91st of Ash, 120
The Wroglin squealed and thrashed in the grip of his claws; a desperate, futile effort to escape the rathor's clutches. Arkash held the wroglin suspended while the winds raged and howled beyond the reach of their shelter. The creature was so small, he'd barely find any material at all in the beast's veins, but he needed something to practice with. Was it immoral to practice on piglets? No. They were just dumb animals in Arkash's eyes. Their fear was just an instinct-driven response to certain stimuli, their pain wasn't real.
So, he forced the beast to the ground and held them there with the oppressive weight of his claws. Bared teeth accompanied a hiss while he squeezed the struggling animal into the ground, then drew his knife.
The beast's squeals became even louder and more intense as Arkash cut into its soft skin and drew blood. It was crying for help, calling to its mother as a baby might when cornered by a predator. Arkash cared not; the mother wouldn't be able to hear the piglet from the middle of the woods. The beast began to bleed as it's heartbeat quickened, and Arkash set his knife to one side, only to wrap his claws around the piglet's mouth.
It still cried, squealed, and oinked pathetically, but muffledly through the rathor's hand. Arkash watched the beast carefully while it slapped at his wrist with its clawless trotters, then curled his nose a little to bare his teeth. Some baser part of him willed his jaws to rip into the piglet and devour it piece by piece right there and then. His venom glands even woke and began to stir. All his instincts told him to prey on the piglet, but with great restraint, he didn't. He needed the beast for more atrocious practices.
Arkash's eyes fell upon the other three piglets while he held the first in place. All three were pulling against their leads, trying to escape quietly. Arkash grinned; they were at least smart enough to recognize danger, even if they were dumb animals.
As he slurped some of the venomous overflow from his lips, he cast an eye to the surrounding woodland, the trees that were caught in the howling, frost-laden winds. No one was there, it seemed. He couldn't smell anything, but such a fact wasn't all too surprising given the weather conditions. He always struggled to smell far when the winds worked against him. With a sigh, he directed his attention to the piglet, and let it's muzzle go.
With his brow furrowed, he brought the claw to rest over the piglet's wound, and began to concentrate. The sounds of its cries drowned out, along with the whistle of the wind and the rustle of barren tree branches. It's struggling saw Arkash thoughtless strike the ground with the beast to stun it. Only when the creature became still did Arkash begin to sense, feel, grasp some sort of magical power in the blood. No, it was bursting with energy; energy he could harness. His brow furrowed further while he tried to grasp at the power within, but it was akin to holding water; it slipped through his claws.
What else could he do? He'd learned to utilize his ether as a feeler under Malafor's guidance, perhaps if he reached into the blood with it, something would happen? Curious, Arkash tried. He extended the unseen feeler of his own ether reserve into the bountiful energy in the piglet's blood, and upon contact, he found a burst of power. It was like a tether; a cable that linked him to a battery. Arkash drew a shaky breath as he found the bounty, then exhaled with a shudder as he leeched from the piglet's wound. It felt incredible, empowering, reinforcing. He was almost unstoppable, or so it felt.
Using that extra power, Arkash dug into the piglet's body with his blight and began to manipulate the blood in a way that willed it to move. The beast's tiny frame writhed and contracted, twitching as its skin shriveled and its eyes sank into its sockets. All the blood in its body was pulled to a single focal point beneath the wound Arkash had cut into the pig. His clenched fist hovered there, guiding the blood he could find to the grasp of his claws.
A Spire of gore lifted from the piglet's wound and buried itself in the clasp of Arkash's claws, like a handle. As though the piglet were a sheath, Arkash began to pull at the handle while steadily constructing a blade at the pig's open wound. The oinking and squealing quieted to silence as Arkash stole every drop, and with it, formed a full short sword. As he finished off the tip of the blade, he lifted the sword to inspect the edges, then smiled at the glint of his work in the amber light of the campfire he'd constructed.
Next, his eyes fell upon the piglet in his claws. It was a husk, shriveled, and empty. Eyes once full of life, sunken and gaunt. Arkash had bled the beast dry. What was worse? Arkash had bled it so fast that the beast still lived. He could feel the tiny heart in its chest still beating, pumping nothing into empty veins. There was no blood for its brain either, nothing to carry vital oxygen to its organs. Steadily, the life in its form receded, and darkness followed. It was gone, dead before it had the chance to live.
The loss wasn't too great. What sort of life would it have led otherwise? A life locked up in a pen, surrounded by creatures so far above it, creatures that would one day sink their teeth into its flesh. It would have led a life that wasn't worth living at all. Arkash knew for he'd lived the same life just a few months prior.
A glimmer of pity became laced with his gaze while he looked over the shriveled, inanimate piglet. A sigh left him as he placed the carcass on the campfire. As dry as it was, the pigs body caught flame and added to fuel the forming pyre. The stink of burning pork filled his nostrils while he watched the flames, then lifted his gaze to the remaining... Two piglets.
Arkash froze and re-counted the piglets that remained. He was indeed correct with his first count, which he affirmed by reaching to the limp lead that hung above where the third once stood. As he inspected the rope, he found that the piglet had slipped free. The handler hadn't tied the lead properly, it seemed. Arkash furrowed his brow, then checked the rope work of the remaining two. Both squealed as he reached for them, but he had no intent to hurt them yet. Of course, being dumb animals, they wouldn't understand that. He wasn't hurting them because he liked it, he just wanted to grow stronger. They could never understand.
Once he was certain the remaining leads were fastened tight, he checked their ties to the thick roots that hung overhead, and nodded his head in satisfaction. The piglets weren't going anywhere, but Arkash might have been. A dilemma had occurred. Did he leave the two piglets to find the one that had escaped? Or did he finish his experiments and hope that the piglet didn't freeze in the snowy wastes before he found them? The smell of burning pork, as strong as it was, assured that he could find his way back no matter what but would he be able to locate the piglet with as much ease without his nose to guide him?
If he left it later, the piglet was just going to get further and further away. There was a chance that he might not ever find the beast if he left it too late. Some animal might take the Wroglin for an easy meal. What if a predator happened by the campfire he'd set up while he was away, though? Arkash lowered his gaze to the flames. No, the stink of death and fear of something like fire was sure to keep predators at bay. The lone escaped piglet was the most exposed in the wilds. So, his decision was made easy. With a grunt, he lifted himself from the dry, frosty earth, then rolled over onto all fours. Carefully, he crawled forward and ducked under the overhang of matted roots. The tree's gnarled tethers scratched along the leathers that wrapped his back on the way out, but they were harmless. Once he was on his feet, the rathor brushed himself off and straightened his back. He had a piglet to find before they froze to death in the ramping snowstorm.
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