[Rustbucket] Along came a demon

[Arkash]

3rd of Glade, 4622

Through the desert's night, a cloud of dust ripped through the jagged, hardened earth that made up most of the wasteland. The thud of clawed feet on the ground heralded the approach of something unnatural to those nearby.

Thunderous in the strike of his feet against the ground, it was with an abnormal speed that Arkash moved through the land. With endurance that far surpassed the limits of mortals, he made excellent time in the cooling night. Boghadar was but a few days away, he imagined by the guide of the stars and the direction of the moon.

Of course, he could have been wrong, his sense of direction wasn't always the best.

Lights caught his attention in the distance as his scales began to cool. Deep red eyes focused intently on the formation of buildings before he skid to a halt, then lowered the covering of his mouth to flick his forked tongue in its direction. There were people there, some food and drink, perhaps supplies?

Squinting, he watched the settlement a moment longer, then turned his head toward the direction he'd been heading. There was no guarantee that he was heading south; a compass was necessary, he imagined. With a deep exhale of abnormally heated breath, Arkash began his approach to the rusted settlement.

---

It wasn't long after he'd determined that the location wasn't a gang's outpost that Arkash located the centerpiece for most of the beating hearts in the area; the venue in which most were active in the first hours of the morning. From what he could tell by the mirth and air of the place, the pace at which the hearts inside ran, and the stink of the odor within, it was a Tavern of sorts... Or the closest one could get to a Tavern in the likes of the Badlands.

In the dark of the rusted street outside, Arkash's eyes shined with pending malice as he sized up the area, then looked at his claws with a frown. It was still difficult to will his features away; Arkash didn't have complete control over the ability to hide his monstrous side. So, with a sigh, he pulled up his face covering and wrapped his arms.

---

A figure shrouded in deep green rags and various leather straps to hold it all together entered the tavern. The most immediate feature to catch the eyes of anyone that watched him was the placement of a matte grey rifle with various linings of brass, which shined in the lowlight of the establishment. Next was his eyes, blood-red around the iris they circled, and stark against the darkness of his sclera. The presence of a thick tail that hung from the back of his tunic, and the curl of sickening claws on his strange feet gripped the ground with every step. His wrists, feet, and legs were wrapped in bandages up to the joint of each limb in a dull effort to conceal the presence of scales, and his hands remained hidden in his pockets.

The placement of his face covering was deliberate to conceal his features, but it did little to alter the bizarre shape of his mouth.

Arkash's eyes stayed forward as he walked through, despite the attention the quality of his weapon caught him. He was quick, clearly in a rush as he came to stop at the bar at the far end of the venue. There he stood until he was served. "Water," he spoke with a low voice, raspy around the edges, void of any pleasantries that were offered his way. It was dry and coarse, as though he spoke through some sort of demonic croak. "A full skin will do," he told the bartender.

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[Salen]

One of those days.

Those days.

Salen was on shift to serve for the evening with a tray of drinks in his hands. They were heavy spirits consisting of vodka, rum and ale, the kind that often left a kick in the liver after a few rounds, as well as brought out the irresponsible and clumsy personas that the gang members would have. Most of them would become violent with rage and paranoia, throwing accusations at people. That's what drugs and alcohol did to people. It broke their minds and made them lethargic with regret next morning.

He minded his own business, serving and fitting in. His hair appeared to be frazzled and was only stuck with wearing badlander's attire; a pair of leggings, old boots and a leather vest which he had left opened. It was an enticing view for the other customer's who's eyes would linger onto the well-sculpted musculature as he scanned over at the patrons of the bar. Their eyes would follow, like sundials moving independently as if their attention was instantly caught, especially when he wasn't in the mood for such advances. The scent of leather and orange blossom didn't help the situation, for he knew Brazim had gifted him with the blight that compelled attraction.

Sometimes it was a curse, knowing that people would stare for the wrong reasons, particularly when Salen didn't exactly desire a moment. Despite mostly being in a haze of lust, he had enough drugs to keep him going with his cravings, including those that he'd pickpocket from the patrons who came with amorous intentions. If the advantage was there, Salen would snatch at the opportunity.

The bartender watched, in case there would be any altercations going on. It was common for the rowdy men and women to get high, have too much to drink and go wild and crazy as they heavily intoxicate themselves. The early hours appeared to be louder at this time as most gang members often took rest stops for wurmblood, water, food and the odd occasion to fulfill their sexual desires.

Fuck me, sideways. He thought, knowing that it was going to be a long night. He was tired, he hadn't slept most of the time. He knew he was marked for death by the Entente woman who apotheosised herself above Brazim. The Black Dahlia. The name that she would give herself when she would strike fear into the hearts of the Entente, although there were clinks in her armor somewhere. Degare knew, but he couldn't return to Boghadar. He would instantly out Degare in the secret knowledge that he possessed. One which Dahlia could not get her hands on and meddle in.

Did she have anything better to do?

The door slammed open as Salen looked. The attention would wonder away from him and focus on the menacing figure that came through the door. The demon in green and black. He narrowed his eyes in distrust. Could it have been one of Dahlia's agents? Possibly. Salen knew she was invested in the art of subterfuge and espionage as he gazed amongst the deep green rags and the leather straps that held it together. Surely, Dahlia would've had better taste in fashion as she wanted her men and women to be objects of desire. Perhaps it was a way to catch him off guard, but the way he hid his face was ominous. He narrowed his eyes further as he approached the bartender who seemed slightly unnerved "Mon, Derek ... N’est-ce pas un peu impoli d’ignorer un client comme celui-ci? Obtenez la putain de peau!" He growled at him at him in Genteverse.

There was something not quite right about the man in front of him; he would tilt his head and inspect his attire, the same deep green rags, leather straps. It was normal for actual badlanders to make their own clothing. However, the rifle he carried, it seemed expensive for a man of his stature to afford a thing. Perhaps an Entente male in disguise? Or one of Dahlia's agents? Couldn't have been with the way he would croak grotesquely. Still, it was better to keep an eye on the situation.

"Long day eh?" He initiated the conversation in a friendly tone as he leant against the bar "Get yourself bunked up for the night, wouldn't wanna become rotten waste in those Sunderstorms. The Madness, it plagues the minds of others." He said spoke in warning. The man was eager to make coin, perhaps if he was an Entente he would be rich enough to serve a few coin into the business.

Business was business at the end of the day, even if it was with your enemies.

For now, he wasn't sure.

Time to dig.

[Arkash]

“Cae dy ben, ti’n arogly fel baw ci,” Arkash spoke under his breath, likely drowned by the voices in the bar. To those that didn’t speak Vithmi, it sounded like some sort of elven tongue, but difficult to pinpoint with the thick accent that accompanied it.

He didn’t speak at the greeting. Instead, the searing heat of his crimson eyes glared stark from the shadows of his cowl. “Not stopping,” he said with a shake of his head, that dry growl of a voice rumbling somewhere in his throat. He allegedly didn’t want a bunk for the night. If anything, the tension in his form relayed that he didn’t want to remain there a second longer at all.

“I just need water, a full skin,” he said again with a little more force.

“Supplies, too,” Arkash added. “Got a market in this shithole town or what?” No market would be open at that hour of course, but the cloaked Rath didn’t appear concerned with such things.

His hands remained in his pockets the entire time he spoke, and his gaze stayed affixed to the bartender with an eerie sort of hunger in his cruel eyes. It was as though he was deliberately drowning out the background noise to purposely focus all his attention on the bartender. Whether the point was to make the human uncomfortable or not wasn’t clear, but Arkash certainly didn’t relent in his stare for the other man’s sake.

It might have been obvious to anyone that tried to make eye contact with him that Arkash was adamant about minding his own business. It also might have been apparent to others that they should also mind their own business. Then again, it might not.

“I’m just passing through,” that monstrous rumble spoke again. “I should have been in Boghadar two months ago; I’m running late. Please hurry,” he reiterated.

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[Salen]

Salen heard the jibberish nonsense under the man's breath; it sounded like the man was cursing under his breath from what he could pick up. However, it may have pinpointed that the mysterious man in front of him was elven origin. It wasn't something that Salen would understand, especially with the thick accent that was accompanied with it.

The bartender appeared to be unnerved by his presence, even so that Salen would maintain his chill happy-go-lucky persona around these parts. It was all an act however, Salen would feel the glare as he was taken back. He stepped back slightly and nodded "Alright, well... Suit yourself then, the offer is there if you change your mind." He chuckled nervously. The man was in a hurry and yet he didn't wanna pry information but he was merely curious.

What was he doing around these parts?

The force of his voice shook the bartender as he appeared to be more demanding about his request for a full waterskin. If anything Salen wanted to avoid a barfight of some kind. It would've been another ugly disasterous scene of rowdy fuckers, punching, kicking, scratching and smashing bottles over their heads. Salen would've rather had a quiet atmosphere, but it was clear that it wasn't always going to be like that. People had emotions, people had things to say and some things were left unheard.

"Obtenez à cet homme une peau pleine, faites-le rapidement." He scowled.

"Fucking slowpoke..."

Salen listened, picking up on the details about him passing through and strangely the mention of Boghadar. He narrowed his eyes further. The man appeared to pique his interest "Boghadar you say?" He snickered, rolling his eyes "I was there two months ago, visiting an old friend at one of his... gatherings. He must've been a old fellow, lonely, often has a collection of dolls and puppets around his house." He sighed. "It's a sad thing, loneliness. I can feel for someone of that age. Poor Degare." He realised for a moment that he may have opened his mouth way too much.

He looked over his shoulder for a moment, wondering if anyone was listening, keeping an eye out for any sign of the one's who were hunting him.

[Arkash]

Without his tongue to aid his sense of smell, Arkash was unable to determine the human’s fear, nor his blight. All the same, his silence accepted Salen’s withdrawn offer. The nervousness in his chuckle did make Arkash smile beneath the covering of his mouth, a glint of joy to shine in the blood red of his dark eyes.

At the demand of his water, the human offered a command in some other language that he didn’t understand. Such seemed to satisfy him, as his posture relaxed a hair’s breadth, and the cold press of his stare relented. Only to add to the urgency, he offered some brief explanation for his haste, nothing of consequence, or he imagined.

Arkash clocked out as the human went on to ramble about visiting a friend of some loneliness in Boghadar; he had no interest in small talk or establishing any degree of relationship with anyone else in the Badlands. He simply stared at the wall while those words fell on him, and his keen ears listened to the ambience of breathing, beating hearts, throbbing blood vessels, and the sharp bursts of noise that came with every slam of a tankard on a table beneath the chorus of rumbling, stringy vocal chords. He almost appeared to shiver in delight while he teased himself with the sound of food, and his mouth salivated to a degree that he had to slurp up the excess, lest it make a damp patch in his covering.

Then, a single word snapped him from his trance, and his eyes immediately regained their sharpness as they fixed themselves on the human bartender. This one knew Degare?

“You said you visited this man?” Arkash affirmed, no effort to hide the interest in his tone. He was quiet for a moment, but his eyes were brought to smile in the covering of his cowl. “Well, a friend of my friend is my friend!” Arkash changed his tone entirely. “I’m sorry for the cold shoulder, I didn’t realize,” he said quite warmly, though his hands remained in his pockets through the leaning and bobbing of his body that came with the more expressive trail of his voice. “I owe Sir Socorro a great deal; I’d hate to be rude to a friend of his…” he spoke with an obvious display of guilt to the weight of his voice.

“You know what?” He began. “A bunk for the night doesn’t sound too bad with someone I can trust running the place. Could you show me where they are quickly?” The dry croak of his voice was still there, but a backdrop to his vibrant, friendly, otherwise warm demeanor with something of a playful trail to the end. “Maybe there I can… Make up for my rudeness…” he offered with a vaguely provocative gaze that locked with Salen’s eyes, obvious carnal implication in the delivery of his offer. It was almost as though the mention of Degare had flipped a switch in the demon, awoken some other form of need.

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[Salen]

Salen's observed further as he narrowed his eyes, keeping watch of the surroundings of the room, it had been apparent that someone was watching. He could sense it, feel it and even witness the different clashing smells in the room compared to his own earthy and lemony scent; the fragrance of sandalwood and leather, along with the clash of orange blossom and peaches. The caution in his eyes was obvious, but he didn't notice the smell lingering on the mysterious male that was in front of him.

The glint of joy he got from making him nervous was obvious that he wasn't related to his current conflict, or so he thought. Yet, he would wonder if he was one of those rowdy types who came in demanding for everything in line of sight; he couldn't tell, only just it was better to serve him like a general customer, hoping he wouldn't cause any problems. Perhaps that was his way of avoiding situations of conflict; to please and to be the charming man who settled conflict in just an ease of conversation and bribe.

That didn't always work however.

He wasn't paying attention to the other man's trance, but when he asked, he turned towards the other male, tilting his head. Thinking "Yes, although. I'd keep it down. Some people don't know how to mind their beeswax; get themselves killed." He said, although it didn't sound threatening but more of a warning. Someone was obviously watching and it was clear Salen needed them to disappear. Erotic asphyxiation? Nah done that too many times. The strange man's tone changed entirely, smirking at the man's friendly demeanour, although it was hard to determine weither it was earnest or sarcastic. Probably sarcastic, judging by Salen's cynical mind.

"You owe the Veir a great deal so you say?" He asked, his tone yet again cynical, questioning the credibility of the man even further, although cleared his throat slightly bashful about his rudeness as it appeared to be difficult to speak. He was taken back by the sudden change in the fellow's demeanour, knowing it could've been a farce to trick him. The man was still cautious about the situation, although it showed the man had a degree of intelligence "Well, assuming you're friends I sniff out a liar like a fart in a bath." He asserted further as he became protective, not because he was being mean but for his own sake. Perhaps even the mysterious fellow in front of him, who he glanced at his eyes. The shade of red that was frightening, but yet at the same time, enticing.

He was even more surprised by the sudden change in his offer that he almost felt bad for his sudden rudeness, although Salen would look between the lines, there was no connection between Dahlia or Degare. He had no idea who he was and Degare didn't mention he had business with badlanders within the area, especially in Southern Daravin. He chuckled with a charming smile amongst his lips "Forgive me, I'm always careful... I wouldn't mind making you feel right at home here, if that's what you want." He asked as he stared into his eyes as Beguiler began to take effect, hoping the strong sensation of desire would pull the male further into his web as he would follow onward with his salacious advances with his word of mouth.

"You're rudeness is forgiven, but... I may have more to share if you follow the shadows."

He would guide Arkash towards the stairs and walked up the stairs, beckoning him with his index finger, before turning around and walking forward towards a room for the night.

Room number seven.

Lucky.

"Here you are, although are there any requests you'd like to offer? I do have certain limitations however for tonight, I'm not feeling as amorous as I hoped, perhaps the mood may come back at some point." He smiled almost self-depreciatingly "If there's anything you need though I'm here." He said, although Salen appeared to be worried for a moment.

"I'm sorry, maybe this is none of my business but... What's your connection with Degare. I ask as someone whose concerned as I fear he might be in danger" His eyes shot up to Arkash, with a serious undertone to his look "If you truely care then I want to know, because if so. I may be able to help"

"What's your connection?" He repeated.

[Arkash]

it almost seemed as though Arkash's act wouldn't pay off; as though the human would see through him. The older man went on to express his doubt through the tone of his voice and in the weight of his words, but Arkash maintained his jovial disposition, sudden as it was.

When it began to look as though he might lose the human entirely, Arkash delivered the proposition, the offer to make up for his rudeness with obvious carnal intent. The press of his deep red eyes was meant to invoke submission in his prey, to stir desire and excitement. Such a look was easy for a man of Arkash's disposition regardless of its sincerity, but when the human cast Beguiler, there was a notable shift in his glare, something a little more genuine.

The human accepted with a counteroffer, the whispering of something more to do with Degare. The disguised Rathor nodded just enough to not unveil his features, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his eyes.

Up the stairway, he followed the human, eyes lingering on the human's back, hips, and thighs as he followed from behind. He paid little attention to the door when they arrived, and instead looked at the human while he spoke. Arkash was wordless through the Corvo's talking, almost contemplative in his silence while tension gradually built in the air around his body, as though he prepared to exert himself.

Then, Arkash quite casually lifted his hands from his pockets and revealed his long black claws, which burned a frigid black flame as they trailed through the air. For some who might not be familiar with a Cardinal's powers, the effect might have been mystifying.

Those claws lifted to the covering of his face and lowered the mask to reveal his reptilian features, light grey with a sort of sickly undertone. Black flames poured from his lips as his monstrous teeth showed within the hold of his maw. The revelation of his true identity was meant to surprise his prey, to cause confusion and panic. After all, who expected to see some sort of monster beneath all those green rags?

One hand came to rest on Salen's shoulder while the other gripped the handle of the door, and with sudden and tremendous strength, he forced the weaker Blight's back to the door and pinned him there as his claws came to wrap Salen's throat. "One sound..." Arkash warned, "and I'll cut your head from your shoulders."

His voice was low, rumbling with venomous ire as those frigid flames licked at the open air with every shift of his inhuman maw. "Tell me your name, who you work for, and what you're doing here." Arkash's glare deepened while his hand held the softness of the human's throat. "I can quite literally smell your lies, and not like a fart in a bath. If I catch so much as a whiff of something untrue, I'll kill you. Right here, right now. Understand?"

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[Salen]

The mysterious fellow seemed suspicious; he knew people with more amorous intentions would be willing to strike up more of a conversation but he seemed different, like Salen had lit a fuse in his carnal interests. He would watch him closely, never taking his eyes off him as he remained watchful, the glare seemed intense as he may have hit a nerve; the look indicated deception as Salen clenched his fist.

Salen's shoulder's tensed up as he was preparing for the worst, knowing now that he may have said too much. He gulped; the movement of his Adams Apple indicated fear and discomfort. It wasn't until the man had pulled his hands out of his pocket that Salen's eyes widened; his breathing became quicker as he looked at the black long dagger-like nails and the black flames that dwindled in the air. A Nightfallen mutation? If so, Salen's fears intensified "Wha..." He spoke. The fear intensified into frozen paralysis when he revealed the mask. The sickly grey reptilian features accompanied with the black flames, monstrous teeth and the quills that stood on edge, like hair follicles standing on end.

Only Salen had the goosebumps, the shivers and the shock of the revelation. His flight or fight response kicked in as he tried to dart for the window, but before he could he was grabbed by the shoulder and pushed with unrelenting force against the door. He let out a yelp; the claws came to wrap around Salen's throat as he shuddered in fear, cooperating with his demands of silence.

The low rumbling baritone of his voice echoed with corrosive venom, the flames would continue to flicker in the air around Salen as he looked at the terrifying inhuman maw. He noticed his glare would deepen, indicating that if he would make a false move, he would be dead "Alright..." He cooperated.

"My name's Salen..." He uttered as he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he delivered his plea "I used to work for a mad woman named Dahlia Senerite, Entente... Although it's was not intended." He uttered "She was chosen to initiate me as one of Brazim's chosen... Only she wasn't honest about the purpose, of course what would you expect from an Entente whore like her" He simply added.

"Did she send you here to kill me is that it?" He added with venomous aggression "Well, that'll be another innocent man claimed by her elegant plots. Another man to be claimed by blackmail and meddling of affairs and by the gods, you would have that on your conscience." He spoke earnestly.

"Go on, kill me and watch another innocent old man rot, just because he knows too much."

"Or we can put an end to her reign..." His eyes fixated on him as he was breathing heavily.

"Your choice..."

[Arkash]

The revelation of his truly monstrous features had the intended effect; Arkash could almost taste the fear in the man’s expression, the salt in his widened eyes, and the thrumming drum of the heart in his chest. Before Salen could run, he was caught, pinned, and threatened with the penalty of death if he did not speak.

The younger of the two stared with discerning cruelty as Salen agreed to tell the truth… But what he said wasn’t what Arkash was expecting. Arkash’s features came to squint in confusion as the boy continued to talk. His Scalie brow pressed firmly while he considered behind his burning red eyes.

“You’re a Corvo,” Arkash recognized. “A heretic to Greater Daravin, right?”

His thumb gently trailed the throbbing vein of Salen’s neck, as if to hold the pulse of his lifeforce in his claws.

“An Entente whore…” he pondered.

At the question, Arkash rose a brow, the press of his own aggression yielded for a moment as Salen delivered his apparent plea for death.

He stood, he stared, he listened.

From a gap in his burning lips, his forked tongue flicked, rattled, and withdrew to his mouth. “You’re telling the truth,” Arkash lied; it wasn’t as though he could really smell lies, but he could certainly smell Brazim’s influence on the human’s scent. In truth, he’d taken a chance to believe the slightly older man with the hope that he might establish the illusion that he could in fact smell lies. It was a gamble.

“Why did you bait me with Veir Socorro’s name?” Arkash quizzed. “What do you know of him? What is your purpose?”

He looked down then at his burning hand as it trapped Salen’s neck, then exhaled deeply. “If you run, I’ll catch you,” he warned, then let the human go, mindful of his burning claws.

“I’m no servant of the Entente,” he declared. “I’m not who you think I am, but any enemy of the nobility is a friend of mine. Has this Daria sent her dogs to chase you?”

“I could be convinced to help you…” he spoke with an ominous trail as he lifted his mask back over his flaming maw.

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[Salen]

There was a shiver of fear at the way in which Salen's throat was held. One instant squeeze could cut his head clean off from the razor sharp edges of his claws as the redness of his stare would continue. The sweat would drip from him as his heart rate increased, only out of fear. It impetuated more of his Corvo scent into the room as his gaze lingered on the male for a moment. Perhaps the mysterious fellow hadn't been what he had been wanting to hear as he stared deeply into Arkash's eyes.

"That's correct, although not by choice... Yet again is it anyone's." He wondered.

He gasped as the man's thumb trailed across the vein between the carotid artery; the throbbing peace of lifeforce that the man could take if he so desired, the fountain of blood that would leak freely if cut open. The sensation of his claws made him gasp at the end of his plea for death. It was a sensitive area, even for a human to be touched in. A vital source of life that kept this human alive.

When he withdrew his inhuman maw, he remained still. He watched his forked lizard tongue flick and rattle as if he was a rattlesnake on the defensive. The man stated the obvious, but he was even more curious about his monstrous visage. What was the man behind the mask and firstly what was he doing here in the badlands. If he was one of Dahlia's agents, surely he would have come with more of them armed with various magics, weapons and relics at their disposal. Although, a man of his stature was incredibly fearsome and perhaps powerful. Maybe another powerful mage that could help him in the mists?

Salen sighed as he looked back, knowing he had to go through more hurdles of questions to answer "The questions... They are tiresome." He nodded in agreement as the man released his warm grip from his throat "Well... I might aswell, since you have me imprisoned in this... Rather shabby shit excuse of a bedroom. Not exactly a place that an Entente would want to sleep." He replied as the questions would come further, like gunshots from a loaded rifle.

Salen's interest was peaked by the offer of help, but narrowed his eyes "Ehh, help eh? What would you do, perhaps bag the fuckers, take everything from them. Sounds smashing... Smashing indeed" He laughed, yet again taking a glance at Arkash once more.

"Alright, we have a deal." He smirked, playfully.

"But do I have your word? Life's a gamble anyway."

Perhaps the venting to a stranger would help "The truth is, I didn't actually mean to bait you, its just. I've been thinking about him and... Well, he hasn't been in the best state lately; bouts of depression, manic episodes and eventually he seemed to downward spiral." He frowned, the melancholy on his face seemed genuine "I'm worried about him, how he's coping with the news of his lover dead, how he's..." He paused as he looked at Arkash as he reflected on the night they both cried together as well as expressing their rage for the political issues they face.

"I'm sorry, this is actually too much." His expression changed as it would become emotionally painful for him to speak about the matter at hand. Instead, he broke his story down into shorter versions "He's suffering right now and I chose to hide out here, there was no doubt Dahlia would've sent her agents on him, if I stayed. I honestly didn't mean to bring this upon him, but it appears that Degare is in danger." He warned Arkash, although it appeared that his own annoyance was expressed through talking about her.

"Dahlia is like a bloodhound, her trade is blackmail mostly but if she finds out about Degare's mark she will have him executed by the law; she uses manipulation tactics and means of magic to manipulate peoples minds" He crossed his arms and paced freely back and forth around the room, sighing. It was clearly frustrating but it needed to be done.

"The worst part, she's a Remnomancer; a pretty masterful one. The dreamscape is her territory, her lions den if you will." He spoke with venomous ire to his tone.