were doing before happened upon the scene of the crime. What did you see, hear, smell, or even sense? Was anything out of place? Each minute detail is crucial regarding your continual survival. I can't help you if you don't assist me. And make no mistake, if I didn't weigh you as guiltless, then ask yourself this. Why am I still here?"
She paused, reclining back while those muscular legs stretched to the front. They were overlapping as she prepared for the kitsune's accounts pertaining to what transpired. That hand motioned for the flustered fox to proceed before settling them under her bust for support.
"Breathing is hard without my mask." Cough. "I. I was looking around for work earlier today. I do miniscule tasks for food or coin. I came upon nothing significant enough to make a decent meal... So I meandered and found an alchemist. There aren't too many that I can find normally, but having someone who-" Cough.
He realized he was rambling and shook his head to course-correct himself. "I took a job from an alchemist. He lived not too far from here. He told me to deliver some medicine to a woman with children that lived around here. When I was trotting along, I didn't hear anything. I also couldn't smell anything until I was close. There wasn't anyone around either... It hasn't been long since I initially talked to the alchemist.He was... strange. Looking back, a bit dodgy. He kept his place in disarray but he dressed well. He was a mer much like yourself."
Was this all some sort of facade? A charade to drive the mer into a state of acceptance? The suspect before her seemed sickly enough; his incessant hacking only led Tahira to doubt a great deal. The way he shifted about on his little bench unveiled his enfeebled body. The fellow appeared almost dead, the sort of person who had maybe a few years left in him. It would be a shame to have that finite time cut short by the ax of some executioner. The continuous exposition of his affliction would garner the prisoner nothing. The vampire was far too worn-out by the world to chuck away her obligations for one unwell man.
After quite the long-winded display, he had mustered enough willpower to push through it. That raspy and dehydrated tone reached the inquisitor's knife ears as she dissected his recounting. The first thing the slayer had noted was his elegant diction. This man didn't speak like a peasant. No, his vernacular far overshadowed even that of the nobles she detested. How could some simply delivery boy afford such an education? And if he was somehow a self-taught prodigy, how'd he compile enough coin to purchase enough books to whet his vocabulary? This detail might seem pedantic, but the investigator's vocation mandated such thoroughness.
Those malachite and cerulean orbs dawdled on the lad as he kept yipping away. The desperate fellow squandered little time before finally getting into some relevant details. Interesting. So Kiritai had already stitched together quite the compelling narrative. It couldn't be him; it was some unknown and mysterious elf. How convenient. Grant it, notwithstanding her suspicions, Tahira would follow up such a lead no matter how improbable. After all, she had witnessed stranger things transpire within the desert.
The mer raised her hand. A motion intended to quell the bereft fox. Once she was confident, he'd remain shushed. The operative leaned forward once more while she gazed undeviatingly into his eyes. Tahira would think nothing of it if he balked, given his deteriorating health and less-than-ideal circumstance.
"Tahira Quil'Kovesh. Head Inquisitor of the Eternal house. The survivor of the defiled. The wolf of the roses and the ashen hound. A pupil of Matsumota Crisandra Devante. Last of her name and last of her kin."
She paused, that oral muscle slipping from her mouth as it sketched across those lips, moistening them. Affording the man time to break down who he was talking to, should he be so informed.
"So, some sketchy elf contracted you to deliver medicine? If you're trying to insinuate he had some dealings in this, I find that most peculiar. If that rings true, this will be a quick and easy investigation. Why? Anyone idiotic enough to dispatch an errand boy to witness an otherwise unknown murder can't be that clever. All he had to do was nothing. Sure, we would have stumbled on the bodies eventually. But there would be zero ties back to him and unlikely much evidence to link this untidied noble to the slaughtering of lowborn citizens suffering from an alleged illness."
The elf leaned back before lifting herself free from that seat. Tahira's hand came together behind the back, settling above her shapely rump while she exhaled. The agent strutted across the room, glimpsing out the latticed window as she inspected the mob. The guards may have been in a hurry, but it appeared they had managed to quelch that uproar.
"Guard, the prisoner needs his mask. He is coughing and I don't which to contract whatever disease he might have."
One of the men responded, her words not audible enough for the kitsune to heed. The elf pivoted, facing the prisoner as the pale moonlight revealed her face. Those brilliantly colored eyes glowed, penetrating through the umbra.
She looked to the door as the guard she cried out to step beyond the threshold. The sentry handed her the mask before offering a salaam, a courtesy the vampire reciprocated without delay. Once he had stomped off, securing the barrier behind him, the elf would gait toward the fox only to throw that makeshift facial shielding onto his lap.
"Go ahead; you should have enough slack to put that on. You will need it— I should forewarn you. If I cannot acquit you, I will likely serve as your executioner."
She stated matter of factly, before leaving the kitsune within his cell, stepping outside as she took in a deep breath of the night air, her eyes veering up to the blackened welkin, once more taking in the faint twinklings of those lesser celestial bodies.
Fate, a moniker that tinged hollow within the mind of an inquisitor, was a fickle mistress. And while her duties were accepted begrudgingly. The operative maintained an air of professionality. Marching through the sandy streets, she'd gawk up at the firmaments as the flickering of stars flouted against their blackened backdrop. There was an ambiance of stillness, which only made the discovery of the butchery all the more perturbing. Upon her arrival, the local guards explained their findings. Rather assuredly, they boasted, marking their detainee as the wrongdoer.
Justice was one such term steering her blade. A light within an otherwise despondent reality. And so Tahira didn't take well to their want to wrap things up quickly. And rather than rush to the scene. She'd order the local dispatchers of law to keep the citizens away from the crime's location. The vampire had a keen eye, quite the skillset in evaluating an individual's worth. And given what she had witnessed, along with the guards' accounts, denominated it as circumstantial at best. This delay abraded the men's spirits. Meanwhile, the inquisitor looked around to watch the gathering masses.
How riveting. On the one hand, society deplored such embodiments of their sinful nature. Yet here they were, each desperately trying to catch a glimpse into the abysses of another's soul. Tahira queried how many of them cared for the victims? How many of them could even recount their names? No, to the crowd this was all just a spectacle. An insight into the foulest facets of their society. Of which they'd willingly appropriate to circulate hearsay for their amusement. This epiphany churned her core, leading the agent to assess the denizens in a less than favorable light.
Sandslout, the breadbasket of the wasteland, stood as a cesspool. Those white stone buildings, wooden latticed windows, and tall walls kept the elements and predators at bay. Yet the dunes exceedings its barriers was anything by tranquil and were devoid of clemency. Their world was dark and Darwinian, filled with afflictions and tribulations. The very climate stood as a stark reminder that life was a privilege, not a right. Conceivably such a pitiless habitat fostered ghastly manners, laboring as an immoral catalyst. The throngs faces exhibited their thraldom, unveiling a disconcerting facet of their depraved condition. While the cosmos might be averse, it facilitated their yearning to gaze at such darkness scouring for entertainment.
The soldiers positioned by the door were met with a glower as the vamp ordered them to step away. The two sentries scanned the seven-foot elf, only to nod and comply with her directive. Inside those walls of heartless stone, an innocent was bound, wallowing in distress with but the periodic breeze to ameliorate him. No doubt the creaking of the door might warrant his attention, as from the threshold, the investigator emerged. That voluptuary figure bedecked in blackened scale attire, a skirt flowing behind her gait as she secured the door behind her. Upon her buttocks rested the severed head of a recent contract and the fur and pelts of prior game clinging to those shoulders. Upon that broad hip was her nodachi, a fangless implement that had felled many a great predators and kibitzers alike.
From the darkness, she sashayed, materializing into the pale moonlight as lanterns of cerulean and malachite peered at the potentially distressed lad. Her armored gloves seized a nearby chair, dragging the legs across the floor only for her to swing it to her front. The scraping sound was sharp, only muted once the mer roosted so that her bosom rested on top of the back support. Those feline-like pupils never desisted their surveying, studying the agitated "suspect" only for her to break the awkward silence by placing a cigarette between her lips. The smacking of that flint reached the man's ears only for its lighted tip to perforate through the umbra. A thick cloud of smoke wafted from puckered lips as Tahira hurled it the detainee's way. This eerie quietness had festered enough, and the operative judged he was tenderized so that she could extrapolate the facts.
"You didn't do it. I know. The guards are lazy and just want a quick resolution to appear competent."
She paused, flicking the ash-free from the tip before discharging another deluge of smoke the fox's way.
"But what I know means little if I can't corroborate it. Whatever your thoughts know this, I'm your only chance at freedom and life. So I advise you to explain everything you saw before your detainment. And I mean everything. The slightest details can be the difference between your public execution and exoneration."
She added, her voice as monotonous as ever. It was befitting of her external deportment that never veered from the confinements of total stoicism. Yet the way he reacted, his endless bouts of coughing, aired the illness that plagued his lungs.
"I-." Cough. "I'm not sure what corroborate means. But if you offer the chance to expla-" Mild coughing ensued. "explain myself. But may I ask a-" Cough. "question of you?"
The man was rattled. That dearth of spunk boded well for the jailbird. It additionally bolstered the mer's confidence in his blamelessness. The fox was likely swept up by the currents undertow and discovered himself within the tempestuous sea of ambivalence. And while she could extend her most heartfelt condolences, empathy alone would do nothing to keep the ravenous jaws of "justice" at bay. Those eccentric eyes withstood the shade of eventide. The sparse lighting rendered by the moonlight caromed faultless within those lanterns as the predator further analyzed the fox. She felt for him. To have bumbled across such a macabre exhibition of the condition of the sand's wasn't an ordeal most would prance away from unaltered.
The travesty that masqueraded around as righteousness was equally as deplorable as that heinous crime. His rigid muscles and how he fidgeted about illustrated that discomfort. The tension was palpable, far exceeding the shackles of his mortal coil. The vampire groused incoherently under her breath while the man underwent a coughing episode. His words were fragmented, yet they were easy enough to make out amidst the interlude of his hacking. The reproduction of life sighed, taking one final puff from her cigarette before dropping it to the ground. Those sandals stomped the embers out as she turned her head and released another murk of fumes.
The kitsune's jitteriness had no perceptible consequence on the operative. Tahira subsisted as ever unyielding, notwithstanding the myriad of introspections. Beyond these unfeeling restraints, the cacophony of the mob parroted in quick succession. The people were demanding his head as tribute. The boy's life appeared foreordained to be eviscerated upon that tabernacle that was their wrath. An outcome, while likely, could still be skirted. Lamentably for Kiritai. His ineptitude to answer her initial inquest was regarded as insolence. However, such chafing wouldn't doom the marksman.
"Corroborate."
She retorted while her voice maintained that monotonous tune throughout this cordial exchange. Those lanterns tapered while her feline foci gawked into the vulpine's orbs. The agent inched closer before leaning a bit forward, invading his personal space.
"Are you daft? I did offer you the opportunity to regale me with your account. Not only did you spurn such a gesture. But you have the gumption to consider yourself in a position to not only deflect but retaliate with a question?"
The elf's striking visage was within the boy's purview. Yet behind that veneer of beauty prowled the frigid essence of a seasoned killer—someone who had no qualms in parading their habitual nature to kill. Tahira may have been a dispenser of rectitude, but sometimes such a post conferred her the side job of executioner. The peoples' incessant hollers echoed, the door opening as Tahira swiveled her head to present the sentry a deathly stare. The man stepped back, once more securing the door behind them. The mer shook her head before redirecting her focus back to the detainee.
"Tell me, are you deaf? Do you not hear their pitiable chants? As I said before, I'm your only chance at salvation. So, once more, we will begin anew. The slate is scoured clean. Delinquency to capitulate this time will result in me vamoosing away and leaving you to your fate. Tell me everything in detail about what you were doing before happened upon the scene of the crime. What did you see, hear, smell, or even sense? Was anything out of place? Each minute detail is crucial regarding your continual survival. I can't help you if you don't assist me. And make no mistake, if I didn't weigh you as guiltless, then ask yourself this. Why am I still here?"
She paused, reclining back while those muscular legs stretched to the front. They were overlapping as she prepared for the kitsune's accounts pertaining to what transpired. That hand motioned for the flustered fox to proceed before settling them under her bust for support.
"Breathing is hard without my mask." Cough. "I. I was looking around for work earlier today. I do miniscule tasks for food or coin. I came upon nothing significant enough to make a decent meal... So I meandered and found an alchemist. There aren't too many that I can find normally, but having someone who-" Cough.
He realized he was rambling and shook his head to course-correct himself. "I took a job from an alchemist. He lived not too far from here. He told me to deliver some medicine to a woman with children that lived around here. When I was trotting along, I didn't hear anything. I also couldn't smell anything until I was close. There wasn't anyone around either... It hasn't been long since I initially talked to the alchemist.He was... strange. Looking back, a bit dodgy. He kept his place in disarray but he dressed well. He was a mer much like yourself."
Was this all some sort of facade? A charade to drive the mer into a state of acceptance? The suspect before her seemed sickly enough; his incessant hacking only led Tahira to doubt a great deal. The way he shifted about on his little bench unveiled his enfeebled body. The fellow appeared almost dead, the sort of person who had maybe a few years left in him. It would be a shame to have that finite time cut short by the ax of some executioner. The continuous exposition of his affliction would garner the prisoner nothing. The vampire was far too worn-out by the world to chuck away her obligations for one unwell man.
After quite the long-winded display, he had mustered enough willpower to push through it. That raspy and dehydrated tone reached the inquisitor's knife ears as she dissected his recounting. The first thing the slayer had noted was his elegant diction. This man didn't speak like a peasant. No, his vernacular far overshadowed even that of the nobles she detested. How could some simply delivery boy afford such an education? And if he was somehow a self-taught prodigy, how'd he compile enough coin to purchase enough books to whet his vocabulary? This detail might seem pedantic, but the investigator's vocation mandated such thoroughness.
Those malachite and cerulean orbs dawdled on the lad as he kept yipping away. The desperate fellow squandered little time before finally getting into some relevant details. Interesting. So Kiritai had already stitched together quite the compelling narrative. It couldn't be him; it was some unknown and mysterious elf. How convenient. Grant it, notwithstanding her suspicions, Tahira would follow up such a lead no matter how improbable. After all, she had witnessed stranger things transpire within the desert.
The mer raised her hand. A motion intended to quell the bereft fox. Once she was confident, he'd remain shushed. The operative leaned forward once more while she gazed undeviatingly into his eyes. Tahira would think nothing of it if he balked, given his deteriorating health and less-than-ideal circumstance.
"Tahira Quil'Kovesh. Head Inquisitor of the Eternal house. The survivor of the defiled. The wolf of the roses and the ashen hound. A pupil of Matsumota Crisandra Devante. Last of her name and last of her kin."
She paused, that oral muscle slipping from her mouth as it sketched across those lips, moistening them. Affording the man time to break down who he was talking to, should he be so informed.
"So, some sketchy elf contracted you to deliver medicine? If you're trying to insinuate he had some dealings in this, I find that most peculiar. If that rings true, this will be a quick and easy investigation. Why? Anyone idiotic enough to dispatch an errand boy to witness an otherwise unknown murder can't be that clever. All he had to do was nothing. Sure, we would have stumbled on the bodies eventually. But there would be zero ties back to him and unlikely much evidence to link this untidied noble to the slaughtering of lowborn citizens suffering from an alleged illness."
The elf leaned back before lifting herself free from that seat. Tahira's hand came together behind the back, settling above her shapely rump while she exhaled. The agent strutted across the room, glimpsing out the latticed window as she inspected the mob. The guards may have been in a hurry, but it appeared they had managed to quelch that uproar.
"Guard, the prisoner needs his mask. He is coughing and I don't which to contract whatever disease he might have."
One of the men responded, her words not audible enough for the kitsune to heed. The elf pivoted, facing the prisoner as the pale moonlight revealed her face. Those brilliantly colored eyes glowed, penetrating through the umbra.
She looked to the door as the guard she cried out to step beyond the threshold. The sentry handed her the mask before offering a salaam, a courtesy the vampire reciprocated without delay. Once he had stomped off, securing the barrier behind him, the elf would gait toward the fox only to throw that makeshift facial shielding onto his lap.
"Go ahead; you should have enough slack to put that on. You will need it— I should forewarn you. If I cannot acquit you, I will likely serve as your executioner."
She stated matter of factly, before leaving the kitsune within his cell, stepping outside as she took in a deep breath of the night air, her eyes veering up to the blackened welkin, once more taking in the faint twinklings of those lesser celestial bodies.