31st of Ash, 120
The past few days had been filled with surprises. Some were welcome, like the knowledge of his race and customs. The fact that he might have been a neoalt was something that excited and worried him in the back of his mind. While he wasn't sure if the ability to change his shape was true, he did trust Asmodei, the avialae could not have been lying. Some surprises, on the other hand, weren't so welcome. Cojack, his father, had taken his own life while Arkash was comatose. He couldn't fault the sickly horse, Arkash couldn't have done much better, but the reality of knowing that Cojack had given up on him stung. He wished only that he'd done better.
Despite the surprises, however, there was no time to mourn or celebrate. Arkash's rehabilitation was just about complete; he could walk about freely for several hours at a time, even the entire day if he pushed himself. Though the loss of Cojack weighed heavily upon him, there was another force driving him along. Fayeth and Asmodei, his self-proclaimed protectors, had seen his weakness. It was because of his weakness that they saw fit to push him toward independence. Perhaps they'd been too soft on him? Arkash believed so.
It was the reason for his outing that day. There was something he needed to find, a relic from a time long gone. With it, he would surely be able to meet Asmodei's and Fayeth's expectations. But, because he was alone, he could let his weakness show. Misery clung to the air that surrounded him while he wandered through the snowy streets of Lower Nivenhain. Tall stone buildings littered with broken, barred, and boarded windows lined his path while he deftly avoided puddles and the like that filled the potholes of the broken streets.
One particular twist saw a spark in his nerves, and Arkash bared his teeth as his shoulder tensed, then twitched violently. The complete cramping pull of his muscles in the area was enough to make him grunt in pain. He winced and flinched with each contraction until the spasms subsided. The twitches were something he'd learned to live with over the past few weeks, but still left his left side weak and painful.
"Tha' looks nasty," spoke an unfamiliar voice from his blind side. At once, Arkash turned on the spot. His immediate response was fear, a wave of which ran through his chest and quickened his heartbeat. As he put the source on his sighted side, he saw them for their full detail. A man was there, dressed in rags with beaten, bruised features. The hair that framed his visage was a frayed mess of knots and curls, and his grin revealed yellowed, crooked teeth. He towered over Arkash despite his hunch, which left the impression that he was an elf of some sort on the rathari. He was not, but that was as Arkash saw it.
"Wha'?" Came his startled response. The man was a little frightening in appearance, but there was otherwise no reason Arkash should have been afraid. Still, he found his heart racing in the scabby man's presence. He was terrified, in fact.
As if his fear showed in his one eye, the tall man pressed his advance. "Youer eye," replied the man with a reach of his fingernails to the left side of his own face. He took a step toward Arkash, and the rathari buckled and took a step back. "How'd 'at 'appen, hm? Playin' wiv knives?" The man's brown eyes fell upon the silver hilt of Arkash's dagger, which rested on his hip.
Arkash saw where the man was looking but he didn't dare take his eye off the human. He'd never been hustled before, but he knew that was where the interaction was headed. The dagger he carried came from a wealthy savant family, it was a nice piece of work that surely caught the eye of the scabby man. He couldn't have it. "I'ss mine," Arkash returned, then gripped the handle of the blade.
The scabby man loosed a cackling laugh that ran a chill down Arkash's spine. "Dun' worry, li'l lizard. I got me own, see?" True to his word, he drew his own knife, a jagged, cruel-looking serrated blade. Arkash's venom began to run. He knew the serrated blade well, it was the calling card of a lesser-known gang in the west of Lower Nivenhain, where he used to live. He was coming closer to that territory, too.
"You's wiv The Sawteeth, aren'tcha...?" that much was obvious, but Arkash had to buy time while he considered his options.
The scabby man grinned. "Y'know youer stuff, nice." The man continued his advance. "So y'know i'ss best to han' over 'at piece now, an' whatever money youer carryin', too. For youer own safety, 'at is," he reasoned with a turn of his free hand, which reached toward Arkash as though he waited to receive his payment.
With Arkash's luck, he should have expected to have to deal with the likes of a mugging on his first day without Fayeth or Asmodei at his side, but there he was, caught unprepared. He wasn't handing his knife over, no matter how frightened he was. It was all he had. Arkash merely shook his head, then stepped back again, only yo put his back to the wall with a bump. He'd run out of space.
"No?" Spoke the crooked-toothed man with a smile. "Kid, youer really tryin' my patience. Han' it over. NOW!" Over just a few words, his smile receded to a snarl, and furious anger took his eyes.
The power of his yell resounded in Arkash's chest, it left an impression of strength on his soul. Even if the man was disgusting, he was by no means the typical scrawny nameless that Arkash was familiar with seeing. Arkash's drool began to run from the gap in his lip as it pooled in his maw, and the taste of his venom stained his tongue. Hesitantly, Arkash shook his head again, and the string of spit wobbled with his jaws.
With a growl of fury, the man swung at Arkash. Before the rath could even think, he bent his body to duck below the swipe that was aimed at his neck. The man had just tried to kill him, and though he recognized it, his focus remained on escaping the situation by whatever means necessary. An opening revealed itself in the man's torso. So in one motion, he drew his knife and drove the blade into the human's stomach, then sprung past him in a short dash before he turned to face the brute. His blood was on fire, his mind raced at a hundred miles per hour.
One shallow stab wasn't enough to stop the tall man, though he did bleed plenty from the wound. He turned, then rushed at Arkash with his full weight forward. Arkash bared his teeth, then wove to the side to evade with a quick step, then a hop that saw the rath slide the blade across the human's thigh, then land behind the large human. It was an incredible feeling. He'd felt something similar when Barry attacked him, and that fight had ultimately swung his way too. This, however, wasn't a matter of luck. Arkash was just too light on his feet for the giant to keep up with.
As the giant paused his charge, Arkash lifted his stump to his trail of drool to slather it with his venom, then wiped both sides of his knife into the viscous fluid to coat it. His yellow eye remained locked on the scabby man as he lazily turned to Arkash. One of them wasn't walking away from the encounter, and Arkash had come much too far to fall prey to a random mugging.
So, as the man took a step forward, Arkash ran at him. Another swing of the human's knife saw Arkash dive under the man's arm again, then lodge the knife in the human's stomach for the second time. But, both his hand and the handle were slippery with blood, and he lost his grip on the weapon. It remained lodged in the scabby human's stomach while his venom worked through the man's veins, and Arkash tumbled a roll across the street before he landed upon his feet once more.
The human finally let out a cry of pain and looked down at himself. His rags were matted red, his leg was bleeding furiously. The sight of a blade resting in his stomach seemed to trigger a horror response; he hadn't anticipated that he might be wounded in the encounter, let alone perish. So, he fell to one knee, dropped his knife, and gripped the bloody handle of Arkash's dagger. A mixture of the debilitating venom and the blood loss saw him struggle to yank out the blade that his wound so firmly hugged. He was done, but it wasn't over for Arkash.
The rathari dashed across the street to pick up the tall man's knife, which felt more like a shortsword in the rathari's hand. And though he struggled with its weight, he drove the point into the giant man's back and pierced his lung. The human jolted as the point of his own blade poked through his chest, then fell to his hands and knees while he bled plentifully. The human coughed hard, and a spatter of red splashed the cobbled road. Arkash bared his teeth, then pulled hard on the blade. The jerk of pain brought the giant to collapse fully on his front, and without thought, he pressed his foot to the man's torso for leverage and tried again to rip the blade from his body...
The past few days had been filled with surprises. Some were welcome, like the knowledge of his race and customs. The fact that he might have been a neoalt was something that excited and worried him in the back of his mind. While he wasn't sure if the ability to change his shape was true, he did trust Asmodei, the avialae could not have been lying. Some surprises, on the other hand, weren't so welcome. Cojack, his father, had taken his own life while Arkash was comatose. He couldn't fault the sickly horse, Arkash couldn't have done much better, but the reality of knowing that Cojack had given up on him stung. He wished only that he'd done better.
Despite the surprises, however, there was no time to mourn or celebrate. Arkash's rehabilitation was just about complete; he could walk about freely for several hours at a time, even the entire day if he pushed himself. Though the loss of Cojack weighed heavily upon him, there was another force driving him along. Fayeth and Asmodei, his self-proclaimed protectors, had seen his weakness. It was because of his weakness that they saw fit to push him toward independence. Perhaps they'd been too soft on him? Arkash believed so.
It was the reason for his outing that day. There was something he needed to find, a relic from a time long gone. With it, he would surely be able to meet Asmodei's and Fayeth's expectations. But, because he was alone, he could let his weakness show. Misery clung to the air that surrounded him while he wandered through the snowy streets of Lower Nivenhain. Tall stone buildings littered with broken, barred, and boarded windows lined his path while he deftly avoided puddles and the like that filled the potholes of the broken streets.
One particular twist saw a spark in his nerves, and Arkash bared his teeth as his shoulder tensed, then twitched violently. The complete cramping pull of his muscles in the area was enough to make him grunt in pain. He winced and flinched with each contraction until the spasms subsided. The twitches were something he'd learned to live with over the past few weeks, but still left his left side weak and painful.
"Tha' looks nasty," spoke an unfamiliar voice from his blind side. At once, Arkash turned on the spot. His immediate response was fear, a wave of which ran through his chest and quickened his heartbeat. As he put the source on his sighted side, he saw them for their full detail. A man was there, dressed in rags with beaten, bruised features. The hair that framed his visage was a frayed mess of knots and curls, and his grin revealed yellowed, crooked teeth. He towered over Arkash despite his hunch, which left the impression that he was an elf of some sort on the rathari. He was not, but that was as Arkash saw it.
"Wha'?" Came his startled response. The man was a little frightening in appearance, but there was otherwise no reason Arkash should have been afraid. Still, he found his heart racing in the scabby man's presence. He was terrified, in fact.
As if his fear showed in his one eye, the tall man pressed his advance. "Youer eye," replied the man with a reach of his fingernails to the left side of his own face. He took a step toward Arkash, and the rathari buckled and took a step back. "How'd 'at 'appen, hm? Playin' wiv knives?" The man's brown eyes fell upon the silver hilt of Arkash's dagger, which rested on his hip.
Arkash saw where the man was looking but he didn't dare take his eye off the human. He'd never been hustled before, but he knew that was where the interaction was headed. The dagger he carried came from a wealthy savant family, it was a nice piece of work that surely caught the eye of the scabby man. He couldn't have it. "I'ss mine," Arkash returned, then gripped the handle of the blade.
The scabby man loosed a cackling laugh that ran a chill down Arkash's spine. "Dun' worry, li'l lizard. I got me own, see?" True to his word, he drew his own knife, a jagged, cruel-looking serrated blade. Arkash's venom began to run. He knew the serrated blade well, it was the calling card of a lesser-known gang in the west of Lower Nivenhain, where he used to live. He was coming closer to that territory, too.
"You's wiv The Sawteeth, aren'tcha...?" that much was obvious, but Arkash had to buy time while he considered his options.
The scabby man grinned. "Y'know youer stuff, nice." The man continued his advance. "So y'know i'ss best to han' over 'at piece now, an' whatever money youer carryin', too. For youer own safety, 'at is," he reasoned with a turn of his free hand, which reached toward Arkash as though he waited to receive his payment.
With Arkash's luck, he should have expected to have to deal with the likes of a mugging on his first day without Fayeth or Asmodei at his side, but there he was, caught unprepared. He wasn't handing his knife over, no matter how frightened he was. It was all he had. Arkash merely shook his head, then stepped back again, only yo put his back to the wall with a bump. He'd run out of space.
"No?" Spoke the crooked-toothed man with a smile. "Kid, youer really tryin' my patience. Han' it over. NOW!" Over just a few words, his smile receded to a snarl, and furious anger took his eyes.
The power of his yell resounded in Arkash's chest, it left an impression of strength on his soul. Even if the man was disgusting, he was by no means the typical scrawny nameless that Arkash was familiar with seeing. Arkash's drool began to run from the gap in his lip as it pooled in his maw, and the taste of his venom stained his tongue. Hesitantly, Arkash shook his head again, and the string of spit wobbled with his jaws.
With a growl of fury, the man swung at Arkash. Before the rath could even think, he bent his body to duck below the swipe that was aimed at his neck. The man had just tried to kill him, and though he recognized it, his focus remained on escaping the situation by whatever means necessary. An opening revealed itself in the man's torso. So in one motion, he drew his knife and drove the blade into the human's stomach, then sprung past him in a short dash before he turned to face the brute. His blood was on fire, his mind raced at a hundred miles per hour.
One shallow stab wasn't enough to stop the tall man, though he did bleed plenty from the wound. He turned, then rushed at Arkash with his full weight forward. Arkash bared his teeth, then wove to the side to evade with a quick step, then a hop that saw the rath slide the blade across the human's thigh, then land behind the large human. It was an incredible feeling. He'd felt something similar when Barry attacked him, and that fight had ultimately swung his way too. This, however, wasn't a matter of luck. Arkash was just too light on his feet for the giant to keep up with.
As the giant paused his charge, Arkash lifted his stump to his trail of drool to slather it with his venom, then wiped both sides of his knife into the viscous fluid to coat it. His yellow eye remained locked on the scabby man as he lazily turned to Arkash. One of them wasn't walking away from the encounter, and Arkash had come much too far to fall prey to a random mugging.
So, as the man took a step forward, Arkash ran at him. Another swing of the human's knife saw Arkash dive under the man's arm again, then lodge the knife in the human's stomach for the second time. But, both his hand and the handle were slippery with blood, and he lost his grip on the weapon. It remained lodged in the scabby human's stomach while his venom worked through the man's veins, and Arkash tumbled a roll across the street before he landed upon his feet once more.
The human finally let out a cry of pain and looked down at himself. His rags were matted red, his leg was bleeding furiously. The sight of a blade resting in his stomach seemed to trigger a horror response; he hadn't anticipated that he might be wounded in the encounter, let alone perish. So, he fell to one knee, dropped his knife, and gripped the bloody handle of Arkash's dagger. A mixture of the debilitating venom and the blood loss saw him struggle to yank out the blade that his wound so firmly hugged. He was done, but it wasn't over for Arkash.
The rathari dashed across the street to pick up the tall man's knife, which felt more like a shortsword in the rathari's hand. And though he struggled with its weight, he drove the point into the giant man's back and pierced his lung. The human jolted as the point of his own blade poked through his chest, then fell to his hands and knees while he bled plentifully. The human coughed hard, and a spatter of red splashed the cobbled road. Arkash bared his teeth, then pulled hard on the blade. The jerk of pain brought the giant to collapse fully on his front, and without thought, he pressed his foot to the man's torso for leverage and tried again to rip the blade from his body...
