85th of Ash, 4621
With both feet placed wide apart and his tail curled for added balance, Arkash once again cast sway on the stream of red, and drew it to wind up his form. Faster than the last time, be brought the stream down his lower arm, and all but fully extended them as the stream passed his wrist.
All at once, the torrent picked up, and a blast of immense force hurtled from the space between his hands. He bared his teeth and engaged all the strength in his shoulders and forearms to try and guide it. The torrent was heavy, not just on his body but on the storm of blight that surrounded him. Rapidly, he spent his borrowed power on the stream, aimed at nothing at all.
“Smaller,” Raphael called with a wave of his hand. “Bring it down a bit, use less power.”
With his lips curled, Arkash began to narrow the stream, constraining the flow of his power. Gradually, the torrent of red began to wane, shrinking to a degree that he found more manageable. He moved his arms with greater ease, cutting an inch or so deep through the wooden post across from him as he pulled the high-pressure stream.
As he began to suffuse, he steered the stream across his mark again, and the sound of splintering wood echoed over the sound of rushing fluid. He cut at least thrice the depth of his last attempt, but still, not nearly deep enough to cut through the post entirely.
Finally, he let the stream come to a stop, then shook off his arms with a sigh. It did ache in his bones when he used that power; the intense pressure on his arms for so long did take some time to recover from. All in all, he’d learned a lot by the third time he’d tried that ability, and committed it all to memory.
A glance to his mentor yielded a raise of his brow. “…How was that?” he asked hopefully while stretching out his lower arm, testing the strain the pressure had left behind.
Raphael nodded in response. “Much better; I’d say you’re ready to use that one in the field,” he spoke his congratulations with a grin. “Just Remember to aim slowly, or you’ll end up on the floor again,” warned the mage.
Arkash nodded a little. He could comfortably adjust the torrent to suit his needs, and though he struggled to adjust his aim, he knew how to. Arkash held his wrist and flexed the claws there to stretch out the worn muscle. Then, with a glance down, he checked the remaining blight at his feet. There was still a decent bit to go; narrowing the torrent had saved him quite a bit of blight indeed. “…What’s next?” he asked as he clenched the fist of his strained wrist.
“Next… Either the construct, the bomb, or the last resort... And we're not doing the last resort yet, so I would go with the..." Raphael hummed, tilting his head while he thought to himself. "...The ...Construct? Yes, let's do that."
Arkash rose a brow. What did it matter what came next? Though he knew Raphael was making decisions based on efficiency. "...Alright, so what do I do?"
Raphael stepped over the broken bodies of the Halamire that littered the ground, minding his cloak while he peered through the eyes of his plain-white mask. "Well, you might like to Sacrifice one of these elves before you begin... The Blight you're carrying might not be enough, and we want to use as little of your ether as possible."
An expensive ability? More expensive than Torrent? Tier four was sharing up to be quite the costly set of abilities, Arkash realized. With a shrug, Arkash approached one of the four remaining wooden posts, and locked eyes with one of the Druskai bound there as he neared. The sea elf looked to him in turn and began to pull against his binds.
Muffled screaming ensued as the Vandikar drew near his target, and the Druskai fought against the ropes with all their strength... All for naught.
"Stop struggling," Arkash spoke as he took a fistful of the man's hair, then pinned his head to the post with a push. "You'll just die tired." His eyes locked with the elf as he drew his sword to the man's neck.
Tears, piss, fear. All those smells filled the Rath's nostrils as the sea elf let everything go. It was only then that he recognized the mortal before him, not as a tool, but as someone. They weren't an oppressor or some tyrannical overlord. if anything, they fought against the tyranny of the daravinic people. In a lot of ways, Arkash wasn't unlike the Druskai he held his blade to.
No matter how he rationalized it in his head, what he was doing was wrong.
That was when a hand met his shoulder, and Arkash hesitated as another took him by the wrist. Raphael was there, behind him, guiding his hand slowly across the man's neck.
Muffled crying turned to gurgling and sputtering as the rag in the Druskai's mouth soaked with blood. The tension in the Druskai's form met its apex before he finished the cut, and then fell abruptly limp in the hold of the rope.
"Leech," Instructed Raphael in his ear... And so, he did.
Arkash drew on a tremendous amount of blight once more and tensed his claws at the rush of power. He drank everything he could from the limp Druskai, then stepped back, out of Raphael's hold. The Veir looked upon him with a mark of confusion, but Arkash spoke nothing in return. Instead, he drew attention away from the subject as he put his mind to matter.
A turn on the spot put him to face the bodies of the fallen Halamire, and he cast sway to pull on the blood in their bodies, and shaped the material with his mark to create some sort of humanoid. Arkash furrowed his brow as he tried to hold its shape, like balancing a house of cards. he knew the point of tension he had to hold, but it was difficult with only one hand. A drop of his sword saw him use both to try and seize the gore before him, and after spending just about all his blight, he got it to stick.
Before him was a featureless human, made of blood. It turned its face to look at him and mirrored the tilt of his head. Arkash stared in disbelief, then took a step back as the construct began to walk toward him of its own will. "...Raphael?" he asked, uncertain. The noble only laughed in response, but it still came toward him. "No really, what do I do?"
"It should be fine, I don't think it will harm you..." he began as the construct closed the gap with its maker, walking awkwardly and without coordination.
"...Should?!" Arkash called with a racing heart, staring down the creation.
"Well yes," Raphael returned calmly. "I haven't recorded any accounts of a blood mage being attacked by its own Bile Construct, but that doesn't mean it's impossible."
Arkash's gaze remained fixed on the blood-born construct, but briefly flicked to the mage at the explanation, and sharply returned to the construct. "...Okay, well is it supposed to move on its own like that?"
"I don't know."
Arkash blinked. "...How do you not know that?"
"I got all my notes from eyewitnesses and written accounts of what people have seen... And fill in some gaps with logic. I don't have all the answers because a Vandikar is normally exterminated on discovery... Not interviewed or studied."
Arkash maintained his stare on the construct, which seemed to stare at him with equal intensity. Maybe he imagined it, but the being seemed to simply enjoy being near him. Did it know something like joy? "....Can I make it stop?" He asked at last.
"From what I know, these constructs will obey your command. Just tell it to do something and we'll see what happens."
The Rathor's training was as much a learning experience for Raphael as it was for him, it seemed. No doubt, Raphael planned to use what they learned when he became a Vandikar... If he became a Vandikar. Arkash still wasn't sold on the idea of initiating the man; he still had to discover the whereabouts of that messenger.
"Okay... Walk over there?" he commanded the Construct with a point of his finger. The creature turned on the spot and began to trudge its flowing legs through the dirt toward the area that Arkash had pointed to... And stopped where he'd intended.
"Seems to be so," Raphael spoke with a scratch of his chin. "Alright, have it gather up all the bodies and dump them in the middle, then we can do a little more experimenting," Raphael declared.
Arkash had only just thought of where he wanted the bodies to be placed, and then the being was on its way. He hadn't even opened his mouth, but it began to gather up the broken pieces of Halamire, and drag them into the middle of the gathered posts.
His eyes looked between the golem and the mage as the construct moved. Raphael appeared just as confused as he was. "...Did I do that?" The mage asked, then looked to the golem. "Stop!" He called in command. The golem continued on its mission.
"...I just thought about it," Arkash explained. "...I guess I can command it just by thinking?"
"Well, think it to stop, then," Raphael commanded with his arms crossed.
Arkash did just that, In his mind, he told the bile construct to halt... But it did not. "...It didn't," he admit with a disappointed shake of his head. Why not? What had he done differently?
Raphael sighed. "Well, that's what we're out here for, right? To experiment. Let's see what makes this thing tick..."
And with that, the two continued their testing and experimenting with different abilities on the construct.
