59th of Frost, 4621
The rain seemed to crawl across his scales in waves while he followed the urchin through the gloomy Boghadar streets. The rivers that carved the city were running as rapids, and as such, they filled the silence for long stretches into the surrounding land with the constant thrashing of the current against its bed and banks. Arkash didn’t mind the noise, and the droplets were pleasant against his oily scales. But on that day, he'd wished it was clear.
Something in the back of his mind urged caution while the boy urged him to follow and waved for his haste in pursuit of whatever trouble he’d found. It would be the day that all the smells in the air were muffled beneath the rain, and all the sounds he'd otherwise used to aid his poor vision were garbled by the rush of water. Part of him dismissed it as coincidence, as there was little chance a peasant boy could ambush him, and he doubted whatever malice he could perceive in the heart of a child. The rest of him knew only paranoia and suspicion, but it had become easy to dull those ideas in the past few weeks.
Alas, that was where Arkash fell short.
“Thees way, Monsieur!” The boy called from the entrance of an alley, one foot past its threshold. “Please! Mon père ees very seeck!”
It had been some time since he questioned the motives of another since he walked with suspicion and paranoia. Such was so true that the misfortune that he hadn’t brought his tools with him was at the forefront of his mind as he followed the boy around the corner, then paused as he set eyes on the trap.
An older man of chiseled features, broad shoulders, and thick muscle stood motionless in the Alley. His exceptional training was apparent beneath the tempered, quality armor he wore. Helmet in his arm and hammer dormant beneath his gauntlet. The weapon rested on its head, handle reaching as high as the man’s hip bone, where his plated glove held it in place.
The man didn’t so much as glance at the boy as he ran by, and maintained Arkash as the sole focus of his stare.
The Rath rolled his claws and curled his nose as bitter venom began to pool in his maw; his body prepared to fight while his mind ran in circles trying to piece together the reason for the lure. Before it came to violence, however, the man spoke. “Arkash?” He asked with comradery in the way he spoke.
“Speak your purpose,” Arkash returned, only slightly offset by the friendliness with which the man greeted him.
The man lifted his finger with a dip of his head in a display of peace, then lifted his hammer overhead to stow it upon his back. The motion tightened the muscles in Arkash’s legs, and set him ready to leap. “I have a message,” he said with a bow of his head. “Apologies for the cloak and dagger, delivering mail of importance can be… Perilous… At times,” he spoke with a slight smile, and began his approach.
Arkash’s brow furrowed while he looked all about the man, then lightened his stance a little when he found no hidden weapons. Marks were another matter, but his reflexes were quick enough to interrupt the casting of a spell, he believed.
True to the man’s word, he drew a tube from a gap in his armor and handed it to the Rath when he was close enough. “House Mathis sends its regards,” he said with a smile once Arkash had accepted the cylindrical packaging.
He only briefly inspected the casing before he glanced again to the man, who was on his way along the road, headed north. Arkash furrowed his brow at the exchange, then inspected the packaging once more. A final glance down the alley saw him dismiss whatever thoughts ran in his head, and a sigh saw him turn back for the lord’s estate.
Climbing the wall had become something of a regular occurrence for Arkash, who refused to let himself be seen entering the Veir’s estate in public. Beneath the overhanging walkways, the brick was mostly dry. His claws were able to grip the stonework with ease, and he propelled his lithe body upward with every grasp. At a certain point in his ascension, he came to pass a sharp protrusion in the cliffside. Quickly, he lifted his knees to his chest and kicked off the wall to throw himself at the face of the crag, and turned over to grip the rock.
His claws dug into the wettened stone as the rain continued to bombard him, and he pulled himself up a little higher with his upper body strength alone, then caught his weight with the claws of his feet and fully clambered onto the protruding rock. From there, he faced the overhanging walkway, a structure he couldn't hope to scale if not for nature's help, and began to wipe his hands into whatever dry surface of clothing he had left in an effort to make them less slippery. Then, he lowered his body, eyed his prize, and began a mad dash for the rampart. He didn't slow or hesitate as he neared the edge and sprung from the lip of the overhand with one leg. He flew the short gap despite the encumberment of the rain and lifted his legs to skip the merlons and land with a roll on the other side.
Though he briefly slid across the wall walk, he did stop before he tumbled into the fortress grounds. He rose to brush himself off, then took the tube from his mouth before he began to descend the wall along the proper walkway, and quickly transformed into his Humanoid form before his true form was discovered.
With bare feet, he made his way to the tower at the far end of the complex.
[/size]
The rain seemed to crawl across his scales in waves while he followed the urchin through the gloomy Boghadar streets. The rivers that carved the city were running as rapids, and as such, they filled the silence for long stretches into the surrounding land with the constant thrashing of the current against its bed and banks. Arkash didn’t mind the noise, and the droplets were pleasant against his oily scales. But on that day, he'd wished it was clear.
Something in the back of his mind urged caution while the boy urged him to follow and waved for his haste in pursuit of whatever trouble he’d found. It would be the day that all the smells in the air were muffled beneath the rain, and all the sounds he'd otherwise used to aid his poor vision were garbled by the rush of water. Part of him dismissed it as coincidence, as there was little chance a peasant boy could ambush him, and he doubted whatever malice he could perceive in the heart of a child. The rest of him knew only paranoia and suspicion, but it had become easy to dull those ideas in the past few weeks.
Alas, that was where Arkash fell short.
“Thees way, Monsieur!” The boy called from the entrance of an alley, one foot past its threshold. “Please! Mon père ees very seeck!”
It had been some time since he questioned the motives of another since he walked with suspicion and paranoia. Such was so true that the misfortune that he hadn’t brought his tools with him was at the forefront of his mind as he followed the boy around the corner, then paused as he set eyes on the trap.
An older man of chiseled features, broad shoulders, and thick muscle stood motionless in the Alley. His exceptional training was apparent beneath the tempered, quality armor he wore. Helmet in his arm and hammer dormant beneath his gauntlet. The weapon rested on its head, handle reaching as high as the man’s hip bone, where his plated glove held it in place.
The man didn’t so much as glance at the boy as he ran by, and maintained Arkash as the sole focus of his stare.
The Rath rolled his claws and curled his nose as bitter venom began to pool in his maw; his body prepared to fight while his mind ran in circles trying to piece together the reason for the lure. Before it came to violence, however, the man spoke. “Arkash?” He asked with comradery in the way he spoke.
“Speak your purpose,” Arkash returned, only slightly offset by the friendliness with which the man greeted him.
The man lifted his finger with a dip of his head in a display of peace, then lifted his hammer overhead to stow it upon his back. The motion tightened the muscles in Arkash’s legs, and set him ready to leap. “I have a message,” he said with a bow of his head. “Apologies for the cloak and dagger, delivering mail of importance can be… Perilous… At times,” he spoke with a slight smile, and began his approach.
Arkash’s brow furrowed while he looked all about the man, then lightened his stance a little when he found no hidden weapons. Marks were another matter, but his reflexes were quick enough to interrupt the casting of a spell, he believed.
True to the man’s word, he drew a tube from a gap in his armor and handed it to the Rath when he was close enough. “House Mathis sends its regards,” he said with a smile once Arkash had accepted the cylindrical packaging.
He only briefly inspected the casing before he glanced again to the man, who was on his way along the road, headed north. Arkash furrowed his brow at the exchange, then inspected the packaging once more. A final glance down the alley saw him dismiss whatever thoughts ran in his head, and a sigh saw him turn back for the lord’s estate.
Climbing the wall had become something of a regular occurrence for Arkash, who refused to let himself be seen entering the Veir’s estate in public. Beneath the overhanging walkways, the brick was mostly dry. His claws were able to grip the stonework with ease, and he propelled his lithe body upward with every grasp. At a certain point in his ascension, he came to pass a sharp protrusion in the cliffside. Quickly, he lifted his knees to his chest and kicked off the wall to throw himself at the face of the crag, and turned over to grip the rock.
His claws dug into the wettened stone as the rain continued to bombard him, and he pulled himself up a little higher with his upper body strength alone, then caught his weight with the claws of his feet and fully clambered onto the protruding rock. From there, he faced the overhanging walkway, a structure he couldn't hope to scale if not for nature's help, and began to wipe his hands into whatever dry surface of clothing he had left in an effort to make them less slippery. Then, he lowered his body, eyed his prize, and began a mad dash for the rampart. He didn't slow or hesitate as he neared the edge and sprung from the lip of the overhand with one leg. He flew the short gap despite the encumberment of the rain and lifted his legs to skip the merlons and land with a roll on the other side.
Though he briefly slid across the wall walk, he did stop before he tumbled into the fortress grounds. He rose to brush himself off, then took the tube from his mouth before he began to descend the wall along the proper walkway, and quickly transformed into his Humanoid form before his true form was discovered.
With bare feet, he made his way to the tower at the far end of the complex.
