Poisonous Fox

I needed to practice if I were to craft a realistic Illusion.

Why I had not thought of doing this earlier, before the job… I blamed hunger and dehydration. Not that I was making excuses, no, never that. But I needed to master another pattern for an Illusion, one that would be useful in a variety of situations.

Mothersworn foolishness. I really ought to have prepared this before, while I was monitoring the den from outside. I would do better in the future. But now, now I needed to practice.

I snuck backwards, further into the den, giving the gnolls watching waiting outside no clue of my presence. I snuck backwards, back into the den, nearer to where the ooze was gurgling burbling hunting for me, but further away from the gnolls, allowing me the opportunity to practice. I kept my ears wide, listening for the threatening burble. Nothing yet. I stopped at the first chamber with a glowing light and began practicing.

“Illusion,” I breathed.

Figuring that it would be easier to start with a baseline, my first attempt was to cast an Illusion of myself. I tried envisioning myself in a mirror. My cute self. My adorable self. My… self… ? The details were hard to envision. I tried anyway. A haze almost formed, but not quite, and certainly not a convincing decoy. Once my energy recharged, I tried once more.

“Illusion,” I said.

I tried gathering this energy which I could not feel or see and throwing it into the shape and image of a person, of what could form a perfect decoy.

I felt my pool of spirit drain. A haze developed in the chamber, the haze approximately in the size of me, just a bit smaller than me, a lot shorter than I should have been, I think. Keeping images in my mind was proving difficult. I tried focusing harder; I was rewarded by a pinching bursting feeling at the back of my skull and by the burning taking place on my left forearm as my tattoo updated itself.

Mind: 40 (+1)

But no matter how hard I tried, the Illusion kept slipping from me as the energy continued to dissipate into the haze worthlessly.

Spirit: 42 (+1)

I needed to remind myself what people looked like. Or even my adoptive sister–my what? The more I focused on that fragment, that sliver, of a memory, the faster it slipped through my fingers, like catching water with a sieve. What did she look like? Mother, what did I look like? The panic caused my Illusion to collapse. I was forced to wait for my energy to refill before I attempted again.

“Illusion.”

This time, the pinch at the back of my skull grew worse–almost a burning sensation.

I envisioned the haze solidifying into a human about my size, a frame, the cargo pants, the jacket, the hair, two eyes, a nose… this was proving difficult without a mirror, and with my memory issues. This was too difficult! With a final groan, the haze that had almost formed dissipated into nothing. My energy had run out, completely depleted. I would have to learn my limits and practice more, or so I supposed.

I tried again once a minute passed and my energy reserves had refilled.

I tried envisioning a person once again, though the details were difficult. I knew what people looked like, but the specifics, unless it was Nick, were difficult to recall, exactly. Regardless, I pushed forward, trying to focus on a generic humanoid shape.

“Illusion.”

Once again, I felt the pinch and burn coming from the back of my head. As though my brain were expanding, or growing hotter, and a pressure formed against my skull and neck. Once again, my left arm burned.

Mind: 41 (+1)

I pushed through it. The haze formed more quickly this time. I focused harder, trying to shove more energy out, but it failed to work. I should have enough, I could form an aura about myself about the same size. Why was it not enough, what was I missing? Once more, I exhausted my energy reserves and was forced to pause as I recharged. Another failure. But my left arm marked the progress.

Spirit: 43 (+1)

I tried once more. While the headache was lessening, I was never able to solidify the person sized haze into anything useful. Concerned that the ooze would show up sooner rather than later, I abandoned that particular experiment and decided to go with what I could do best.

A human sized blur.

If I had magical powers, then it stands to reason others did too. And if others had powers, then they might be able to obscure themselves similarly to how I did. With my new strategy, I once again began to experiment.

I formed a familiar me sized blur and held it in a fixed location while I stepped away. I could possibly hold this form for about a half a minute. And there was something missing from it.

I circled it, tapping a finger to my chin. Then it came to me. It had a tail and long ears on top. I focused on removing those, which was more difficult than it should have been, and I felt that familiar ache in the back of my head and on my left arm.

Mind: 42 (+1)

I had just run out of energy by the time I had gotten rid of the tail. Once my energy returned, I reformed the Illusion where it had faded from, and this time removed the ears. Now, with an approximate human sized blur, I began practicing making it move, taking steps. I pictured people walking, the gait, and tried to mimic that. And while I had seen tons of people walking, when I tried doing this, I realized that I had never really paid attention, like detailed attention, to the way a gait was supposed to look like. I kept trying though, until I exhausted myself, feeling the burning growth stretching along my left arm.

Mind: 43 (+1)

I thought I had it now. I tried again, forming a human shaped image about the size of a teenager. I had it walk forward in a stiff unnatural ethereal gait, but still an almost walk. If anyone were to catch up to it, to examine it, they would find the gait disgusting and horrifying. But they would have to catch it first. I sent the form across the room to the next hallway, until I lost sight. Once it went around the corner, the Illusion ended. I needed to keep the Illusion in my own line of sight. A limitation. Though one I could work with. In my mind, for ease, I labeled this new pattern as [Clone].

Before I could practice [Clone] further, I heard the familiar dreadful gurgle.

The ooze.

Its tendrils reached into the room across from me, dragging its mass forward. It was time to go, [Clone] would have to do. I headed towards the exit, only slowing to a crouch once I could see the light of the outdoors, and a few of the gnolls standing guard.

The ooze was somewhere behind me, gurgling and dragging itself forward, making that squelching sliding noise that left my ears flat against my head. I needed [Clone] to work. But I might not have enough time. Swearing internally, I did some addition, and figured I would need two minutes. That might not be enough. But it would have to do.

“Illusion.”

[Clone], I formed a shadow of a child sized humanoid beside me. I sent it forward at an impossible sprint that failed to match its steps. It moved yards for every step it took. The moment my Illusion exited the den, stepping into the night, the gnolls took notice.

They barked. As the [Clone] ran past them, the den mother barked, “Chase!” and several gnolls gave chase, springing after it on all fours.

The Illusion jagged left, flying just over the ground, in an obscene imitation of running. I sent it towards the hill. Once it reached the craggy slope, with the gnolls in pursuit, the Illusion hit the limit of how far I could send it that direction, range limitation. Rather than having it stop moving altogether, I began bringing it back towards me but also up the slope of the hill, keeping it just out of reach of the pursuing gnolls. They began scrambling up the hillside, and I was coming to a limit of how long I could keep the Illusion running. As soon as it was behind a dip in the hillside to break line of sight with the gnolls, I terminated the Illusion.

Illusion: 4/9 (+1)

Unfortunately, while several of the gnolls had given chase, the den mother and two others had kept vigil by the entrance. The den mother’s eyes were too sharp, seeming to pierce the shadows of the cavern. My distraction had only partially succeeded, and now my energy pool was empty, though it was refilling, slowly.

A faint gurgling came from behind me, echoing slightly down the tunnel. It could have been my imagination, but I doubted it. It was coming.

The den mother’s eyes narrowed, “ready!” the den mother scolded her brethren.

The gurgle came closer.

I could almost feel the ooze’s tendrils; I swore I felt a slight breeze tickled my tail. I hoped it was just the wind. But the wind had yet to blow in the tunnels. The air currents had been stale. Which meant that motions’ source had been the ooze.

I shuddered. Time to go. Regardless of how much spiritual energy I now had.

“Illusion.”

[Chameleon]’s color matching blur formed around me, a haze to obscure any watchful eyes, such as the den mother’s. With what limited protections I could provide myself, I crouched forward. I kept low, mindful of my talon like toenails, keeping them off the stone floor, keeping on the pads of my feet.

It was a struggle. The floor was littered with debris, each loose rock waiting for a misstep to send it clattering. While at the same time, I watched den mother’s face for any signs that she saw me. And through all of that, I kept my ears peeled for the incoming ooze.

Splitting my attention proved difficult.

The perpetual headache did not help. Nor did the burning left arm.

Mind: 44 (+1)

Just as I finished exiting the den, stepping out beneath the overhanging basalt slabs, the den mother’s eyes narrowed. The seemed to focus on where I was, where my [Chameleon] should be obscuring me in camouflage matching the stone and shadows around me.

I should have been practically invisible beneath the night sky. But perhaps it was the movement? Or perhaps–

“Hear that… ?” the Den Mother barked. “It come!”

I held my breath and froze, just a second. Long enough to hear the gurgle just behind me, less than two yards. Within tendril range. Not good. Before the first slimy tendril could seize me, I slipped to the side of the outside of the tunnel, still beneath the stone overhang; only scant few feet separated me from the ooze.

The gnolls that had been chasing after the imaginary human were now returning to guard the entrance in a vigil alongside their den mother.

My chance to slip out was coming to an end.

I needed to make my move soon, or not at all. But the most dangerous part was circling out around the little alcove of basalt. I bit my tongue and crouched even lower; I crawled forward around the corner of the stone wall.

“Ready!” the Den Mother barked.

My heart jumped at her sudden call of alarm. The world seemed to slow, or my thoughts sped up. Had I been made? EIther I had been made and I needed to leave immediately. Or I had not, and another entity had arrived that would cause the Den Mother to call alarm. Since the only other entity that could have caused that was the ooze, I decided that either way, I had best leave.

But in terms of fleeing, I lacked horizontal solutions. I could not go forward, nor backwards, and to the side was a basalt wall.

Up it is, then.

I sank my claws into the stone, molding a perfect temporary handhold, and I twisted around completely and scaled upwards, quickly ascending to the top of the wall, near the stone overhang.

The den mother’s eyes drifted upwards to where I had crouched in the shadows. I should have been near impossible to see in the dim light, especially shrouded in my Illusion. I was well hidden. Now I could watch, safely out of reach.

Athleticism (2/9) (+1): Climbing (4/9) (+1)

“Human?” the den mother barked in question. Then with more accusation and venom, “human!” she snarled.

I perhaps had been too confident in my Illusion. Not that it would matter overly, not with the gnolls distracted by the incipient battle with the ooze, but it would have been better to remain unobserved.

The den mother had bigger worries than little old me. In response to the den mother’s accusatory call, the gnolls had taken their eyes off the tunnel at a very inopportune time.

The ooze gurgled and flowed out of the tunnel, spearing its tendrils towards the gnolls. Realizing her mistake, the den mother shrieked in warning and yanked the nearest gnoll back by the scruff of their neck. In that moment of distraction, I did not wait to see how the conflict would end. I took advantage and fled.

Keeping low to the ground, I took off running along the craggy hillside, covering myself in a [Blur] whenever my energy returned.

Spirit: 44 (+1)

I tried to ignore the angry barks and the pained whines and whimpers as the gnolls confronted the ooze.

Through no fault of my own, the ooze had attacked the gnolls. I was blameless. The ooze could have very well been there coincidentally.

But even if that nagging source of guilt were accurate, and it was somehow my fault (which it was not), why should I feel bad? The gnolls were the enemy. They had pursued–hunted–me.

Now, the gnolls were in a hopeless fight against a devouring black ooze… I could not help but feel doubts and guilt.

But, despite these doubts, it was not as though I could help them. Even if I could, they would simply attack me; I remembered the carcasses of humanoids hanging in their pantry. No, I should feel no guilt. The gnolls were practically cannibals.

I continued fleeing. I put enough space between me and them through the hills, and I doubled back on my trail, zig-zagging often enough to throw off my trail, that I felt sure I would be safe taking a moment’s respite.

I found a hiding place on a hill overlooking another valley, overlooking a path that the gnolls had made. It was easy for me to watch below, but with me behind the rocks, it would be difficult for anyone below to see me above.

Stealth (1/9): Trackless Tracks (3/9)

With safety partially assured, I rested, and I finally took that time to look through my tattoos and figure out just what had happened to my Talents… and the results of all the unpleasant itching and burning on both arms.

The artwork had grown, stretching a little further across the bottoms of both forearms, the ink visible even through the lilac fur covering my limbs.

Artwork was a generous term for the swirling glyphs and patterns.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 32

Mind: 44 (+5)

Spirit: 44 (+3)

Talents:

Athleticism (2/9) (+1):

Climbing (4/9) (+1)

Stealth (1/9)

Trackless Tracks (3/9) (+1)

Closed (1/9)

Spells:

Illusion (4/9) (+1)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)

Gifts:

Obsession (2/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)

The new Talent, Traceless Tracks, left me with a deeper understanding of it. The Talent impressed me, at least if the vague feelings I received from the rune were correct.

Traceless Tracks made me untrackable. No footprints, which meant ghosting over the ground. No scent trail, which would have been good to know before running miles and criss crossing my own trail to lose the gnolls. No fingerprints or residue or magical trackers. I was now untraceable. It… it was powerful, inexplicable magic that hurt my head to think about.

My other gains had been impressive as well. But pursuing these gains had not been my incentive for my little venture. The gains were nice, certainly, but I had gone into that den searching supplies. Food. Water.

With that in mind, I tried the flagon still slung around my chest. I popped the cork and sniffed the opening. It was not water, but it smelled decent. I took a sip. The flavor washed over my tongue. A hint of a burn. Good. My lower back began twitching, and a shift in momentum caused my hips to minutely shift back and forth. To my embarrassment, when I looked behind me to find the cause, I saw my tail wagging.

Wagging! Like a dog!

If not for the flagon, and other incentives, I might have indulged in self-harm then and there. But I resisted. Perhaps I could find a use for this tail. And, now that I had time to appreciate it, it was a rich color, and the fur appeared lush. Though lilac had never been my color. I could use it though. Yes. Not all was lost. Besides, no one was there to see this embarrassment.

I opened the liberated knapsack: it looked fit for an explorer, made of brown canvas and leather with brass buttons holding it closed. Opening it, I began looking through my stolen loot. In some ways, there was excitement, but in others, disappointment. The knapsack was absent useful supplies.

To quell my growing frustration, I imbibed with another pull from my flagon. The liquid was just the right level of spicy and sweet, delicious. My mood temporarily emboldened, I continued exploring the contents.

There was a glass vial of solid luminescent silver. It glowed, and left my fingers tingling when I lifted the corked vial. That was not the only item that glowed. For there were also metal coins, all the same size, with numbers and holes in the middle filled with pressed crystals. The crystals sometimes glowed, and sometimes not. The coins must have been a currency, which made them valuable, if I could find anyone to purchase from.

It also meant there was civilization, somewhere, waiting for me with baths and beds and restaurants and mansions.

However, besides that rich fantasy, there was mostly disappointment. I found no bedroll or blanket; the backpack lacked rations and basic hiking supplies. It contained oddities, however, such as an egg-like rock of obsidian, or, a gun made of bronze tubes and a bulky handle.

Of course there was no ammunition for said gun. And I doubted I could figure out how to work the mechanics of the object easily. It might not have even been a gun. With several levers along the side, along with the trigger, I could not be certain how it worked. Which was a shame. A weapon would have been incredibly useful. However, without knowing how to use it, and without familiarity or practice, the weapon was a liability. I put it away and focused on the strange egg instead.

It was the last curiosity that the knapsack contained. It looked like an egg made of obsidian, with a glyph of glowing silver painted over it. The glyph roughly looked like a canine face encircled by a serpent, but the overall style was too artistic for this impression to be certain. The object felt valuable and left my teeth aching. Which was strange. I had not tried chewing it or biting it, as it was akin to a rock, but yet, my jaw ached.

Strange.

I had questions about the liberated supplies and gear, but I stowed them all, as there was nothing more I could do.

Another pull from the flagon. I felt warm and better than I had since I landed here.

While I luxuriated, rolling the spice over my tongue, I heard the gnolls barking from the distance. I covered myself in [Chameleon] and shifted to a vantage spot to watch.

The den mother was leading a pack of gnolls, maybe fifteen of them. They appeared battle worn and weary, but their yips and barks carried anger and fury. They raced along on all fours, covering the rocky ground quickly, following the path along the valley bed up towards a distant plume of smoke.

This was interesting. Because while it was unclear what they pursued, they looked like they were headed towards a fight.

Now at first, I worried that perhaps they were pursuing me. But if they were, it could not have been by scent, since I had Traceless Tracks. So the question remained, where were they headed?

The den mother had thought I was a human. And if she thought humans had led the ooze to attack them, that humans had robbed them, then perhaps she was leading her pack towards vengeance.

That meant there were other humans out there, and the gnolls were heading towards them.

Maybe.

Humans meant civilization. Another pull from the flagon. I considered following the gnolls. It was risky, certainly. Were they even headed towards humans? There might have been a larger gnoll encampment somewhere out there. Or, they could simply be searching for me.

But the possibility of civilization. Humans.

The decision was easy.