(Wilds) Rock Down to (Badland's Avenue)

[Miki]

Ash 43, 4621¤

The middle of Ash was her favorite time on this planet. In Daravin it was pleasantly warm and on this day there was a sleight cool breeze. It would seem the trio were walking in the middle of nowhere, and they were, but to the naked eye it would seem maybe they were lost. They walked through endless scrubs with nothing in sight, guided by Miki's inherent ability to track the stars. Every now and again she would reorient, tilting her head from side to side while swishing her tufted tail, and Izul would nod as they carried off in whatever direction Miki spoke of. They said little to the slave the first few days other than curt responses but still offered him equal food from their spoils and treated him as a person. That said, he remained on the leash for now-- truly a façade and semantic as if he were to run it would be easy to shrug off the simple rope.

Miki and Izul took shifts at night sleeping to make sure he wouldn't run. You could never trust a slave, and during those nights Miki was spent wondering about him and his life. What lead him to his slavery? He looked to be around her own age when the Outsider came and demolished her home. How cruel was life? How could whatever Gods or Beings in charge allow suffering to be so pervasive? Cruelty to her was the only constant and she felt a muted kinship for the lad who was in servitude to a shit-hag like that Raphael.

It was the third night and they sat around the fire, they had managed to scrape up another bowl for the boy who looked to be many years their younger. That night Izul made a soup from the pocket broth she always carried and wild herbs foraged around their hovel. They were settled underneath a large rocky outcropping, it hung low above their heads, the taller of the three, but would be a safe spot for rest that night. Little was said, but it was time to truly brief the boy about his job to do. It was silent other than the sounds of eating when Miki addressed the group.
"Okay so, we are about a days walk away from the chariots, maybe less if we can move quickly. Boy, I apologize for the late introductions but my name is Miki. This is Izul, you may call us that."
Izul said nothing but nodded her head in a great bow.
"When we get to the chariots I will keep you on the leash until we make it well into the Badlands. After that I expect you to keep on my heels. I am forty two years old and have seen things the likes of which I cannot explain to you, you cannot pull a fast one on me and I bless your heart should you take to running when we get to the Wastes."
It sounded harsh but was meant more as a warning.
"Now, I expect you've never seen a wurm? Or have you? I need to know how much needs explained. Essentially we are going to gear up at Shithole and then head to Traphole, yes Shithole THEN Traphole Izul I know you are dying for their grilled mudmeat but you need to wait, and catch some leads on any wurms in the area. As well as find out who is in the mood to buy some blood. Now, I am just going to take an educated guess here but boy you have never even seen a wurm before, I just know it. This is going to be dangerous. Are you capable? More importantly, can you use a gun?"

She trusted the man little but then again she trusted no one other than herself and Izul to get shit done. Izul's over-optimism be damned something bad would happen out there. It always did. If she had to cut off this man's head because he ran she would have nightmares for the rest of her life, she dearly hoped he was controlled and domesticated enough to stay with them. Often, in her experience, slaves were nothing more than scared cattle. Essentially docile imbeciles who had lost their will to think for themselves. She could explain to the T how this was done but wanted to know what his MO was, if any. Truth be told, the way he spoke to his Master was a little off kilter, as if he still had a mind of his own. Which could be both good and bad, good in that he may prove worthy to bring along and bad in that thinking for himself could possibly spell trouble.

The paranoia and curiosity was a bit too much for Miki, she was sure he had something up his sleeves but wasn't sure just what yet. She chewed a bit of wild potato as she waited for him to speak. Mask off now she was in her usual attire. Dirty, stained brown clothing with a leather spiked jacket, her eyes of pure, pupilless yellow looking right at him. Izul said little, just hummed to herself and seemed in her own world.

[Arkash]

It was one of his off-weeks, it seemed. Arkash had thought himself some sort of grand schemer, able to pull the wool over the eyes of his master and achieve his goals with none being the wiser of his true intent, but it wasn't what actually happened. He should have been more careful, in hindsight, he shouldn't have trusted his fellow slave. Perhaps he should have just listened to Fayeth and stayed home? There were lots of things he should have done, but thinking of what could have been wouldn't fix his situation.
He lived in the present, for the most part. It was hard not to with the sun beating down on him every waking moment of the day. Arkash quickly discovered that long days in the sun were a problem for him, not just because his burlap clothes drank the heat of the sun excessively, but because he couldn't seem to cool down, no matter how much he sweat or breathed. It must have been his blood, he surmised. The rathor had found no trouble in retaining warmth since his darkened blood had thickened with his progression in Blood Magic.
In Lorien, some year ago, such an effect was beyond useful. He didn't have to spend as much time camping near open flames in his true form, and he didn't have to spend as much time or money adorning winter-appropriate clothing. For Daravin, however, it seemed to be something of a curse. He hadn't realized it until he did begin his travel with the two mercenaries, but it was especially a problem because of the limited water on the road to their destination. Arkash had to get creative.
He'd always found that his body had trouble retaining heat after he'd been severely wounded, and he suspected it was because of how much he bled in such encounters. Somehow, having less blood made one colder. So, to conserve water on their journey, Arkash discreetly pierced his thumb a prick with one of his dranoch fangs, and bled just enough to shape a small razor between his fingers, which he took to his wrist without hesitation.
They were watching him closely on the journey, and he wound up losing a lot of the blood he cut from his arteries to the sand while they walked. His drippy hand stayed positioned out of their view, at his pocket while he allowed his lifeforce to drip out. When he could, however, he leeched from that wound and shaped his blood to coil around his limbs beneath his baggy burlap clothes, like a hardened blood snake that broke off at his joints as to not inhibit his range of movement.
His blood, he knew, was twice as strong as steel and only a quarter the weight when it was hardened. He'd woven a sort of under armor beneath his clothes; nothing that would stop a bullet, but certainly enough to block a blade if he aimed it right. What was more? His plan worked, even if had left him light-headed by the time his wrist wound coagulated. He had better control of his internal temperature, but the lack of fluids in his body still made his mouth dry and his tongue massive beneath his throbbing headache. There was no winning, it seemed, but he was at least cool enough to not burn up and die.
It came to a point where he didn't even bother wiping the sweat from his brow, as it only helped cool him down as it evaporated, anyway. Whenever they were blessed with a cool breeze, the moisture on his skin drank the cold well. That was during the days that they traveled, though. Low on blood, overheated, and dehydrated, he hadn't been much in the mood to talk. They'd eaten some and Arkash hadn't once passed up the opportunity to drink any water they offered him, but he curiously took his time with his food, as if he wasn't starving after walking all day.
He was starving, of course, but regular foods did not sustain him. They provided a little comfort in the aching void that his blood sickness presented, but not much more than that, and not for very long. He had to make his food last to take the edge of his vast hunger, at least until he found something live to eat.
He'd been mostly absorbed in his own survival; he hadn't expected the journey to be so hard. But he did find time to wonder about his temporary captors. He'd never met an Orkhai before, and he hadn't even heard of whatever the shorter red lady was. He sometimes spied her tail, the curious manner in which her hat sat on her head, and those eyes devoid of any pupils. Could she be some kind of Rathor? He didn't know all the beasts of Atharen, it was possible.
Other than his curiosity of their origins, however, he had little time to consider them. That was both a boon and a curse. On one hand, he couldn't weigh them as an option on the menu if he didn't consider them too deeply. But on the other, he wouldn't consider them to be off the menu if he grew too hungry, and he was almost at that point in his sickness without Fayeth's blood to calm him. Unbeknownst to his temporary masters, the journey was shaping up to be something of a nightmare for the disguised rathor.
By the third night, the idea that he might perish on that road became a reality to him. He wasn't sure if he could make it the rest of the way, even though the strangers were kind enough to feed him in equal portions to themselves. It wasn't enough. It wasn't blood and it wasn't fresh, but it did hold water; something he desperately needed. He didn't care to take his time with it, despite how he might appear to the pair that had fed him, and quickly drank the contents of his bowl for the hydration alone.
Such fast drinking might have been a mistake, however, as the wisp of satisfaction that the soup offered only intensified his blood sickness. Arkash clasped the edges of the bowl with white knuckles, sat further from the fire than the others did, and focused intently on the flame. He'd been in his mind too long; he needed reprieve. Some distraction from the endless hunger and unquenchable thirst... His eyes settled on the red ones. He could only imagine how their exotic skins tasted by the smell of their sweat. His eyes lingered on any of their visible skin, beneath which their blood ran through veins with ease, fat insulated organs and crunchy bones rested dormant. It set his teeth on edge, filled his chest with burning need, above a bottomless pit that ached to be filled. The reprieve the soup offered was already gone.
Perhaps he would have thought differently about volunteering, even begging to join them for twenty days if he knew most of that would be walking in the sun. Perhaps if they hadn't the sense to keep one or the other awake through the night, he would have tried to discreetly tap one of their arteries by now. Who knew how that might have ended, however. The voice of one broke his focus on the thrumming beats of their hearts, and his thousand-yard stare halted as his gaze settled on her eyes. He let out a shaky breath from his mouth, which hung ajar to allow more heat to escape from his lungs. They were an entire day's walking from the Chariots, whatever that meant. He was done for.
Arkash set the bowl down beneath that outcropping. How was he going to survive? He could just kill them both, but then he'd be stranded, so far from where he was meant to be with nothing to guide him. If he somehow found the trail of blood he'd left he could find the rest of the way, but he hadn't bled since the first day. It was too far back for him to find. Besides, Raphael would no doubt be pissed off if he came back matted in their gore with no product to show for it. Still, he was becoming desperate. if he could just get away from them long enough to find some animal to maul and eat, he would be fine, he thought. Any morsel, just to keep him going. He was desperate. How did he get away from them?
"I need ta poop," he answered her question on the wurm with a raspy voice. He didn't really, he hadn't done that since he became a dranoch some year prior. It seemed that everything he ate, bones and all, was broken down and used for energy. "Haven't shi' in three days, so i's gonna be bad..." he tried to make it sound even more unappealing. "I swear on me mum I won't run, so just lemme go do it and I'll be back."
He pursed his dry lips then, and rolled to his feet with a wobble of his stilt-like legs, regardless of if they gave him permission or not. He spun on his bare heel, then walked out into the cold darkness of the arid Darvinic night.

Image source.

[Miki]

¤

Miki had noticed the pained breath from the boy on their journey, the way he lollygagged. There was certainly something wrong with him. She couldn't quite place her finger on it but it made her uneasy. She had thought "what if it was some rouse" something his Master had put him up to for some reason she couldn't comprehend. He was the one who had slightly insisted on coming and she wasn't in the mood for a sick slave. It's a big reason why she had the mind to keep a nightly watch on him, sick people could be unpredictable in their desperation.

"I need ta poop." Was also not the response she expected from the young man, she closed her eyes in slight annoyance and reopened them looking at Izul who shrugged.
"I'm not going to walk with him to do that. It's been days, he's right, I haven't seen him relieve himself once. Quite frankly Miki let him leave, he's not going to get far. Not to mention he swore on his mum, I think she would be disappointed if he ran and we had to bring back a head for such a shoddy excuse."
Miki snorted and swished her tail, thinking. Before she could speak though he had shrugged off the rope around his wrist and was walking away.
"See,"
Said Izul,
"That settles that. We will expect him back in half an hour. Well, Miki you can. I am off to sleep, I will take the shift when you wake me up."
With that the orkhai woman laid down on her bed roll, faced the rock wall, and was snoring in moments. Fake sleep Miki thought but now alone by the fire she watched the flames, thinking deeply.

If he was sick he might not reveal to her his illness, who knew what it was. But if he did she thought maybe they could find some medication in Traphole to get him on the right path, even if just a few doses while they were on the road. It would have to be something he would keep from his Master and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to trust him just yet. Still, the way he spoke was different from the downtrodden slaves she had worked with before. He could be trustworthy she would just have to wait and see.

It was nearly twenty minutes since she had let him leave and he still had not arrived back. Surely in his state he couldn't have gotten far. She stood up and brushed some dirt off her pants, then brushed the tuft of her tail to get any debris off of that as well. Not the sneakiest person after all she expected to walk right up on him, but tried her best to stay quiet so as not to startle him in the act. In truth she wasn't entirely sure which way he went but with a quick scout she saw a few foot prints in the dirt heading west. Miki oriented with the stars, tilting her head, then set off after him. This was her collateral after all, she didn't necessarily want to watch him shit but needed to be sure he wasn't meeting up with someone or maybe crafting a shiv to kill them-- paranoia knew no bounds with this woman.

It took some time but eventually she did find him and quickly hid behind a boulder to stay out of his view. Watching in awe at the scene before her it wasn't what she expected from him at all. She left before he had finished and quickly made her way back to wait for him. Something was very wrong here.

[Arkash]

But could she even be sure it was him?
Arkash, from the moment he left the light of the campfire, to the moment their hearts left his range of hearing, walked with a sort of faltering, broken step as to not arouse suspicion. But he lifted his head to look over his shoulder when they were out of his hearing range and began to assume his true form. Under naught but the light of the stars and the slim crescent moon, Arkash's bones realigned. His face extended grotesquely and his back curved toward the top in a slouch. Skin became replaced by panels of scales, which flooded like ink in water to assume the darker color of his basalt. His newly-formed tail draped over the back of his burlap pants, and his foot claws tensed in the earth.
Lowering his body with a widened stance, Arkash waited for the last of the changes to materialize, then sighed a hot breath in the comparably cooler night. In a sudden burst of force, Arkash took off running, away from the camp. He was on the verge of some sort of frenzy, he could feel it. Just one whiff of blood would drive him wild. He didn't want to be near the red ones when that happened, lest they end up on the menu.
He hadn't run very long at all before he caught the distinct, quickened heartbeat of some small animal beneath the surface. His rounded pupils shrunk to pinpricks in the misty yellow of his eye's canvas, and he gripped the ground with his claws to support the rapid swing and change of his momentum. He b-lined for that small beating heart.
He skidded to a stop over the space in the ground, then put his hands together as if he was praying, but he wasn't. The coils of hardened blood that wrapped his arms softened as he began to blood shape them, then made them crawl along the length of his arms to join at his hands, then form an elongated spike, which he sharpened with another scrap of ether from his suffused ability. He lifted one leg as he took the spike with both hands, then grunted as he drove it down into the hardened, packed earth. The spike ripped through the ground with ease and pierced the animal he hunted all the way through, and into the ground below it.
Satisfied, he ripped the spike from the ground and immediately began to lick the fresh blood and dirt from the body of the spike. Rabbit. Some sort of rabbit underground. He needed more. So, he split the spike in two to form two shortswords, suffused both, then attacked the packed earth in a deadly twirl. Each slash of his blades cut through inches of dirt like butter as he literally cut out a shape in the ground, and thrust his blades in the freshly-cut cracks to pry it out of place. The moment the smell of fresh blood filled the air, Arkash discarded his swords and thrust his fist into the rubble he'd made to snatch the animal. Without cleaning it or anything, he bit into the small creature and ripped off whatever he could sink his teeth into.
His legs wobbled at the taste of fresh blood, then buckled. The world faded into the background, and all that existed for the starved dranoch was the lifeblood of his meager prey. Bones were crushed and shattered in his jaws, he tasted its organs, brain matter, muscle, and tendon oh-so briefly on the way down. With every subsequent bite, his hunger only grew more intense. All in all, the sizeable hare only lasted him four bites. He needed more.
Out of breath, muzzle dripping blood and wobbly on his feet from the fleeting ecstasy of feeding again, Arkash collected both his swords, then broke off the ground in another hard sprint. The river. The close he got to the river he got, the more living things he would find. He hurtled toward it before something most tantalizing caught his attention; a chorus of beating hearts.
The world had seen fit to reward his patience with mercy, it seemed, as he fell upon a herd of impala. A blood bath ensued. In a single swing, he cut the head off the first, and slashed through the neck of the second with such depth that he touched bone. It was after the second body hit the floor that they woke from their standing sleep, and turned to rush away in some fearful fit. Part of him wanted to pursue them, like two impala wouldn't be enough to sate his hunger, but he didn't The urge to feed was stronger than his urge to gorge himself. Once again, he dropped his swords and began to rip through chunks of impala under the pale light of the stars.
Lost in euphoria as he satiated his hunger, he paid no mind to the sound of a beating heart nearby, watching him from behind a boulder. He didn't care. If something wanted to attack him or contest his meal, it was welcome to try. Not even a second of his focus was wasted on whatever it was that had scampered into the splash zone. No, his mind was far more occupied with which cut of meat to eat first, the stretch and tear of impala skin, and how he might possibly eat the skull with the horns attached. He cut them off in the end and broke them apart in his jaws. The heartbeat had already scampered off. Good. Whatever animal had found him knew not to try him.
All his senses were metaphorically or physically clogged by impala gore for some time, even after he'd eaten his fill. Arkash sighed in delight, satisfied with the meat of animals. It wasn't as good as mortal flesh, of course, but his blood sickness had completely subsided. Woozy in his euphoria, Arkash waddled the rest of the way to the river, fell to his knees, and dipped his muzzle in the flowing water thoughtlessly. Just as it did in the wild, a slight gap in his lip acted as a straw, and Arkash drank his fill of water. The saliva in his mouth clung to any bacteria in the unrefined water, further amplifying the lethality of his bite.
He'd been there for a while, utterly flattened by the temporary fullness those impalas had provided, and the rich hydration straight from the river. He'd drank and ate so much, and after days of suffering, he was well again. The only problem was, that because he'd fed, his blood would start to replenish again. He'd have to bloodlet himself on the road as they walked. Finally, the rathor stood, and wound the blades of blood around his arms again in turn. They stayed hidden under his burlap clothes, ready to assist him in whatever combat ensued. He then cast sway, evaporating all the blood and gore that matted his burlap clothes. The stains were reduced to mist, that descended and painted the sand.
A soft sigh escaped him to see that blood go to waste, but it couldn't be helped. His eyes widened then when he realized that he wasn't meant to be gone that long. At once, the Rath broke into a sprint and began to run toward the camp. Finding his way back was easy; all he had to do was keep an eye on the grip of his claws, which ripped through dirt with every step he'd taken into the wild. And with his night vision, such a task was more than achievable. When he saw the glow of the campfire in the distance, he began to revert to his humanoid form, stood upright, then brushed off his clothes. Some walking later drew the sound of their beating hearts into focus, and he entered the light of the campfire. He'd been gone for what, an hour? Maybe forty minutes? Arkash pursed his lips in an uncomfortable frown. How did he explain himself?
"Sorry," he started with both hands up. "I couldn't find anything to wipe with except cactus, and that was NOT happening," despite his choice of words, he spoke far more eloquently than when he was starving. "But here I am, back and ready to go."
As he took his seat, he re-tied his wrist with the rope and tightened it for good measure. A testing tug assured his temporary masters that he wasn't going anywhere. he then noticed the sleeping Orkhai, then adjusted his volume. "...We're a day's hike away, you said? I think we can make it sooner if I pick up the pace." he reached for his bare feet, pressing and massaging the arch. "I'm sorry I've been slow, the road is just so hot, and you know... Potato sack shoes are hard to come by, so..." he shrugged indifferently.
"I've seen plenty of worms, too, but like... I don't know how you expect to fill fifteen gallons with those little guys. Why the Bell does anyone want fifteen gallons of earthworms anyway?" he'd wanted to ask that same question when they were negotiating with Raphael, but hadn't because he was forbidden from talking in the first place.
His feet didn't really hurt, he was quite used to walking around barefoot, even if human feet were so much worse at it than his real feet. But, he continued to rub and stretch his dirty, leathery soles through the conversation.

Image source.

[Miki]

¤

It was curious, wasn't it? Finding a lizard man wielding a rather grotesque looking sword on the path she took to find the boy. He still hadn't given his name, but now she felt like she knew a secret. So he was a Rathor. It wasn't her business what form he decided to take and in her experience people didn't usually introduce themselves by race. And yet the matter of the sword still niggled in her brain, where could he had possibly gotten that? Some sort of magic? She was unfamiliar with the acute laws regarding slaves in Daravin so the thought that a slave had magic didn't seem all that impossible to her. Ignorant in the ways of Rathor she figured he was satiating some base animal bloodlust and questioned not the insane way he tore into the flesh of the impala. Though it was stomach churning to watch, she felt something was still off about this man and the creeping paranoia of "what if" started in on her psyche.

Miki arrived well before him, as she intended. Izul snored softly without Miki bothering to wake her. If she was correct the young lizard man would be back on her heels in a few counts. She waited, mulling over her thoughts.

~~~

He came back and looked in a word, refreshed. It took much longer than she expected and she jumped with a start, turning to face him at the sound of his voice like she had seen a ghost.
"Wiping with cactus hm? I couldn't figure that would be very tantalizing."
She said with a swish of her tail, regaining her composure. It was with no expectations that she watched him return the rope to his wrist.
"Don't bother, when he hopped on the hogs I was going to release you from that chain in anycase. It would attract too much attention to lead you around on a leash. If you say you can pick up the pace, let's do it. We will make good time."
He rattled on some more questions and Miki nodded, clearly thinking.
"If you're hot I may have a tunic for you to use as a head wrap. It will keep a good amount of the head off your head, which is important when we go. As well, we are stopping at Traphole before we head out to supply, as I said. Guns need bullets, lackies need fuckin' food. We can get you a scarf and some proper pants and shoes. But these are loaner now don't go thinking you're getting away from your Master that easy, boy. I just hate to see someone die on the road because we kept them in squalor. In anycase."
She paused, thinking and scrutinizing him.
"Wurms aren't something you just dig up in the dirt back at ya mama's farm. Wurms are bigger than many creatures you have seen in your entire life. We will have to track this down, weaken it, ride with it back to its lair, and kill it down inside the hole. It's more than your fair share of danger but Wurms aren't fast, they're just highly aggressive. Why he wants fifteen gallons is because he wants to power his machines. Whatever those may be for a strapping man such as himself, pardon my French."

He spoke well, he seemed cunning enough, she would wait to see if anything could be bought or gained from him being a mage. Besides. There was no reason for her to fuck someone over who was already a slave. He would just likely be killed. Time could only tell what fortune's winds would blow.

[Arkash]

The rope around his wrist had begun to chafe at some point, but he knew the irritated skin would heal very quickly once he ate, so it didn't bother him. It was particularly bothersome around the area where he'd broken his skin, and he'd made a conscious effort to keep it off the scabbed lump of skin. But according to his captor, he didn't have to wear it anymore? Arkash tilted his head inquisitively. "...Really?" He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and it's not like the rope could actually stop him from running in reality, anyway, so he untied it again with his teeth and let it fall loose.
"Hogs, huh... You know I have a pet hog back home, sort of." He squinted, rolling his wrist while he measured the information he shared. Was it normal to start talking about his pet out of nowhere? "Well, it's a Worogon wild boar, but it's sort of like a pig," he explained. "Not sure if you have them all the way down here though." A passing thought struck; should he really be talking about his life outside of slavery? If he was really as hopeless as he meant to come across as then shouldn't he talk about his pet in the past tense? He'd HAD a Wrogon before, but that was gone now. He briefly made eye contact with the red, pupil-less one while he thought, then returned his gaze to the fire. He had to watch that post-feeding euphoria, it would get him in trouble.
"Yeah, I'm feeling way better now," He assured. "No more dawdling, I'll match whatever pace you two go for." He spoke with a gentle nod, then looked at the Orkhai while she slept. "...How did you two come to be a duo anyway?" Come to think of it, he didn't really know anything about those people. They weren't anything like he'd encountered so far in Daravin, not like the snobby bigots that attacked and trampled him just for looking like a foreigner. The fact that they let him go free without the lead and talked to him as an equal despite appearing like the doormat he projected did wonders for his perception of them. The fact that they didn't really come across as nobility, and were shooed off by Raphael also helped.
"For real?" He asked as she mentioned his proper pants, scarf, and clothes. Taken aback, he widened his eyes. "Are you sure? I mean I can work the potato sack but..." He stopped himself while looking a gift horse in the mouth again. "Well, I won't complain. It's okay if you change your mind though, I won't be mad or whatever." He exhaled through his nose. They were much fairer than he'd first given them credit for. Everything, from talking on an equal level to the offer of equal portions, and now the offered clothes. "Yeah, I'll give them back after," he assured at the drop of 'loaner'. Even so, he was still incredibly grateful. "A hat sounds... I don't know. Doesn't that make you hotter?" He was skeptical on that part. "I feel like my head is the first thing to get hot."
Wurms. As opposed to worms, wUrms were an entirely different ballgame, it seemed. Arkash furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. He really doubted a wurm could be bigger than the Kindred, those massive rotting vultures from the north. "...I see, well fifteen gallons is a lot more reasonable if they're really that big," he spoke with a nod. "What's so dangerous about them? is it just that they're big? Do they have some sort of magic? Slow is good, but what's the catch?" A huge, slow target didn't sound like that hard a fight at all. Did he even need the mercs? "Machines... Like Golems? Artificing?" He hadn't known anyone that used wurm blood to power their Golems before, and conventional machines and steam engines weren't native to Lorien.
The young rath had so many questions. Having been confined to the fortress for most of his stay in Daravin, he hadn't had the chance to speak to any locals that didn't want to abuse him in some way. Even if they were his captors, it felt loosely so. He felt that he could ask them these things without repercussion, but perhaps that was the post-feeding euphoria talking again?
Arkash was oblivious to the fact that she'd seen him in his true form, blood magic and all. If anything, the momentary presence of an animal watching him was already forgotten. He had yet to realize that the shorter of the two had suspicions on him, and he behaved as though there was nothing that should make them cautious of him. They had no reason to treat him as an equal, other than the kindness of their hearts, and yet they still did. Why would he even begin to suspect that something was amiss?

Image source.

[Miki]

¤

It wasn't curious to her at all that he lied or that he was acting so nonchalant. Her tail swished when he spoke about the pig he owned "back home". He was clearly either an indentured servant or newly a slave. She sighed before she spoke as if she was getting tired.
"No, not a wild boar. These are motorized chariots. They go very fast, hope you're able to hold on."
Something told her it would be fine. She looked to Izul who was snoring away and back to the boy. There was still the question of a name.
"Sorry, I think we skipped the manners thing again. I'm Miki, the one who is sleeping is Izul. What's the name, kid?"

He prattled on clearly relaxed among his captors. Miki eyeballed him somewhat less comfortably. It was truly uncanny seeing him in his lizard bloodlust earlier and seeing him so relaxed now. Her rapid paranoia set in and she wondered if this was some sort of set up. That couldn't be possible though because Izul asked for the slave on the fly. It took her a few moments to answer as she was lost in her thoughts, he had turned the conversation to the duo and asked about where they met.
"We met in the Imperial Badlands, Izul and I are the same age but she still taught me everything I know."
To the average person it would be dead obvious she was clamming up then. Her tail wrapped around her waist and she petted the tuft of her tail pensively.
"You would think a hat would make you hotter but I plan on giving you a turban. It'll keep the dust out of your nose and ears as well as keep the sun off the top of your head. Something sciencey about heat coming out of the top of your head and keeping that hot sun off makes you cooler over all. But no, I don't mind. It's a safety issue, I can't have you passing out in the Wastes."
Miki arranged the now straight hair of her tail and swished it back to her side.

"We have plenty of time to talk, young one, I assure you this will be a long trip. I'll answer all your questions in due time. For now, I am tired and need to think. If you're feeling up to it we're going to pick up the pace tomorrow as fast as we can go and maybe reach the chariots in three quarters of a day."
She would answer small talk questions amicably but eventually the conversation would peeter out. When Izul had slept for some 5 hours Miki woke her up and took her turn resting while Izul kept watch over their things. Izul wasn't much for talking herself, clearly groggy and grumpy. She made breakfast of eggs and wild onion that morning before they set off.

~~~

Just as Miki had predicted with the second wind they were able to make it to the chariots. In tandem the women went up to the rocks and moved behind a massive pile of sticks, rocks, and bushes. A great roar could be heard from behind the stones as the duo came out on two wheeled chariots made of copper, brass, and iron. Exhaust poured out of the back of the things black as coal. It smelled like acrid, bitter burning-- something. It was a one of a kind smell. After pulling out from behind the stones they would show the boy how to get on and tune up the bikes, making sure no damage had come to them in their time away.
"Not a drop of rain."
Said Izul.
"Never is."
Replied Miki, trying to stop herself from grinning. The time before a wurm hunt was always stressful but something about it made Miki giddy. Izul elbowed her and flexed her head towards the bikes, then the boy.
"C'mon, kid. We have little time, we need to go."

~~~

They rode all day until reaching the ferry to cross the river. Well, not a ferry exactly. They paid someone with a large boat for passage across the river. After going over the waters they all three hopped back on their bikes and made way to the Badlands. It would take two days worth of travel to get to the shithole.

[Arkash]

Some questions were a little too personal, it seemed. Getting the shorter of the two to open up was something of a hassle, and she only seemed to withdraw further in herself. Arkash didn't falter, though. He maintained his friendly, outgoing disposition throughout the whole thing. There wasn't much else to say other than he was a happy-go-lucky slave, eager to talk and socialize with his captors. What was there to suspect?
He tilted his head at the mention of motorized chariots. Like they were golems? He still didn't know anything about motorized machinery or anything of the sort. When he thought of it, it seemed like a good idea to have golems pull chariots. Golem horses? He did wonder if such a thing existed. Why didn't everyone ride on golem horses instead of real horses? He imagined it would be too humane to practice in Lorien.
His name was asked, and he realized he didn't know the names of his captors. He'd skipped out on manners, for sure, but between the deathly sun and the blood sickness, Arkash hadn't been in the mood for talking much. Miki and Izul. Curious names indeed, they almost reminded him of the others. What name did he offer in turn? He parted his lips to speak but stopped. His mind's eye turned to Eira, and everything she'd done with his identity. To know his name was to have power over him. "Derek," he replied at last. "Derek Egon."
He did not mistake their generosity for integrity. He wondered if there was anyone he could trust with such powerful information? Probably not. To tell them was to kill them, no one else could know who he was. His vacation was messy enough as it was, he didn't need even more loose ends. "Oh, the Badlands!" Arkash was familiar, since that trip with Caladrin some month ago. Very hot, very sandy... There were Wurms there? Arkash pursed his lips suddenly and furrowed his brow. They hadn't encountered any such thing, but they did very quickly travel through.
There wasn't much room to ask anything else on the subject of how they met without prying her open in a way that felt forceful, so he didn't. She went on to explain the science of hats to him, but the rest of his questions had to wait. She was tired, and he supposed she had to focus on making sure he didn't escape, steal their things, or kill them in their sleep. He nodded to himself and pressed his fingertips together while he thought. Eventually, his thoughts came to the conclusion that it was best he slept. His incredible stamina did have its limits, and he imagined he'd do well with some rest.
So, he scraped up some arid foliage and made a makeshift bedroll for himself before easing his already-itchy burlap-wrapped form into the bedding, some distance from the fire, and shut his eyes. Recently fed and hydrated, Arkash quickly slipped into sleep.

He woke not long after but felt as though he'd slept for days. It didn't help that the hard floor made his back ache, and the coils of hardened blood around his arms and legs made it even less comfortable, but they were soon up and off. With time, his pains eased and loosened. The blood in his veins remained low throughout the journey, and with his replenished hydration, they were able to keep up a good pace through the day, though he wouldn't be able to manage the same feat two days in a row, it was clear by the end. As the two went to collect their chariots, Arkash sat and rested his burned, tired feet and began to massage his arches again with some wince. He knew they'd be fine when he got to rest them for a day or so, but he knew not when that would next be.
Soon enough, the girls emerged with their machines, and Arkash was startled by the sound they made. They were like monsters, totally unnatural and terrifying in their gas-spewing glory. They seemed to radiate power, as though they were waiting to rip their way through the land at an intense speed. Miki had said they were fast, and he would need to hold on tight. It was only then that he fully understood why.
At their instructions, Arkash clambered onto the back of one and made his shape as small as he could to catch less air. His dry lips smacked as he clung to the machine, and he spied the waterskin at the side of the vehicle. A glance at the driver confirmed that they were occupied with the device, rather than the water. He couldn't think on it too much, however, as they were soon to bolt through the rugged terrain with a blast of smoke and force. His hands seized whatever they could on the machine and he held on for dear life as they drove off.

When he'd finally accustomed himself to the momentum they were going, he found that the rush of air kept him cool against the sun's scorching heat, but he still needed water to replenish his energy. What would they miss if he drank a few sips? half the waterskin was gone by the time they made it to the boat, and Arkash's motion sickness returned on the voyage across. He watched the crystal blue waters while he clung to the edge of the boat, and wanted nothing more than to jump in and cool off, but did no such thing. He found some quiet place to bloodlet himself some more before they made it to the other side and even stole some of the water from the shipowner.
His body ached from the first ride, but not nearly as severe as it might have if they walked. Still, he dreaded the two days of riding to come once they were across the river. It had to be done, and he'd rather suffer the journey than inconvenience the good Mercenaries any further. So he got on and continued for a few hours before he reasoned with himself that it wasn't unreasonable for him to drink some more of their water. They were sure to be out by the time they arrived.

Image source.

[Caladrin]

Arkash

Lores
Arkash:
[*] Blood Magic: Your suffusion cuts through the earth with ease
[*] Blood Magic: Keep some material on your person ready for shaping
[*] Blood Magic: Recycle
[*] Persuasion: Convince your keepers that you need to GO
[*] Persuasion: Desperation
[*] Persuasion: Reasonable people are easier convinced than others
-
[*] [PC] Miki: Made sure to keep you fed with equal portions
[*] [PC] Miki: Offered you new clothes
[*] [PC] Miki: Hunts Wurms, not worms
[*] [PC] Miki: Too nice to be a noble

Loot: N/A
Injuries: Bloodletting from the use of Blood Magic

Points:8 (2 to use for Blood Magic)

Miki

Lores
Stealth: Following behind someone
Stealth: Waiting for them to get a head start
Stealth: Hiding behind a large rock
Stealth: Hiding your bikes in a worthy spot
Etiquette: Treating others like you would like to be treated
Deception: Acting like everything is okay
Deception: Finding out a secret
Deception: Hiding information from someone


Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A

Points: 8 (Non Magical)

Comments:
The chemistry between Arkash and Miki is comical, especially as Miki feels sort of like a mother figure to Arkash in a way with that sense of paranoia. A true badlander in the making.

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