Kit McKenzie
Kit McKenzie
Daughter of the Pirate Queen and King of the high seas, Delilah and William McKenzie, the only life Kit has known has been piracy. Along with her twin brother, Killian, the other half of the Chaos Twins, she has spent the past decade and a half causing mayhem, mischief, destruction, and dissent across Tellus.
The twins took over the family business as teens when their parents were captured by the Crown, imprisoned for life for piracy, amongst a multitude of other crimes.
Kit is the less stable of the twins, more prone to violent outbursts and more questionable morals.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Kit is slender, lithe, and muscular, from years of stealthing, thievery, and perfecting her athletic, rogue-like abilities. She often wears form fitted clothing/armour that plays up her features, a tool she often employs to trick wealthy bachelors into proposing to her, always to rob them blind.
Body Features
Like most Tieflings, large, very visible horns protrude from Kit's forehead, a rich shade of brown, and a source of pride for her. Her pale purple tail is another piece that betrays her lineage, and has been handy in many situations. She wears piercings only on her ears. On the rare occasion that she removes her pirate cloak, a massive tattoo of wings identical to her brother's large wings spreads across her back and shoulders.
Facial Features
Kit has purple eyes with black pupils and a large scar that runs over her left eye, leaving a gap in the middle of her eyebrow. She has exceptionally clean teeth and two fangs -- one on each side of her mouth.
Identifying Characteristics
A large scar over her left eye, Tiefling horns, her back tattoo, and tail.
Physical quirks
None.
Special abilities
Conning single, rich men out of their fortunes to give to orphanages.
Apparel & Accessories
She's a pirate, savvy? Kit loves fashion and is always tailored in the finest armour and cloaks she can find. She likes colour as an accent rather than overwhelming, preferring mostly neutral tones. She wears a thick belt with a large metal skull in the centre.
Specialized Equipment
Her most commonly used dagger is a shard she broke off from a stalagmite during one of their treasure dives on an abandoned island. It has no magical properties, but cuts like a bitch and looks badass to boot.
Mental characteristics
Gender Identity
In the infamous words of Megan Trainor, "I'm a motherfucking woman, yeah."
Sexuality
Unknown. If you ask Killian, he'd call her violence-sexual.
Education
Raiding, pillaging, plundering and otherwise pilfering her weasely black guts out.
Employment
Why work for someone when you can steal for free?
Accomplishments & Achievements
Kit's greatest achievements are mounted on the wall in her cabin aboard the ship -- the engagement rings from all the men she managed to con into proposing to her before taking them for all they're worth.
Aside from that, her greatest achievement in her mind is staying alive.
Failures & Embarrassments
Kit considers the arrest of her parents a failure on her behalf, believing she and Killian should have been able to prevent it. She doesn't blame Killian, however. Just herself.
Mental Trauma
Kit will never say it, but the arrest of Dahlia and William combined with how she and her brother have been treated as Tieflings weighs heavily on her, and is likely a direct cause for her wild rage.
Intellectual Characteristics
Kit is highly intelligent, but spends most of her mental energy on scheming and mischief.
Morality & Philosophy
A strict moral code based around not harming the innocent, following the pirate code, and loyalty to crew is a big part of Kit's morality and philosophy. Of the twins, she is the more brutally violent and willing to be questionable in choices of morality for anything that falls outside her code.
Taboos
Is there really such a thing?
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Kit's ultimate goal is to break her parents free from prison so they can rule the seas as a full family again. She has reluctantly agreed to "go legit" as Killian believes it's the best way to earn them a pardon.
Savvies & Ineptitudes
Kit is incredibly charming, can be a sweet-talker, and cunning, but her fiery temper, impulsiveness, and protectiveness of her brother can get her into trouble quite often. Just ask the island currently missing its whole port.
Likes & Dislikes
Likes: Trouble, violence, rum, ale, sailing, rum, violence, rum.
Dislikes: Disrespect, especially towards their being tieflings or towards her brother. Rich people. Capitalism. Dress shops.
Virtues & Personality perks
Her brother is her whole life. She would defend him to the death (and has come rather close). She doesn't tolerate fools who come against him.
Hygiene
Kit is obsessively clean. Her outfit is always pressed, her hair is always clean, her teeth always sparkling white.
Social
Family Ties
Killian, her parents.
Religious Views
She is not particularly religious, though she has been known to "swear by Asmodeous".
Social Aptitude
Much like her brother, Kit is a smooth-talker, and though not a fan of socializing, can mask with the greatest of socialites.
Hobbies & Pets
Violence.
Relationships
History
The Chaos Twins were born to be piratical scourges, but they end up doing all kinds of brave and heroic things, anyway...
Relationship Reasoning
They were born seven minutes apart
Commonalities & Shared Interests
Piracy yaaaargh!
Wealth & Financial state
A small, metal flute crafted by Killian when they were kids. Kit takes it everywhere, and though she does not perform for others, she is known to sit on the bow of the ship, playing it late at night.
Though the McKenzies claim to be fabulously wealthy, other than trinkets and baubles, they cannot tangibly prove their wealth. Their only known holdings are their parents' ship, the "(TBD)," and what they carry on their respective persons.
A mistress of the seas and the shadows, Kit is a wanted pirate alongside her twin brother, Killian, for high crimes on the seas and petty crimes, violence, brawling, mischief, destruction of property, and more on land.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
Age
32
Date of Birth
Sometime approximately 32 years ago
Birthplace
The sea
Spouses
Avo Icraophoe
(Great Grandmother)
Siblings
Killian McKenzie
(Brother)
Children
Current Residence
If it's not on land, she'll happily lie there.
Gender
Female
Eyes
Purple
Hair
Red
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Purple
Height
5 ft 9"
Weight
155
Quotes & Catchphrases
"What he said." (In reference to Killian, whom she often leaves to speak for the both of them.)
Owned Vehicles
Related Reports
Not What I Expected
After finishing her communique with the elder McKenzies, Kit made her way further in the cities, towards the docks. If she had calculated things correctly, the K&K should have returned to port in Greynor. Hoping none of the party would see her departing the area, she pulled up her hood and disappeared down a darkened alley.
The day was turning out to be far more anxiety inducing than she had anticipated – and more emotional. The relief she had felt at Arathorn’s return had quickly shifted upon their portalling to Greynor, and receiving word that their writs indeed were real. The McKenzies were free of all charges, and their parents were to be released.
She should have been overjoyed. Filled with relief. But instead, well, she couldn’t quite assess how she felt. There was hope and excitement at seeing her parents, but also fear and apprehension. It had been more than 15 years since they had spoken or seen each other. More than 15 years of the twins growing up, changing. And of becoming what they were now; Killian with all his changes brought on by Asmodeous, and Kit with her contract. Selling herself to be a pawn of the devil to save Killian’s life.
Their parents, pirates as they were, had never been the murderous kind – not that they didn’t kill. The McKenzies were pure-blooded pirates after all. But not like Kit, whose pure existence now served as an assassin for Asmodeous. Would they be disappointed in her? Would they see Kit and Killian as failures for the way they carried out their pirating career? And what would they think of Arathorn, of Kit’s – well, she wasn’t quite certain if they were at any point to define a relationship but, having a romantic interest in a lawman?
Kit’s stomach was in knots as she finally emerged towards the docks, immediately spotting the high mast of the Kit and Killian beckoning to her. She was finally home. Kit took off in a sprint, passing the dockmaster who shouted at her for credentials.
“I’m Kit McKenzie, and I’m going to my fucking ship. You need credentials, you can seek’em there,” she shouted as she ran past, half-elated that for once, she could holler her name without recourse.
Of course, logically she knew the local law enforcement wouldn’t know that yet, but it wouldn’t matter. She had the signed and sealed paper clearing her name of all crimes.
Kit came to a dead stop at the ramp, looking up at the ship as tears filled her eyes. The wave of emotion she felt standing at the foot of the only place she had ever felt safe was deeply overwhelming.
There was a whistle from one of the crew, alerting the others as she began to climb up, feeling her usual confident sway return. She tipped her hat to the small gnomish woman and flashed a wide grin.
“CAPTAIN ON DECK!” the gnome hollered, and Kit sighed.
This, this was what felt right. What felt normal. She felt her soul stabilizing for a moment as the crew turned and showed their respect.
The current first mate, a dragonborn, ran forward and bowed. “Captain Kit, will Captain Killian be along soon? Should we prepare for departure?”
Kit held up her hand.
“No need Diedrich. We’ll be stayin’ in port for now. Perhaps a while longer – I’m not sure what the plans are yet. You may all remain at ease for now.”
Diedrich nodded and motioned for the crew to return to what they were doing.
“And Captain Killian?”
Kit shrugged. “He may or may not be by. I just needed some time to check in, see our baby.”
Diedrich nodded, then bowed again, and moved back to his work.
Kit went straight to the bow, standing at its peak, allowing the ocean air to move through her hair, smelling the sea, inhaling the saltiness and hint of fish and sea life scent it contained. She ran her fingers along the wood railing, trailing over where Kit and Killian had carved their names as children.
They had only been gone several weeks, but so much had happened that it felt like an eternity. After standing there a few minutes longer, Kit turned and made her way below deck and to her cabin. It felt strange, being in such a large bedroom again after sleeping in tents and outdoors for so long. She had missed her big bed, and for a moment, she felt childish glee again and leapt onto the bed, flopping over onto the back and staring at the ceiling. She pulled the soft, thick duvet around her and snuggled it.
As she lay there, eyes closed, it dawned on her – the return of their parents meant the ship technically no longer belonged to Kit and Killian. It was, after all, legally and otherwise, their parents. And that meant this room, if they chose to take her back on the high seas, belonged once again to them.
It gave her a sinking feeling of sadness in the pit of her stomach. Begrudgingly, she stood, fixed the duvet cover, and looked around the room at her belongings she had collected over the years. Her gaze lingered at the wall of trophy rings and walked over, pulling a wooden box out from a shelf. One by one, she removed the rings and placed them in the box, then closed the lid and took it up to the deck. She motioned Diedrich over.
“I’d like you to take this box to the local jewelers and sell the contents. Do not let them swindle you. Take 10 per cent of the gold for yourself and donate the rest to the local orphanage.” She paused, eyeing Diedrich. “I’ll be checking in to see how much was sold to you and how much was donated. No offence, but you know, pirate.”
Diedrech chuckled. “Aye, I’d do the same t’wer it me given the order Captain.”
Kit nodded and disappeared back below and to her room once again. This time, she sat on the floor, just inside the door, leaning against the wall. Her thoughts weighed on her, and the feeling of discontent continued to rise in her chest. She didn’t like there being so many unknowns in this situation, so much to consider.
Five days – that’s how long Pa had said it would take to reach Greynor. Five days until their reunion.
Kit pulled her knees in close and leaned her head against the wall, trying to keep herself from anxiously spilling tears.
Coffee and Casing
Kit wasn’t one to take much time for herself that didn’t include violence or alcohol – it was hard to give herself the time. Her brain never slowed down, never stopped working a mark, worrying about Killian, trying to keep things running smoothly for jobs. Not that Killian didn’t help with the first or last on that list – the work was evenly split and they both did their share. But unlike her brother, Kit didn’t know how to just stop, to relax.
Even when she did finally let herself take a moment, she worked. Maybe not officially, but it didn’t stop.
Sometimes, when the K&K had an extra day or two in port, Kit would convince herself she was going to rest – that she’d relax, spend some time doing nothing.
There was one island in particular they docked in semi-regularly. It was a wealthy island, one that stood out amidst the rest due to the lack of extreme disparity between the wealthy and the non. It wasn’t that there wasn’t any, but the wealthy seemed to hold value for the people who lived there. Those who worked for them were well-paid, families taken care of, and the markets and business districts all thrived. Everyone seemed to have enough to at least get by.
Although Kit and Killian rarely had money, Kit had started stashing a few pieces of gold away here and there for whenever they were on the island.
At the edge of the market, with a spectacular view of an alcove near the harbour, was a small shop that specialized in serving hot beverages – in particular, fresh brewed coffee. An outdoor patio was set up out the front where patrons could sit and enjoy their drinks and baked goods while simply enjoying the scene before them.
Killian had barely made it off the ship before Kit had grabbed her small coin purse, put on some less conspicuous clothing, and made her way towards her respite. It was early enough in the day that the shop was still quiet, and most of the tables were still free.
Stepping up to the counter, she ordered a simple coffee from the barista, and waited patiently for the largest cup of coffee on the menu to glide across the wood top towards her. She could smell its strong aroma even before it came her way, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to slide off her shoulders. Wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic, she lifted the cup and made her way over to a table shaded by the canopy, almost blending into the dark reddish bricks.
To Kit, this place and its existence was completely surreal to her. Then again, so was this island. A place with minimal crime, where all were taken care of. The first time the twins had arrived, they were certain it was a cover for something even more nefarious. They found nothing – even the marks Kit hoped to land proved themselves to be too much on the straight and narrow for her list of qualifications to consider them.
As Kit took a sip of the dark liquid, she watched the community slowly coming to life around her, then pulled out a small notebook, a writing instrument, and returned to her watch. Her eyes darted from person to person, studying them for any signs that they should be considered as more nefarious than one might presume upon first glance.
For hours she sat, taking notes, reviewing them, observing. Waiting and hoping to find something, anything that might explain the strangeness of the place. But nothing. Six hours later, she returned to the ship, a book full of notes, a head full of questions, and nothing but the shakes from too many coffees and confusion over the state of the place.
Walking the streets, she smiled and nodded at the friendly residents, who returned her smiles with a pleasantness she wasn’t quite used to. Any normal person, she assumed, would take delight in that. Maybe others who were in her shoes, of dealing with being treated poorly for who she was, might find it a great relief. Kit, however, found it almost uncomfortable. As if something were not quite right about it.
The sun still hung high in the sky as Kit approached the docks, taking one last look towards the port city that they’d be departing from in the middle of the night. If she hadn’t slowed to focus on one shadowed part of a building at the far end of the harbour that formed a curved sort of alcove, she almost might have missed it. Piles of ruddy clothes, and chains with handcuffs hanging along the walls. She frowned and pulled back out her notebook looking down to write what she saw.
When Kit looked back up, the alcove was clear – not shadowed or filled with anything she saw. Instead, there was a white stone wall building with several windows and flowers hanging from them. She blinked in confusion, a chill running down her spine. Surely, that hadn’t been there before.
“Never seen you so fascinated with walls and flowers before, sister.”
Killian’s voice startled her.
“I thought I saw something…” she replied, trailing off.
Killian frowned. “Are y’okay Kit? You seem… troubled.”
She shook her head. “It was probably nothing. Let’s just get out of here.”
Kit slipped the notebook away, and climbed back on the ship, her gaze not moving from that building until long after the ship had begun to pull out of the harbour later that night. During the next several hours, the white walls and flowers remained, unchanging. Kit finally went to bed, frustrated at what she knew she saw, but couldn’t explain.
Finally, she relented to the exhaustion that had overtaken her as the effects of the caffeine finally wore off, deciding that the next time they were in town, once Killian had gone to do his thing, she’d pay the building a closer look.
A Missing Piece
Kit had been trying to ignore the growing pit in the bottom of her stomach, the one that told her Killian had been growing more distant from her. She had always known this day would come. She had tried to ignore it most of her life, but she knew it all the same. Perhaps that was why she remained so dedicated to following him around, to making her life about him; it was a desperate way to make up for the time she knew she would no longer have him.
She didn’t know if Killian was aware she had overheard his profession of love for Neru. It didn’t surprise her though. Despite his penchant for random hookups and meaningless sex, Kit had always known deep down inside, Killian wanted to find love. And if he ever did, it would change everything between them – even if he said it wouldn’t.
Kit had already seen that change – Neru and Killian had become inseparable, the way they once were. It had been weeks since Kit and Killian had even had longer than a few seconds together, and the care and intimacy he had once shown her was all but gone. Any conversations they had were brief and often sharper in tone than they had ever been before. Even that conversation between Killian, Silver and Kit earlier – Killian would normally have stayed and talked things through, countered her points, talked sense into her. Instead, it was as if he was exasperated by her, and took off, immediately to where he and Neru once again were together. She didn't feel this in a bitter way, but it was an observation, and one she had felt heavily.
Kit wasn’t jealous, so much as she was sad – in mourning really, as things began to change. Sad, because as Killian pulled further away, Kit found herself alone – something she had never really experienced. Not alone in the sense that no-one was around. Of course, there was the group – but alone in the sense that it felt as though a part of her was missing. That closeness, that ability to trust someone and feel seen no matter what. And after all the strides they had just made in their relationship.
Kit moved a gloved hand from her crossbow as she watched over the hive, wiping away the tears that began to form.
Things with Arathorn were… complicated… and she couldn’t and wouldn’t expect him to fill that hole anyway. They were really still just getting to know one another and the weight of being half of another person was far too heavy a burden for where they were at. For Kit, she felt like it was far too heavy a burden to ask of anyway. And she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps her brother had felt that heaviness, and if that was why it was so easy for him to walk into that closeness with someone else and away from her.
But again, she had never expected him to stay. Never expected him to be that for her entire life. It wasn’t Killian’s fault Kit had been such an isolated bitch most of their lives, that she had refused to let anyone else in. And she couldn’t ask him to pay the price of that, couldn’t ask him to give up his desires for more for that.
Kit didn’t doubt that Killian loved her dearly, nor worried that he cared less about her – but their relationship had shifted. And it was something she struggled hard to deal with.
She had been trying hard to be strong, to hold herself together. And for once, her strength seemed to be failing her. Kit blamed it on the stress and anxiety of waiting to see that Arathorn was safe. If Kit was being honest, she didn’t even know if Arathorn had any real interest in there being anything beyond whatever they had here. His dreams for his future seemed quiet, perhaps alone, did not seem as though they included someone else. And Kit wasn’t even sure at this point if she could give up life on the seas – even if she gave up piracy. Truth be told, Kit was beginning to wonder if perhaps, once this was all done, the best option for her would be to slip away from everyone – let them live their lives. Let Silver and Oak start on their future, Killian and Neru begin theirs; Fae and Neru growing in their attachment.
Kit would stay until this was all done, when their mission -- stopping whatever this new threat to the world was -- ended, but she’d watch for her moment to depart at that point. Goodbyes weren’t really her thing, and besides, she wouldn’t be gone from their lives forever. Just long enough for them all to move forward without the deadweight of someone who couldn’t handle being alone. It would be for the best.
As Kit continued to watch the hive, waiting for any sign of Arathorn, any hint that he was okay or in trouble, EGO’s voice startled her from her thoughts, and she looked over, purposely avoiding eye contact.
Something Bout a Coat
Kit and Killian had finished their tasks at Carol’s Chum Bucket for this particular trip, meeting with a new client that had handed them a job without any questions about the twins. It was unusual for them, but it seemed their reputation was finally preceding them and they were being paid the respect they deserved for the jobs well done. It had been five years since the twins had taken over following their parents’ arrest, and the two had successfully completed every job they took. Word had spread quickly about their defeat of the mutiny started by the Iril, who was now a captain of a rival ship, and of Killian’s odd return from the death, all while managing to finish the job.
Since then, most gigs came in without seeking them out. There was still the odd lull where they had to seek out or fight for a job, but it was rare. Rarer, however, was this new trend of fewer and fewer questions as people handed them high-tier work. And Kit and Killian weren’t about to argue about that. The more work for them, the better.
Killian had, unsurprisingly, excused himself to find some new conquests.
“No point lookin’ fer a crew when you’re already hungry, dearest,” he had said with a wink before spinning away with a flourish and stalking off towards the more wealthy district of this port city.
Kit shook her head, watching as her twin walked through the market, swaggering his hips and making eye contact with every potential victim to gauge their interest. As he vanished amidst the vibrant tapestries and booths, Kit turned towards the less savoury part of the city, one particular destination in mind.
It never ceased to amaze and infuriate Kit, the disparity between wealth and poverty. Even between the middle-class and impoverished parts of the cities and towns, it was like night and day. Not even a transition. Kit could literally stand between the two buildings that marked the borders of each side and jump from a building in a decent state to one so far gone in disrepair that it was a wonder it still stood. Even the businesses differed – from rustic, but old wooden signs and the odd cracked wood door on the windows, to split, faded wood signs barely hanging on by a single rusted chain, broken windows, doors that didn’t close. Kit tried not to let herself be distracted by her fury, and continued down the winding road, attempting to ignore the ever-growing disarray and smells in the streets.
Finally, about ten minutes later, she found her destination – a dusty, crumbling, hole-in-the-wall pub where pirates and criminals alike tended to gather. For many, there was no difference between a pirate or a criminal, but the twins liked to firmly remind them there were many. The biggest of which, in the twins’ eyes anyway, were that pirates carried more honour than the common criminal. They lived by a code and had their lines. The criminals they encountered never seemed to care who they harmed so long as they got what they came for.
The Broken Tankard, aptly named, looked like it should have been an abandoned orcondemned building, barely hanging on. There were cracks in the some of its walls so large that entire villages of mice had made homes in them, with bits of straw, garbage, and the odd little tail or ear poking out. The porch that led to the bar served as both an obstacle course and a test for whoever wanted to enter. The wood planks were all rotted, with some having crumbled leaving huge gaps in the floor and others sticking up, covered in mold, waiting for someone to impale themselves on them. In order to actually get to the bar, you had to be creative.
Kit, however, never struggled. Thanks to her agility and strong skills with even the most basic of acrobatic movements, she could make it across in a single leap from the ground to the door, pushing the door in with a slam, making a loud entrance. Everyone always knew when Kit McKenzie had arrived, and that was just the way she liked it.
On this particular afternoon, the Broken Tankard was unusually full, but Kit’s entrance was still enough to momentarily draw the attention of most inside. She met the onlookers with a sneer, not willing to let anyone think she was there for anyone other than herself. Of course, the twins would need to recruit a crew from here, but this afternoon? It was for Kit to drink herself under the table, and then start all over again when Killian eventually would arrive.
She slid up to the bar and motioned for a drink. The barkeep, a small goblin with pink hair and several earrings in one ear, grunted and climbed onto his stool, pouring a large tankard full for Kit.
“You and yer brother won’t be causin’ problems today I hope?” He looked at Kit from under large, bushy eyebrows and attempted a sneer.
Kit, stifling a laugh, shook her head. “Tuzzle, we never cause problems dear. We can’t help that people have problems with us.”
Tuzzle let out a loud harumph. “Just keep yer hands to yerself and I’ll keep the drinks flowing.”
Kit shrugged and lifted her glass, winking at the goblin. Tuzzle stumbled away mumbling about “bloody pirates” but saying nothing further.
Several drinks in, Kit finally turned to look around at the rest of the patrons, sizing them all up. Some still stared at the red-haired tiefling every time she moved, others had begun to ignore her. She was about to swing back around to her drinks when something in the corner caught her eye – the most beautiful coat she had ever seen. It was slung over the back of a booth seat behind a tall, slender, blonde elf wearing a captain’s hat. He sat far too properly to have been common-folk turned pirate, and the way he lifted his pinky finger when he sipped at a glass of wine all but confirmed that theory to the tiefling.
The coat was quite possibly the most beautiful piece of clothing Kit had ever seen. And the best part? It looked as though it would be highly functional. From wear she sat, the coat appeared to be made of a thin, but sturdy leather, light brown in texture, with slightly darker collars and cuffs, and gold buttons running down the one side. The cuffs appeared to have silk patterns embroidered in them. It was simple, but perfect – in fact there was nothing that made it stand out as exceptional, yet it screamed elegance. In that moment, Kit decided it must be hers.
She watched and waited for its owner and his compatriots to make a move from the bench. Eventually, after about an hour, the group excused themselves and made their way to the bathrooms. Kit rolled her eyes. Were they really all heading to do their business as a group like school children? Not that it mattered much, it gave her the opening she needed. Kit, who had quite easily stood out only moments before with her brilliant red hair and presence, suddenly vanished into the crowded tavern, almost as if invisible. She wasn’t, of course. It was a talent she had yet to learn, but fully intended to one day. Still, she was a master at stealth, no matter the circumstances, which had earned her the nickname of “the ghost”. Moments later, she reappeared by her seat, now wearing the coat.
A few minutes passed before the elf and his crew emerged, returning to their seats. Kit didn’t turn to watch, but imagined the elf looking around in confusion at his missing coat.
Three. Two. One. Kit counted down.
“Where the hell did my coat go?” he screeched.
Kit nearly choked at the pitch of his voice, not expecting him to sound quite that… pitched. Still, she sat, calmly continuing to drink her ale as the elf screeched again.
The tavern fell silent as she heard footsteps approaching. The elf slid in beside her, looking her up and down, as he attempted to flash a seductive smile.
“My dear, it appears you found your way inside my coat,” he drawled. “If that’s an attempt to ask me inside, well, it’s working.”
This time, Kit did choke, sputtering ale out in front of her as she wheezed a heavy laugh.
The elf’s face went bright red.
“I’ll take my coat back now wench,” he sneered, grabbing for her arm.
Kit shifted off the stool, causing him to stumble towards her.
“I think you mean my coat, love,” she said.
Sputtering furiously, the elf let out a slew of insults – his ale, unfortunately getting the better of him, the insults became more of a slurred ramble. He stepped forward again, this time managing to grab Kit’s shoulder.
“You dare to steal from me?”
Again that high pitch squeal emerged as he finished his question.
“Love, I wouldn’t do that,” Kit said cooly, looking down at her shoulder.
“You think I’m afraid of a little girl?”
“Oh, so you’re interested in bedding children then? Well, that changes things.”
Kit’s tail whipped up and wrapped around the elf’s wrist, snapping it as the man screamed in pain. There was a moment of silence in the tavern, before all hell broke loose and a massive fight broke out.
While the fight was centred on Kit, the elf, and his men, others present had taken advantage of the moment to join the fray simply because it was a fray. Punches were thrown, chairs were smashed over peoples’ heads, and several glasses broke. The odd scream of frustration could be heard from behind the bar where Tuzzle hurled insults in Infernal at Kit. Kit just laughed and continued to fight, smashing one man’s head off a bar, another into the head of the elf, who was now bleeding from a new split above his eye.
In the background, the door to the tavern smashed open, splintering into pieces as a shadow of a hulking figure cast into the tavern.
“Which one of you vile lugs laid a hand on me sister?” Killian roared.
All fighting froze and silence fell. One by one, the patrons pointed at the elf, who was panting. Noticing the fingers identifying him, he whirled around to look at the giant tiefling.
“She stole my coat!” he yelled indignantly.
Killian glanced at Kit, who just shrugged.
“I see me sister wearin’ a coat, but since she’s wearin’ it, it belongs t’her,” Killian said.
The elf huffed and attempted to protest.
“Are you callin’ me sister a thief, in front of all these gentlemen present?”
One of the elf’s men tugged on his arm and leaned up to whisper something in his ear. The elf paled and stared at Killian in horror a moment, then dropped the grip he had taken on Kit’s arm once again.
“I’m sorry, I must be mistaken, this was not my coat,” he said, fumbling over his words before he stumbled away.
“That’s what I thought,” Killian said with a grin.
Kit turned back to the bar, finished her drink, and tossed a bag of coins at Tuzzle. “Sorry for the mess, buddy.”
“I’m not your buddy!” Tuzzle shouted as he caught the bag. “And I never want to see you and your brother in here again!”
“See you tomorrow dear,” Kit shouted as she turned and walked towards Killian.
Tuzzle let out a loud, frustrated harumph from behind the bar.
As she reached Killian, she shrugged again. “I think we’re going to need to drink elsewhere tonight.”
Killian paused, looked at his sister’s new outfit, and smiled. “Nice coat, dearest.”
He draped an arm around his sister, and the two left, the daylight blinding their exit from the view of the other patrons. As they walked away, Kit giggled as they heard the sound of Tuzzle screaming, “Bloody pirates!”
Hellfire
Kit sat on her ass in the pit, looking at her friends – and Felicity – unable to hear anything they were saying or see above the edge of the hole, holding the cut rope in her hand. Her brow was furrowed in frustration. How could she have been so stupid?
There was a sound from above, and a burst of flame, as Kit cried out in surprise, and everything went black.
At first, there was silence in the darkness. A feeling as though she were floating. And then, she found herself in a familiar place — the place Asmodeous had first offered her Killian's life in exchange for her fealty. As the darkness cleared slightly, Asmodeous was in front of her, this time sitting on a molten throne instead of standing near her. He looked unhappy, perhaps angry even, as he draped himself over the large chair, looking at Kit.
"I'm disappointed, my dear. In your foolishness and in your plotting."
Kit crossed her arms and stared back defiantly.
"You are much smarter than to talk for a trap like that, and yet here you are, on the brink of death."
Kit's resolve flickered slightly as the dark lord hit a nerve. She thought back to Arathorn, Oak, and EGO who were also in the pit. And Killian. What would be do? Would be even know she was dead? And all because of a stupid need to prove herself in front of her party.
"You think I'm unaware of your talks for change, of believing you can be something free from me? Of your… infatuation… with that Forester? I can't blame you, I've seen him. But do you really think he's interested in you? Kit, dear, you're smarter than that. You're simply another mark. You know the bounty on the Chaos Twins' heads – do you think this is anything more than getting you to drop your guard so he can take you in?"
Kit stiffened, trying, but failing, to keep her breaking composure hidden.
He clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head.
"It seems I've overestimated you and your brother dearest. But at least this situation has presented me with the opportunity I was waiting for."
Asmodeous stood, walking towards Kit as his form grew, now towering over Kit intimidatingly as he walked slowly around her.
"Once again, it seems a McKenzie life is in my hands. This time, it's your own. You're smart enough to know I won't let you die, so I won't try and convince you to give up more of your power for life."
He finished circling her, then leaned down, taking a finger and lifting her chin towards him as he had all the those years ago.
"You seem to think you have the ability to defy me; that you can choose to simply ignore your contract. You have no choice, Kit McKenzie. Do you think you are the only killer I have in my employ? Do you think I wouldn't have plans to account for every possible choice you could make?"
He shoved her face back down, and walked towards his throne.
"You will survive this, because I am not finished with you yet. So, Kit McKenzie, before I do, I will give you one opportunity to renew your committment to me. You can sign a contract, right now, that you will never break the original and will return to serve me and me alone whenever you are done this fool mission you and your brother have pursued, or you will take the lives of those you are traveling with when I deem it appropriate. And if you fail to carry it out, one of my other emissaries will do it for you, and you will pay the penalty of a broken contract."
Kit clenched her fists and was about to reply, when she felt something. Killian, his presence around her. Her stomach leapt as though she were being lifted through the air, and she somehow knew, Killian was getting her out of the pit.
"I'm not signing anything," Kit spat at him, hoping this meant someone else was about to revive her.
She could feel her spirit being pulled back towards her body as someone uttered a healing spell.
Asmodeous, sensing what was going on, snarled angrily at her. "I'm not done little girl. Just remember, there is nothing stopping me from forcing you to forfeit your contract or forfeit their lives."
As Kit was yanked back inside her body and she opened her eyes, her stomach twisted in knots. Her defiance may have just cost everyone their lives.
When the battle wrapped, Kit couldn't get Ashmodeous' words or the reminder of how she led everyone straight into that trap off her mind. She was so weak, in so much pain even after the healing from Felicity, and she just needed to disappear.
She curled up behind the tent to sleep, hoping for some rest. Instead, as she finally drifted, she found herself back in front of Asmodeous. This time, as she materialized into the plane, chains snapped around her wrists and ankles.
"You know, Kit dear, your defiance was adorable for a while. But now, now you've crossed me one too many times."
Kit yanked her arms around, trying to break the chains.
"You do not own me," Kit snarled. "There was never any signed contract. I never agreed to be your emissary for eternity."
Asmodeous chuckled a dark laugh.
"Kit dearest, do you think all contracts require a signature? You agreed without asking the details. One should always request the fine print."
Kit shook her head. "No. You do not get to add pieces to our deal after the deal. It doesn't work that way."
Asmodeous laughed. "Kit, I am the ruler of the nine hells. I decide how my deals work."
He paused, watching her with a raised eyebrow.
"You never fought me this hard before. Why is…" he stopped, and then he began to laugh and laugh. "Oh this is rich. You actually bought that speech from the Forester. You actually believe you're more than a cold-blooded killer, that you," he burst out laughing, choking out between roars, "that you could actually do good in this world?"
Kit started thrashing harder, trying to break free of the chains. "I am not just a killer."
"You are whatever I tell you to be," Asmodeous yelled, leaping forward until he was inches from her face. "If I tell you to wake up and murder your whole camp, you will wake up and murder that whole camp. If I tell you to gut that Forester you like so much and pin this whole war you're trying to stop on him, you ask me 'how deep do I plunge the knife?'. I own you, Kit McKenzie. You have no soul, you have no heart, and you are nothing more than a cold-blooded killer."
Kit screamed angrily, trying to pull her hands together to form an Eldritch blast.
Asmodeous laughed.
"I've waited so long to break you, Kit McKenzie. It's delicious seeing it happen now."
From the Heart
Kit waited for her brother at the riverbank, stripping off her boots and letting her feet dangle in the water. She closed her eyes, soaking up the familiar feeling, trying to picture the smell of the ocean air, the ocean itself, breathing in deeply.
There was a lot on her mind – too much – and at the moment at least, she knew she needed to get some off of it. Asmodeous had left her alone for the past several hours. Not that she believed for a moment he did it out of kindness. No, the devil gave her a break because he didn't want her to break, and that was it. He'd be back soon enough.
She could hear the mumble of Killian and Dev's voices carrying over the air. Not enough to make out what they were saying, but just enough to know they were there and talking. Kit found herself hoping the Forester could talk some sense into her brother. She began thinking about Devlin's suggestion, shaking her head at the thought of becoming a tracker herself. It sounded decent, enticing really, but she wanted to be at sea – she needed to be at sea. But maybe, one day, the odd contract while at port might not be a bad idea.
When Killian finally approached, Kit felt some of the tension in her body release. When her brother had offered to spend the night at the river with her, she had realized part of the tension she was feeling was she needed time with her brother – just her brother. She didn't think Killian realized just how much she needed him. It wasn't just that she felt she had to save him – he was also the only place, the only person, she felt safe with, felt whole, felt like more than a cold-blooded killer and pet of the devil. He gave her strength. And since their first night departing the city, she hadn't really been able to steal any of the time she was used to having.
Sneaking away on a watch for a few minutes didn't count. Add to that being surrounded by people – even if it was just a small group – all the time was starting to get to her. She wasn't used to this, used to having to worry about others, socialize with others. She was doing her best, but it was making it harder for her to remain steady in the face of their current situation and the taunts of Asmodeous.
Killian sat down beside her, and Kit drew her legs out of the water, pulled her knees into chest, and leaned into Killian. Her brother put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, and Kit sighed, feeling herself relax.
"I've missed you, Killian," she said softly.
Killian chuckled. "I've been with you the whole time, dear sister. How could you miss me?"
"I've missed this, our time just you and me. I've needed this. Just us. Noone else spyin', or listenin' in."
Killian hugged her tightly. "Aye," he said softly.
Kit sat in silence a moment, just listening to her brother breathing, his heart in his chest. He was alive. And he was surviving, despite their odds. He would survive. She had to believe that.
But she knew the devil was taunting him too, probably about Killian's plans to execute him. And the more Killian intended to follow through with it, the more power the devil had over her brother.
"Killian, I need you to do something for me," she said, her tone serious.
"Hmm? Anything, Kit. You know I'd set the world ablaze if it meant helping you," he said quietly.
"I need you to give up this plan to try to kill Asmodeous." She felt Killian's body stiffen as he opened his mouth to protest. "Just, let me finish brother."
Killian didn't speak, and Kit didn't look at him to see if he would wait for her to continue. He was silent, so she assumed he would.
"As long as you maintain this plot, he's going to have power over you, and that obsession? It gives him power over me too. You know you can't kill him. You're a damned arrogant fool half the time, but you're not an idiot. Not by a long shot. You're smart enough to know that."
She paused, sighing deeply.
"Killian, he's never gonna let me die. Ever. I'm too valuable for him. If I die, he's just going to resurrect me into something else and make me do worse. Make me more than a killer. And if you die tryin' t'kill him, I'll do it, because I'm going to have nothing left keeping me from tipping over the edge. So please, for me, at least for now, promise me you'll change those plans."
—--
Killian sighed, and as he lit his pipe, his sister could see the turmoil in his deep black eyes.
“You’re right, and I know you’re right. Devlin’s right, too. Asmodeus, hells, even he’s right. I can’t undo that which was done, sister. And you’re the only person that’ll ever hear me say it, but that tears me to pieces, every damn day. Hells, I wanted to at least get the family back together, this was my backup plan. T’give you something, even if I can’t give you back your life. Maybe just for once I was hopin’ we could have some kinda happiness, I don’t know.”
As he held his sister tightly and listened to the sound of the rushing waters, Killian felt truly comfortable for the first time since they set out on this journey.
“Maybe I’ll never make it all right in my own mind. But I’ll always love you, no depths can drown it. And I’ll yet find a way to bring you some peace, dear sister.
We’d better get some rest, we’ve got plenty of travel and a lot of uncertainty ahead of us, Kit.”
Back to Business
Kit left the farmhouse, still angry with herself for not listening before when Arathorn had told them his persistence to change their course was just because he didn’t want to see wasted talent. She knew the half-elf was more like the twins than perhaps he wanted to admit, and his willingness to look past their appearance and sordid past had, for the first time, made Kit consider the possibility of making a friend. Especially when she had been convinced that his insistence on seeing them choose a different path was a sign he too, felt that way about the twins.
His admission of eagerness to get back to his life had broken her of that, and while it hurt, she knew she couldn’t blame Arathorn. He had told them over and over again that his intentions weren’t to do with any sort of connection to them. For whatever reason, Kit had chosen not to listen and to drop her walls, and she knew this was on her. Feeling hurt just made her angrier at herself. Her being hurt wasn’t anything any of them should have to deal with. She wasn’t there to be emotional or involved in personal issues. Like everyone else, like Arathorn, she was there to do a job. And for the first time in her life, she had lost sight of that.
She needed to get her head on straight, get back to being there as a professional, and a professional only. They weren’t there to make friends, their focus had to be on the job.
Kit knew why her view had slipped from the target in the first place – a combination of Asmodeous’ taunting, Arathorn’s attempted guidance, and the weight of the ring in her pocket that she had been holding onto for the last few weeks before they had made their way to this job.
The day Killian was caught with Iril’s wife and Kit burned down the whole harbour, Kit was already white hot with rage. Something she hadn’t told her brother about – a secret that, as far as she knew, he hadn’t found out about. And she wasn’t quite sure if, or when, she would tell him.
She sat on the small dock and pulled the obsidian ring from her pocket, the single set black diamond in the centre catching in the sunlight, and stared at it. She could feel the anger and rage that had been putting her further on edge starting to boil up to the surface as, for the first time since Nondal’s betrayal, she started to face her feelings.
***
Nondal, a lithe goliath tattooed from head to toe with abyssal symbols and imagery, had been nothing more than a nuisance when he and Kit first met. He was an attractive, well-built man, with a mischievous grin, and an air of arrogance. Unlike her brother’s ego, Nondal seemed more bold, more sure of his success. Killian was all bravado – this man believed he was the best at everything. Their first encounter occurred just over a year earlier, when Kit was casing her twentieth mark’s vault. After breaking in, and closing the door carefully, she had been caught off-guard by a shadowed figure already inside. It seemed, Kit’s mark already had another thief attempting to rob him. The two had fought, Kit winning only by a slight amount, and she had dragged the thief out to the town, paying to have him loaded onto a ship.
“Drank too much,” she told the deckhand. “Can’t miss his ride out.”
She left a note in his pocket that read, better luck next time, then returned to finish the job.
They ran into each other numerous times over the next few months, seemingly always hitting the same marks. Nondal had become amused by Kit’s tactics, sticking around to watch her work, and a friendly rivalry emerged.
She had kept this from her brother, in part because she didn’t want him to attempt to take out the competition, in part because she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. She enjoyed having a rival, it added a new thrill to the game.
Before long, their interest in one another had grown beyond a rivalry, into a deep attraction, and finally a romance blossomed. Still, she kept it quiet from her brother. She wasn’t sure how he would react to her having a relationship – it wasn’t something she had even expressed interest in, and with his protectiveness, she worried he would overreact or do something to Nondal to scare him away.
Stupidly, as Kit would later say, she had been leaving some of the take for Nondal, as part of a compromise to allow her to continue her ruses. She would hide a portion of the loot behind a fake wall, ensuring Killian and the crew wouldn’t even know it was there. Sometimes, just to remind her how good he was, Nondal broke in ahead of her and took his own share, which they would later fight about, ending entangled in one-another’s arms.
A week before they were to make port where the twins encountered Captain Iril, Nondal did something Kit hadn’t expected – he proposed. Kit had said yes, and made plans to tell her brother when they arrived at the next Island. It would be a few weeks, Kit had thought, before they were set to be in the same place as one another, and that would give her time to broach the topic with Killian. Still, she found herself hesitating, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. This should have been something she was thrilled to share with her brother, but something had kept her from doing so.
It was the night the twins were set to burgle what would be Kit’s 35th victim. Kit had slipped away as always to secure the vault and ready it for Killian and their crew. She slipped inside, and once again found herself surprised by Nondal, hiding in the shadows as he had during their encounter. He grabbed her from behind into a grapple, holding her tight so she couldn’t fight, his knee strategically holding her tail in place. He chuckled, a deep, terrifying chuckle, breathing heavily on her neck.
Kit tried to wriggle out, confused as he held both her arms behind her back with one of his.
“Nondal, what the hell?” she whispered angrily, still struggling against him.
“You know, it’s been fun,” he said, slowly, pulling Kit’s shard dagger from its sheath and trailing it down her arm. “Maybe the most fun I’ve had on a mark.”
Kit froze as it hit her. Nondal wasn’t a thief – he was a bounty hunter. She felt her voice get caught in her throat, her body unwilling to move from the shock.
“It was too easy, really,” Nondal drawled. “The great Kit McKenzie, the greatest con artist of rich men. I expected more of a challenge. Then again, it’s not surprising that a woman who has never known love would leap when the prospect was dangled in front of her. The mark, the one your dear brother killed, what was his name again? Sutcliffe? He was right, you really are just a charlatan and a whore.”
Finding some of her words, Kit spat out, “you bastard!” and attempted to resume her struggle. It was too late, however, as before she could manage to move, Nondal plunged the dagger through her ribs, withdrew it, and did it again. Kit coughed, choking up blood, and felt her body failing underneath her. Nondal dropped her to the floor, then let her dagger clatter beside her.
“Captain Iril says hello,” Nondal grinned before stomping on her leg, a sickening crack echoing in the chamber as Kit clenched her teeth to stop from screaming in pain. The last thing she needed was to alert the guards.
Nondal turned to leave, looking back down at her with disgust in his eyes. “You really thought someone could love a demon like you? Ha!” Then, he disappeared.
Kit was furious with herself, but knew there was no time to brood. She had to get out. She used what strength she had left and pushed herself forward, grabbing her dagger and putting it back in its sheath. She continued to pull herself along the floor, realizing she would need to get to her feet or risk her blood trail leading someone straight to her. She left the vault door open as she pushed herself to her feet, whimpering as she tried not to scream.
Before moving, she pulled a sending stone out of her pocket. “Killian, mark’s sour. Abort. I’ll get myself out of here and meet you back at the ship.”
There was a short pause, and then a response. “Heard dearest. See you there.”
Kit shoved the stone away, and hobbled along, clutching her side. Her vision was getting blurry, but she had to get out of there. She made it to the edge of the property, just inside the bushes, before she collapsed.
“I’m disappointed in you, pet.”
Kit lifted her head to see Asmodeous emerging from the trees.
“I’d expect you to know better.”
Kit didn’t reply.
“Ah yes, I suppose there’s no use scolding you is there. You’re already scolding yourself. I’m sure, if I leave you to it, you’ll punish yourself for this transgression, yes?”
Kit grunted angrily.
“Good. Don’t worry, you’re not going to die yet, dear. I haven’t finished with you yet.”
Asmodeous reached down and uttered something in a language Kit didn’t recognize, and she found herself enveloped in a black, sparking cloud. She felt her leg shift and her bones snap back into place, holding back a deep scream. Her wounds closed up and slowly the cloud dissipated, and her strength returned, though she could still feel the pain.
“There, good as new,” Asmodeous said, dusting off his hands. “Well, almost as new. I’ve left you with the scars – to remind you never to make a mistake like that again.”
Kit nodded, and stood up, bowing to Asmodeous. “Yes m’lord.”
“Good. Now get back before Killian realizes something is wrong.”
Kit dashed off into the woods, anger seething out from every ounce of her soul – anger towards herself, Iril, Nondal, and Asmodeous. She would never make that mistake of opening up again – not for Asmodeous, but for herself. If the world wanted to see her as a monster, then a monster she would remain.
***
Kit turned the obsidian ring over in her hand, a cold feeling settling on her heart.
“One day, I’m going to come for you Nondal,” she said calmly, before pitching the ring as far up the river as she could.
She shivered and hugged herself, glancing back towards the farmhouse where everyone was getting ready for her departure. At least, if one thing had come from this, it was that Nondal could serve as a reminder that the only people safe enough to let behind her walls were Killian, and Oak.
Kit closed her eyes, took a deep breath as she regained her composure, and she made her way back towards the group, her sights re-aligned to the only thing that mattered. The job, and keeping the crew alive to finish it. After that, they could all go back to being strangers, and Kit and Killian could get on with their lives.
Dead Man Walking
CW: sexual assault
Charles Sutcliffe was the kind of man who exuded wealth, and not in a positive way. He was a man who over indulged, took advantage of those he deemed as his inferiors, and knowingly feasted on what should be the profits of those who worked for him.
It didn’t take long for Kit to find her mark this time. The first night the Kit and Killian was docked, the grumblings about Sutcliffe were all over the local tavern. It seemed, in one way or another, every man and woman on the island either worked for or was indebted to this particular man. A strange thing for someone who was not governor there to have that kind of power. But power he had, and Kit quickly learned of the atrocities the man carried out against anyone who he felt slighted by.
“Caution, dearest,” Killian whispered as Kit scribbled her notes. ‘“I have a bad feeling about this one.”
Kit picked up her mug of ale, downed half of it, and looked at her brother, her face betraying no emotion. “Bad feeling or not, he needs to learn his place. This whole island is drowning in poverty and he’s the cause. He’s the mark.”
Killian sighed in defeat, knowing better than to argue with his sister. He knew she would take his cautioning under more than advisement – unlike Killian, Kit immediately trusted when her brother felt something was wrong, she just chose to proceed regardless. It was part of their dynamic, Killian diving in headlong without heeding caution, Kit diving in knowing caution was issued correctly. Killian would have seen it as his sister having a death wish, but he had long since learned that Kit seemed to thrive off danger. Or at least, she had since that day so long ago.
The twins spent the next two days gathering intel, Kit keeping herself hidden and out of sight, Killian using his charm to gather as much information as he could.
Sutcliffe was a man of routine, they learned. He took the same path each day from his mansion in the hills, through town, to wring whatever money he could out of every person under his watch. His enforcers brutalized many people each day, often even those who paid immediately.
“To keep the fear in their hearts,” Sutcliffe had said after his enforcers beat the blacksmith within a few inches of his life.
Kit was enraged. It took everything to stop herself from killing Sutcliffe, including a long argument with her patron, who ordered a hit on the man. “Too many innocents will continue to suffer if he dies now,” Kit had said. “I do this my way. If you want me to return here once the balance is returned and kill him, I’ll finish the job then.”
Surprisingly, Asmodeous had agreed to the terms, and the twins continued their preparation.
Killian, as always, played the role of one paving the way for a wealthy woman seeking to settle on the island. Their ship’s colours had been changed, a fake figurehead mounted over their very recognizeable one, and the crew staged as seafarers under the employ of the woman. During their ruse, they often used being siblings to their advantage. Many of these smaller port cities still saw wealthy women as more property than individuals, giving Killian the in he needed to sell the idea of his sister.
The family was looking to purchase a home, and of course, whether now or later, find a suitor that met the bar for such a high-born woman. She had multiple suitors, but Killian, as the head of their family following the loss of their parents, felt he could find better. So here they had come, hearing word of a wealthy businessman who might just fit the bill.
It had not taken long for Sutcliffe to search Killian out. And while the fact they were Tieflings obviously was not something the man was fond of, the promise of a large bounty for wedding the man’s dear sister, and the way she was wildly pursued was enough to keep him interested.
By the third day, Kit was ready to meet her mark. A master at disguise, Kit’s purple skin was now a soft pink, her red locks a rich brown, and her piercing green eyes now replaced with a blue like the seas. Her usual preferred outfit – a pirate’s cloak covering common studded leather armour – was replaced by a fine, corseted dress, with laced sleeves, a sweetheart cutline, and a skirt that only spread at the right point off her body, accentuating her curves. Those who knew Kit well were often surprised at just how much she seemed to enjoy strutting around in a dress, and how well she played the part of the doe-eyed bachelorette. Gone were the grunts, sneers, and monotone responses, replaced by girlish giggles, batting eyelashes, and constant smiles.
She was still coy, but the flirtatious kind. And of course, she would always present a fake name. After all, it would be difficult to continue the ruse from island to island if word got out that it was Kit and Killian, the Chaos Twins, screwing men out of money at most ports.
So tonight, she was Bonny Lethridge, daughter of a wealthy noble family in Greynor, with direct connections to the King. They met Sutcliffe at his mansion, set up to obviously flaunt his wealth to the twins, an attempt to win them over. With their backstory, Kit’s slightly too tight corset, and her skill at seducing men through the most innocent of ways, it wasn’t long before Sutcliffe was nearly salivating at the prospect of having Kit as his bride. The twins expected it wouldn’t be long before the offer came through, and sure enough, by the next afternoon, the man had sent a letter saying he found the dowry more than generous, and requested the opportunity to enter into an engagement with Kit.
That evening, the engagement began. Kit, meeting Sutcliffe for courting each day, taking the opportunity to learn all she could about the vault, sneaking away from the powder room to start assessing how to break in. The engagement, Sutcliffe had requested, was to only last a week. Long enough for Kit to familiarize herself with the premises before settling into her wifely duties, he said. This meant the twins had to work quickly. The night before the wedding, Kit had prepped the vault for the theft, Killian hidden outside and ready to empty the vault with their crew once Kit gave the signal. Kit would keep Sutcliffe occupied long enough for Killian and the crew to clear safely back to the ship before excusing herself to get her beauty sleep, and returning to the K&K.
It was all going according to plan, and as the moon rose to the centre of the sky, Kit placated Sutcliffe with her excitement for the wedding. Like many of the wealthy bachelors Kit swindled, the man spent the night making endless innuendos about what would await them after their ceremony. Sutcliffe was more forward than most, making suggestions about his likes, dislikes, and things he expected Kit to do for him. Whilst she was certainly not opposed to couples learning one another’s preferences, this man clearly saw this more as orders and expectations than a couple working through their expectations together.
Kit had smiled, nodded, and blushed at the appropriate times, playing up her role. She waited for the all-clear signal from Killian, hoping it would come soon, as Sutcliffe placed his hand on her thigh. She was thankful for the thick skirt that covered her legs as the man gripped it tightly. That faded as the man began using his thumb to slowly pull the skirt upwards, grinning at her wickedly. Kit playfully smacked his hand away.
“Tomorrow night, dear. I’d like to keep my innocence til then,” Kit giggled.
Sutcliffe’s face reddened in anger. “I’ve already paid for you, *dear*. Tonight or tomorrow doesn’t matter.”
Kit clenched her teeth, forcing herself to keep up the ruse. She couldn’t drop it until they were clear. She stood, abruptly, playing the terrified girl. “Sutcliffe, dear, you wouldn’t want to start our marriage this way, would you? Besides, I need my beauty sleep. It would be highly unfitting for a woman of my stature to enter into wedlock without being at her best.”
She began to move away, Sutcliffe jumping to his feet, grabbed her tightly by the wrist and yanked her back towards him.
“You’ll do what I say, you’ll behave like the doting wife when I expect, and you’ll let me treat you like a whore when I expect, girl,” he sneered.
“Ow! Please, you’re hurting me,” she pleaded, still carrying on the ruse as the anger boiled inside her.
In response, Sutcliffe shoved Kit into the wall, forcing her back with a kiss and tearing the dress atop the corset she wore.
Kit, infuriated, bit his tongue hard, then shoved him off her. “Oh hell no!” she snarled.
Sutcliffe yelled in pain, looking up in horror. “Bitch! You whore! Who the hell do you think you are?”
Kit cracked her neck side to side and sneered. “A moment ago I was your lovely betrothed? Now I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”
Lunging forward, Sutcliffe held his hands out to Kit’s throat. Kit reached out and looped her arms over his to pin his arms down, then head-butted him, a sickening crack sounding as it split skin and drew blood on both of them. Sutcliffe screamed again as Kit brought a knee up to his groin, releasing him from her grapple. As he dropped his head downwards to grab at his crotch, Kit elbowed him hard in the eye, dropping him to the ground.
Sutcliffe held himself, attempting to shout and yell in pain as he cursed and swore at Kit.
“That’s not my name, love,” she said with a sneer. “Touch a woman like that ever again, and I’ll be back to finish the job.” As she spoke, she slipped a stashed dagger out of the ribbons in the back of the dress, slicing the rest of the material off, leaving her in nothing but the underpants and her corset.
As Sutcliffe continued to shout, and the sound of his guards began to echo more loudly with each step, Kit spat at the man before seemingly vanishing completely into the shadows. Kit ran from the premises, sticking to the trees and staying low. Everything inside her was screaming. She had wanted to murder the man, but murdering him wouldn’t set things right. It wouldn’t make him suffer the way he deserved to suffer. She could feel herself shaking heavily, feel the blood running down her face from the cut, but she knew better than to stop near his home. She tore the brown wig off, leaving it behind in the dirt. Kit could never see herself wearing that particular one again.
She made it into the alleys of the town before she finally stopped to catch her breath, doubling over as she threw up violently. She prayed to Asmodeous noone could hear as she began to sob in rage. She supposed she should consider herself lucky. This many marks, and only one had ever done this. She knew it was always a risk. But knowing it was a risk and dealing with it were two very different things. When she finally regained her composure, she made her way out to the docks and back to the ship. The colours had already been returned to their rightful ones, the fake figurehead removed. There, watching for her, as always, stood Killian, a worried look on his face.
Kit was never late.
Kit smoothed out her hair, wiped away some of the blood, and strode forward, confident as ever. It was impossible to hide that something had happened however, and Killian launched himself off the ship towards her, wings spread wide, landing with a thunk on the dock in front of her.
“Kit! What happened?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Kit said plainly, continuing forward.
Killian stuck out his arm, stopping her. “Did Sutcliffe do this?”
“It’s been taken care of,” Kit said, pushing his arm away.
“Kit,” Killian pleaded.
“I’m fine. But we might want to set sail immediately. The guards will know the vault is empty by now.”
Kit made her way to the ship, feeling Killian stare after her. She could feel his rage boiling up – not at her elusiveness, but at what he had already figured out had happened. Kit couldn’t stop though, she couldn’t speak to him, and she certainly couldn’t let the crew, who were already working to ready the ship for departure, to see one of their captains fall to pieces.
A silence fell over the ship as she strode on board, the crew half-staring at Kit being nearly unclothed and her face covered in blood, and half in shock at the state of disarray the usually stoic sibling was in. She whipped her head towards them, and the crew immediately went back to what they were doing. All, but Oak, that was. Oak stared at her through the darkness, his yellow eyes glowing. HIs glance flicked to Killian, who had chosen to return as well, then back to Kit. She could have sworn she caught a flash of anger in his eyes, but chose to ignore him, hurrying to her quarters. She wanted out of those clothes, out of that makeup. Out of it all. She bathed herself intently, scrubbing her skin harder than usual, then changed into some nightclothes and sat on her bed. She didn’t cry, but stared at the wall across from her.
A few minutes later, he heard her door handle click, and felt Killian’s presence as he entered the room. He didn’t speak, but climbed onto her bed and pulled Kit close, holding her tightly. They remained like that in silence, Kit focusing on the safety she felt from her brother, until she fell asleep.
Walking with the Devil
Kit was already thoroughly irritated and angry with herself following the raid on the orc village. She should have been more prepared, should have been smarter. It wasn’t like her to charge into something without caution, without assessing the situation. But they had been short on time, and Fae was in trouble. And fuck. If she had just left him, she’d hate herself. Killian would probably hate her too – or at least, be furious with her. The elder twin had taken quite a shining to the kid, and she was the only one close enough to chase him down.
But she had failed. The orcs had flanked her and hit like fucking mountains, and before she knew what was going on she had lost consciousness. As if that wasn’t enough, she woke to find Theran to be the one healing her and who finished off one of the two orcs.
Asmodeous’ breath, she grumbled, as she and Killian rowed up the stream.
“Oh Kit, my breath is never far,” a familiar voice echoed in her mind.
She ignored it.
“I’m disappointed, pet,” Asmodeous continued. “You’re going soft. That brother of yours, his heart is rubbing off on you. Tsk tsk. We’re going to have to do something about that.”
Kit grunted in frustration, refusing to look at Killian. She already knew he was aware of what was going on. Killian had told her, years ago, she had this way about her whenever the taunting came. A demeanour that would pass over her. She had tried over the years to hide it, but nothing ever came of it.
“What is he saying now Kit?”
Kit didn’t answer. She just watched the water as they paddled, focusing on the task at hand, trying to block the laughter from her mind.
“Kit!” Killian’s tone was sharper now. “I’ll be damned if you don’t start talking to me.”
“I messed up, Killian, and he knows it. He’s rubbing it in, like always.”
“Are y’fucking with me right now sister? How many times have I been knocked out in recent days? And you’ve been knocked down nigh but once, maybe twice? He can get fucked.”
“Not right now, Killian,” Kit warned. She wasn’t in the mood to be talked down, and shutting out Asmodeous was taking the little of the strength she had left. They had to flee the camp so quickly, she hadn’t had time to clean or wrap any of her wounds. Wouldn’t be the first time she nearly stained these clothes, she mused.
After the group had found the old hunter’s cabin, Kit sat, listening to the conversation. Half-listening, at least. She wasn’t really in the mood, though tried to at least pretend to feign interest. Until Fae spoke, and shared what he had overheard. Kit watched as Felicity had barely reacted to the news of the setup, and her insides twisted into knots. She felt like she was about to throw up, and rage began to boil up inside of her.
“Oh this is a delight,” Asmodeous chuckled. “I didn’t even have to arrange this one.”
Arrange this one? Kit felt the colour drain from her face. She should have known. She should have fucking known. Iril had probably been in some kind of damned debt to him.
“I told you I was waiting for the opportune moment, pet.”
At that, Kit had burst, yelling at Felicity, feeling her rage and anger towards the woman who had allowed them to walk into a massive trap. Any trust she had been feeling for the forester was gone. And then the revelation that half their group was either lawmen or there for ulterior motives. Of course they were. Of course.
Her party, she didn’t find herself losing trust for, but suddenly, as she heard Killian arguing with Devlin over the realization, she began howling. Laughing hysterically and deeply. She couldn’t help herself. It was too rich. She had told Killian right from the start that the deal was bogus. That there was some kind of plot afoot. And now, here they were, caught in another plot that involved people wanting to kill them.
She tried to calm Killian, sitting down again. Then, as she finally felt herself start to breathe, Asmodeous came back.
“Oh, I can’t wait until Killian dies this time. I have big plans for you, my pet. You can’t sell me your soul again, but you can barter with more. And my dear, I have more for you than just being my emissary. Oh, so much more.”
Kit felt a lump rise in her chest as she watched Killian. It felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She needed to get out of there, needed to feel pain, needed to get the voice out of her head.
Asmodeous laughed. “Yes, please, take me to where we can speak privately.”
Against Devlin’s cautioning, Kit continued out into the woods, staying as close as she could manage to the cabin without wandering too far.
“What more could you possibly want from me?” she said out loud, looking around, almost expecting him to appear.
The devil, however, stayed in her mind.
“Oh Kit, my little charmer, the lives you end for me keep my armies full, but I am always in need of more souls than debts, and you, dear, have the talents to con anyone into giving up their souls willingly.”
Kit clenched her fists. “No. I wouldn’t do it.”
“For your brother? Of course you would.”
Kit growled in frustration, punching a nearby tree hard enough the bark cracked.
“Killian won’t die again,” she snarled, punching the tree again.
“Yes, he will, pet. And when he does, you’ll except my offer. Without conditions this time.”
Kit began to punch the tree harder and harder. She wanted to argue with Amodeous, tell him even she had her lines, but they both knew it wasn’t true. She would do anything for Killian – anything. He was all she had, and she couldn’t live without him. She wouldn’t live without him. She’d have no-one. She’d have no purpose. Her entire life was focused on keeping Killian alive, on keeping him safe.
She didn’t want to think about a life without him. Killian always tried to tell her she’d find someone else to love her, but she knew that wasn’t true. She was a literal assassin for the ruler of the hells. She’d gutted men for touching her wrong, for looking at Killian wrong. And besides, she looked like a devil, as the humans especially liked to remind her. Who would want a murderous devil in their lives?
No. There was no life without her brother. And she was smart enough to know Asmodeous would never let her take her own life.
“That forester, what’s his name again? Arathorn? He’d make a nice ornament. We’ll start with him,” Asmodeous taunted. “That child, well, his soul is already forfeit. But I could find my uses. I’m sure some of the hell hounds would love a new toy.”
KIt fought the urge to scream, remembering Devlin’s words, and continued to punch the tree. She could feel her knuckles cracking and starting to bleed, but she didn’t care. She wanted him to stop.
“I’m sure I could find some artificers and sorcerer’s who would love to experiment on EGO. And your friend, Oak? You know, the one other person you actually like? Maybe I’ll have you make him my own, personal throneroom pet. What do you think, Kit?”
Kit growled in rage and spun around, kicking what remained of the small tree’s trunk with her foot. It let out a loud CRACK as it fell to the ground.
“Now, be a good little girl and go back before Killian comes looking for you. I rather like seeing you beaten down like this.”
Kit slumped her shoulders forward in defeat and walked back to the cabin silently.
Weapon of Choice
Kit held the hilt of the dagger in her right hand, gripping it lightly and rotating her wrist to get a feel for the blade. The twins had just turned six, and their parents had told them it was time to start learning how to fight – to really fight. Not just the brawling that had resulted in Kit knocking a few teeth out from a bulky earlier that year.
"Pirates know how to be deadly when necessary," Ma had said to them, "No matter how old. You're old enough now to know which end to stab with, so you're old enough to learn to be lethal."
At that remark, the young twins had giggled, thinking it was more silly than anything. Not that they thought fighting was silly, but that the idea of them needing to be deadly was so far from their ability to fathom. That was partially intentional by their parents. So far, most of what Kit and Killian knew of piracy was the "fun" parts – the pillaging of treasure, the tavern brawls, and life on the open seas. They had managed, thus far, to completely avoid any run-ins on open waters with rival crews or deadly encounters in the ports. Instead they had focused on teaching their children the more refined skills they would need to survive as pirates. Anyone could pick up a blade or pistol nand make the kill, but being stealthy, charming the authorities and the wealthy, winning at verbal sparring – those were skills that required more focus and practice.
But now, as the jobs got riskier and the twins had excelled in those arts, their parents wanted to ensure they could do more than just point a blade or barrel in the right direction. They needed to know how to be one with their weapons, to move with them as a natural extension of themselves. It wasn’t of course, just the jobs that were getting riskier. The twins tiefling inheritances were almost impossible to hide by this age. Their horns now proportionately matched them in size, as did their tails, and Killian's wings now spanned large enough to fly with them. Though larger port cities and inland areas seemed more tolerant of Tieflings, the smaller ports and more tropical island settlements tended to be hostile, and knowing how to fight with precision would be crucial to their survival.
As Kit turned that dagger over in her hand, the leather wrapping on the hilt feeling comfortable against her skin, the young Tiefling closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The blade felt natural to her, like it was the right piece for her to fight with. She tightened her grip only slightly, spun around, and flung the dagger from her hand tooth target their parents had set up, the blade striking only inches away from the bullseye.
Killian grunted beside her, taking aim with the pistol he had chosen. "I can do better than that." He flashed a cocktail grin, focused, and pulled the trigger, his bullet piercing the target with a puff of feathers at the exact opposite point of Kit's dagger.
"Not quite better," Kit teased.
Their father crossed his arms and shot the twins a serious look. "It's not about either of you being better than the other. You both need to be good. You need to be able to play off each other’s strengths. That’s how you will survive.”
Delilah motioned to the targets, waiting for Kit to retrieve her blade. As Kit strode over, pulling out the blade with ease, she grinned at her mother. “I want to fight with two of these,” she said confidently.
“Learn how to master one first, then we’ll talk.” She waited for Kit to stand beside her brother once more. “Again.”
They spent the rest of the day working on the targets, getting closer and closer to dead centre. The twins had chest-bumped and cheered wildly when they hit the bullseye finally, only to quickly quiet and shift uncomfortably at the stern and unimpressed look on their parent’s faces.
“Hitting the mark isn’t good enough,” William said, looking between Kit and Killian. “You need to be able to hit the right part of the mark, the point that will do the most damage.”
The sun was beginning to set, casting a pink glow across the edge of the sea as the ship, named after the twins, bobbed up and down in the slow rolling waters. Delilah began to light the torches on deck as the crew began to prep the ship for the quiet of the night. Those who had been watching and cheering on the Captains’ children began to depart, knowing that at this point, the bravado they were giving the twins wouldn’t help in their lessons.
“We do not leave this deck until you both can consistently hit the dead centre of the targets,” William instructed.
“But I’m getting hungry,” Killian whined.
“Me too,” added Kit, matching her brother’s tone.
Delilah rolled her eyes. “Then you better get aiming.”
The twins returned to practicing, grumbling in frustration. It took until the sun had finished setting, but finally, the twins began to strike their mark, shot after shot, until their parents were thoroughly satisfied.
Kit retrieved her dagger, spinning it around in her hand and practicing using it to strike as she walked back to the weapon cabinet. She spun it one more time, then slammed it down into a barrel beside the cabinet, grinned and stalked away.
Killian closed one eye, focusing the barrel, and pretended to fire it at an imaginary target before grinning wildly and returning it to its stand.
“It seems they’ve found their weapons,” Delilah said with a smile.
“Indeed.” William watched as his children began to rough-house on their way to the mess hall, tackling and fighting one another. “Kit will need to learn to wield a pistol as well – those daggers can only be thrown so far. I’ll work with her on close range fighting.” He cast a glance at Delilah. “Killian seemed rather interested in the mechanics of the weapon. Perhaps you could start teaching him how to construct one himself.”
Delilah grinned at her husband and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. “Now that’s the kind of talk that makes a pirate proud of her husband,” she said, before winking and following after the twins.
William side and took off his hat, running his hand through his mess of long hair. Although he shared in his wife’s sense of pride at the twins being so adept with their skills, part of him feared that violence would end up needing to be a far more prevalent part of their pirate life than it had been for their parents. And that was something he would always worry about for them. He almost considered abandoning the life a few times to keep them safe, but knew Delilah would never go for it. Besides, he reasoned with himself, if their children had inherited any of their parents’ personality traits, they would absolutely be a force to be reckoned with. That much, at least, gave William McKenzie hope for their future.
The Wall of Rings
Kit sat on her bed inside her cabin aboard the K&K, her legs crossed, elbows resting in her knees, chin in her hands, as she stared at her wall of engagement rings. Trophies from each of the wealthy, arrogant bastards she had swindled out of the jewelry and everything in their vaults – sometimes even more than that.
32 rings – an empty slot on space 30, as the ring now hung around Killian’s neck – all from men who had deserved more than to be robbed blind. There was a darkness inside Kit that screamed they should have been killed, but she knew on those islands, the death of those men would harm the people they were trying to help more than simply robbing them blind would. So, she had stood against her patron’s initial wishes, agreeing to destroy them, but not kill them.
But the wall was more than a trophy wall. As the rings had added up, it also became a bitter reminder for Kit, one that told her she would likely spend most of her adult life alone. Her brother, of course, would always be in her life. Whether he would admit it or not though, he longed for more. A kind of companionship that was different than siblings. Kit was terrified of the day it would come, but also hoped it would come for him sooner rather than later. Killian deserved that kind of relationship – deserved to have someone who was his and who he was theirs, not simply being a part of them.
Kit, however, knew that wasn’t likely for her. It wasn’t just that she spent most of her time destroying the lives of wealthy men and playing with their hearts. It was that she simply didn’t seem to have it in her, the flair for romance, the batting of the eyes, the slowing down. Sure, there were the men who had found her, or vice versa, after an intense battle in the cage, but they weren’t looking at her as a woman that would be a part of their lives. She was a post battle reward, just as they were to her. A fix from the high emotions and high level of pain dealt in the ring.
It wasn’t just who she was, a Tiefling pirate with a rough personality and a penchant for killing people; it was the callous way she disregarded and played with feelings of others. This was something she had always known. No matter the good reason behind her actions, most people would be appalled to know the depths she had gone to win over hearts and then break them.
Kit would never admit it to anyone, but the truth was, it hurt her too. Not that she ever fell for any of the men. Knowing the kinds of villains they were made it impossible to even be mildly delighted by their charms or rare sweet moments. But the idea of it, of the being wooed, desired, treated like she was something worth doting over. Deep down inside, there was a part of her that wanted that.
Those engagement rings, all neatly hung on the board nailed to her wall, were more than just trophies. They were warnings, to never let herself slip, to never let herself be convinced it could be real, to never let down the walls. She knew, if she ever dropped that protection of herself, she would be the mark, waiting to be the fool.
She laid back on her bed, staring at the empty ceiling as the waves crashed and slapped lightly against the outside of the ship.
“Stop your pity party,” she scolded herself, thinking that just maybe, it was time to focus her energy on planning what she would do with herself once Killian found the person that would help him move on with his life. Because as it stood, she realized, she had no idea what that future would hold, and she didn’t want it spent moping around.
Pulling one more ring out of her pocket, she thumbed it for a while, then climbed off the bed and hung it in slot 33. There was space for three more.
“Maybe after that, it’s time to retire from that particular business,” she murmured, staring at the pink gem inlaid into a rose-gold band for just a moment longer.
Make me bleed
It was the first night the twins were in port in the island city of Syrin, and Killian had, quite unsurprisingly, already secured his trysts for the evening. Their ship, the Kit & Killian was docked, legally of course, and they had barely dropped the anchor before the elder twin had wooed his way into the dockmaster and at least one or two other workers.
Kit had watched, arms crossed, as her brother led them away, his arms around the blushing man and woman, on their way somewhere for Killian’s games. One of these days, he was going to get them into serious trouble, Kit mused. Still, she couldn’t be entirely disappointed he was already gone. It was rare they visited the larger cities, and Kit had been craving her own kind of drug – one that was sorely unavailable and missing from the smaller port towns.
Once Killian had disappeared into the maze of streets and buildings, Kit returned to her quarters and grabbed a small bag from under her bed, slinging it over her shoulder, and slipped into the darkness. She ran along the edge of the ship’s railing towards the platform, silently moving amidst the shadows. As she landed without a sound on the ramp, she heard an “ahem” from behind her, spinning around to see Oak perched casually on the opposite railing, leaning against one of the mounted posts.
“You do realize it’s your ship, you don’t have to sneak off it, right?” the large cat chuckled.
Kit glared at him. “I’m aware. But I didn’t want anyone to see me, lest they tell Killian.”
“What does it matter what you do with your time?” Oak asked, raising a large, furry eyebrow at her.
“He won’t like what I’m doing, is all. Utter a word of this, and I’ll slit your throat when you sleep,” Kit threatened.
Oak laughed again, a soft purr erupting with it. “Kit, you could never slit my throat.”
“Shut up,” she retorted as she started to walk away. “Just don’t say anything, okay?”
Oak shrugged. “Your business is yours.”
Kit smirked as she walked away, feeling only slightly guilty for threatening the only person the twins could even potentially refer to as a friend. Slightly, of course, was as guilty as she ever felt. After all, she had a reputation as the harsher, colder twin to keep up. She pulled her hood up over her head, hiding her tiefling horns and casting enough of a shadow across her face that she disappeared beneath it, then stuck to the darkness cast by the buildings as she made her way through the streets, avoiding the nightwatch and city folks alike. It wasn’t long until she found her way to a solid concrete building with a steel door and a single lantern mounted above casting a small glow. The door had a slot at eye level, blocked by two iron bars, with no windows anywhere to be seen on either the door or building.
Kit raised a gloved hand and rapped twice quickly in succession, pausing, and rapped one more time, repeating this process three times, then waiting. A few moments later, a high-pitched voice spoke through the hole.
“Whad’ya want?” they demanded.
Kit lifted her left arm and opened her hand, palm upwards, revealing a handful of gold.
There was no reply, but the lock on the door clunked from the other side and steel mass swung open just wide enough for Kit to slip inside. A halfling male sat on a tall stool inside the door, hand held out towards Kit.
“Two gold entry-fee.”
Kit obliged and turned to walk away, ignoring the halfling as he shouted at her about the rules. She waved a hand dismissively as she stalked off, uninterested in any kind of chatter. She was there for one reason, and one reason only.
The hallway was long and dark, and she followed it along to a set of cement stairs leading two flights underground, the odd torch lit just to provide enough light for anyone with darkvision abilities to move without issue. Another hall twisted and rounded to two doors, both guarded by burly goliaths with waraxes strapped to their backs.
As she approached the first, he looked her up and down, sizing up her frame.
“A little small for competin’ tonight, eh?” he grunted.
Kit didn’t respond, eliciting a harumph from the half-giant.
“Fine. Yer just in-time anyway. Another dropped. Time for fresh blood.” He opened the large door, the hallway immediately filling with loud cheering and shouting, revealing a small, underground arena.
Kit smirked from under her hood and stepped forward into the room filled with dozens of people all demanding a new contender. The ringmaster heaved with relief as Kit entered and rushed forward.
“A minute longer without another fighter, and this crowd would kill me,” the large, sweaty man said, looking at her gratefully.
Kit didn’t respond.
“Uh, well, welcome to Syrin’s battlegrounds. What do they call you?”
Kit remained silent, staring at the orc inside the ring, watching as he raised his arms enthusiastically and roared, riling up the crowds. His left eye had taken a hit earlier, and was swollen with black bruising spreading quickly. There were a few fresh cuts on his face and arms, and a bruise spreading across his abdomen, but otherwise it looks like he had been the winner in most fights tonight.
“Ma’am, I need a name to introduce you,” the ringmaster pleaded.
“Ghost. You can call me the ghost.”
He looked at her strangely, and shook his head, muttering as he walked away. “Great, another dark and broody about to get their skull crushed. Why didn’t I listen to my mother and become a barrister?”
Kit glided forward, pulling two sets of brass knuckles out of her pack and sliding them onto her fingers, and slipped a small brass cap onto the end of her tail, before dumping the bag on the bench. Her face and horns still covered by the cloak, Kit stepped into the ring.
The orc began to roar with laughter at her tiny size, the crowd following his lead.
“This is what you give me to finish off my night?” he shouted at the ringmaster. “I’ll match whatever any of you bet against this child tonight. Double or lose it all.”
Kit planted her feet a hips-width apart, and held her arms straight down, standing dead still as her eyes darted and assessed the small arena. Chain-caged walls, a mesh net above, chains holding down the raised walls at the bottom of solid steel. Plenty to work with.
“Are you ready to die, little girl?” The orc howled.
Still, silence. This seemed to unnerve the orc slightly, who began to pace back and forth on his side of the ring.
“I’m going to tear you apart. Such a waste. Such a pretty frame.”
The muscle in his neck began to bulge out as she still refused to engage.
The ringmaster cleared his throat, unsure of what to make of the situation.
“Ladies and gentlemen, introducing for the first time in Syrin, challenging Ruk’sul, our reigning champion, comes this… unique contender… theeeee ghost!”
The crowd burst into laughter, people beginning to shout their support and bets on Ruk’sul as the champion.
From under her hood, Kit smiled. Not a single bet on her. Just the way she liked it.
Ruk’sul’s veins looked like they were about to pop. “Silence won’t save you, little angel.”
At that, Kit flicked her tail, ripping off the cloak, and tossed it to the side. “It’s a good thing I’m a devil then,” she retorted, beckoning Ruk’sul towards her.
The crowd gasped, a mix of shock and horror at the Tiefling in tight leather armour, adorned in thick, dark makeup and tattoos, standing across from their champion. Ruk’sul only looked momentarily startled before he charged forward, leaning downward to slam her with his shoulder. Kit stood firm, letting the orc plow into her and slam her into the wall and chains behind her. Pain seared through her body as she grunted, at the force.
“You’re supposed to do SOMETHING!” the ringmaster shouted in shock, wondering if they had just allowed an amateur into the ring.
Kit coughed blood out, spraying some onto Ruk’sul, who grinned.
“Had enough?”
“Baby, this is just the foreplay,” Kit whispered, letting the pain flow through her body, triggering the adrenaline.
The orc started to chuckle, stopping mid-laugh, eyes flying wide with pain as her steel-toed boot connected with his groin, causing him to rear back and drop her.
“CUNT!” He roared in pain as Kit slipped out from underneath and darted to the other side of the ring.
“Not for you I’m not, love,” Kit retorted.
Ruk’sul growled angrily and forced himself forward, charging at Kit again. This time, Kit leapt upwards, grabbing onto the chainlink walls above and steading her footing in them. Ruk’sul snarled and grabbed the walls, shaking them in an attempt to force her off. Kit closed her eyes tightly, matching her body’s movements with the rhythm of the shakes to time her move. As the fence pulled forward, she used the momentum to propel herself off, flipping in the air and landing on the opposite side of Ruk’sul, throwing a sharp uppercut as he spun to face her. The orc had missed the brass knuckles on her hands in his assessment, letting out a loud “OOMPH” as the knuckles connected with his jaw, a sickening crack that could only be heard by the two competitors.
He swung his own fist at her, Kit somersaulting out of the way and into a crouched position. As Ruk’sul charged her again, Kit leapt forward and charged him back, slipping to the side as she grabbed the neck of his armour. She used his own momentum to help her swing herself up on his back, slamming her elbow down into the bottom of his neck where it connected with his spine. A quick whip of her tail to each side of his temples, and Ruk’sul was screaming in pain. He flung himself back first into the wall, crushing Kit once again. Kit grimaced and pushed her right arm free as she began to pummel him in the back of the skull with her brass knuckles, breaking flesh, then bone, as black blood began so splash on her face.
Ruk’sul stepped forward, grabbing at her over his head, trying to tear Kit off. Finally getting a grip on her, he flung her over his head, smashing her into the ground. Kit grimaced again. This was going to bruise, she thought as she flipped herself back to her feet in time for Ruk’sul to swing again, hitting her in the nose with one of his giant, rock-like fists. She felt her nose crack and groaned. “Killian’s definitely going to notice this,” she thought angrily as she recovered from the stars dancing around her just in time to drop down into half splits to avoid the next swing. As his fist passed over her head, Kit threw a solid punch into Ruk’sul’s gut, aiming specifically at the edge of the lower ribs, grinning with satisfaction as they cracked, and whipping her tail around the other side, cracked another two ribs with the brass tip. Ruk’sul withdrew his fist angrily, giving Kit the time she needed to re-position herself by slipping further to the ground and swinging her legs to knock his feet out from underneath him.
Kit’s head was thundering so loudly from the pain and adrenaline at this point, and with all the shouting voices, she couldn’t make out whether they still stood in favour of the orc, as he crashed down on his back. Kit leapt onto his chest and began pummeling him in the face with her brass knuckles, blood splattering everywhere.
“Yield yet?” she smirked down.
Ruk’sul, through his bloodied face, roared and grabbed her from behind, throwing her again. Kit smashed into the wall one more time, but bounced back, charging forward as Ruk’sul tried to force himself from one knee to his feet, and gave a sharp kick under his chin, sending him to his back once more. She stepped forward and put her boot on his throat, digging it in.
Silence fell across the arena.
“Do you yield?”
He tried to reach for her and she pressed harder, cutting off his airways.
“Do. You. Yield?”
There was a pause, and Ruk’sul tapped out.
Satisfied, Kit removed her foot, and walked past the stunned ringmaster towards the now opened gate.
“Monstrous bitch,” Ruk’sul snapped from behind her.
“Look who’s talking, love.”
She snatched her cloak, picked up her bag from the bench, then passed by the gawking bet collector and picked up the rather large bag of coins.
“Pity no-one bet on me,” she said. “Guess I’ve got no-one to share this with.” Then without another word, she turned and stalked out of the club, silence and stares following after her.
When she returned to the ship, Oak was still napping on the railing. He opened one cat eye and peered at her.
“Ouch, that must’ve hurt.”
Kit shrugged. “Not a word.”
“I’m napping. Haven’t heard a thing. Picturing that delicious gnome I ate last week.”
Kit chuckled and passed by, slipping back to her quarters. She stopped to look in the mirror. All-in-all, the damage wasn’t as bad as she expected, she thought as she reached up her hands and adjusted her nose with a crack.
She poured herself a bath and washed the blood off, taking care to wrap her wounds, then made her way out to her perch on the bow, hoping Killian would be too drunk to notice the injuries in the morning.
Recruiting a new crew - Meeting Okaanen
As the sun rose over the island port, Kit and Killian made their way into the small market, still slightly hungover from the night before. This was, of course, a normal way for a pirate to rise in the morning, and especially normal for the twins, who spent most of their evenings on land drinking.
Fresh baked bread and the smell of various meats beginning to smoke drifted through the streets.
The twins were there on a particular mission today, seeking more crew members to pursue a job they had been brought on board on – a hunt following a treasure map after a long-lost, mythical prize. Though the Kit & Killian could be manned without a full crew, it would be foolishness to pursue a treasure such as this without additional hands to man canons and keep the ship in working order. They would not be the only ones pursuing this bounty.
Kit stopped across the street from a beaten and battered down looking tavern and leaned against the building behind them, crossing her arm.
“D’you think they’ve forgotten about our last appearance here?” she asked her brother.
"A devil can hope, dear sister," Killian began to say, immediately noticing that they had not, in fact, forgotten, an observation driven home by the large "WANTED" poster nailed to a message board nearby.
Killian casually wandered toward the job board, and as he got close enough, he browsed the postings while carefully removing the poster bearing their likenesses with his long, thick tail. "Could be bad for business… or good for it, depending on who we're trying to attract.
The two walked the narrow streets of the city's wharf district, trying both to keep eyes open for any potential help to hire as well as keeping clear of the main streets and any town guards. A particular sketchy individual approached the pair, but only offered up a "nice tail, sweetheart," which was responded to with a swift elbow to the chest by Killian. "Keep me sister's name out of your mouth, and maybe I'll keep your mother's bosoms out of mine," Killian replied to the groaning Orc, now writhing on the ground.
As the pair approached a rickety building with a sign on it that read "Carol's Chum Bucket," Killian opened the door and gestured for Kit to enter. "Ladies first, Kit. Wouldn't want anyone getting the idea I was less than a gentleman, after all…"
Kit grinned. “Brother, I think that ship sailed long ago.” She did, however, follow his lead and step first into the building, keeping her eyes focused around the dark interior as she watched around for trouble.
Unlike the crumbling tavern where they had previously caused trouble, this establishment was higher-end – at least, as proper and high-end as a pirate and criminal establishment could be considered. The room was lit by dimmed lanterns and candlelight, taller, small tables scattered throughout as multiple individuals talked quietly while sipping on their drinks. This was not the kind of place to start a brawl, as captains and leaders did their business here.
Carol’s Chum Bucket sounded like a friendly place, but one had to prove their worth before being admitted. Kit and Killian danced the line of admission into the headquarters. Their chaotic and erratic behaviour, particularly when it came to leaving a trail of destruction behind them, left them on the edge of being ejected from the location more than once by Carol. But despite their penchant for violence, the twins were good at what they did, and it kept them considered both a threat and respected amongst their criminal peers.
Kit nodded towards Carol who raised an unamused eyebrow when she saw the twins enter. Carol sighed, and pointed them towards a small, tall booth in the back of the room, given partial coverage by a half-pulled curtain. Kit flipped Carol a marked coin – the price of admission to do business, and slid into the booth, waiting for her brother to sit beside her.
Killian took the seat next to her, and after several minutes, a large man entered… or rather, a large cat entered… or was it a… “What do we have here?” Killian eyed up the stranger, who stood almost a man and a half tall, and nearly as broad. “Too big for a Tabaxi, too small for a Leonin… but clearly no ordinary man. What brings you to our table, friend?”
Killian’s tone and words were polite and cordial, but this moment was as tense as if the three had blades drawn over a game of cards gone sour.
“Leonines are lions, mate. I’m a tiger,” the large feline grunted.
Killian nodded. This job required muscle, and Killian, though unable to provide much on his own account, was more than knowledgeable in how to gauge a candidate at this point. He and Kit often traveled alone, preferred it honestly, and anyone that would board their ship of their own free will needed to understand that they were there for a job, they were only as important as they were useful, and that EVERYONE save for the McKenzies themselves was expendable.
“I’m hungry,” the man said, not seeming interested in explaining more, but a gentle nudge from Kit coaxed a bit more out of him. “Folks don’t really like having a large tiger man as a companion. I gotta eat, though. Feed me, and I’ll do whatever you need.”
Killian looked back to the man with a growing grin. “You seem very, and don’t take this the wrong way, but the word that comes to mind is ‘simple.’ Quite uncomplicated and all that.” He looked back at his sister, curious as to her thoughts on the man-beast that sat before them, stomach growling.
A wave of Kit’s hand brought over a small gnome server, and she fought a grin as she saw the tiger look at the person hungrily. She leaned down and whispered into the gnome’s ear, and the gnome nodded and ran off to the kitchen.
“Folks don’t really like Tiefling pirates as companions either,” Kit said casually, leaning back in the booth and resting her arm casually on the top of the velvet seat. “Keep your jaws off the crew and your paws to yourself on the ship, and we’ll have no trouble.”
The tiger-man grunted. “I can’t promise I won’t dispose of any that attack or disrespect me.”
Kit shrugged. “Fair enough. I don’t take too kindly to being provoked or attacked either.”
The gnome returned with a platter full of meats, breads, and cheeses, and cautiously slid it in front of the large creature, disappearing quickly afterwards.
“Fill your belly, then we’ll talk business.”
Killian took the moment to think, something he was better at than he liked to let on, and as the large beast-man filled his gaping maw with meats, he continued on.
“We’ve got a bit of a situation on our hands, and it involves liberating a few stone tablets from a monastery offshore. Getting in is the difficult part, and it’s why someone with your…” Killian glances at the man’s musculature, almost ogling him, “..stature would be highly useful to our cause. I’d love to see you on our decks, mate. You’ve got the job, provided my sister has no reservations.”
Killian normally did this, and it was part of the act. He acted the part of the welcoming captain, though he and Kit shared that title and any authority tied to it. His sister was far more intuitive when it came to measuring up a man’s character, as evidenced by the growing collection of wedding bands taken as gifts from potential suitors turned marks. The McKenzies had been through enough interviews with enough aspiring miscreants to dance this dance beautifully together, but this feline fortress before them was both literally and figuratively a cut above the rest so far.
“Name’s Okaanen. Friends call me Oak, food calls me ‘no.. please…’ You can call me Okaanen, since you’re neither.” He extended a large paw directly between the twins, undecided as to whether he was to shake Kit or Killian’s first.
Killian grabbed Oak’s hand, ending his intellectual stalemate. “Take your time tonight, Okaanen. We’ll keep a tab open for you, fill that belly… with prepared foods, not patrons. I would prefer you on decks WITHOUT an appetite.”
Kit sat straight again, and eyed Okaanen up and down as he continued to eat. “We expect professionalism out of our crew. Show up on time, do the work, and you’ll get paid well. See you on board at dawn.” She slid out of the booth and stood up, stalking towards the door without another word.
When the twins reached the streets, Kit sighed. “One down. We’re not doing interviews for the rest. Just grab whoever we can from the tavern.”
Slipping Walls and Growing Guilt
After leaving the group, Kit removed her coat and used one of her daggers to carve a chunk of wood into a spade and latched it to a thick stick as a makeshift shovel so she could begin to dig a grave for Chet.
She hadn't shown it, but she had found herself wanting to connect with the horse despite her fear. And now, she felt a deep sense of regret knowing she could have saved the beast. She had seen the raptor approaching him, heard his terrified grunts, but the sight of Killian, unconscious once again, had sent her over the edge.
They had spent their entire lives walking away from gunfights, fistfights, any kind of fight, without ever collapsing. Not once had they ever dropped in a fight. Gotten pretty roughed up? Sure. There was the time Kit took a club to the face, leaving behind the scar that ran down her brow. She had barely managed to remain standing, but Killian had her back like always and brought a swift end to the barbarian's life.
And of course, Killian had indeed had his share of close calls. But never like this.
Then again, as she had told Devlin, they weren't exactly used to fighting with a group – in particular, not one they had no hand in selecting.
Kit continued to dig, slamming her spade down in frustration. She was angry at herself, too. She should have been there to protect Killian, to give another target so he didn't get swarmed. Instead in every fight she had been too far away to provide any assistance.
If Kit was being honest, she was frustrated about everything. Even though she knew Killian was protective because he loved her, she had found his threats to Devlin as they began their watch infuriating and unnecessary. Which was in part why she was so willing to talk with the half-elf. Surprisingly, she found herself enjoying the conversation with him, and enjoying it further as she had seen Killian's irritation about it grow. Devlin's quick-wit and the fact he was not even slightly intimidated by her brother had amused her. At least, at the beginning.
As their new group had taken to pointing at Killian's streak of bad luck, her own protective instincts had started to engage. She had torn apart taverns and incited brawls at people who had insulted her brother for less, and she found herself conflicted. Her threats wouldn't work on this group — so far they had all proved themselves to be just as intimidating and formidable as the twins — and she knew she had to keep things stable between them if they were going to get the job done. As Killian's own temper rose in response, Kit had to use every bit of mental strength she had to remind herself they were here for a singular reason, to earn their pardons and get their parents back.
As she finished digging what she hoped was a deep enough grave for the horse, she climbed out, covered in dirt and sweat, and paused. Her anger towards the group had mostly faded now into anger towards herself, for irritating Killian mostly, but also for finding herself starting to like the people they were travelling with, despite their mockery of her brother. This wasn't supposed to be about bonding. No connections, that was always her rule. Killian and Oak were the only two exceptions. She couldn't help but think Killian's stumbles and her slipping walls were an ominous sign of troubled waters ahead.
She sighed and walked over to Chet, realizing she could not move the beast on her own.
"Killian, a hand?"
Hanging up the hats, for now
Night had rolled in along with the tide as the Kit & Killian slowed to a drift for the night, quiet slowly beginning to fall on the ship. Kit laid on her bed, waiting for total silence, as she did most nights. Mounted on the ceiling above her bed were her trophies – engagement rings. 34 of them, varying gems, diamonds, and stones, colours, sizes. All reminders of the skill with which she had used to procure all of them.
One would assume each were linked to some kind of broken heart, but Kit would tell them otherwise. Broken vaults, maybe. But hearts? No. None of those men had ever loved her. It was how she was able to convince them so easily to get down on one knee for her. She was a prize, a trophy, and it was exactly what she intended.
Did that make her cruel? Maybe. Kit was, however, always particular in her targets. It wasn’t about herself. The amount of wealth many of these bachelors both inherited and often took from others who were already down was abhorrent. They had yet to visit a single port or city without an orphanage filled with little to no money coming in. These places were often so far removed from the capital that they had little oversight by the royal family or guard, leaving the governors and self-appointed nobles to keep the disparity between wealth and poverty in a rather large berth.
She considered the engagement rings a forced sort of penance for those men. Kit and her brother never kept the wealth they took, aside from the bare minimum to help get them from one place to the next, or to cover Oak’s wages when he was helping them out. The majority of it was given to the orphanage in the next port town they visited. Always. Keeping the funds far enough away from the person they were stolen from that no-one would even be aware of their source let alone make the connection. Valuables were sold off so that only coin was passed along, untraceable, and often enough to carry the place at least a few months with more food and better care for the children.
The rings were a reminder that no matter what piracy they did, there was always a bigger picture, always something more they should be doing. Maybe that made them piss poor pirates at heart, but then again, nothing in the pirate’s code ever said it had to be done for themselves. And they weren’t angels, not by any stretch. Kit and her brother were as selfish as pirates are expected to be, but they had their lines and they had their own morals, and they were quite pleased with themselves to keep to those.
As the last of the noises on the ship settled, Kit sat up, waited a moment, then slipped out of her cabin, climbing up to the bow of the ship as she did every night. Once she was comfortable, balancing on the edge of the bowsprit and the ledge of the ship, she pulled out the small flute Killian had made her when they were young and started to play. Her musical talents were not something she spoke of often, saved only for night when the ship was silent and the only things that might hear her were the fish and the sirens. What she played varied based on her mood – sometimes it was what one would expect a pirate to play, others were more mournful, sad, or weighted. Some nights, she played something more classical based on bits of music sheets she had picked up over the years.
Tonight, it was a soft, calming tune, her notes singing out to the mythical beasts of the sea. Kit played, as she always did, for the length of two songs, then tucked her flute away safely, and continued to rest, listening to the low waves slap against the ship, and the odd splash in the water. This was the only time she ever felt truly at peace, a moment when nothing existed beyond the sea and the ship.
Kit froze, sensing someone approaching, then breathed a sigh of relief as she realized it was Killian. He didn’t say anything, but climbed up the other side of the bowsprit and leaned against her.
“Are you sure this job is the right course, brother?” Kit asked after a few moments of silence. “We’re not the straight and narrow kind. And how do we know when we show up to sign the intent to serve for pardons it’s not some kind of trap to take us in too?”
Killian shrugged. “We don’t. But I do know it’s the best chance at getting ma and pa out, and then we can start over again. Maybe rebrand the Kit and Killian. Get ourselves some proper crews. Be a family again.”
Kit sighed. “I don’t trust’em Killian. I don’t trust any of this.”
Her brother chuckled. “Kit, aside from me, you don’t trust anyone.”
“That’s not true,” she protested. “I trust Oak!”
“It’s the right choice, Kit,” Killian assured her. “It’s just one job. We stay low, we do our thing under the radar, and we get our pardons.”
Kit didn’t know what to say. Whatever Killian asked of her, she would do, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling they were about to get themselves in a world of trouble they hadn’t faced before. She started to wring her hands together, the only tell she ever had to being nervous, playing over in her head the many ways this meeting could go.
“Play for me?” Killian asked, breaking her thoughts. “Maybe that song da used t’play when we were young.”
With a sigh, Kit pulled out her flute and obliged, playing an old pirate’s tune as the two sat together, watching the black ocean and ripples in the reflection of the moon’s light.
"Oops."
Kit was several tankards of ale into the evening when there was a loud crash down the hall at one of the guest rooms, followed by shouting and a gunshot. She glanced over, fully expecting exactly the scene that was unfolding – Killian darting out of the room, stark naked, his clothes and boots in his arms, as Captain Iril came tearing out behind him, gun ready to fire.
“I’ll have your head for this you demon-scum! Filthy hellbeast!” Captain Iril shouted. “A harlot like you, defiling my wife?”
Killian grinned at his twin sister as he bounded by, ducking behind the counter to pull on his pants while Kit, very calmly, very cooly, put down her tankard and turned to face the raging man.
“What did you just call him?” she asked, eyebrow raised.
“You heard me,” he growled, now only a few feet away. The large man looked more feral at the moment than the Tieflings, his round face red with anger as he huffed and puffed, sauce from the meal he had finished staining his shirt, which had clearly seen better days.
“That’s not what yer wife was callin’ me a minute ago!” Killian hollered from behind the counter.
“You clip-clops don’t deserve the title o’Pirates!” Captain Iril growled.
Kit snarled and leapt at the man, knocking him down and pounding his face into the ground. As Iril struggled, several of his crew attempted to pull Kit off as she screamed, tore at his face with her nails, and pummeled his head. Several of them were thrown back by her before two managed to pull her off.
“A little help?” Kit called to her brother, who was slowly dressing.
“You can handle yourself,” he teased, continuing to get dressed. “I have faith in you.”
“Ugh!” she grunted, before ducking down and pulling the two pirates inwards to crash their heads together, freeing herself from their grips.
She stood and grabbed the near empty tankard of ale from the counter, chugged it, then threw it at another pirate charging towards her, knocking him out as it connected with his forehead. Another pirate swung a chair at her, Kit managing to duck out of the way just in time, kicking out his legs as she slid downwards. As he crashed into the ground, the chair beside her, kit leapt back to her feet, grabbed the chair and swung it over, smashing it on the downed pirate instead. At this point as more patrons leapt to their feet, it was impossible to tell who was with Captain Iril’s crew anymore, and who had just been itching to get into a brawl. Punches were flying everywhere, chairs and tables crashing, the barkeep hollering, and two of the barmaids cowering behind the counter, not far from Killian, who was finally nearly dressed.
“I could get undressed again if you’d like,” Killian said to the barmaids, raising his eyebrows suggestively and winking. One of the women smiled back flirtatiously, opening her mouth to speak as Kit came crashing across the countertop landing beside Killian with a thud on the floor. She glanced at her brother, over at the woman, and groaned.
“Fucking Asmodeous, Killian, maybe later?”
“What?!” Killian protested in mock shock. Then he rolled his eyes playfully, and moved to a crouch position. “Sorry ladies, maybe next time we’re on… where are we again?”
“Who knows anymore!” Kit said, before jumping back up on the counter. “All right, which of you fuckers is next?”
As Kit got into it with her next opponent, or victim as some might call them, Killian finally emerged from his hiding place and joined the fray, taking out a few of the attackers with a solid punch to the face each. Kit was leaping from person to person like a squirrel, knocking them down with as much force as she could put behind her. Two female pirates from Captain Iril’s ship charged her together, barrelling into Kit and knocking her into a support beam behind her. Kit attempted to twist out of the way, smashing into its sharp edge on her side. Even with her armour she could hear the crunch and knew one of her ribs had cracked. She used her tail to grab a plate off a nearby table and smash it against the head of one of the women, causing her to drop Kit. The other, still with a good grip on Kit, pushed her against the beam harder, eliciting a grimace of pain from the Tiefling as it pushed on the rib. Kit, seeing no other way out of this hulking woman’s grip, did the only thing she could think of, and aimed a kick right in the centre of the woman’s lower region, causing a howl as she used her free arm to swing upwards and punch the woman as hard as she could in one of the breasts. The woman screamed in pain and dropped her.
“Sorry,” Kit apologized, actually sincere for once, empathizing with the kind of pain she had just caused the other woman.
The sounds of the brawl slowly dissipated as the last few standing people participating in the fight dropped, leaving only the twins and a few others standing. There were several patrons, their backs against the side walls, sipping their drinks and watching the mayhem. One gave a nod and a slow clap towards Kit, who gave them a pirate salute in return.
The bar was a mess, and the owner at this point had stopped his shouting and was looking around with a mix of amazement and distress on his face.
Kit unhooked a heavy pouch from her belt, and tossed it onto the counter, the last of her spoils from her foray into the governor’s vault earlier that day.
“There’s about 50 platinum in there. That should do you for the repairs.” She started to walk towards the door, and looked back over her shoulder. “Sorry for the mess.”
Another step forward, and she paused, looking over at the unconscious body of Captain Iril. “Oh, and you might want to let Governor Yren know that the famed Captain Iril is unconscious on your floor. He robbed the vault earlier today.”
Then, without another word or indication, she left, Killian close behind her.
“Well, that was fun,” Killian said with a chuckle.
“I should have gutted that peacock,” Kit replied, clenching her fists.
“We talked about this, Kit, no killing unless it’s necessary.” He put his hand on his sister’s shoulder, pulling her to a stop to look at him. “Hey. You did good.”
Kit took a deep breath, closing her eyes and tilting her head upwards for a moment as she inhaled, then dropped her head back down and looked her brother dead in the eyes. “He should die. For what he said about you. For getting that crew to turn on us back in Crest Cove.”
“Maybe,” Killian said with a shrug, continuing to walk through the darkened streets towards the port. “But that’s not for us to decide. We know there are at least half a dozen warrants for him. He and his crew won’t be getting out of here anytime soon.”
Kit didn’t reply, but let out a disgruntled grunt as she walked beside him.
The warm tropical night was cooled slightly by the breeze pushing through the streets. At least they would have some wind in their sails to begin their journey to wherever the tide carried them next. The streets were mostly empty at this time of night, the small fort on the remote island carrying an incredibly small population – just enough to keep the governor happy and the town functioning with its militia. Even the docks were empty.
As the twins made their way towards their ship, the Kit & Killian, aptly named by their parents, Kit stopped and stared to the left at Captain Iril’s ship.
Killian, noticing his sister give pause, stopped as well. “Whatever you’re thinking… yes,” he said with a grin.
“I’m thinking it’s a beautiful night for a bonfire,” Kit said wickedly, eyeing some barrels of lamplighter fuel at the edge of the docks.
“Of course you are,” laughed Killian.
That was enough encouragement for Kit, who immediately darted off towards the barrels. She and Killian loaded two of the barrels onto the deck, then checked the ship to make sure it was empty, helping themselves to whatever loot was still on board. When they were satisfied the ship held no stowaways, Kit smashed the two barrels open, lit a torch, and tossed it onto the deck, watching with wild excitement as the blaze immediately ignited with a loud whooshing noise. Her eyes lit up, pure joy dancing in them alongside the flickering flames. Killian, watching his sister, shook his head with a laugh.
“Okay Firestarter, let’s get back to our ship and head out before we get caught.”
“We never get caught,” she snorted.
“That’s because we always leave just in time.”
They ran back quickly, Kit turning back to watch now and again as the ship continued to burn, the mast catching fire quickly and the flames spreading. They had just finished hoisting the anchor and moving away when shouting arose from the town and the bells began to ring. The guards on night duty came running out of the streets, dragging Captain Iril with them.
Even with the distance they had managed to put between themselves and the docks, Kit and Killian could see the paling face of the captain and the look of horror.
“My shiiiippppppp!” he hollered. “They did this!” With his wrists chained together, he lifted his hands and pointed at the twins.
Killian grinned and leapt into the air from the deck, spreading his wings and hovering as he flipped off the man with both middle fingers. Kit, high off adrenaline and rage, turned around, dropped her pants, and mooned the gaping bystanders on the beach. Then, pulling the pants back up, she returned to facing them and gave a dramatic bow with a large flourish. As she straightened back up, there was a loud explosion as the ship cracked and flame covered debris flew out, one piece landing right near the remaining barrels of lamplighter fluid, others on the two other ships at port.
Kit’s eyes flew wide open as the remaining barrels ignited with more explosions and the docks themselves began to ignite.
“Oops.”
Killian landed beside her putting his arm around his sister and laughing. “Well, it’s not like they really needed docks that big anyway.”
They stood, watching the flames as the ship drifted back out to sea, Kit feeling only slightly guilty as the entire harbour began to sink into the water. When the island and the flames were nothing more than a spec in the distance, they turned back to their own ship, and began preparing for the rest of their journey, once again leaving chaos and mayhem in their wake.
WANTED - ALIVE
WANTED - ALIVE
Kit McKenzie
AKA:
Clara Shadows
The Ghost
Firestarter
Chaos Twins (half)
For the crimes of:
Piracy, espionage, high crimes on the seas, petty theft, grand theft, violence, brawling, destruction of private and public property, public intoxication, impersonating an officer, false betrothals, obstruction of justice.
Known Associates:
Brother – Killian McKenzie
The Chaos Twins were last seen sailing near the cliffs outside of Kowloon. Suspect is violent and a self-described charlatan – she is considered heavily armed and dangerous. McKenzie is the second half of the duo known for the legendary tales of mischief, mayhem, and piracy on the high seas across Tellus.
Kit McKenzie is the daughter of self-proclaimed Pirate King and Queen, William and Delilah McKenzie, who are currently serving life sentences by royal decree in Craysilt. The suspect and her twin brother, Killian, are known to have carried on their parents’ legacy and are currently wanted by order of the High King.
Most recently, the twins burned an entire port on the island of [NEED ISLAND NAME FROM HARLEN] after igniting the ship of a rival captain. Witnesses say after Killian was caught with the captain’s wife, the captain called the man several unmentionable insults, as well as a harlot, to which the suspect started a brawl. Shortly afterwards, additional witnessees claim they saw Kit McKenzie ignite the ship before the twins left port.
Although Kit McKenzie is known to follow a strict code, she is excessively violent. It is ill-advised to approach her when alone or if you must approach, do so when there are numerous women, children, and commoners around, as she will do them no harm.
If you spot either of the McKenzie twins, alert the highest authority.
Comments