Foreshadowing I
Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2020 6:24 pm
79th of Ash, 120
It was late at night, and though Arkash had seen little progress he still managed to cheat the system that had been laid out for him. Arkash was to be without water for three days, but he'd found his own water. In the dark of the stone walls he was trapped in, he moved his firewood to burn beneath the crevice in the ceiling. The heat rose and melted the snow on the surface. As it dripped down, Arkash collected the water in a cup formed of his blood. Of course, the fluid was left cloudy as it had run down the earth and rocks that lined the crevice. He had to clean it, which wasn't a problem given that he had a filter with reach.
Just a few days prior, Arkash had killed a woman in that cave. It was only a human, but he'd hesitated for once. Malafor had pushed him through the act, as he was meant to use her blood for his shaping abilities. That was a longer story, however. The fact of the matter was that she was clothed when she was presented to Arkash. The hemp of her attire worked as a filter as Arkash transferred the gathered water from one blood cup to another. All the filth and gunk that floated in the second-washed fluids had a light brown tinted to it, but no solids. Arkash had drunk worse in Lower Nivenhain and didn't hesitate to down the fluids.
That was the first drink he'd had in three days, and though it was a little earthy in texture and taste, it barely touched the sides. He wasn't done there, though. He'd not eaten in three days, either. Though the headache born of his blood loss had receded into a dull throb, he still felt the weakness in his limbs. He needed nutrients in order to fully recover from his injuries. Of course, the easiest option would be to wait for the mage to return with water and food, but Arkash had a better plan.
With a sigh, he looked over the bloodshaped cup and inspected the interior. There were a few droplets left, so he slid his tongue in and soaked whatever moisture he could before withdrawing the fluids into his dry maw. He'd only have one shot at his escape, he believed. So, he had to make use of every advantage he could get his claws on. There was the problem of his weapons being hidden somewhere in the cave, but he would locate them in time.
Once he'd allowed the water in his gut some time to work, he collected a scrap of hardened blood he'd been working on, and strained the shaft while he channeled his ether through the material. Steadily, with his improved accuracy, he formed a complete lockpick and hardened the tool again. It was complete. After setting the tool down, he moved to collect one of his bloodshaped cups and channeled his ether through that in turn. Like a morbid sort of dough, he tore it down the middle vertically and folded the material over itself to create a wrench for the tumbler. That tool, unlike the pick itself, was easy enough to forge. It’s width and solidity made for easy molding, and the material could hold itself to boot.
With both tools in his claws, Arkash shut his eyes and exhaled before he brought them to the rusted iron band that wrapped his neck. The pick slid into the tumbler while the wrench pulled pressure on the lock. He’d already developed a decent sense for how the inner mechanism appeared with all his poking and prodding. All he had to do was find the settings for the pins. One by one, he pushed the pins into place while he followed the mental image of the mechanism in his mind, then pulled hard on the wrench when they all fell into place, and the collar came loose. The sound of snapping metal sounded, and Arkash gasped as he let the band down.
Quietly, he set it on the ground and reached up to feel his neck. His shoulders were tender, sore from the weight of the metal bumping against them for days. After familiarizing himself with his neck again, he gathered up all his bloodshaped items. One by one, he channeled his ether through them and squeezed them into doughy balls to add to a larger mass. Once his cube of blood had been reformed, he squeezed and pulled all the material to elongate it into a sort of spear-javelin shape.
It was a makeshift weapon, but a weapon all the same. Clutching it firmly in his claws as it hardened, he stepped over the dead woman and quietly padded through the cave to the hall on the far wall. One step at a time, he made his way down the hall, then paused, and lowered to crouch before he came to the hall. Voices sounded ahead of him. Malafor was there, Chitters One as well. As Arkash drew near the scene, he peered from the dark and remained low while he listened.
“...And you’re still here ...why?” Spoke the old man.
“It’s Dresden, ser… he’s not gettin’ any better. I d'nae wish t’ leave him,” returned the ratty man. Dresden? Was that Chitters Two? They did have real names, it seemed.
“I gave you an order. If you want the whelp to live, you’d best get those supplies.”
“R-right! Aye, Ser. Forgive me.” Chitters began to slink away from the withered mage, who simply shook his head at the display, then turned to recede deeper into the cave while Chitters made his way to the east. Chitters One was leaving the complex, it seemed. That was fine for Arkash, as it meant there was less chance of being overwhelmed or outnumbered. As he slunk from the dark of the hall, he looked to the burning brazier, in the direction Chitters had gone, then looked deeper into the cave to his left, where Malafor resided.
With his body low, he proceeded deeper into the cave. Malafor would fall asleep eventually. Then, Arkash would take his life. As he came to a turn, he pulled himself flush to the wall, and drew a deep breath through his nose. He searched the air for a taste of the sickness that clung to the old man, then opened his eyes as he exhaled. With certainty in his movements, Arkash pushed forward. His body leaned forward with his javelin poised to thrust close to his chest. In the low darkness, he looked to the left, through which, he spied another brazier.
A draw of breath through his nose revealed something of interest in the room, so he carefully stepped through the doorless-threshold and looked about the space. There, on one of the tables, laid Dresden, or Chitters Two, as he’d elected to call the man. What was more? A trunk of sorts rested in the room, from which, the barrel of his rifle protruded. A final glance was cast to the sleeping human before Arkash proceeded across the floor and oh-so-carefully lifted the creaky wooden lid. Inside were all his belongings, or what he hadn’t left in Lienburg. He cast a glance to the human again, then collected his rifle, pistol, shortsword, and bloodied dagger alike. They all felt heavier than they had before, but Arkash knew such a thing was because of his weakened form.
As he shouldered the sling of his rifle, he aimed the device downward and pulled back on the lever to eject the previously-used shell, which clattered against the floor. As he fed another set of rounds, his final set, into the gun, Dresden awoke. “Master?” He called through a haze of pain. Arkash could smell it, the wound he’d delivered to the man’s side had become severely infected.
“E’s not ‘ere,” Arkash replied as he shut the lever and cocked the weapon before slinging it onto his back.
“Y-you..” The man started as Arkash dipped to collect his blood javelin, then wobbled as he stood. His head was light from all the exercise he was getting, and his legs were shaky.
“Me?” Arkash returned with his head in a low slouch as he turned to face the man.
“How’d you…” As he tried to sit up, he bared his teeth in a hiss of pain and moved his arm to hold his side. It was there that Arkash had stabbed him with a similar javelin.
“Youer Masta’ gae’me the means t’ build a pick wiv me blood. Gettin’ out was easy afta’ ‘at,” he explained honestly. What did it matter if he told Dresden the truth? He began to approach the wounded man “so, I’m gonna kill ‘ew and youer brother. Afta' that? I’m killin’ Malafor,” he grinned broadly, baring his sharp teeth.
What came next, though he suffered not, would remain on his mind for some time. Arkash had skimmed a mindset like that of Dresden, and though he'd since come away from such thoughts, he could still relate to some degree.
Continued here.
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