It's a slow night at the Missing Shekel. There have been only, say, three visible killings all evening. None of them have been near a dark feline seated in a shadowed booth. Even though there's not really any such thing as a "regular" here (the patronage has a high turnaround rate), the idea has gotten around that it's a bad idea to disturb the kitty.

The booth in which the Khatta sits is more of a stall, really. It is situated against a fairly solid wall, and has more flimsy walls on each side, behind each seat. A hanging canopy forms the "roof", and heavy drapes can be drawn shut for additional privacy if need be, though there are several holes in the cloth. Everything is so badly stained that nothing in particular stands out.

Shikouju sits on the far inside of the stall, sipping from a mug full of some thin mystery drink served to him by the store's current owner. On the outside, the dark cat looks calm and reserved, but on the inside he's close to fuming. Where is that contact anyways? He's late, and the Sable Palm doesn't ususally stand for that.

Outside, a bit of buzz can be heard, from some of the louder conversants. The topic of discussion tonight seems to be murder. Not unusual, really. In particular, the speakers have a liking for sharing rumors of recent and particularly gruesome doings-in, with the perpretrators unknown…

"… and nobody knows who it is who keeps luring those girls out to the Old Graveyard. Seems to have a thing for Zerdas, though a few spotty-kitt – " "Shh! Don't say KITTY!" "You idiot! You just said it!" "Said what?" "Said KITT – AW! Stop that!"

The black Khatta fights back a grin, it seems like they're learning. But what's this about the old graveyard? He swivels his ears towards the conversation for a better listen.

"Well, that's nothing," another miscellaneous thug throws in. "Quantity, not quality, I say. And quality is what happened to a Shiga … and no one knows why or how! Found him … SKINNED ALIVE! And then stuffed right back into his skin again, only turned inside out! But that's not all… "

The others hush about any talk of the graveyard, as this thug has their attention. He pauses for effect, then says, "When they pulled the skin off, they found his naked lizard body branded again and again with a strange symbol."

Shikouju takes another sip of his drink, skinned alive, then put back in? How does one accomplish that? At least it was just one of those slithery Shiga. The cat listens on though, this is strange indeed.

The thug hisses loudly, "That strange symbol, my friends, was the 'Freedom Mark' – or a crude approximation. It's the symbol that they're branding on those spotties they're turning free and expecting to live like real people in the Nagai Empire. And, see, he was an Imperial himself. I think someone was making a statement about what they THINK about this slave-freeing nonsense… "

"Nonsense?" Shikouju says aloud, "If those slimy snakes want to shrink their coffers, that's their business, not yours." He takes another sip.

The thugs shrink at the voice coming from the booth … but then appear to be distracted by something else – a new entrance into the seedy joint. From Shikouju's prime vantage point, he can see the entrance clearly enough – an elderly lady leonine Khatta strides in. She looks terribly out of place, as an understatement, as if she should instead be strolling into a furrier or a boutique of some sort. However, her two large, brutish friends – a Rhian and a Jupani – seem to indicate that she's at least made some attempt at a precaution. Under normal circumstances, it should be sufficient to dissuade trouble for at least a few seconds. But this is the Missing Shekel. The sound of chitin sliding against leather can be heard, as daggers are drawn. A Kavi gets a dangerous gleam in his eye. A Skreek with a mohawk and only one ear has a similar expression. And then there is another Rhian and another Jupani at the table as well. They rise, and swagger toward the entrance. There's going to be trouble.

Shikouju downs the last of his drink. People who look out of their element… this must be his contact. If it were just the lady alone the Khatta would get up, but she seems to have capable help. Instead, he remains in his booth, and waits for them to come to him, after all, they should know the spot.

As the overly enthusiastic Kavi makes an outright charge at the elderly leonine lady, she raises a hand to adjust her spectacles. "Hmm. Bruester, love, would you be a dearie and kill that knife-wielding ruffian for me? Oh! Thank you. That's so darling of you, really!" There is a momentary scene of violence, and the Kavi is no more. However, there is more where that one came from.

A grim smile crosses the assassin's face. This ought to be entertaining.

The hefty black horse-like Rhian makes a vain attempt at dusting the mess of his hands, and turns to face the three other attackers, while the Jupani deals with some opportunists who decided to come in from behind. The lady just smiles sweetly, leaning on her cane, in the middle of the fracas, scanning the room. By the look, she was probably once very beautiful in her time, and while time has not been kind, per se, to her, she has still aged gracefully.

Shikouju studies the trio. Strange, what would a seemingly nice old woman want with a hired killer anyways? Then again, you could ask the same of most people. The Khatta keeps tabs on the fight, seeing if he should try to step in or not.

The two guards are doing a sporting job of holding off the attackers, but by Shikouju's expert estimation … they're going to go down. And one lucky strike that might get through while they're busy would make the fight pointless even before that. She seems not to possess Shikouju's keen insight, since she doesn't look the least bit concerned.

The black Khatta sighs, he had hoped he wouldn't have to wash blood off his fur again today, but oh well. First taking a quick stretch, the feline rises from his booth, casually draws his dagger, and calmly begins to pad over to the ruckus.

Of the attackers, a ruddy Rhian and the Skreek with the mohawk spy Shikouju's approach. Despite his evidenced skill, they seem to consider it worth dealing with this coming threat, and attack him with bared chitin blades…

Shikouju flares his nostrils, ameteurs. He dodges the Skreek's attack with a yawn, spinning quickly and slashing straight down the rat's back. One down. Then, ass the Rhian charges, the ebony assassin quickly ducks and trips him up, keeping his dagger held straight up so that when the Horse falls, he has a not so happy landing around the calf area. Looks like he won't be walking for a while. Standing back up, the cat dusts himself off, and resumes his course.

A couple attackers, seeing how effortlessly the Sable Palm dealt with his opponents – especially the LARGE Rhian – break and run for it. There are still others who are slow to learn. In a flurry of violent exchanges, however, the battle is soon over. When the dust clears, Shikouju stands, having managed not to even get a speck of red on himself. The two bodyguards, alas, are not untouched, but still standing. The older Khatta simply smiles brightly, and primly takes a step over a cooling body, toward the assassin. "Aha. So, you must be … Shikouju… " She smiles as if she has found something which amuses her.

The dark assassin returns his dagger to its sheath, and turns a cool glance towards the lioness with a nod, "That I am m'lady, I take it you are seeking my services?"

The lioness smiles and nods, making a crinkle around her eyes. "And somewhere to sit down, for the moment. Oh! My feet are killing me! Unlike the patrons of this fine establishment, thanks to you." She reaches up to tweak the cheek of her Rhian bodyguard, and then the Jupani. "And you and you, sweetums!"

Shikouju grins, this woman has a morbid sense of humor. He likes that. "Allow me madame," he says with a bow and offered paw, "I know just the spot."

The lady smiles as she takes the offered paw graciously, just as if she were in court or a social function. There's something odd about her now … something vaguely familiar about her face? But the notion refuses to resolve itself any further.

The Khatta gives a long look to the face… it is familiar. He shakes off the unsettling feeling, this is business, not a reunion. Stepping over rapidly cooling bodies, and a few that are still moaning, he leads the lady to his booth, and helps her sit before taking his own place. "Now ma'm, what can I do for you?"

There's a twinkle in the old lady's eyes. "I'm not entirely sure, sweetie. But I'll gladly make it worth your while for the trouble. But tell me – " Her expression takes on a more serious tone. "How … ?" Her voice trails off without completing the question.

Shikouju waits for the end of the question, then realizes that was it. He gives the old lioness a mildly confused look, "How what, milady? I'm afraid I don't understand… "

The lady seems frustrated by the response. "The artifact? Lord Calderas? How did you manage to escape? I thought… "

The Khatta's brows furrow, is he here to answer questions he knows nothing about, or does she have a job for him? "Artifact? Calderas? My dear woman, you must have me mistaken for someone else, I know nothing about such things."

"Mistaken… " The old lady settles back into her seat, letting out a long breath. "Of course. How positively silly of me. Impossible … impossible. But you look so much… " She shakes her head, then reaches into her shawl, pulling out a small pouch heavy with coins, and sets it on the table, pushing it toward the assassin. "Here. For your trouble."

"Calderas" … the name rings familiar somehow … but no further recollection presents itself. It could simply be a case of deja vu.

Shikouju feels slightly uncomfortable inwardly. He didn't tell the whole truth, since the name Calderas did seem familiar, but why and from where he has no idea. That 'deja vu' feeling seems to be happening to the cat alot lately, and he doesn't particularly like it. At the sight of the money, the exterior of the Khatta is all smiles, even if the interior isn't. "Now then, let's get down to business. Who shall it be?"

The old woman says, "No one. I was mistaken. I am just a foolish old woman who came to see Shikouju. If I hear word of the others of the Compass Rose popping up, I shall show greater skepticism."

This time, the feeling of deja vu nearly knocks the Khatta from his chair. "Compass… Rose?" Vague memories run rampant throughout Shikouju's mind: The Compass Rose, the four – north, south, west – "And I am Shikouju, the Sable Palm, who is the East… " This time, the feline's exterior is unable to hide what's going on inside, and his face looks blank as he tries to sort out all the thoughts…

The old woman looks back to Shikouju, though her expression is unreadable. As the assassin speaks, it as if a dam holding back the river of his memories is not burst open … but at least a leak has sprung.

"The North is the Musician, the West the Philosopher, and the South is the Consort," continues Shikouju. He blankly stares off into nothingness, then turns his head to regard the lioness once more with a stare, mouth open in confusion, and brows creasing in anger, "Are you some sort of sorceress? What are you doing to me?!"

The lady ignores the assassin's question, looking momentarily irked herself. "Ahem. That is 'Martinette', not 'Consort'. Only those trashy 'biographies' use 'Consort'."

This reply does little to quell the Khatta's confusion. He draws his dagger and bolts upright from his chair, "Who are you? What do you want with me?" Confusion seems to have turned to anger.

"Put away your dagger, young man!" the lady leonine says in a scolding tone. My, but it sounds terribly familiar. Too familiar. One might say it sounds an awful lot like Shikouju's mother … or maybe father … but he never knew who gave birth to him or sired him, so that would be nonsense.

"Mother?" The weapon droops a little, and yet another random memory seems to manifest itself in the assassin's mind. That of being a … kitten? And of adults, arguing over something, but what? The whole thing is unsettling, and the cat pushes the thought away with a shake of the head and an effort at concentration. "The dagger stays out until you answer my questions! Who are you?"

"Mother… " the old leonine echoes, and then her eyes widen. "Oho! So THIS is what is going on, now?" She chuckles to herself, despite the obvious threat presented by the dark Khatta. "I think, young man, it is time to tell you a story. And I hope you like long ones."

Shikouju looks uneasy, and slowly retakes his seat, dagger still in paw. He eyes the old woman suspiciously, also noting vulnerable areas just in case. He lowers the dagger to the table, but neither sheaths it nor takes his paw from it, and then nods with an angry face to the lioness, "Continue."

The lady doesn't do so immediately, but reaches into her shawl again, this time pulling out a cloth-wrapped bundle. By the way the cloth cracks a little, and by the severe creases, it looks as if it has remained wrapped for quite some time. She slides this package across the table. "First, take this. Consider it your inheritance. I'd recommend not opening it here, unless you want to have to create another mountain of bodies on your way out of this fine place."

Still keeping his eyes on the old woman, Shikouju takes the bundle with a nod, making sure to feel it through the cloth before he stows it away in one of his pockets.

The bundle feels as if it contains a dagger. And by the weight … it is not made of wood or chitin or bone.

Shikouju's nostrils flare, he gets the feeling that he already knows what it is. Nevertheless, he keeps his gaze locked on the old Khatta, "You were saying?"

The old leonine smiles faintly. "A long time ago, about forty years ago, there were four masters of the Hastening. They were known as the Compass Rose… "