Poisonous Fox

I waited at the base of the cliff for an hour.

The night darkened further, leaving me questioning if this world even had a moon or stars at all. It must have had some celestial bodies, for the night had not been completely claimed by the dark, but in the shadows of the cliffs and the two mountains, it was a close thing. Regardless of the cause, however, the darkness would only benefit me and those following my craft.

The time was not spent idly.

While I waited, I played with Illusion, forming shapes of shadow and attempting to animate them. Of course I kept safety in mind. I never completely exhausted my pool of spiritual energy, only ever using about twenty seconds worth, before allowing it time to recharge.

Mind: 46 (+1)

Illusion: 6/9 (+1)

I had just learned to create a poor imitation of a [Rat] when I heard the gnolls' laughter echo from the hills. An eerie noise, akin to coyotes calling out in the forgotten industrial slums. The sound bounced off the cliffside walls, diffusing, and becoming all but impossible to track down.

What were the gnolls up to? Why were they giving up the advantage of surprise? Was it from poor discipline, foolishness, or an intentional intimidation factor? All of these questions swirled through my mind as I crouched and waited to see what came next.

Their laughter, their yips, only came in snippets across the wind. I could not be certain, but I thought they might have been above the cliff. They must have been making their move.

They would provide an excellent distraction. I could wait no longer for a random passerby to exit the mines for the latrine. In fact, only a fool of the highest caliber would risk a trip to the latrines, with the gnolls making their presence known. I chuffed at the thought.

No, I could not wait. And if I could not wait, then I would act.

I covered myself in shadows and crept towards the entrance to the mines, the entire time keeping a close eye upon the sniper’s nest above me. But other than the occasional glint, there was no response. I reached the heavy wooden doors guarding the tunnel.

The doors had no lock, but a quick check proved they had been barred shut from the other side.

They were somewhat crudely made from old materials, and the wood felt cracked and soft. I pressed my ear to the narrow gap between them and listened. I heard breathing.

Someone was guarding the doors from the other side.

As I could not determine how attentive the guard was, I refused to proceed. I would wait for the gnolls to further their distraction. And so, I prepared to put my patience to the test once more.

However, I was not required to wait for long.

“...” a woman’s voice came from the room beyond the door.

As I listened to the unfamiliar consonants and vowels, as when I listened to the gnolls, I felt a similar migraine begin. I now realized this was my mind forcefully adapting, painfully, hurtfully, nonconsensually, but ultimately usefully.

Mind: 47 (+1)

“...” a man’s voice responded.

I was unsure what they were talking about, and the meaning of their words was completely lost. But I could now parse out the individual parts of their speech. So long as they kept talking, I suspected I would gain some understanding.

So long as my migraine failed to render me unconscious first.

It would have to grow much worse for that to happen. I hoped.

“...ae hye-urk… boke… heallashno…” the woman said.

It may as well have been gibberish. My headache worsened, pounding behind my eyes with every heartbeat, my ears twisted in pain, the back of my neck pinched, my face spasmed, and my right arm burned.

I revisited my assumption about the migraine.

“...riled…” the man answered.

“...orders…?” the woman asked.

“...pull to center…” the man said.

It was hard to see now, with a pressure building behind my eyes. I saw white flecks obstructing my vision, that failed to clear, no matter how often I blinked or tried to clear them.

“But… guard?” the woman asked.

“... from lookout… alarm… come…” the man said.

Mind: 47 (+1)

I heard rustling from inside as the woman followed the man, their footsteps receding into the distance as they went further into the cave. Meanwhile, I was reeling from my headache. My legs had given out, and I leaned heavily against the cliffside as I panted for breath through the pain. The white spots had stopped growing, but they had yet to recede. It hurt.

Every heartbeat left the rest of me aching.

Body: 34 (+1)

And my right forearm joined my left in the burning itching growing sensation. Though the right tattoo always burned deeper.

Stealth: 2/9 (+1)

Closed: 2/9 (+1)

I gritted my teeth and bore through the pain, or tried to.

I was in no condition to sneak around, let alone break into a secured enemy site. And I certainly could not remain in my current position, literally in front of the enemy’s front doors, below a sniper’s nest. I began crawling along the base of the cliffside, angling away from the wooden doors. But even against the cliffside, I could be spotted come morning.

How long would this headache last? I could still barely see, though the pain was beginning to throb a bit less, and I thought a few of the white spots might have faded, but since I had never counted them, I could not be certain that was the case.

I needed a secure place to rest.

I could not confidently reach the far hillside without possibly alerting the sharpshooter. I craned my neck upwards, watching the cliffside. I doubted there was a sentry up there. I had seen no movement previously, and the cliff abutted a mountainside. While the gnolls were occasionally bark-yipping-singing, I had no evidence that they were all the way up there.

Risky, very risky. But I was next to a cliff. I needed to escape. I had a ‘magical’ ability to climb.

With that, the decision became clear. I began climbing the cliff, the very same cliff with the mine doors, the very same cliff with the sniper’s nest. Yes, that cliff. That was the one I chose to climb.

My fingers sank through the stone, finding handholds that did not exist, should not exist, but through ‘magic,’ did.

My muscles carried me forth. While my mind screamed from the roaring heartbeat, while every jostle threatened to upend my stomach, I pushed through, trusting my body to see me to safety.

Keeping my eyes open was growing to be an insurmountable strain. I picked up speed.

I passed the height of the shooter’s nest. It was a horizontal slit in the stone, not tall enough for me to fit through, but enough so someone could shoot out. The slit only stretched several yards, leaving plenty of space for me to climb around.

I continued rising.

Yards and yards, until the cliff began sloping away from me, beginning to even out,, and still I continued.

Eventually the slope met a jagged series of rocks, and I found an empty crevasse to crawl into.

The last thing I forced myself to do was taste the air. I found no traces of people nor gnolls. Safe.

Body: 35 (+1)

Mind: 48 (+1)

Climbing: 5/9 (+1)

I should be safe here, I thought. And that was one of the last thoughts I had as I curled up into my tail and buried my face and shut my eyes.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 35 (+2)

Mind: 48 (+3)

Spirit: 45

Talents:

Athleticism (2/9):

Climbing (5/9) (+1)

Stealth (2/9) (+1)

Trackless Tracks (3/9)

Closed (2/9) (+1)

Spells:

Illusion (6/9) (+1)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)

Gifts:

Obsession (2/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)