Poisonous Fox

Larissen ran southwards, bounding from crevice to stone, loping on all fours as only the cat people could do. I was tired from the hour, nervous, but I was also 'Blessed' with an enhanced body.

I should have been able to keep up. Operative word, should.

After several moments, he realized I had begun trailing behind him. He came to a stop when he cleared a slag field, where twisted rusted hulks and lava rocks littered the ground. He crouched and waited, his tail flicking back and forth in clear agitation.

When I reached his position, he glared impatiently at me.

"Hurry!" he hissed, the sound of his voice disappearing into the wind. His whiskers quivered. And then he continued onward, setting just as hard a pace as before.

Soon, he once again outpaced me, and once again, he was forced to pause and wait.

I wondered what situation Kissen could have found herself in to require such haste, so much haste that even her brother was unable to spend time preparing me and himself for whatever situation we would be encountering. I had begun to develop a few suspicions, and were it not for the ace up my sleeve, my 'Illusion,' I likely would not have had the confidence to continue following Larissen so blindly.

But I did have that spell, which was a powerful enough trump card that I felt that any risks I faced could be overcome.

Afterall, there was a chance that Kissen’s life depended on my actions. Her life was worth at least some risk on my part. Or so I continued telling myself. Heading into danger was not my typical mode of operations.

As we traveled, we passed more hulking ruins, so twisted and eroded that their original identity and purpose could not be divined, if they ever had a purpose. They might not have even been artificial. We passed two pools of bubbling oil, and one of those pools was aflame, casting the gully in orange flickering light–which actually made it more difficult for me to see, as it was at once bright enough to disturb my night-eye, and cast dark shadows upon the innumerable debris. The walls of the gully began narrowing, and the floor began rising upward at a slight slope.

After the fifth time that Larissen was forced to wait, he waited long enough for me to come close enough for him to scold me.

“Why is Kitten so slow?!” he demanded.

I shrugged, "You're fast."

"Faster than a Marked kit nearing her prime?" He said in a dubious tone.

In truth, I probably could have moved faster, but then I would end up exhausted whenever we got to wherever we were going, which presumably would be a place of danger. So instead, rather than admitting my sandbagging, I attempted a slight diversion.

"I would keep up faster if I knew where we were going."

“These ones are going to my sister! And we must hurry!” he said, growing uncomfortable when I asked and seeming to interrupt himself.

“But why? What happened to her? What can we expect?” I pressured, but he was already turning, rushing off into the night.

I rolled my eyes. Yes, this was not suspicious at all, I sarcastically mused.

“If it was not for Kissen,” I complained, as I started chasing after him. It was now a matter to discover what treachery awaited me. Of course, there existed a chance that Kissen truly had been injured, and that Larissen was responding to the situation poorly, but there were just too many discrepancies between Larissen’s behavior and the alleged situation. Such as a large one: What would he have expected me to have done if Kissen was in danger?

While I mused, I lost sight of Larissen more and more frequently. The terrain certainly did not help; sight lines were impossible to keep clear. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, I knew his heading–in a gorge, as it had been narrowing, we were lacking in a diversity of directions to choose from. Either forwards or backwards.

I began considering practicing Illusions once more–there had been a few ideas I had wanted to try, but had been unable to with people around–however, I could not be certain that Larissen was not watching me currently, and I preferred to keep Illusions secret, if at all possible. Because of these considerations, I would like to say that it was for this reason, and this reason alone, that I was caught off guard.

I was passing yet another train sized rock when a clawed hand slashed out towards my chest. In that split second, I was caught by surprise. I was mid step, my position awkward, my center of balance in a bad place to respond. I saw a glint of glass in the palm as the fist opened, the momentum and the flat of the hand pushing it towards me. My thoughts just caught up, that it was Larissen’s hand, and that was a glass vial in his hand, when that glass vial smashed against my chest.

A saccharine smoke wafted up from the broken glass.

I further lost my balance and fell backwards-

Dizzy.

Vertigo.

I could barely tell up from down.

The world spun. I tried getting back up, but stumbled. The sharp edges of gravel and worse cut through my fur.

“Wha–?” I managed to get out. My mental faculties were still present, but my perception was skewed; but my motor control lagged; speech proved more difficult, my mouth numb and somewhat unresponsive.

“Choosing the humans over kin of course had consequences,” Larrisen said, coming around and squatting down in front of above–below–beside–me.

He was all I could focus on, but there were three or four of him dancing around me, all while he remained stationary. There were colors that should not have been there. Sounds that came from nowhere. A hallucinogenic, I realized, a strong one, and coupled with something else.

Considerations: Larissen had obtained and deployed a glass vial of aeresolized hallucinogenic; the only source of such items I had yet encountered had been associated with the Apprentice Alchemist Charson; the same Alchemist had stated a strong desire to purchase me for parts; helping the Alchemist in this pursuit deviated extremely from the Kaiva’s behavioral profile.

“Hhe hassh Khishennn?” I asked, slurring shamefully, but the intent should have been clear.

“Shush,” Larissen said smoothly. I felt something trace along my skin, I think my neck, but my nerves were on fire, burning. “This one supposes it is proper to tell you why, before–” his voice continued to echo across the canyons, reverberating through my chest, the pressure forcing me further down in a spiral, and all the while the flaming burning sensation only grew. “-this, for my sister.”

I got the thrust of it, or I thought I did, but what did it matter? I was spiraling. I hurt. I ached. I felt blissful nirvana pouring down my nostrils and throat to drown me in acid. He was going to kill me. It hurt so good that I might have appreciated death. But Larissen was going to kill me; it was for a good cause, I was sure, to save Kissen–but could we trust the Alchemist–but I hurt–but I–but–

The world slammed back around me. My right forearm burned, over my Mark. I recognized the feeling, it was the same as when a Talent unlocked or grew a new glyph. Something had just changed. Of course I was unable to take time to check my arm. I had to act.

Stealth: 9/9 (+1) -> 1/9

Alchemical Immunity (Unlocked) (ineligible for growth)

My senses had returned.

And just in time.

Larissen’s hands were about my neck, pressing against my arteries. Already I grew light-headed, and this not from the aerosol drugs, but from the lack of oxygen reaching my brain.

My eyes sharpened on Larissen. He continued throttling my neck; he was looking elsewhere; he could not even watch my face as he murdered me; not that I blamed him for his squeamishness.

“This is for my sister,” Larissen said, more to himself than anyone, as though he were justifying his actions. “At least, This one shall be able to say that this was painless.”

“And you-" I coughed "-called me a traitor.” I spoke more through a wheeze than any vocalization, as the pressure of his hands against my throat was compressing my vocal cords.

The pressure slackened slightly, though his hands still pressed tightly enough to remain uncomfortable. His eyes widened and he glanced back down at my face. I stared back up at him. Comprehension dawned as he began speaking and interrupting himself, thinking out loud, perhaps for my benefit, though I doubted it.

“How is it that–no, this matters not–this is a shame–but this still must be done.”

Regardless of how he felt, I was not about to let him throttle me or worse. My thoughts went to my knife on my right thigh. I could reach it, and unsheathe it, but if his ears were as sharp as mine, then he would hear. And his claws were near my throat, near the very arteries and veins he was pressing against. Why he had chosen to strangle me instead of bleeding me dry, I did not know; it could even be a cultural preference for how little I knew. And while I did not know his reasoning, I preferred to keep my blood inside.

Besides, even if I did draw that knife, and even if I successfully leveraged it; Larissen was still bigger than me, he was atop me, and I lacked confidence in my ability to successfully disable him even in the best of cases. And I did want to disable him, for I needed answers, and despite his attack, I still did not want to see him die.

Despite the straits, the situation was not that dire. Not now that I had recovered from the hallucinogenic poison. Because I still had that one trump card, and I had been itching to try a new trick.

But as with all new things, this took work. I focused, envisioned, what I wanted to create, as though I could wield the very fabric of the universe; and in a way, I could. I had created basic versions in the past, but nothing this intense, this startling. And for it to work, it would need to startle. I might not get more than one chance. So even as the edges of my vision turned green and the blankness of oxygen deprivation kicked in, I focused, down to the smallest fraction of an inch of what I wanted to see, and more importantly, of what I needed Larissen to see.

“Illusion,” I mouthed.

“Hu–”

A flame bloomed to life in front of Larissen’s face, in front of his eyes. This flame was white hot, or would be were it real. It covered all of Larissen’s field of vision. By reflex, he jerked back. One of his claws nicked my skin, just barely penetrating my softer neck-fur. The second he started jerking back, I arched my back, thrusting him up and off of me; I scrambled to the side.

“Illusion,” I said, this time more powerfully able to focus. I kept from using anything tangible, as I needed to make my Spirit pool last, and I was also embarrassingly out of practice.

The flame vanished, and a [Blur] covered me instead. I gained distance from Larissen and unsheathed my knife. He stopped slapping at his face and snarled.

“Tricks! This is as awful as the humans! Why my sister saw anything worthwhile in yourself, this is a mystery.” While he complained, he balanced himself, claws extended, he scanned his surroundings. His ears swiveled as I exhaled, and he turned my way, though his eyes failed to lock on. “If not painlessly, then–”

I was sure he would continue making threats, but my Illusion would not hold forever. As he was speaking, I was sidestepping away. He followed the faint patter of my feet, despite the fact that it should be barely audible over the wind.

“-so be it,” he finished his threat, beginning to stalk towards me. His eyes were more or less pointed towards me, but from his pupils I could tell he still had trouble seeing me exactly. I had about forty seconds of my Illusion left. I let it drop. He came to a stop, crouched and ready to pounce forward. His eyes saw me crouched, with my knife held in a reverse grip, which I hoped looked intimidating.

“Why do this?” I asked him, in the Kavia tongue, hoping to build enough empathy to jolt him from this madness, at least temporarily.

“To save my sister!” he snarled.

What I wanted to say, was that it failed to make any sense, that he was acting like a crazed beast, and making terrible decisions. However, that would fail to work for so many reasons, and it would also reduce any building empathy. Afterall, how often did people respond sensibly when, in the heat of the moment, someone comes up and tells them that they are acting dumb? So instead, I asked him another question, one that I suspected would bring us to the root of the problem.

“Where did you get the vial?” I asked him.

“The accursed human,” he hissed and spat in Kaivan.

“The Alchemist Charson?” I asked, just to confirm. His hiss continued in a strong and angry confirmation. I could have asked him more about his motive, but I struggled to find a way to do so that failed to elicit the image of subservience, and bring up such an image would lead to the wrong sort of sympathy. I did not want him to associate me with that in any way. So instead, I shifted the target of accusations, to demonstrate we were on the same side.

“The human hurt Kissen?” I asked, allowing anger to tint my speech, all calculated.

He spat in Kaivan, an affirmative.

“Where is the human, for vengeance.”

Larissen growled. For a moment, I worried I misjudged him. But then he stood and clenched his fists and yowled to the sky. “It will not save Kissen!” He released some of his pent up anger and anxiety. I thought of interrupting him, but this was good. As long as he was directing that aggression elsewhere, then he and I could continue a productive dialogue. And so I waited, until he had somewhat calmed down, and he finished. “Only your body, for her life.”

“What has the human done?” I pushed.

“Poisoned my sister. The human will trade the antidote for you.”

It sounded like a classic hostage con. And given the Alchemist's personality, and his thoughts on us 'beasts,' I thought it unlikely that Kissen would survive the ordeal, even if Larissen and I had cooperated with the Alchemist's plans. Not that I would, of course.

But this would take special attention to salvage, if it even was possible to salvage. But I owed it to Kissen to try. And, other than that, the Alchemist had effective tools that would bolster my own chances at survival.

“Lead me to them,” I said. “This one will steal the antidote from him... and then we can gain vengeance.”

He must have realized that he had a better chance of saving his sister this way, than of trying to kill me. He nodded slowly. “Then follow,” he said. “If this works, then my tongue will taste his blood.”

“Don’t you mean if this doesn’t work?” I asked in the human tongue.

“No. In that case, it will be the human that tastes misery.”

I nodded. I could not open an argument now, as it would risk the forward momentum that we both shared. I doubted he would redirect those hostilities back at me, but the possibility was there. After we got his sister back, if Larissen still crossed a line, then I would address it then, but not before.

He motioned me to follow, and he slunk through the gloom at a slower pace, keeping low to the ground, and heading towards the eastern wall of the gorge. Unsurprisingly, he moved with the grace of a cat, near silent and impossible to see in the gloom. I crouched down and followed, but it was difficult once again for me to match. My pants rustled and brushed against themselves, my side hurt and left me over balanced, and I could feel blood dripping down from where my wounds had reopened in the scuffle.

It hurt my professional pride to admit that Larissen was stealthier than me, but there were mitigating circumstances.

As we traveled, I checked the newest glyph on my right forearm.

Soon, we arrived. The air smelled of lingering caustics, with perhaps a hint of bleach and burnt hair.

We slowed our pace, creeping along the cliffside as it protruded inward, into the gorge. The scent grew stronger, we were downwind. I realized that Larissen had led us at an oblique angle to approach them, so that we would be coming from both downwind and the other direction. I might not have thought of that, but I would like to think I would have. Soon, I heard the clinking and scraping of a mortar and pestle. I saw slight wisps of smoke rising towards us, stinging my eyes and nose. We slowed even further. I could smell Kissen, though it was mixed with bile and waste. And then, we could hear two sets of breathing: one normal; one damp and ragged.

I reached Larissen as he paused, squatting near a soft corner. He held out an arm to the side and I paused, crouching alongside him. He glanced at me, then nodded towards where the cliffside receded back. It looked like a crevasse splitting off from the gorge, with the narrow path illuminated by what looked like firelight, but accented with green and purple. We heard a hiss from inside, then a male’s voice.

“-gods worshiping boric powder! Is it too much to ask for substrates to cooperate? This isn’t even an advanced purification!”

It was Charson.

A weaker voice from within moaned, “...antidote.”

“Not unless your littermate returns with the specimen. I hope you animals are as capable as unsanitary…”

“-then water?” Kissen pled, more of a gasp.

“Rations are limited, beast. Now be silent.”

My blood boiled. Intolerable. How dare this–this–man do this! But before I could succumb to the torrent of rage and emotions best left ignored, I instead focused on a sliver of the feeling welling up in my chest. Cold anger. Rational. Logical. Manipulate the situation to resolve the situation in a useful manner.

Larissen still held his hand out. A snarl of fury twisted his face, his fangs bared. I put a hand on his shoulder, telling him to wait. We had talked of this on the way here. He would wait. I would thieve. And once the antidote was secured, then… well. That was a bridge I could cross later.

“Illusion.”

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 61 (+2)

Mind: 72 (+1)

Spirit: 47

Talents:

Athleticism (3/9):

Climbing I (1/9)

Featherlight (1/9)

Stealth I (1/9)

Trackless Tracks (5/9)

Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

Eschiver (1/9)

Evasion (3/9)

Spells:

Illusion I (2/9)

Touch (5/9)

Closed

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (3/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)