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| − | [ST] In the sitting room of the refuge, a foul smoke gathers from the burning remains of Pixie. The elegant sofa has been shredded and torn, priceless vases toppled into ruin. It is a refuge no more.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal puts his hand over her his notice. The fire had reached her hair, which had begun to smoke fouly. "And then there were three," he comments to no one in particular.
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| − | [ST] Soldas's blade is drawn, held clumsily in his off hand. He looks pale, sweaty, and exhausted. His lips move soundlessly for a moment, and then he manages, "M-Medals. Medals for all of you if we live through this."
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal smiles at him.
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| − | [ST] Soldas seems to gather himself at that. "Very well. As I said, we will head for the bridge. Summer will take the lead. Iscal will bring up the rear."
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| − | [Summer] He nods, slowly, keeping his eyes on Iscal. He never had been subtle, and now is almost comically suspicious. But at least in the hall, he unbends enough to actually look for other foes.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal nods. "Summer, you looked at the map, didn't you? I'd happen to tink about what could happen if I were the only one who knew the way, and croaked it."
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| − | [Iscal] He falls into formation.
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| − | [ST] (Keep a calm head about you) Snowshine advises Summer. (Your father's father's brother died from stepping into a nest of snowsnakes. Your foot is poised over the hole)
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| − | [Summer] "Oh, I remember the way." Somewhat, but he didn't want Iscal losing him. of course maybe he did want Iscal to lose them, if he was going to transform like the others. But then they would have no translator for the place. His mind chased itself in circles, so he did nothing.
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| − | [Iscal] "Lead on then, soldier," Iscal bows and gestures forward with his hand. The gesture almost doesn't seem sarcastic.
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| − | [Summer] He strides out the door, ignoring Iscal to move confidently into the hall for all of three steps before he hits the corpses they'd left from the last time they'd gone walking. He toes around them, not wanting to leave bloody tracks everywhere, but it rather spoils things.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal follows behind Soldas, his truncehon in his hand. He shakes his head slightly at the boy, before turning to look behind him to be sure they weren't followed already, by the girl.
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| − | [ST] According the maps provided by the ship, the bridge is located two decks below the one the group currently occupies. As the group retraces its steps, Summer taking the lead, nothing of note appears. The crisped forms of Shy Fox and Relic have not budged from their positions in the abbatoir of a hallway. The air is becoming steadily warmer, a hot, sticky heat unlike even the fiercest of the League's dry summers.
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| − | [ST] At length, the Once Dead return to the intersection and take the only path that remains, forward into the living quarters. The hallway is as featureless and sterile as the others, at least at first glance. A half dozen doors line either side of the hall, their fronts glowing slightly with symbols in Old Realm. At the end of the hall, one can see the broad head of a staircase leading down to
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| − | [ST] the next deck.
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| − | [Summer] He was half glad that he'd given his outer coat to Pixie, waste though it had been. The air was hot enough already, and getting warmer.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal nods to the doors to their side. "I think these were shared bedrooms," he says. "Might make sense to take a look...."
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| − | [Iscal] Well, unless there were more monsters ready to rip their heads off, of course.
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| − | [Summer] He creeps carefully down the hallway, not wanting to open the doors to attract the attention of anything inside, but worried that something inside might have noticed them anyway. Soldas and Iscal stringing out behind him offered some protection from disaster, but at the same time, were louder by half than they had any need to be.
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| − | [Iscal] He reads names off the doors. "Cunning Asp. Fair Daxa. Shimmering Moon." He doesn't bother to keep his voice down.
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| − | [Summer] He shakes his head at the other man's suggestion - "remember the playroom, like as not they're full." He scowls at his loud speech, then straightens. "As long as we aren't being quiet, theres no point to ignoring them, open it up," he waves at the door they'd just passed.
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| − | [Summer] Well, Summer had just passed, Soldas was at it, looking at it like it had suddenly become a snake, and Iscal was coming up behind.
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| − | [ST] Soldas shrinks back away from the door towards the opposite side of the hall. He bumps into another on the opposite side, and starts, nearly springing all the way back across the hall.
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| − | [Iscal] "Right." Iscal opens Cunning Asp's door. Soldas had alerted anything inside already.
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| − | [Iscal] "Hullo," he calls as he steps inside.
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| − | [ST] (Your chieftain is... lacking) Snowshine comments, as Iscal presses his hand against the door's plate.
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| − | [ST] Iscal almost immediately finds himself forced to step over a shattered desk. The piece of sturdy ironwood furniture has been shattered down the middle - splinters litter the carpet, and the two halves jut crazily out on either side of the door.
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| − | [Summer] Summer scowls to himself. he had already forgotten, thinking of the man as deadweight. But a chieftain was due a chieftain's deference, unlikely as it was that the man would claim it.
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| − | [Summer] He stands in the hall, letting Iscal search the room. The man who had lived there seemed to have liked deep, solid and dark colors, uninteresting to Summer's magpie eye.
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| − | [ST] The room beyond is small but was probably quite fine, in its day. Unlike the polished floor of the hallway outside, its floor is covered by a deep, yielding gray carpet. An elegantly appointed bed lies on the far side of the chamber, its construction flowing naturally out of the wall. Gauzy blue fabric covers half the glowpanels on the ceiling, casting a cool illumination through the room.
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| − | [ST] Now, however, that beauty is destroyed.
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| − | [ST] The gray carpet is stained a deep brown in many spots. Blood splatters the bed and the walls, and half the gauze on the ceiling has been torn away, casting the room in a strange half light. Iscal smells the stink of human waste, and urine, and blood. Fine clothes lie on the floor, torn from the closet on one wall where the worst of the smell is emanating. A cluster of rotting turnips rests atop an elegant stand.
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| − | [ST] In the far corner of the room, Iscal finds a severed hand, stiff and rotting. Its dead fingers are curled around the handle of a device that seems to be about a yard long, and rectangular in shape. It reminds Iscal a little of an oversized hacksaw, and indeed it has a blade, bright and serrated, perhaps of adamantine.
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| − | [ST] The hand that grasps it has a raven tattooed on the back.
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| − | [Iscal] "Huh," Iscal says. He loosens the finger's grasp with the end of his truncheon. "Soldas, stand back, sir. Summer, get ready to stab me in the back if I go kooky."
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| − | [Iscal] He bends down and picks up the device.
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| − | [ST] Soldas coughs quietly out in the hallway, perhaps not registering what Iscal has actually said.
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| − | [ST] The device is cool in Iscal's grip, if a little awkward to hold. He notices a crystal nodule near the handle, a knob meant to be pulled.
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| − | [Iscal] He pulls it experimentally.
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| − | [ST] The thing jumps in Iscal's hand alarmingly, giving a sudden roar, followed by a steady metallic scream that echoes up and down the hallway. The serrated blade begins to move back and forth rapidly, blurring into invisibility.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal pushes the knob in again.
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| − | [ST] The blade stills, and silence returns, deafening after that explosion of noise. If anything was listening, it definitely heard.
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| − | [Iscal] "Lets take this with us. One more thing."
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| − | [Iscal] He walks to the wardrobe and eases open the door with his truncheon, ready to leap back.
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| − | [ST] Iscal is hit with a powerful, eye-watering stench, but it is of a mundane nature. Whoever last occupied this room and barricaded the door - probably the owner of the hand - was using the wardrobe as a makeshift toilet.
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| − | [Summer] Summer watches from the doorway, then catches himself, and looks about in the hall behind. No point keeping watch only to ignore most of the danger.
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| − | [Iscal] "Let's go," Iscal says, backing away.The hacksaw is carried awkwardly over his shoulder.
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| − | [ST] Summer doesn't notice anything unusual in the hallway. Well, aside from Soldas, who eyes Iscal's new acquisition with real distrust.
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| − | [Summer] Back backs out the doorway, giving the new blade wide passage. It seemed rather ill omened to him, to find a weapon so incapable of defending its last owner.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal grins. "Perhaps Shimmering Moon is home," he says, putting his hand on the handplate.
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| − | [Summer] "Which room was the womans, Fair something or other." A womaan would have had the best, weapons or jewels.
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| − | [Iscal] "Hard to say."
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| − | [ST] Shimmering Moon is not home, but her chambers have seen far less defilement than Cunning Asp. Perhaps no one wanted to den here. A glance shows why - what furniture the room has is light and almost reed-delicate. An ancient book lies on the bed, half open, a pair of spectacles poised on it. The walls shift and strange in muted color patterns. Fine silks line the room's wardrobe, and a table is covered with jars of rich oil and perfume. The room smells vaguely like a merchant prince's wagon, but the scents are far finer, and mingle with each other perfectly.
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| − | [Iscal] "This place is so well preserved. I wonder where the bodies of the original inhabitants are. There should be bones left, mummified corpses...instead, we've only found that madwoman."
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| − | [Summer] Summer walks into this room as well, curious and rather more enticed by these scents than the shit and blood of the previous room. There was nothing too fine in his eye, no gems, weapons, or ivory. But this man, or woman as seemed more likely, had had a fine eye for fabrics. he cut himself a strip from a fiery red silk wall hanging before investigating the closet.
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| − | [ST] Searching about in the closet, Summer uncovers a scarf the bright yellow of Sol Invictus at his Zenith. Sewn into it is an opalescent gem the size of his thumb.
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| − | [ST] Iscal, meanwhile, sorts through the oils. A beauty treatment here, shimmercreme there, several things he doesn't recognize, a small crimson vial containing Red Lust, an extremely potent aphrodesiac made of creatures that no longer walk Creation, and a clear jar labeled "Photo-Resonant Gel."
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal slides the vile into his pocket, glancing at Soldas. He holds the clear jar up to the light,twisting it around. "Photo" meant related to light, if he remembered his First Age prefixes right.
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| − | [Iscal] He grins. "Summer, show me your sword."
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| − | [ST] "Perhaps we Haslanti... truly are looters and pillagers at heart." Soldas jokes weakly. His face is pale and drawn.
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| − | [Summer] Summer flicks a long knife out of its sheath, and tosses it to Iscal.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal catches it, unscrews the cap of the photo-resonant gel. He dips a finger in and smears it over the knife. It glows, unexpectedl bright. He smiles. "Neat. " He glances at Soldas. "I am from Scavenger Lands. Our greatest heroes are graverobbers. We're all rats scratching around the grandeur of the ancients."
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| − | [ST] "Sounds like a good way to anger the dead... or join them," Soldas replies. He looks as if he expects the latter to occur very soon.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal glances at Summer, who is still rooting around in the closet. He walks closer to Soldas and grips his shoulder. "I won't let any hurt you," he says, in a serious, low voice. Then he smiles lopsidedly. "Until I die."
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| − | [Summer] He laughs and slaps Soldas on the shoulder, happy for the moment with his rich find. Summer was young enough to know that he would survive this, whatever Snowshine might mutter into his ear.
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| − | [Iscal] He was no good at reassurance.
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| − | [ST] "Thank you," Soldas mumbles, turning away. He doesn't recognize or deal with loyalty very well.
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| − | [Summer] He strides past the man, making for the stairs. "Lets move, no food to be found here, and no rest for us yet."
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal nods, following after Soldas as the man began to move.
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| − | [ST] The stairs descend quickly and artlessly downward. It takes only a few moments for the Once Dead to realize that something is wrong. According to the plans viewed on the schematic, Deck Three is where the "Hydroponic" farms, the infirmary, the security area, and the gunnery deck are located. The stairs down to Deck Two, where the bridge can be found, should be near the farms.
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| − | [ST] All of this seems very clear on a holographic display, but upon arrival the Once Dead notice that the deck is in complete disarray - unlike the upper floor, this place has seen serious fighting. More than half the glowpanels in the hallway the group enters have burned out or are broken.
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| − | [ST] The walls and floor themselves are warped, buckled, and cratered, as with heat.
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| − | [ST] The illumination at the foot of the stairs quickly diminishes into gloom as the hallway extends forward towards an intersection that is out of sight in the darkness.
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| − | [Iscal] "Well, shit." He looks around for any functioning consles. "Poor kids," he sighs as he applies glowing light to his truncheon. He holds out his hand for Soldas' weapon.
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| − | [ST] Soldas hands over his sword shakily.
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| − | [ST] Somehow, it's even warmer down here, and in the darkness the air has a faint, acrid tinge.
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| − | [ST] Iscal doesn't spot any terminals. There should be one in any of the magjor areas on this level, however, according to the map he viewed earlier.
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| − | [Summer] Summer holds up his still glowing knife when the turn comes for his Axe. Somehow, it seemed like it would do no good for the blade to be bathed in anything but blood.
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| − | [ST] Iscal feels a hot wind blowing in his face, and notes that a nearby ventilation grille has been torn free, leaving only a gaping hole several feet across into the wall.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal grins at the shadows on the wall as he waves his truncheon around wildly. The shadows don't move near the grill. "Hey, look," he says mildly, pointing at the ventilation staff.
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| − | [ST] Summer hears, perhaps from the darkness in front of him, perhaps echoing up from somewhere in the wall, a faint shuffling and the occasional clatter. Something is moving here.
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| − | [Summer] He puts the back of his hand to his mouth, motioning for silence, if any of the others understood the sign. He wasn't especially thinking about it. He eases forward, placing each foot carefully and carrying his weight on the outside of his foot, trying to make no noise at all. It was rather spoiled by Soldas' heavy breathing, but he wasn't especially thinking of that eitehr.
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| − | [Summer] he tried to trace the creature's path in the wall from the sound, or make it out on the ceiling, as likely from their experiences so far.
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| − | [ST] (Many) Snowshine cautions. (Many)
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| − | [ST] Soldas watches the other man advance with alarm. He is indeed breathing quite heavily.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal watches Summer with interest.
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| − | [Summer] "Four or five of them," he whispers harshly, "I'm sure of it, but not near here, just moving about that way." He waves an arm towards them.
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| − | [Iscal] "Towards the other spokes of the cross? We need to get somewhere- Security on Gunnery, somewhere."
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| − | [Iscal] "If they're that way- that's the farms. We shouldn't go that way then."
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| − | [Summer] "We were heading to the bridge, weren't we, why not go there." he couldn't read the signs to tell, and had already forgotten the maps he had seen, so he rather childishly assumed it was nearby.
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| − | [Iscal] "It 's toward the farms. We need to come up with a distraction - something- there could be suerveillance at the security site." He didn't want to fight five of them.
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| − | [Iscal] There's a bit more of an edge to his voice than there usually is.
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| − | [ST] "Forward," Soldas snaps suddenly, coming back to himself. "We have to move forward. We'll decide when we reach the intersection."
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| − | [Iscal] "Alright." Iscal says, suddenly mild and passve again.
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| − | [Iscal] "Sir," he remembers to add.
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| − | [Summer] He nods, and begins to creep forward. No need to be a fool about it. There would be as much honor in managing to steal up on them for a slaughter as fighting them directly. And it seemed rather a better idea.
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| − | [ST] The faint acrid smell in the air increases as the diminished group moves forward. Summer continues to hear the shuffling, an occasional moan, something that sounds like deep breathing, as he moves forward. Grate after grate is torn away, exposing the ventilation system - this area has been heavily worked over. The group passes a door, but its holographic display is flickering and unreadable.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal walks slowly after him, sliding his truncheon into its sheath to dim the light. He gestures at Soldas to do the same. He moves quietly after Summer, though not as quietly, perhaps.
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| − | [ST] The door itself is heavily dented, and stuck partially open, with a gap of perhaps two feet between it and the frame. This should be the infirmary. Ahead, the intersection looms, fitfully illuminated by a sparking light.
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| − | [Summer] he moves hunched over by habit. There was no cover he was moving behind, and no spoor to follow, but it was what came natural. He held the glowing knife in front of him, and above his head. with all the goop that had been spread, it was pointless to try and hide all the light, so he used it to its best advantage.
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| − | [ST] Something is moving in the intersection.
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| − | [ST] A pair of human-like figures, indistinct in the faint light, are clustered near the angle where two walls open out onto the intersection, their backs to you. They move oddly, jerky, brief motions that don't look at all human. Tentacles sway above them, then dart forward and down. They're... doing something to the wall.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal narrows his eyes and waits for Summer to move. Forward man could choose who and how to attack.
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| − | [Summer] He hurriedly sheaths his knife, and waves frantically behind his back for the others to do the same.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal's is already sheathed. In his sweatay hands he holds the curious device he had taken from Asp's room, his thumb on the knob.
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| − | [ST] Something clear and slick like mucus shines in the light. The creatures lift a gutted torso and press it against the wall, papering it into a mass of flesh that already rests there like a wasp papering a nest. They shuffle, and light plays across their forms. One of them is a woman, her lower jaw loose, a single spur of bone like a giant fang arcing down from what's left of the upper, working
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| − | [ST] in air. The other is a grotesquely fat man. His arms have been torn away, but a cluster of writhing tendrils emerges from each empty socket.
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| − | [Summer] He would be able to make it to them unobserved, and the others wouldn't. He was sure of that, even without Snowshine whispering in his ears to take the glory for himself. He smiled, used to the biting chill in his ear as Snowshine spoke, and nodded agreement. He motions for the otehrs to hold, and creeps forward by himself.
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| − | [Summer] they would only be a short run from the battle, once joined.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal glances at Soldas for orders.
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| − | [ST] As Summer moves forward, he notes a third creature huddled against the ceiling like a spider, watching the other two work. A small form, in tattered clothing. A child. Its back has swollen up and split like the bulb of some foul iris. A trio of bone-tipped tentacles twine below it.
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| − | [ST] Soldas holds up a hand, pale, quite willing to let Summer risk himself on his account.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal nods and holds himself ready, muscles tense. He would activate the chainsaw when it was obvious a battle was on- it wouldn't call many more to their location. He hoped.
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| − | [Iscal] And who knew. Perhaps Summer was as invincible as he thought he was.
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| − | [ST] (Strike true, and glory shall be yours) Snowshine exults in Summer's ear.
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| − | [Summer] He hesitates behind them, spoiled for choice and suddenly rather nauseated by the proceedings. He really, really hoped that was not a nest, all indications aside.
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| − | [ST] As Summer hesitates, he sees the shape on the wall shift slightly. A pair of sacs migrate to the outside, flexing, inflating with air, and it takes him a moment to realize they are lungs. A moment later, a puff of yellow gas emerges from the lump on the wall.
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| − | [Summer] If he jumped he could reach the child, and that would remove the threat from above. But that was the smallest. maybe he should go with the largest, or the nearest.
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| − | [Summer] He shuts his mouth hastily, crashes his axe into the nearest back, and springs back, unwilling to be near whatever that thing was.
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| − | [Summer] he overswings, worrying about the gas rather than what he was doing. The axeblade strikes brilliant sparks off the corridor floor, before the rotten blood splashes over everything in the viscinity, as the tentacles deadman falls away, cut from the inside of one shoulderblade clean through out the hip, like an extra mouth ragged with rib teeth, puking viscera.
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| − | [ST] As the visera sprays wildly, the grotesquely fat creature turns its head sharply enough to visibly tear muscles. It rounds on Summer, screaming in a shrill voice that doesn't match its owner at all. The child-thing on the ceiling returns the cry. An instant later, it echoes back from somewhere ahead. Or behind. Or in the walls. Or in the ceiling.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal cranks his chainsaw.
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| − | [ST] The cries of the creatures are swallowed in the guttural roar of Iscal's weapon.
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| − | [Summer] The foul blood splashed all over him would stink the moment he breathed, but he was too worried about that gas to draw breath in aany case, so long as he could help it.
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| − | [ST] (More glory awaits!) Snowshine exults, even as the woman twitches on the ground
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| − | [ST] The fat man takes a staggering step towards Summer. It's only now that the other man realizes the feet of the human form barely brush the ground - a pair of knobby, cartilaginous legs like those of a roach sprout from the man's back and push him forward, swaying strangely. Summer has time to see the beads woven in his gore-clotted beard, marking him as a Haslanti tribesman, before a pair of tentacles rise over his shoulder and dart forward.
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| − | [ST] The child-thing screeches and tumbles from the ceiling, inverting itself as it reaches out for Summer, its tentacles pulsing and darting even as it falls through the air.
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| − | [Summer] He jumps to the side, raising his buckler to catch the tentacle nearer to the mark, hoping that they would be no stronger than the last of the monsters he had fought. These seemed more developed somehow, more corrupt and more dangerous.
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| − | [ST] The child-thing's aim is off at first. As Summer dodges, the first of its strikes arcs past his shoulder to put out the eye of the fat man before withdrawing wetly.
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| − | [Summer] That was the virtue of a small, quick shield in the right hands, he throws it up even as he stumbles backwards, deflecting the last reaching tentacle with the side of the wooden disk, and slamming it into the wall. He wasn't sure if the wail that produced was pain, anger, or on general principle.
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| − | [Iscal] Iscal charges forward with all the subtelty of...a man wielding a chain as a weapon. Whirr whirr, says the chain saw he hacks at the back of the child-thing.
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| − | [ST] The child creature has only just landed as Iscal's blow comes sailing towards it. It tenses, muscles rippling, and reflexively tries to leap out of the way.
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| − | [Iscal] He wields like a clumsy broadsword, putting all his strength behind the stroke as it bites into the pustulent thing on the child's back. Possibly-infectious pus spews from the wound, spattering Iscal's jerkin. He jerks the chainsaw wildly away as he steps back to avoid any of it getting in his eyes.
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| − | [ST] The creature shrieks, lurching blindly away from Iscal's attack in a spray of gore and pus. It takes a staggering step towards Soldas, who flinches back from it. As it comes on, keening and wailing, black ichor dribbling from its cloudy eyes like tears, Soldas suddenly howls in anger and darts forward, stabbing with his blade.
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| − | [ST] The tip of his weapon embeds itself in the thing's eye, and when he pulls it back, the creature collapses, twitching.
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| − | [ST] A keening screech echoes over the sound of Iscal's weapon as two more creatures shuffle out of the darkness. A man and a woman, both young, both in the torn and bloody garb of the Iceholt traders. Each of their heads are split grotesquely down the middle by one of the bone-tipped tentacles. They are tied together at the wrist by what Summer recognizes as a marriage cord.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] The pair moves in between Soldas and Iscal, the tentacles separating to strike at each of them
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas cries out in pain as the probing attack darts between his lamellar to stab at his side.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal hisses in rage.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] The largest of the original three still stood, there for him to claim. He darts forward, ducking under a flailing tentacle and chopping at it in passing, before running headlong into the bulk of the man, burying his shoulder as well as his axe into it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] His shoulder pinned it to the wall, and the second stroke of his axe killed it before a real contest of strength emerged. More the pity. He was covered in blood now, and still not drawing breath. It was starting to tell, his legs not as fast as they had been, but he couldn't bring himself pas the fetid gas he had seen expelling into the hall. Let it settle, as long as he could, before he risked breathing it in.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The fat thing slides down the wall, bubbling blood, moaning in a shrill voice that is no longer human.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The woman felled by Summer's first strike rises unsteadily, wormlike things visibly moving to knit her bisected body back together. Blood slops over the edges of her wounds like wine from an overfull cup. A tentacle uncoils from the hole Summer hacked into her abdomen to stab at his face.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] But the movement is too quick, too clumsy. The lurch does nothing but tear the creature in half, and the upper half of its torso is forced to crawl slowly towards Summer.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The pair of things loosely tied together back off as Soldas retreats, blood leaking down his side. They instead spin to look at Iscal, their bisected faces altering weirdly as they shamble towards him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Near Iscal, the child thing twitches and shakes, sloughing off bits of shredded flesh as it staggers upright again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal whirrs his chainsaw at them when they stagger toward him, and they hesitate long enough for him to lunge forward, arcing his chainsaw in one long stroke against them both.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "We have to run!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] he shouts as bits of bone and tentacle blast off. "They'll heal and heal- we need to run and barricade something-"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] As the child thing stirs once more, Soldas runs at it, trying desperately to put it down again with a series of quick slashes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] It is too quick, however, and darts back before racing back in, its tentacles wildly hammering at him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Sweat runs down Soldas's face. Frantically, he tries to parry the attacking tentacles, blood coursing down his face.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A young woman with a tentacle extending from her eye forces her way out of a ventilation shaft near Summer. Her armor jangles sharply as she strikes the floor.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The young man feels a ripple under his shoulder as the fat man begins to stir once more. This closely, he can see the worms busily darting to reknit and bridge shattered flesh.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] He yells in frustration, wordless where most would curse these things to the gods. He on the other hand could hear the gods cursing them most foully in his ear. He lened intoo the big thing, pinning it for the moment as he slashed at the newcome woman, before hacking the pinned man down again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] (If the foe rise a thousand times, you shall slay it a thousand more!) Snowshine encourages.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] He smashes her to the wall, shearing a tentacle, an arm, and biting into her stomach. The rot seemed to make them softer than proper people, or at least easier to cut through. He choked up slightly on the axe for the man, close as he was, and dug it deep into his side. He felt the mans legs go limp as he destroyed his spine, and pulled back, letting the thing flop to the floor uselessly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] No sooner has Summer cleared the others out than the woman, now reduced to a crawling torso, reaches him. Arms covered in boils and pustules wrap around his calves. Using him as leverage, she flops grotesquely onto her back, the tentacle in her abdomen springing up for his face like a loosed catapault.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The couple continues to advance on Iscal. The swipe of his blade hacked a large, ugly streak across both their bodies; even as he watches, it begins to knit closed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The clumsy backswing of the bride's tentacle serves only to sheer off the groom's head. He gurgles plaintively.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The child thing has backed Soldas against a wall, where he desperately struggles to keep it at bay. It turns from him, tired of this game, and races towards Summer, who is already busy with the other creature.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] He sways back letting the womans tentacles past, and wards the child off with his axe. Damn the wall for onstructing his shield.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal lashes out at the couple again, hacking mindlessly. The chainsaw sounds like a monster, shrieking and growling as it grinds into their flesh. His face is twisted into a snarl. "You- fucking things- "
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The groom drops, screeching, as Iscal chops away at him. The bride keeps her footing. The marriage cord digs into her skin hard enough for stagnant blood to well up around it
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] In the shadows behind Soldas, three more of the creatures appear, all men, two in ice fishing garb, one naked.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas screams, falling back from them, his nerve utterly shattered.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] He curses now, seeing the new enemies, and charges them behind raised shield. He leaves the child to Soldas. The smashed thing wasn't too fast, so he wouldn't have to worry about it behind him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] The closest one feels the bite of his axe, although his swing was not ambitious. He just took off a tentacle, leaving the creature behind snarling.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The naked man sways, studying Summer strangely, his head cocked to one side almost as if he is contemplating him. "Groooooo..." he trills.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Groooo..." responds the child-thing, and the other two men. They begin to fan out, acting in bizarre unison to surround the man.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "We need to run!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Both the woman and the bride begin to advance towards Iscal, tentacles lashing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] "Which way, they're everywhere!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Towards the farm- the corridor on your right! We'll try to make it to the bridge!" Iscal grabs Soldas, pushes him the right direction, and begins to run, pulling Soldas after him until Soldas picks up speed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] Snowshine spits a harsh rebuke into his ear, then reminds him at length of his lineage and strength, a drone of freezing prattle as he battles for his life. He grunts, wanting to tell the god that there was no dishonor to running from this magic, but fearing his response, and fearing as well that he was wrong and had already dishonored himself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal rubs the spot of skin where one of the monsters had scourged him. It hadn't broken the skin- bruised it, more like, but what if, what if-
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] The speaking man was the most dangerous. He stepped forward, viper quick, and carved through his throat, giving his a second stroke to the body before jumping back. He had to hold them, to let the others escape farther. The rear guard might fight from the rear, but he fights. Surely Snowshine could not complain of that.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] The head flew, and then the shoulders with most of an arm. Truly, death made the skin and bones rotten.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] (A fine stroke for a coward's shield) Snowshine rebukes, but his heart isn't in it. Truthfully, he probably doesn't really want what may be his last worshipper to die.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal looks over his shoulder as he runs. "Come on!" he yells, then turns back to search the corridors ahead for the door up to the bridge.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Or at the very least a set of stairs. He thumbs the chainsaw to "off." Likely wasn't wise to run with such things.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The chainsaw sputters out as Soldas staggers on along beside Iscal. Blood courses from the wounds on his face and side. as teh pair stagger forward.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The creatures cluster in closely around Summer Sky - the couple, the groom now aright again, though without a head, the skulking child thing, the two ice fishers. Behind them mill the woman he first attacked, and the Once Dead woman who has again risen. They press in at all sides.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Stop," Iscal says, breathing raggedly. He pulls Soldas back and pushes him against the wall, then roots around in his satchel, nudging aside the plasma tongue repeater until his hands close on a little bottle. He uncorks it and smears a foul-smelling paste on Soldas's wounds. "Now we run," he says and moves onward.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas gasps with the pain, staggering after Iscal as he goes. He glances back several times at where the creatures mill around Summer Sky, guilt gnawing at him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] He gasps a strangled breath, and fight back, whipping his axe down to cut at the groom, the force of the blow pulling the barbed tentacle froom his shoulder.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] unfortunately, to do that, he had to hit with the flat of the axe, pushing the thing away but doing little more.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] He leaps the falling groom, pulling clear of the mass of tentacles, and pulls himself along the wall for a moment before rounding with his shield to defend against their renewed attack.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] (The songs they shall sing!) Snowshine proclaims. (...if you live)
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The twisted creatures all but stumble over themselves as they advance, mewling, hissing, sobbing. The bride tears free of the groom at last, leaving him staggering, blind and headless.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The things are too eager in their desire to overrun him. Even as a scrape opens up a cut under his armpit, the child leaps wildly into the mix, shoving a pair of the creatures aside. They trip each other up, going down in a tangle of thrashing, rotting limbs.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Beyond their thrashing forms, horrifyingly, Summer sees the fat man haul himself upright again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] he snarls, in anger and pain, bringing his axe down intto the chhild, dashing it against the floor, beofre springing away, rather more slowly this time, keeping to the safety of the wall, but making his way farther down the corridor.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The bride's questing tentacle opens yet another cut along Summer's thigh as he retreats. The child is left in tattered ruins behind him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] He grabs for the wall to keep himself up and just breaks for the end of the corridor. he couldn't see the others anymore, so his mission was done, but suddenly that accomplishment seemed more fearful than good. Which way had they gone? Were hius wounds burning more than normal, were worms knitting him up inside already?
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Summer] "Help me Snowshine," he gasps, continuing the prayer in his head as he gasps and lurches as fast as he can.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] (Perhaps if you did not ignore my counsel so often) Snowshine returns, almost too bombastically.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Meanwhile, up ahead, Iscal and Soldas, moving much slower due to his wounds, race past the door to the farms. Someone has written in Skytongue on the door, in Photo-Resonant Gel: HELP
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A bird has been clumsily drawn beside the message in the same stuff.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Scant yards past the door is the head of the staircase. It has been clumsily barricaded with detritus from the deck - gurneys, desks, random bits of furniture. It is not impassable by any means, but will take some time to navigate.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A thick yellow gas billows up from the staircase. The fans located nearby whine particularly loudly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas draws up short, breathing heavily, slumping against the wall. "Summer?" he asks.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal stops beside him, breathing heavily. "Don't see him. Hope he was smart enough to run."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "They... they cut me..." Soldas says. It's almost a sob. "I'm going to die."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I'm going to become one of those... things."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "No, you're not," Iscal says comfortingly. He hoped. "That stuff I smeared you with- it prevents infection. Almost perfectly. An alchemical formula. It...should work."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Should. He didn't think it had ever encountered this particular variety of illness.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Thank... thank you, soldier," Soldas manages. "If... if it doesn't work... I understand if you need to kill me. At least if I die, my family will be happy." He manages a strangled laugh.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal looks at him in surprise. "Why?" His parents, his sister.. had become fuzzy in his memory, figures from someone else's story, but they wouldn't have been happy, if they ever found out, he was sure of that.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Why do you think I joined the Once Dead," he says. "I had about as much choice as you."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hisses and moans echo back from the intersection, along with the clattering of sharp limbs. Something is approaching.
| |
| − | | |
| − | * Iscal smiles, as though it were a fond memory, but it slips off his face. "What happened?" Iscal's eyes are...a little too intense for comfort, but he keeps his voice casual.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "L-later, maybe," Soldas says, looking back the way he came. "I think Summer is..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Come on, through the smoke." Iscal goes first, in case the yellow gas is toxic or acidic.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The smoke is staggering, scouring at Iscal's eyes and nose like knives. He blinks, eyes stinging almost instantly as he makes his way down the stairs. Soldas pauses for a moment at the head of the stairs before attempting to follow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Cover your face!" Iscal wheezes up to him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The gas only grows thicker as the pair make their way down to the foot of the stairs, and seems to completely fill the lower level. Visibility drops to almost nothing; when Iscal turns back to find Soldas, he sees only an indistinct blob.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] According to the plans, the bridge should be somewhere directly ahead through yet another intersection.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] It's almost impossible to see, but the walls are clearly covered in pulsing nodules of flesh similar to the one the creatures were constructing above. Moans and cries echo from somewhere ahead. Dozens of them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Can't... can't see..." Soldas coughs.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "It's through the instersection...I'll...I'll go on ahead," Iscal says, dread churning in his stomach.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] HIs hopes that the gas were some kind of suppressant were misplaced, obviously.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Shout if you see- hear anything." He jogs through the mist, slowing down at louder noises.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Iscal spots one of the child sized creatures scurrying along somewhere above him, back towards where Soldas is. There are more ahead. He can't see them, but he can hear them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Smoke swirls heavily, his lungs burning. It seems to muffle sound as well, so that he's unsure where the noises are coming from, or just where he is. Has he reached the intersection yet?
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He turns and runs backwards to where Soldas was. Damn it- all-
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He can't even shout a warning. The creatures would hear him, and come. He runs as fast as he can.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas peers into the gloom ahead, searching for Iscal. A good soldier, he thinks. Maybe the only loyal one he has. But is that a credit, or a flaw? He's a horrible commander. He knows it. They all know it. They all hate- his eyes snap towards the ceiling, and he springs back as the child-sized creature hops to the ground before him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Its bulb-back opens with a wet, birthlike sound, the tentacles darting out at Soldas
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The thing's tentacle smashes into Soldas's collarbone, cracking it loudly and sending him to the floor in pain. It howls shrilly, clambering atop him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Soldas!" Iscal shouts, in spite of himself. He hunches his shoulders and hurtles forward at a run, pulling his truncheon automatically from his belt and smashing wildly at the glowing thing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He should never have left him, he thinks as he smashes at the creature, blood and guts rising from each blow. He would never forgive himself. Never.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He keeps on smashing after the thing is dead, fluids and chunks of weird biology spilling around. He scatters it with his boot, away from Soldas, then falls to his knees by his fallen commander, coughing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He roots through his bag and finds the bandages by touch and instinct, unwinds them and slaps them over the wounds with more of the putrid green stuff.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas is still alive, but may not stay that way much longer. The blunt force trauma has cracked his collarbone like ice - Iscal can see a jagged spur jutting through the flesh. His eyes are unfocused.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Ahead, in the distance, summoned by the scream, more of the creatures are coming, indistinct in the swirling mist.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He grits his teeth and moves the bones by hand more or less where they were supposed to be. He would splint it later. He heaves Soldas up onto his shoulder and beings to run.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Is...iscal..." Soldas can barely speak in the swirling yellow haze. "Leave me... just... go."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "No," Iscal says in a low voice, and then all he has to save all his breath for breathing in the toxic yellow fog.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Making his way back up the stairs with the wounded Soldas in tow is hellish indeed. The creatures are rapidly gaining as they clamber upwards. Bursting into more or less pure air again would be more comforting if the howls had diminished at all. Clattering sounds from below, from above, from within the walls.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He runs as fast as he can. It's not fast, not really, not carrying Soldas- and he hadn't been a strong man since he was first captured, years ago. The only way to go is back, back where another hoard had waited.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He couldn't even beg for their lives.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The door to the farms looks the same as all the others Iscal has seen in the ship, save for two differences. One: the scrawled message. Secondly, when he passes his palm over the panel beside the door, it doesn't open.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He bangs on the door. "I'm a Raven! Open up, damn it, I'm a doctor- from Soldas' scale!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The fat man staggers down the hall, leaning heavily against the left wall as he comes, leaving a smear of blood like a snail trail. A keening wail comes from the stairs as a slender young woman begins to claw her way up them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Behind the door, Iscal hears voices arguing, rising, and falling, and then the door hisses open.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "HURRY!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal doesn't hesitate.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He runs inside.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Everything seems to happen at once. The door shuts behind him, he sees a bright light, and something slams into his side, causing him to drop Soldas as he is bowled over, out of breath.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Something hits him in the gut like a sack of bricks, and he looks up into the face of Red - no, not her, just a woman, her face set in angry lines, her cheek covered with a raven tattoo. She is speaking quickly, in a harsh voice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Damn it.." Iscal pants.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Cut to shit, both of them cut to SHIT! We should kill them both!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A milder voice from one side. "You won't make many friends that way, Red." The hair, it must be the hair.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Somewhere, Soldas moans.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "I'm an alchemist," Iscal says, speaking quickly, the words spilling out of him like blood. Had to stop them from killing Soldas. "I have paste- stops infections- I've been using it since I saw, since I saw....We're not infected, we're fine."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Stitches said he could fix it too," the woman spits out, glaring down at him. "It didn't work."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You'd kill the only bit of news we've had in weeks?" the milder voice responds. Definitely a man. "Get off of him."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The woman grumbles, but a moment later she, and the pain, vanish.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] She was pinning him down. He doesn't like that. He glares at her until he realizes he needs to convince her not to kill him and Soldas. He drops his eyes, meek as a kitten, with pleading eyes. "What did Stitches use?" he asks, checking on Soldas. The commander was no worse. Iscal straightens his hair, and looks up at his ..comrades.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I don't know," she grumbles. Soldas does indeed seem fine, though not precisely aware of his location.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "I use an advanced compound," Iscal says, avoiding looking at her directly. He hate her hair. He turns to the man. "Who are you? How did it happen?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Iscal finds himself in a massive room, the ceiling looming high above, the room stretching away in the distance. He's lying on grassy turf. Nearby are several rows of trees - well, former trees. All that remain are stumps, hacked off clumsily and very low to the ground. Past these are row after row of strange frame-like constructions that seem to hold trays of crops. The sound of running
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] water can be heard everywhere.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The air smells, strangely, of smoke. Not the acrid mist below, but ordinary wood smoke ordinary smoke.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Aside from himself and soldas, there are two others. The woman, tall, raw-boned, rather long-faced and ugly, her searing red hair her only real positive attribute (for most people, at least). Beside her sits a man, tow-headed and wiry, his eyes old beyond his years.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I am Leaping Stag," the man offers mildy, extending a hand in a vague gesture of welcome. "Though some call me... 'Blondie.' This charming damsel is Red Rashalla, or Red for short. And over there-" he points to the corner, where Iscal overlooked a dark-haired, raggedly dressed boy of about ten. "Is Miro."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Young for a Raven," Iscal observes wryly, rubbing the back of his head in manner that is meant to be disasrming.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "He's not a Raven," Leaping Stag answers. "He lived on the barge. He's been hiding here for... months, I guess."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "The kid's messed up," Red offers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He nods to the boy and the man, and, rather deferentially, to Red. "He's survived this long?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Obviously he had. But it was the sort of stupid remark people made.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "One way or another. This was his place before it was ours. He's small, things don't notice him so much. They don't eat food anymore, so they didn't come in here. They did notice us, and we've been having to keep the fire going all the time to keep them out of these vents."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "That's what happened to the trees."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Anyway," he waves his hand sharply. "Please. Tell me Martha's message got out. Tell me you're here to rescue us."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "We came looking for you," Iscal admits. "But we didn't get a message. You just..dissappeared, and our scale was sent to locate you. Five of us slid through some kind of crack in the ice- two are dead now, and burned, and Summer...I don't know about Summer. We got seperated some fifteen minutes ago."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "That one couldn't rescue his dick from an Icehome whore," Rashalla offers, nodding her head at Soldas.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Then... you haven't heard from Martha and her group? Did they reach the surface somehow? We sent Shy Fox to check. Did you see her?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal looks at her, his eyes blazing. He speaks quietly, though, when he offers "He rescues me," and looks away after.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Yes. She was wounded. Turned into one of... them not long after. She got as far as the nursery."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "I don't know anything about Martha."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "There were more of us until a week ago. Martha and three others set out for the bridge. She was always at the terminals... I don't know. I think she was a scavenger lord's get, maybe. Or one's mistress. Anyway, she thought that she could rig open one of the vents, escape that way."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "We thought... maybe if it worked..." he shrugs. "Anyway, your scale should be along to rescue us shortly, right?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The news about Shy Fox doesn't faze him at all; this is a man who has seen his scale torn apart before his eyes
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Door's sealed. " And they likely wouldn't be too worked up about rescuing Soldas. Who'd even be in charge- Laughing Jek? Miruna?
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I told you, Blondie," Rashalla says. "They didn't bring us anything but more problems. They can't help us. We've got to go. We could make it, just you and me-"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Stop it," the man snaps.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Make it where? The place is 'Quarantined.' You know something we don't?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Fourth Scale... will come for us," Soldas says faintly. "Fourth scale... is the best scale... I wouldn't..."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Is that who I think it is?" Rashalla asks. "Surprised he ain't dead already."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I can assure you, she doesn't know anything you don't," Stag says. "But whatever Martha did must have worked, if you got in. But where did they go, then?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "We had a backup fang of five waiting outside. Did you contact them?"
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] It pained him to contradict Soldas, but Iscal feels oblidged to say, "Might be they'd rather write us off. I would. We failed once already, maybe twice." He does meet Rashalla's eyes when he adds, "Done well enough."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas seems not to have heard. He slumps back, silent once more.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "We got met by some Icehags. Killed them all without too much trouble, but a fang of five..." Iscal shrugs. "We got in through a door that had been wedged open by a giant golden daiklaive. Martha the sort to carry those around?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "No, but there were enough of them around. Maybe she was improvising."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Fuck these guys, Blondie, they're no good for us. They're gonna turn." Rashalla pulls her knees up and rests her chin on them. The boy twitches behind her at the mention of infection.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal just looks at her and shakes his head. "We won't. Infection takes what, three hours to take hold? I got this wound on my hand longer than that, used the paste, I'm fine." He hadn't, in fact, no need to tell her that. The lie could protect Soldas.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "We've got plenty of food, if you don't mind passing on meat." Stag nods towards the massive tiers of trays. "Wood's the problem. We're burning it in the vents to keep them out, and we're running low."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "How much longer do you figure you'll be able to hold out here? And how'd you get the door to lock?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Martha did that, somehow, messing with the circuit in it. As for how long we can hold out... well... I'm sure for a while." He looks at the boy, silent and trembling, and turns back to Iscal, breathing the words.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "A day, maybe two. Maybe less."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Rashalla doesn't add anything, still glaring suspiciously at Iscal and Soldas
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] A shame Masha was dead. "Well, we wouldn't last longer than that anyway," Iscal says comfortingly at the same volume. "Toxic gas is building up. What do you know about the layout around here?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] For the first time, the boy speaks up. "They build things... out of dead people. They live in the bottom of the ship, but they go other places."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Good to know. "What kind of things?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Things that make the air bad. Houses. All s-sorts of th-things."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Probably not a flammable gas, then..." Iscal muses. "How much have you been able to get around?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I saw everything," the boy says quickly, raising his head. "B-before..."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Before what?" His voice gentles.
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| − | [ST] "We couldn't leave it. There was Frozen Fog coming but we couldn't leave it, we might not find it again, and it was warm and nice inside, so we came inside, and my dad sh-showed me, he was the captain of the T-trout Queen and he showed me... there were all these things... like people, but not. In glass. Like pickles. And then stupid Drunk Sal b-broke one and- and-" his voice, frantic
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] and unpaused, suddenly hitches.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "It w-wasn't dead."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "They're never dead."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Unless you burn them."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] At least, he hoped. If they fiddled with the bridge controls, he wondered if he could manufacture a fire through the ship- they'd lose things, but everything truly valuable was not susceptible to mere fire.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "They had all already turned by the time we got here," Stag adds. "The door was closed, but Martha bypassed something to get it open. We didn't see them until we were several decks down. They came out of nowhere."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "We only lost a few to the attack. We fell back to the bridge. Jelly said we'd rest the night there."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "We set a watch and went to sleep, and woke up to the wounded tearing us to pieces. We all ran after that. I guess the battle damaged the bridge, set off the quar- the quarantine."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I found them," Miro adds.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Stag chuckles briefly. "Yeah, kid."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "What then?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You're looking at it. We were safe enough here while the wood held out. Martha got her bright idea and set out about a week ago."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "What was her idea? How many with her?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "She thought if she could get to the bridge, she might be able to kick the main power back on. It's all beyond me. I can't read." He says it with the blase truthfulness of a Haslanti tribesman.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] So he was stil irreplaceable. That was useful.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal nods seriously. "Well- we have a plan. You may as well come with us...once we've had a few hours to take a breather. Can't last much longer in here."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Sounds good to me," Rashalla says. "Better than dying in here."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "It's not safe out there," Miro counters, trembling again. His courage seems to have departed him in the presence of adults.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "It's the best choice we have, Miro." Stag says. "I'll keep you safe."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Rashalla rolls her eyes.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "I'll set Soldas's collarbone," Iscal says quietly. He wondered if there were any point to looking for Summer. He was likely dead, and if not- there was the raven.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Stag nods, moving back over to listen at the door. A steady growling and the occasional hammerblow come from behind it. Miro withdraws back into himself. Rashalla continues her staredown.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He moves to gather some wood, and Stag helps him carry Soldas to a dirty blanket spread out on the floor before moving back to the door. Soldas's eyes are glazed with pain, semi-lucid. "Won't take but a moment, sir," he says reassuringly. He blocks out Rashalla like he had always blocked out Red.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas nods weakly; truly, he's drifting between life and death.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He carves a splint from from some of the wood cut and waiting to be burnt; one truly black look and Rashalla's half-begun protest subsides. Then he measures it Soldas's shoulder, adjusts the bandages, and begins to work.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Why don't you tell me how you came to join the Once Dead?" he says noncholantly. "Keep your mind off things." It was just the two of them close by.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "To die..." Soldas says, his voice foggy. "Joined them to die."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Like my... family wanted."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Why did your family want that?" Iscal's voice is low, pleasant and soothing.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] There's a glitter in his eyes.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Wasn't my real family. Parents were... greenfielders." As if that isn't obvious. "They ruled... Sunset Greenfield. But they died... airboat crash. Amaya... I..."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Amaya?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas's voice is particularly pained. "Family took me in... last of my line, too young to rule. Not yet... a man. Adopted me for control of the Greenfield. She was... my sister. She... we..." He shudders, remembering.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "What?" There are layers of incomprehension in his voice. "So you were...close? Why -"
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Anger stirs in him. If Amaya had hurt him in any manner...
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Death," he says softly. "It's death. It's a crime. STupid old Saffa found us... she wasn't supposed to be there, but she worked like a slave even after she bought her freedom. Couldn't be hidden. But only one had to die. It wouldn't be her, not their own blood. And it couldn't be... obvious. Private trial. Private... punishment. Patriotic." He gasps, laughs deliriously.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Killed you too. Killed all of you. I'm sorry."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] 'You haven't killed anyone." He sets the last bit of the glue in place. "That should keep it together. These aren't ordinairy circumstances. Don't move your collarbone too much- it will take a while to heal. They kept your land too?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Of course," he says, becoming slightly more lucid. He brushes this off. "I'm sorry I'm not a better leader. I was never supposed to be... if only they hadn't insisted on appearances. If only the Once Dead hadn't listened."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Iscal... please..." he looks up at the other man, grasping his arm weakly.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] If Iscal knew anything, it was likely Amaya had seduced him with just that in mind, or her parents had ordered her to. Enlarged the family holdings without having to deal with an inconvnient "brother." Such manipulations of law and custom were not uncommon.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "If it comes to it, leave me here. And tell her... I'm sorry. Please. You can make it. You and Summer. You're strong."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "What?" Amaya and her family would suffer, but Soldas had not seen through the trap. Surely he wouldn't ask for Iscal's help seeking revenge.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal looks at him, a bemused smile on his lips and a spark in his eye. "I'll give her a message if you die, and I survive. But you won't die."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You're a more optimistic man than I," he says, laughing weakly for a moment before the pain stops him. "Not that that is a difficult feat."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "I've seen bad things..often enoujgh to know- it'll turn around. It does, usually." He smiles at him. "Try to rest, sir."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I shouldn't have told you this," He looks over at the suspiciously watching Rashalla. "Please, don't let the others know. I'm a bad enough leader as it is. If they knew my sins-"
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "You've nothing to be ashamed of, that I see, but no need for anyone else to know your affairs. Your secret's safe, sir." He fusses with a vandage so it lays more comfortably over his chest. "Rest now."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas begins a nod, and is asleep before it finishes.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Gonna spoon feed him next?" Rashalla asks derisively.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal looks at her. "Why would I do that?" He glances around. "We don't even have any spoons."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] She laughs shortly. "Maybe you're all right," she allows, grudgingly. "Pretty enough."
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal takes in a short breath. "You know what they say about faces and the brains behind them, though," he says, with a smile half a grimace. Too flirtatious. His fingers curl.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] She laughs. "What do they say, Pretty?" She seems to see his discomfort and to enjoy it.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Maybe he would kill her after all. It would be easy, once she was wounded. He had some bandages, treated specially for the other Red, that he kept just in case he ever worked up the nerve. "There's one, or the other." He smiles awkwardly, and fusses with something in the bag.
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| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] "Doesn't explain you, though," he says in a way that makes it a compliment rather than the insult it should be. Stop it. Stop it. He feels calmer once he's touched the poisoned bandage. She'd take him for a nervous, chattering fool, and she'd back away.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Rashalla only smiles, her gaze appraising - and a little hungry.
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