Poisonous Fox

Despite its meal, the ooze did not relent.

It soon turned its attention towards me. It was not an obvious shift, as the ooze lacked the eyes or the expressions that I would normally read a person by. But it still made its interest known. A tendril stretched up from its bulk and circled the air, pointing in all directions until gradually it pointed towards me.

I assumed it was scenting the air for prey.

Regardless, when its tendrils began crawling up the slope towards me, and especially when it began dragging its bulk towards me, I was left without a shadow of a doubt that this thing was hoping for another meal.

My right arm heated briefly, a tingle then a searing itch, and then the sensation ended. Regardless, I had larger worries.

Obsession: 2/9 (+1)

I scooted backwards, avoiding the nearest tendrils as they stretched along the ground.

After seeing what happened to Nick, I was not about to go anywhere near this thing or take any chances. I picked my way up to my feet, still a little woozy and almost passing out from the quick change in blood pressure. Internally, and internally only, I cursed Nick. Why would he not have just listened to me in the first place?!

Another sliming tendril slapped the rocks behind me. The ooze burbled over the ground, scraping loose stones along with its underbelly as it pulled.

I stumbled further up the slope, matching its pace.

My left arm was still burning as my tattoo updated itself.

Body: 16 (+1)

Spirit: 15 (+1)

It must have been the aftereffects of Nick’s spell. I almost stopped when I had a horrible thought. What if he was still draining my health? And what if he was still alive in that ooze, suffering as he drowned that caustic black goop?

I shuddered.

No one deserved that.

Well, almost no one.

I kept going, climbing up the slope of the canyon floor. At first I was keeping pace with the ooze, and then I was pulling ahead of it. It was gradual, but within a half hour I had shaken off most of the aftereffects of Nick’s spell. When I looked behind me, I saw the black mass of slime continuing its slow inexorable trek towards me.

At least I had managed to gain some distance, though I only managed to begin outpacing the ooze after we passed by back where Nick and I had started. Gradually, though I hoped it was just my imagination, the canyon walls began angling inward, narrowing in on the path.

The columnar basalt walls were sheer and vertical with scant crevices for handholds. I began to worry. Though I had few options besides pushing forward and hoping for a better spot to climb.

I continued going for what felt like hours.

The sky darkened. The overcast sky never lessened, though the clouds grew bleaker and bleaker until hardly any light was present, except for orange glows coming from above and from the distance.

Strangely, I could still see. Albeit, grayscale. I could determine the texture of the rocks I passed, and of the shadows within the walls. I thought loads of animals are nocturnal, so it might be possible that I could also see in the dark. Maybe. Not that I was an animal. But I did have a tail.

Eventually I decided to catch my breath. The fatigue had been mounting. I leaned against one of the walls and slid down to the ground. My tail pinched from an awkward position. I growled, and I felt my ears twitch of their own volition. I wiggled around until I could pull my tail into the least uncomfortable spot I could find.

I must have dozed off at some point in the night.

A noxious scent woke me up. I heard the same burble. The ooze was nearby.

I jolted to my feet. The ooze was crawling up the slope, scant yards away. Had I slept a few moments longer, it would have caught me. I wondered if I would have woken up at all, though considering how painful the wounds looked, I assumed so.

I shuddered and picked up my pace, traveling further up the slope, regaining my lead.

What had I been thinking, nodding off? I castigated myself.

The walls were growing narrow enough that I could reach out and trail my fingers along either side at once. I had seen narrow alleyways, but not many. Somewhere behind me, that ooze was still following. I remembered seeing skeletons pressed against its skin. At the time, I had wondered how anything would manage to let itself get grabbed by such a slow moving predator, Nick excluded of course. But now, I was wondering if it was just because the ooze never gave up. But even then, would its prey not just keep moving? How could it hope to catch anything, except from persistence?

These questions had been building as I traveled, and I soon found the answer.

The canyon came to a dead end.

The canyon floor sloped up at a quick incline that turned into a near vertical surface of loose stone and shale. I tried picking my way up it, but the stones soon slid out from under me, sending me tumbling all the way back to the base. I tried several more times, walking along the side of a wall, crouching on all fours, and at one point, I did reach the solid wall on top of the scramble.

But I still had a long climb to go to reach the top, and I knew that the ooze would soon arrive.

I craned my neck and tried to chart the best course to take. Because sitting around and waiting was not going to end pleasantly.

And so, I began to climb.

I wedged my fingers into the sharp cracks of the wall, and pulled myself up, kicking against the wall until I could find a hold. My other hand quested higher, above me, searching for the next crack. I repeated, shaking off my free hand to get rid of the painful tingles and cramps. By the time I had climbed up ten feet, I had broken out into a sweat. By the time I had gone fifteen feet, I had begun trembling. Craning my neck, I tried counting the number of feet left to go. Far too many. I regretted that I was unable to fly. Flying would have been cool–useful, I meant. Instead I had Illusion powers. Which I was sure would be useful… assuming I survived this.

At twenty feet, I was out of breath and had to take a breath. Notably, I had yet to feel the burning skin stretching sensation that normally occurred when I received points to any of the three Blessings: Body, Mind, or Spirit. I had to wonder why. Now would be a great time for some magical assistance.

While I was catching my breath, which is partially misleading as I still felt incredible strain and tension in my forearms from maintaining my grips, and my fingers numbing from the lack of blood flow, but still sore from the cramped nerves somehow, that I heard a familiar gurgle.

I groaned. And for some reason, I just had to check. I just had to look.

Down below, approaching the bend of the canyon, was the familiar ooze. It still followed my trail. It threw its tendrils forward, and dragged its bulk across the floor, leaving the gross trail of oil in its wake.

I really hoped that its bulk was too heavy to climb.

But just to be careful, I finished my break and began climbing once more.

When I was twenty five feet up, the ooze made it to the base of the scramble below me. At thirty feet, the ooze crawled its way up the scramble to wait directly below me.

Its tendrils quested after me, passing over the path that I had taken upward. Its tendrils continued rising up and up, similar to watching mold grow, except all at once. Its body thinned as its mass pressed against the walls in tendrils. That seemed to answer my question with a very concerning answer.

I needed to climb faster.

I picked up the pace. My left hand stretched up and over, feeling for a knob or wrinkle in the stone. I found a mini ledge. I clamped my fingers around it, feeling my nails dig just slightly into the rough material, my joints straining. I walked my right leg up, finding a toe hold, my toes digging in. I pulled myself up. My right hand releases, questing up and over my left, finding another wrinkle in the stone. My fingernails scrabbled and clawed their way in until I had a weight bearing grip. My left leg next. I repeated.

All the while, my fingers found the process easier and easier. I failed to notice the peculiarity at first. It was not until I felt a burning sensation on my right arm, from the tattoo stretching and growing under my skin, that I realized that my fingers really should not have been able to dig into stone.

Talent Tree Unlocked: Athleticism (1/9): Climbing (1/9)

The surprise almost caused me to lose my grip right when I was between handholds.

For a fraction of a second, my arms pinwheeled as my upper body began to pull away, pivoting at my feet. The ooze hungrily awaited me down below where it had been following me up the wall. I had no doubt that if the ooze failed to catch me that the fall would kill me. Only sharp stones awaited me below.

But then, a new well of knowledge rose up from the corner of my mind where the invasive knowledge arose from. Suddenly, I knew what to do, what my new capabilities were, and how to twist about my center of mass to salvage my fall.

It all made sense, but it was risky. In fact, it was completely bizarre what this new knowledge, what this muscle memory demanded that I do. But while all of this was flashing through my mind, while I continued to fall backwards, one thing was clear.

Inaction would result in death.

So really, what did I have to lose?

I kicked away from the wall, from my last point of contact with the solid surface, while tucking my upper body inwards, in an almost summersault. With the centrifugal momentum, I grabbed on to the wall, making my own handholds. My fingers sunk into the stone, just enough to grant me a grip, molding the surface under my palm.

It was surprisingly comfortable.

Once my hands were locked in, I let my lower body swing back down, carried by gravity, until my toes were once again pressed against and partially into the surface.

The ooze had been closing the gap between us, and now there were only ten feet between me and its nearest tendril. But with my newfound knowledge and supernatural ability, I began scurrying up the wall, regaining the distance.

I marveled at this. Before, I had grown tired, and I had struggled to find hand grips; my muscles had trembled; my joints had strained. But now? Now, I made my own hand grips when there were none, and I had an instinctive knowledge of where to find the best grips, and how to position my hands and arms for the greatest leverage. It felt so natural, that I even wondered why climbing was ever so difficult to begin with. Granted, I now seemed to have a supernatural ability to grip the surface of the canyon wall, but even beside that, it was just… easy.

After finding my pace, soon I was crossing the fifty foot threshold, then the hundred foot threshold. I lost count of the distance eventually, but it must have been hundreds of yards by the time I reached the top.

When I pulled myself over the edge of the canyon wall, which was a sharp corner, I sat down, my legs dangling over the side, my loathsome tail catching the wind, and I peered back down. I was far enough up, the canyon was narrow enough and twisted enough, that I could no longer see the ground below.

The ooze had disappeared at some point, unable to grow up the side of the wall as quickly as I could climb. The last I had seen of it, however, it was still trucking right along. I had little doubt that it was still following my trail. My ears sought its burble, but I could hear little else over the wind that whistled through my ears.

The only thing I heard besides wind was what could have been an eerie laughter upon the wind. I assumed this was only my imagination.

While I rested, I took in my surroundings. Despite my climb up, the edge of the canyon was by no means an apex, nor a vista. My range of vision was limited by the jagged peaks that surrounded me. There was no distant horizon to see: only shattered stone and broken mountains. There were no trees, no grass, no water: there were stunted bushes, lichen, twisted remnants of stone that might have been trees, and billowing columns of black smoke that kissed the clouds.

I could not describe my location as a valley, although it was a depression between at least five different peaks of various heights.

The wind blew, hot, sulfuric, and dry.

What a wretched place.

My stomach grumbled. My throat parched. My skin dry. my lips chaffed. And I had a burning throbbing sensation from each of my tattoos, where I had recently had updates. While I sat there, I pulled off my jacket and reviewed all that changed, including my newest Talent.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 16 (+1)

Mind: 13

Spirit: 15 (+1)

Talents:

Athleticism (1/9)

Climbing (1/9)

Closed

Closed (1/9)

Closed (1/9)

Spells:

Illusion (1/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)

Gifts:

Obsession (2/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)