Poisonous Fox

Guise of the Kitsune: 3/9 (+1)

Obsession: 4/9 (+1)

Eschiver: 9/9 (+1) -> Eschiver I: 1/9

Evasion: 8/9 (+1) -> Evasion I: 1/9

Impending Sense: 1/9

Lucky Break: 1/9

I maintained my confident pose, letting none of my nervous energy show, as I watched the baron’s men, the ‘peacekeepers,’ depart.

I knew the kinds of men these peacekeepers were, and I felt certain that they would seize upon any perceived vulnerability. Which was a shame, as I would have loved to have avoided the conflict all together. I would have loved to bow out, apologize, acquiesce, turn and flee. But running would make it a sport, a chase, and eventually, a game of the cruelest kind.

So no, I did not flee. I did not acquiesce. I held my own until the odorous pigs backed off. I considered it the best result possible, even if the peacekeepers were planning some form of vengeance.

The entire situation was unfortunate, and it must have been a symptom of this terrible society. At least, that was what I decided was the case. Afterall, how else could the police force of this state be this corrupt? Or, perhaps not the state, but the city. Afterall, I remembered the Inquisition, which I could have almost likened to an overzealous investigation service. Though even the inquisition came beholden to the nobility, so they could hardly be considered impartial. And while I wanted to call it corruption, the bribes were so explicitly obvious that they must not have been illicit, hence not technically bribes, but payments. It put the idiotic phrase, “honest dues for honest work,” in a new light.

I hated it. The entire system deserved to burn. All of it.

I shuddered and tried to ignore the impotent anger. This was nothing new. Nothing new at all. I should have expected it. Because from the sparse memories I had from before waking up in this dystopian world, I had had plenty of encounters with corrupt police and detectives. Though not all of them had been corrupt, and perhaps that was the case here. Well, they had not been corrupt until hefty doses of scheming and creative coercion were applied. Mother had exposed me to more of that work than I would have liked. I kept shaking my head until I stopped thinking about it.

These peacekeepers had finally slipped from view, heading down the hill, away from the palatial estates of the nobility. With them gone, without their spying, I now had the chance to relocate to a less contested position.

And in fact, the more I considered it, I felt compelled to reposition. My guts demanded it. And not only that, but it was the smart thing to do, for I had been stationary for too long. It was my responsibility to guard Ma’Ritz, but I could not confirm that the other entrances were currently safe. More importantly, if any vengeance seekers so sought, they would find it more difficult to snipe me if I relocated. Depending on where I relocated to.

Fortunately, I had just the Talent. It was one of the first ones I had received, and probably the most useful one.

Putting one hand up on the wall, I pulled myself up in a one armed pull up that would have been impossible, should have been impossible. I was grabbing nothing, but the very intent of wanting to hang on to the wall caused an almost magnetic pull between my hand and the wall of Ma’Ritz.

Next came my false arm, stretching a bit further than it should have as the tendrils straightened out.

Then my feet.

Between my featherlight weight and my ability to climb near any surface, I scurried up the side of the building, reaching the sloped roof within ten seconds.

From the roof, I perched along the edge, anchoring myself in what should have been a very risky, near suicidal crouch, for there was no railing or bannister to lean against, and the roof was both steeply sloped and slickly tiled. I remained crouched there for a minute, tasting the wind, letting it ruffle my hair, and taking in the expanse of lights sloping down the Hill towards the rest of the city. While it was no true urban sprawl like from back home, it was impressive enough, in its own way.

After I was certain nobody had seen me climb, and that no eyes gazed upon me, I began to prowl along the edge of the roof, checking on each side of the building, ensuring I would not be held liable for any overt damages to the building or patrons, as my duties had been explained.

I wished I could claim that the night was silent, but the city’s industry never ceased, only slowed. Wagons still traveled the streets, men and women came and went, and of course, the ever present wind filled my ears. Occasionally, spent men would depart the brothel in good spirits, or join with others on their way to another pub. It was irritating watching them leave, though I could hardly put my finger on why, exactly. Thankfully, as the night continued, the party-goers grew sparser and fewer in between.

The night grew lonely. It felt fitting to brood my next steps.

And next steps I absolutely needed to plan.

Besides Emboru’s task, besides my infiltration of the city, besides the future of my entire life in this awful and strange world, I had to figure out my Marks. Which ones I would add, and which direction I would attempt to train and grow my existing Major Marks.

I had been somewhat fortunate thus far, in that the expansions I had received had been beneficial. But from what I had learned since arriving at the city, I could be taking a much more active role. By happy chance, the most recent gains were useful. Were I to ask almost anyone in the city, I would have been called ‘lucky.’

Over the past few days, Guise of the Kitsune had grown, but I was unsure of what that new growth entailed, or what had been the prompting factor for it to grow in the first place. So far as I could determine, the prompting factor was related to meeting new people.

Which brought me to the most likely reason for my ‘Gift’ increasing. Obsession. To be quite honest, I tried very hard to avoid thinking about it, acknowledging it, or ever considering what that ‘Gift’ entailed. Just feeling the Mark burn and itch as it grew left me feeling ill. I quickly turned my thoughts on to more pleasant gains.

Lucky Break was an odd one. The sense I got from it was not so much ‘luck,’ as it was positioning myself and my actions in places that aligned or furthered with my goals. But it was subtle, a slight nudge of a feather stroke. It worried me. I worried it would have a compounding effect. Because actions, outside of my plans, should be random, a net neutral momentum overall to the course of my life. How would a constant weight to that random chance compound across time? It made me wonder if my destiny was not so much my own. Well, it made me wonder more than I already had.

The most immediately useful of the new Talents had to have been Impending Sense. It was a new sense, incomparable to any of the other five. To describe it, I would have said it was an exact gut feeling of foreboding, exactly as I knew how to move to avoid whatever was causing the sense, and a gut feeling as it failed to tell me what it was I was supposed to be dodging.

It had come in handy when I was avoiding sexual harassment on the tavern floor, aiding me in moving to avoid grabby hands from grubby customers.

I was still considering what direction I needed my Marks to grow into when I heard a grunt.

Considering the background noise from the wind and the rest of the city, the grunt had to have been loud.

Worried, I checked about myself along the rooftops. I failed to find anyone else up there with me. I was wondering if I misheard something else when I caught fragments of conversation, then another grunt, this one more pained. There were thumps of flesh striking flesh.

I focused on my guts, where I usually felt Impending Sense–but nothing there seemed off. So far as I could tell, there was no direct and immediate danger to myself.

A loud crack came from somewhere below on the streets. A muffled shout.

Someone was getting mugged, and whoever they were, they were nearby.

I groaned. This was just what I needed. Ordinarily, I would refrain from intervening. The thought of doing so would never have crossed my mind. But I had responsibilities. And if these muggers were close enough to hear, then they were close enough to reflect upon Ma’Ritz, and my continued employment.

At the very least, I needed to investigate a bit further so that I could say that I did.

So, still crouched, I prowled along the edge of the roof, cutting over one of the slopes, across a corner, to where I thought the noise had come from.

My eyes were weak compared to my other form, and the roadway beneath was barely illuminated by the porchlights from the decking along Ma’Ritz. This was the brothel side of the business, but no new clients were entering. All of the entertainment that would have happened was either in progress or over.

This portion of the building faced away from the main thoroughfare that winded up and down Blossom Hill. Still decently lit, with lamp posts along the secondary streets, but not incredibly bright. Given the persistent cloudy overcast skies, the lamps were really the only source of nighttime light. Fortunately, there was enough of it that even the darkest part of the street was only gloomy, and not pitch black.

In the shadows, I thought I saw movement.

Another grunt.

Someone was struggling as they were dragged along the side of the building, towards one of the alleys.

Where had the perpetrators been hiding?

Was this one of the brothel’s patrons?

That… that would be bad.

I still remembered the very frank discussion I had with Esmerelda. My expanded duties could be viewed as a good thing, in a way. They allowed me more freedom, more ‘responsibility,’ and more rewards. It might not have been a raise, exactly, but the benefits and the Esmerelda’s offer had been enticing. Especially when compared against my original objective.

The downside, however, was that responsibility.

I would be hung out to dry or worse, depending on the severity of my failing. And allowing a patron to be snatched up off the brothel’s doorstep would be considered severe.

Which meant I was already late in intervening.

Why were there even muggers here? This should have been the nicest part of town. What were those peacekeepers even doing? And they had the gall to demand payment.

Disgust welled up as I turned downward, placing one hand below the other, taking advantage of my Inversion Talent. No blood ran to my head, and moving downward felt as natural as moving upward. Still, though, Inversion was hardly necessary to climb down the wall. It helped, but was not required.

Inversion, was by large, a wasted Talent. I hoped I could recover it somewhat with future growth; at least it was not terminal. Or so I thought.

As I climbed downward, I got a better look at the muggers and their victim.

The victim stank of incense and liquor, and were I to get closer, I guessed I would have seen rosy cheeks as well. He was bent double, wearing a soiled doublet, and held by both arms as the muggers dragged him backwards over the ground. His mouth was gaping like a fish, his cheeks somewhat loose, and his neck strained.

I hoped he would survive. If not, I would likely be fleeing the upscale district for the slums, sooner than later.

Which would likely have been where the muggers were from.

They wore dusty browns and grays, with most of the color they wore being their eye-catching blue armbands that featured dazzling jeweled topaz pickaxe on top of a yellow skull. Garish. While I failed to recognize the exact faction, I recognized the markings from the pit crew.

I was now a few yards above them, and as they continued dragging their victim, I kept pace, strafing the wall. I tried to figure a graceful way to handle this. As I stalked them, I could not help but eavesdrop on their inane conversation. I had hoped to hear mention of the peacekeepers, or at the very least, why they had infiltrated Blossom Hill to harass the patrons of Ma’Ritz.

Perhaps the client had illicit dealings that had come to call due? I hoped that was the case. It would exonerate me, somewhat. Afterall, here or somewhere else, the man’s life would be forfeit. Assuming his enemies were competent.

“-good ‘nuff?” one of the men asked as they reached the side of Ma’Ritz, far outside of any of the lamps. It was one of the two dragging the victim. He sported a cylindrical visored cap, though it was bent and worn.

“Nah, down there a bit,” the man following along behind them said. He carried a blackjack, likely why the victim was currently insensate.

“Sure sure…” the capped mugger replied. “Say, what’re we supposed to do with this bloke?”

“This bloke specifically?” The final mugger, the one holding the victim’s other side, said. “Nuthin.”

“Then why–”

“-shuddup,” the final one said. He seemed to be somewhat in charge, at least judging by his tone. “Got the skinnin’ knife?”

“Terry ‘ad it last,” the capped mugger replied.

“Terry?” The mugger’s leader asked.

“Yeah, yeah, here,” answered Terry, who was also the mugger that had been following along behind. Terry clicked his tongue as he reached in his jacket. He sneered at the victim. “Almos’ feel sorry for the git.”

Their boss scoffed. “Least his last night went well ‘nuff.”

“Why say that?” Terry asked.

“This poor sod came outta here, din he?”

“Still…” TerryFeels almost wrong.”

The capped mugger threw a skeptical glance towards Terry. “Questionin’ the boss’ orders?” From how he said it, it was clear that the boss referenced here was not the presumed leader of the muggers. I scanned around us, looking for a fourth mugger, but I failed to see anyone else. Whoever this boss was, it must have dispatched these three muggers for this particular purpose.

“Uhhh….” Terry led off with his mouth hanging low and dumb. “Nah, I ain’t suicidal.”

“Then shuddup! An’ get me that knife,” the trio’s leader said, holding out a hand.

The third one trailing behind the other two handed over a wickedly curved knife that formed a hook on the dull side. A hook meant for pulling and grabbing bones and sinews, a nasty thing, and one that appeared scuffed and well used. Whatever they were planning to do with it was not good.

I still had yet to formulate a workable plan.

I could let my Guise drop, but there was a high chance somebody would see me, and then questions would be asked, and my cover ruined. That meant my Illusions were off the table.

All I had in my kit was my ability to climb, to hide, and… that was really it. I had never been a fighter. Perhaps I should change that.

My false arm spasmed just then, unwinding one of its three tendrils. It almost seemed offended at being forgotten.

That was right, I remembered. My false arm had slain rats easily. But… There was a large difference between rats and men. The tendons connecting the false arm to my clavicle pinched–the parasite disagreed?

It was then that I gave the muggers a better examination. Were they more able than rats? Truly?

Obviously they were poor. They would be lacking in resources, and could likely only afford the cheapest and the worst of the modifications. And if they were modified, then surely they would be treated better than they were? But they did not appear valued. Their clothes were dirty and well worn. Their faces smudged with grease. They could not have been overly powerful: two of them were required to drag the man along.

In fact, I thought there was a chance they may have been sacrificial units.

I might have been making a mistake, but I thought that all three of the grunts were unmodified, baseline humans.

My guts were turning at the thought of violence, but I did not feel I was being careless.

It was a calculated risk, and I had both the advantage of ability and surprise.

Taking and holding a breath, I pushed away from the wall and let myself drop several yards.

I would have loved to claim everything slowed down. That I calmly plotted the course of each of my limbs.

I felt the ground rising up. The risk of the knife flaring brightly, impossible to ignore.

My false arm snapped forward. Two tendrils whipped around Terry’s throat, crushing both his windpipe and spine.

The other two started to shout, but I was still falling; everything was happening so fast. The only thing that seemed to keep up with the pace of my velocity was my false arm.

I landed, more collided, on the cylindrical capped mugger. I hit his shoulders with my knees and stomach. He collapsed. The air was driven from my lungs. Dull pain spread up from my ribs, then a sharper one.

He and I went down in a tangle. As he still held on to the victim, the victim fell down on top of us, adding to the mess. As the victim was still connected to the final mugger, their leader, the last mugger also lost balance, stumbled, and fell atop the mugger, who was atop me, and I, who was atop another… though the one I had landed on was twitching and thrashing and likely dying from a broken spine.

In that heap that we found ourselves in, I had trouble disentangling both myself and my sense of awareness. The mugger recovered first. But my false arm followed soon after. Without my direction, it snapped and crushed and twisted until all three of the muggers were dead.

The victim was still gasping, possibly sobbing, definitely spasming atop of me. However, the victim was most definitely alive, though bruised and battered.

I glanced down at my false arm as it began to reform a facsimile of a human arm.

I had not commanded it to do any of that. It displayed an uncomfortable level of autonomy for a limb. No, not just uncomfortable, terrifying. My arm was sentient, and it was only by chance that our interests aligned. This stank of Emboru.

To confound issues further, the arm was itching in a way reminiscent of when my Blessings used to increase, as when my Spirit or Body or Mind improved. And in the gloom of the night, it almost seemed that the false arm had darkened, that the silver had grown more pronounced. Already it had grown so opaque as to veil the tendrils coiled within.

Minutes passed as I collected myself.

Minutes more as I helped the victim, the patron of Ma’Ritz, get back to his feet.

Even as a victim, he carried himself with a mix of entitlement, and I was loathing whatever he would say to Ma. But, the only thing I could do in this case was ameliorate the complaints the best that I could. I brushed him off and helped support his weight, and we headed back to Ma’Ritz, where he could hopefully collect himself further.

I asked if he wanted to find the peacekeepers, and he snorted a laugh, and asked, “Whatever for?”

We were just climbing the back steps to Ma’Ritz when I heard voices approaching from down the Hill. The patron seemed oblivious, continuing forwards towards the brothel. I glanced to see if the muggers were expecting reinforcements, wondering if I would need to abandon Ma’Ritz earlier than planned, when I identified the source of voices as the peacekeepers.

They made a beeline for the alleyway, where the dead and dying muggers laid.

Interesting and suspicious. This must have been their plan then. To discredit me, or to punish Ma’Ritz for failing to pay the ‘honest dues.’ Frustrating.

I continued onward, and soon we were slipping back into Ma’Ritz, with the door closing behind us. So far as I could tell, the peacekeepers missed seeing us. I could deal with them later.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 65

Mind: 75

Spirit: 49

Talents:

Athleticism (3/9):

Climbing I (3/9)

Featherlight I (3/9)

Inversion (2/9)

Stealth I (6/9)

Trackless Tracks I (3/9)

Area Coverage (5/9)

Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

Eschiver I (1/9)

Evasion I (1/9)

Impending Sense (1/9)

Lucky Break (1/9)

Spells:

Illusion I (5/9)

Touch (8/9)

Guise of the Kitsune (3/9) (+1)

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (3/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)