20th of Frost, 120
Lorien's railways were perhaps Arkash's favorite thing about the country. They made travel so trivial in the sense that they allowed people to travel hundreds of miles without even lifting a finger. They crossed through the dangerous terrain of Lorien's wilderness with ease, and best of all, they were accessible to everyone; even the likes of Arkash and his band of outlawed nameless... That was if he was smart about it.
Boarding the train at the station in Nivenhain was impossible; they'd be found by the Chevalier in plain sight and would be executed on the spot. Why? Arkash had led the survivors of the butchering into Outer Nivenhain to attack and rob several stores, including a gun manufacturer. There was also the matter of shooting down a Chevalier on the way back from such a venture. So, boarding the train in plain sight wasn't an option. But, boarding it from the maintenance railing was for all but the egregiously wounded. Then again, he had a plan for them, too.
There were risks involved with catching the train from such a place, the most pressing of which was the fact that the train was moving quite fast. They'd all have to grab hold of separate cabins in groups and hope for the best. Another risk was the fact that overseers and their hollows patrolled the bridge endlessly to make repairs and maintenance. They had to break into the carriages before they passed by the argent. That was, thankfully easier done than said for a lot of them. They were all nameless, picking locks and breaking into places that they weren't supposed to be was how a lot of them survived.
So, he organized the thieves he could by skill And gave Asmodei directions to follow for some of the weaker and younger nameless. Meanwhile, Arkash watched the rails against the wroth of the billowing winds. Along both sides of the railing, there was nothing. No argent, nor any hollows. For the time being, they were in luck. All he had to do was brace against the winds, and their trip to Rainier was assured.
It didn't help that the festering in his wounds stole his attention span and strength like no other. He was, in fact, quite debilitated by then. Weakness, dizziness, and fatigue were rampant in his exhausted body, but despite the fever he'd been suffering, he felt he was strong enough to proceed; he had to be. The argent had discovered the delve with their hollows and attacked them in the dead of night. Rainier was the only real way forward.
So, he sucked it up and pressed on. No one else knew of his affliction, regardless. He did well to hold himself proper in the eyes of others, but that day was going to take a lot out of him. he'd surely drop at some point, then Fayeth and Asmodei would find the pus-ridded wound of his chest. it was already too late for him, regardless. The most he could do was assure that everyone made it out alive, and that was what he would do.
With a wavering glance, he looked down at the nameless he clung to the ladder of the suspended bridge with their clothing, then sighed deeply before he returned his gaze to the rails. If nothing else, he'd given them a better chance of survival in the long run. He could say that he did something good at the end of it all. Most, he felt, would have had some reserves about dying to infection, or dying at all. But, Arkash was ready. He had been for a long time.
He'd been staring endlessly at the railing when he heard the chug of the engine in the distance. His eyes widened, and his teeth bared as the machine made its presence known. A deep breath of the frosty air worked to loosen his lungs, and he looked over the railing again. "Come on!" he yelled over the whistling bites of the cold wind. "Get up 'ere!" He ordered. Promptly, Asmodei landed beside him on the railing. The velsign dressed in full plate armor with a hefty blade on his back, who carried a child and a waifish woman both. Quickly, the more capable and able-bodied nameless scurried up the ladder.
They couldn't remain on the maintenance lines, else they'd be seen. Arkash took every precaution in executing their operation. By the time that five nameless had climbed to the platform, Asmodei brought a second pair of the elderly and infirm to his side, then lept off the railing again to collect more of those that couldn't climb fast enough.
The train closed in fast; they barely had a dozen on the platform by the time that the lead engine chugged past them with a rush of frozen wind. A couple of the lighter humans in his company wobbled at the edge of the platform but managed to stand their ground. The carriages were moving by fast, but not so fast that Arkash feared he might be torn apart in trying to board the vehicle. Even with his apparent sickness and infirmity, he could focus enough to time his leap. First, the carriages that carried their passengers had to pass, then the cargo would come after. That was where they'd hide all the way to Rainier.
The man beside him grabbed the rath by his arm. With a glance, Arkash did the same. Just moments later, the train's cargo cabooses ran by at accelerating speeds. He didn't know the man's name, but they all knew what to do. He trusted that the nameless that gripped him would follow through, and if not, he'd die a few days early. So, with his lips pursed and his brow furrowed, he broke into a brief sprint with that same man and leaped at the carriage to grip the raw iron doors. Rust rubbed off on his scaled hands, but he cared not. Instead, he cast a glance to the man that held him, and nodded.
Along the body of the train, nameless of all shapes and sizes boarded the various spacious carriages. Some of the better-coordinated men and women were already on phase two of the plan; Arkash watched as their partners held them fast while they picked the locks of the doors. Arkash exhaled. They didn't need a leader; they'd lived long enough in a land where they had to fend for themselves, and a lot of them had to pick locks and pockets alike to put bread on the table. In their own way, the nameless were strong... though he wouldn't bet money on them in a fight with just about anyone.
He got to work shortly after, and let his weight fall into the grasp of the human that held him. Arkash bared his teeth at the strain of the hold, then hissed as he drew his lock pick from his pocket. Just a couple of feet from his face, the rails were flying by at speeds faster than he could see. It was loud, rickety, and beyond dangerous. But what were they to do without rope and the like?
All he could do to reduce the likelihood of injury was get the job done faster, but with his frigid fingers and claws, such a thing was far easier said than done. He still breathed clouds of condensation, a good sign, which was swept away in the rushing wind as the vehicle raced along the tracks. Quickly, he adjusted the lock of the carriage doors to face him and lined his shaky lockpick up with the device before he eased it into the keyhole.
It was a delicate process, one that required a lot of care and precision... Both those things were beyond his reach in the cold rush. he wasn't like the rest of the nameless: They had a bounty of warm blood to keep their fingers dexterous. He did not.
He was too cold, his focus waned and his hands failed to respond to the command of his brain. They were tight, frozen. It was lost, he couldn't pick the lock. So that was it. His last days alive were to end short in the cold, along with whoever else was on the carriage with him... All because of his cold-blooded body.
Endless failures only amounted to that in the end? More failures? More oversight? No. With a hiss, Arkash gripped the lockpick with his freezing fingers and ripped it from the keyhole, and threw it into the ocean. There was one other thing he could do, one more last effort to save the day. He looked to his palm and bared his claw. Blood magic: He could break the lock with some bloodshaped item with its increased sharpness. Doing so would expose him, but what did it matter? He didn't have long left for the world. Every day, weakness and fatigue reminded him so. So, with little hesitation, he put a claw to his wrist and dragged it in a rough slash to open his veins...
