Poisonous Fox

The bandits’ victory revelry in the rest of the caverns was holding strong, even without their glorious leader present.

Red, for her part, had nearly fallen asleep. Her breathing was beginning to level out.

She was laid upon her hammock, partially pressing up against a stone wall, in what had to have been an uncomfortable position. She even lacked a blanket, though she did use a pillow, as greasy as it was.

From where I hung from the ceiling, I could smell the booze upon her breath.

And still, even despite this perfectly seeming opportunity, I waited.

Featherlight I: 2/9 (+1)

Inversion: 2/9 (+1)

Eventually, Red snorted, mumbling nonsense.

She had well and truly fallen asleep.

There were no more excuses to be made.

I began making my way across the ceiling, in the quickest path towards the wall, near the door. As Red laid facing up, coming from anywhere near above her would put me at greatest risk. And besides, climbing across the ceiling was strange. The inversion still felt unnatural, even if I now had a mark for it.

Soon, I returned to the floor, and I crept towards Red. As I went, I pulled the small crystalline knife from my pocket, accidentally nicked my finger in the process. The blade truly was sharp, both the tang and the blade. All the while as I moved, I kept an ear open for changes in Red’s breathing. I detected no change.

I reached Red, and I crouched beside her, with the blade gripped in one hand, poised to shear up and into her. But as I readied myself, my motives, and the realities of the situation, settled in.

I was about to murder a woman in cold blood, and largely to make my own life easier.

Granted, Red deserved it. But I had the feeling that I did as well.

The thing that really held me back was the last time I had intentionally slain a human. That Detective, the one investigating Mother’s trafficking rings.

The punishment Mother had implemented that night had been horrendous on many, many, levels, and I had never fully recovered.

But, in this instance, Mother was not here.

I had already decided to do this. Delaying only increased the risk, providing nothing for benefits.

Mother was not here. So then, why was I still so worried about her, and why did my thoughts continue circling back to her, again and again?

I took a deep breath and steeled myself, forcing myself to just… move.

The knife swung up into the hammock, into Red’s back, near where her heart should have been.

The blade hit a rib and bounced, sliding along, until reaching the divot between bones. I pushed in, hoping to keep moving fast enough–

The blade turned almost of its own accord, the tang biting my palm, the blade flattening against where I had intended it instead going in.

Red’s eyes snapped open.

“Godslickin’ cunt!” she swore, rolling out of her hammock in a tangle, and landing atop of me. She weighed much more than me, and drove both of us to the floor, with me on the bottom.

I panicked. She was going to call for help, raise the alarm, and then I would be well and truly lost. I tried stabbing her again, but my grip was still unsure, and the tang, now slick with blood, slipped even more easily than before.

Instead of stabbing her kidneys, I punched them, and with much less leverage than would be ideal at that.

She inhaled another breath, readying another shout.

Without overly thinking, I used my left arm, by reflex more than anything. While moving it still felt unnatural, and I used it far more clumsily than I would have liked, the limb was powerful. It curled around the backside of Red’s head and whipped across her face, covering her mouth, muffling her shout.

But still, she was still on top.

She was already drawing a weapon from her holster, her artificed handgun, her pistol.

I needed the circumstances to change.

I needed her heart blood on the knife.

I could not just kill her.

I lacked the ability to do so, regardless.

But that did not mean I lacked abilities altogether.

“Illusion. Touch.”

A clone formed above us, grabbing onto Red’s arms and pulling her off, leveraging her aside, with my left hand following her mouth, the tendrils shoving their way in between her teeth. She gnashed and spat, she got a taste of the gelatinous flesh, and then she gagged.

Fortunately, it smelled better than it tasted. In fact, arguably, it was scentless, more due to my glyph for Trackless Tracks than anything else. Because the other infested certainly had an aroma to them.

“Mrh-birfhh–” Red tried to swear, but my tendrils followed her. My tangible illusion straddled her neck, trying to choke her.

My knife had fallen at some point, and I felt across the floor for it, distracted by maintaining the Illusion and keeping hold of her mouth.

My hand wrapped around the sharp crystal, and I grabbed it, only wincing slightly as another cut joined the rest.

My Illusion would only last ten seconds more at most.

Forever in a fight. But not long enough.

Resituating the knife in hand, I came at her again.

Her pistol was up and pointed at me.

I dove to the side, using the Illusion as a cover.

-pop-

A pink flash.

The Illusion began leaking mist, before discorporating

Illusion I: Touch: 8/9 (+1)

I had thought the gun was a singleshot, I hoped it was. I took a chance and lunged forward, holding my left arm between me and her.

-pop-

Another flash, this one sputtering, almost weaker.

My left arm took a grazing hit. Rancid smoke, but painless.

Eschiver: 6/9 (+1)

I crashed into her. The knife slipped from my hand, only partially penetrating her stomach.

It was not enough.

She was reaching for another holster on her belt.

I brought my left arm down.

It whipped across her chest.

She wheezed, rolling over, trying to get space.

I brought my arm down again, this time hitting her upper back.

Bone crunched. Her back visibly bent inward.

She was flung into her turn, rolling to a stop.

Still panicked from the fight, and from being shot, even if it was a grazing wound, I scrambled over to her and pried the gun from her fingers. She was trembling and her eyes had rolled up inside her eyelids, flickering madly. Otherwise, I might not have been able to pry the gun away so easily.

Surprisingly, during all of that, the revelry outside Red’s quarters never changed. Nobody had heard, or if they had, they had ignored it.

I took a moment to collect myself, to wipe down the tang of the knife, ensuring that my grip would hold this time.

I lined up the knife over her sternum. I used my left arm to secure the grip, then my right hand over the top of that. This time, it was going to work.

My hand was trembling.

Red gasped, arcing her neck and head, before her eyes came back down, watching me through lidded eyes. She grinned, showing bloodied teeth.

The hairs along my neck rose.

Why was she grinning? What did she know? Was there a trap?

The madwoman laughed.

“Kid,” she half-chuckled, half-coughed. “If you’re gonna do it, do it.”

Confused, I tilted my head and kept my ears peeled for a trap. So far, nothing seemed to be amiss. “What?” I finally asked.

“You’re here to kill me. Do it.”

“You want to… die?” I asked. It was not such an alien concept, but somewhat surprising coming from the gregarious woman.

“Gods, no!” She coughed again, this time, flecks of blood trailing down her chin. “But, can’t say I don’t deserve it. Just get it done with.” She gasped again. “Not like it matters. Broke my spine. Kunny cunts. Heh.” She coughed once more.

Still trembling, I lined up the knife again.

She rolled her eyes and grunted. “Here, like this.”

For a moment, I thought it had been a ploy. She had lulled me into a false sense of security. But before I could pull out, her hands found my own, wrapping them weakly.

“On me…”

Then, with a strength that had been hidden by her weak grip, she yanked downwards. On its own, it would not have been enough force to pierce her. But despite the startlement, or perhaps because of it, I added my strength to her own.

The knife plunged in through her chest, cracking the sternum, sinking deep enough that surely the tip of the knife had penetrated her heart.

A wave of blood came spitting up from her mouth.

“Heh.” Her voice was holding out strong, but weakening. Her breath was shallow now. Her face, pained. But still, she wanted to talk. “You with the wyrkwik?” she asked.

I remained silent.

“Takes balls kid. Hope you make a name fer yourself. Don’t forget yer first kill.”

“How’d you know it was my first?”

She smirked, before wheezing.

“He-hey. K-kid. Look me in the eyes.”

“Wha–?”

“Jus’ -jus’ do i-it!”

And so, I did. I obliged her last request, and I looked her in the eye as they slowly lost focus, until her breathing stopped, and until her bowels voided.

It was gross.

Stealth: Area Coverage: 3/9 (+1)

It was time to go. Suddenly, I could scarcely tolerate the thought of remaining even a minute longer.

I collected the knife and resisted the urge to clean it, unsure if I needed it bloody for the grimoire to work correctly. Instead, I pocketed the knife, and I snuck back out.

As I made my way through the caverns, I found no signs of conflict, except for drunks. I reached the front entrance and slipped out. Only one Illusion was required to cover my escape.

It was not until I had crossed the settlement and reached the craggy hill on the far side that I realized I had forgotten the safe, and I had forgotten the slaves. They had completely slipped my mind. Though, I had failed to find anything that looked like an artificed key anyways.

I decided not to risk going back.

I sought out where I had left the infested. After some searching, I found the bag with the supplies, where the mucary had been last. I was grateful that I had found the goods. The worst case scenario would have been the infested taking it in with them when they performed their doomed assault. Though, I was somewhat irritated that my bag, and my grimoire, had lacked even a single guard.

As I thought that, an infested vulture landed beside me, in the lee I was sheltering behind.

It croaked. It stank of irritation. It felt dumb. There was nuance that was missing from before. It took some effort for me to even figure out what it was trying to convey: Weakness. Anger. Loss. Need for reinforcements. It wanted to return to Emboru then.

Naturally, I refused. We had already traveled several days away from Emboru’s nest. It would be a waste to turn around.

The dumb bird would not sway me.

It did give me a look though.

Ignoring it, I put some distance between me and the bandits’ hold. Once I felt safe, I pulled out the grimoire, and I snapped the bloody crystal back into place on the cover.

The book began to glow with blues and red wisps of light.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 65

Mind: 75

Spirit: 49

Talents:

Athleticism (3/9):

Climbing I (2/9)

Featherlight I (2/9) (+1)

Inversion (2/9) (+1)

Stealth I (5/9)

Trackless Tracks I (3/9)

Area Coverage (3/9) (+1)

Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

Eschiver (6/9) (+1)

Evasion (6/9)

Spells:

Illusion I (5/9)

Touch (8/9) (+1)

Closed

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (3/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)