Poisonous Fox

“Illusion.”

As I quietly uttered the word, my heart raced and the calm of a job settled in, my heart in my ears, my breathing controlled, my anxiety ebbing.

This was my element, I reminded myself again and again. I distracted myself from all that could go wrong with what could go right. If I could do this before coming to this mothersworn world, then I could certainly do this with my magical power-up, as opposed to... as opposed to before.

Though even with these new tools, I knew that perfect camouflage was impossible.

Firelight danced across my lilac fur and dark clothing. I could not dally. But that did not mean I should move quickly and carelessly. No. But with surety and exactitude. For while I now had these new abilities, I was unsure what abilities Charson had: for all I knew, he may have had enhanced senses.

Thus, at the correct sneaking pace, I rounded the corner and beheld the make-shift campsite that tried to be a laboratory.

Charson was hunched over a boulder, which had been turned into a makeshift table for his alchemical tools. He worked diligently, writing in his leather bound notebook, checking the glass bulb atop the lantern, and stirring a concoction in the mortar and pestle.

But while I was far from an expert of chemistry, to my senses, nothing that he had assembled resembled an antidote. As I took in the rest of the campsite, it became clear that Charson was working with limited options. No fire had been set for warmth and the only light came from one single lantern, which doubled as a bunsen burner. The smell of smoke must have been from Charson's concoction.

The most notable detail of the campsite was its proximity to a crevasse at the edge of the gorge. Just past the light cast by the lantern, darkness prevailed and any sense of direction was lost.

Where exactly did the crevasse lead? I wondered.

These thoughts and more washed over me as I considered my next move–all while knowing that time was running out and I still had yet to spot an antidote.

Not that I knew what an antidote would look like.

I did finally spot my primary objective. Slumped against a wall, mere feet from Charson, laid Kissen. Her chest heaved with each breath, sweat and grime plastered her fur. Her eyes were open but unseeing, her face twisted in agony.

A wave of rage rose up inside me. My hair prickled at the nape of my neck as I swallowed hard and attempted to corral my emotions.

Stealth I: 2/9 (+1)

Mind: 73 (+1)

Charson would pay for what he did. But a clinical part of me reminded me that vengeance came second. Saving Kissen came first.

And besides, I was no killer.

Well, mostly not.

My thoughts traveled odd paths when I ought to have been focused on saving Kissen, on retrieving an antidote, and on neutralizing Charson.

The Illusion had nearly run out. I had a decision to make. Proceed with my objectives, or retreat and regroup. Retreating and getting help from Larrisen seemed the smartest option. But Kissen seemed in a bad way. Her breaths came in short, wet wheezes and she curled up into a ball; signs of hypoxynation.

I had moments left to make a decision: get help or risk everything to save Kissen now?

In the end, the decision was easy.

I inched forward, my heart thundering in my chest as I silently stalked toward Charson.

His work had already entranced him, his head drooping near the flame, mumbling to himself as he thought aloud. The proximity to the light would worsen his night-eye. Were this back on earth, it would be near impossible for him to see anything but that directly before him. Here though? With seeming magic enhancing who-knows-what? I could not take that assumption for granted.

But I had already committed to my course. I needed to act swiftly and surely; faltering now would lead to failure.

So I pressed forward, and finally, I reached the edge of the wall directly behind him. I took shallow breaths as I quivered in anticipation.

Only ten seconds had passed since I first cloaked myself with Illusion.Dropping it was always an option; doing so would give me some respite and the ability to re-engage if needed. But taking attention away from this task and expending energy on returning seemed both foolish and dangerous. So, I stayed focused and kept my Illusion active.

My heart pounded as I entered armsreach of Charson, adrenaline surging through my veins. I kept my breathing shallow and light, the bare minimum to sustain me.

Body: 62 (+1)

Inching nearer with caution, I reached around him and felt towards his bandolier. Every nerve on the edge of my skin quivered as my fingertip grazed the vial, memorizing its shape before gripping it tightly and yanking it from its holster. I gingerly held it and made it disappear into my pocket before moving on to the next. Charson carried far more than a single vial after-all, and I had little clue as to their contents or purpose. However, one thing was clear: I absolutely could not let Charson have access to them.

Body: 63 (+1)

Spirit: 48 (+1)

I reached around for another vial, my fingers certain, despite the fear and cortisol pumping through me. Sure fingers, required for surgeons and pockpickets alike. No time for nerves. I fell back on an old mantra as older training carried me forward. As I stole the vials, I could not help but wonder what horrors Charson kept in those glass tubes.

I still had nightmares from the first concoction of his I had seen, that orange gas... I remembered seeing skin boiling off mikuya and the fallen humans-

I clamped down on the stray thought before I shuddered and jeopardized my objectives.

As I stole the third vial, he muttered to himself in a twisted language of science and violence.

“-overcooking enzymes. I’ll hang her by his occipitals… but what substitute? ...”

The words sent chills down my spine, but I forced myself to ignore it. My focus had to remain on emptying his bandolier.

With each passing moment, my hands threatened to shake, until finally, my mantra shattered, my training failed, and my digits began to tremble.

It was suboptimal.

On the fourth holster, I found it empty. My growing panic surged through me like a tidal wave as I realized that Charson could have taken any one of those vials without me noticing. Even then, he could be readying a chemical weapon to use against me.

Stealth I: 3/9 (+1)

My hand was still probing the empty holster when he spun.

He knew I was there!

Without time to think, I reacted. I made a rash decision. But I only had one chance, and I had no desire to face any of Charson's weapons. I had my chance to strike and I seized it.

Body: 64 (+1)

In a flash of movement, in a burst of agility that surprised myself, I unsheathed my knife and whipped it around, positioning it at his throat, the threat obvious.

His expression shifted from a smug anger to surprise, though I tried keeping towards his back, so I could not watch every twitch of his face. I could just imagine my blade glinting off the lantern light. But, imaginings aside, he had frozen. And I realized that I was unsure of exactly how to proceed. I would have to wing it.

"Charson," I said, attempting to keep my voice low and threatening. I likely failed to succeed. "Fix her," I demanded, gesturing to Kissen's limp form on the ground.

"Fix who?" Charson asked, his irritating voice still smug and self-assured. He tried turning further away from the blade.

I clicked my tongue from behind him, trying to act as intimidating as possible despite his towering height.

"Fix. her." I repeated, tension leaking through my voice.

Instead of fishing out an antidote, Charson complained.

"That stupid cat failed such a simple task?" he asked rhetorically. "Obviously I could not trust a beast. No matter."

He began reaching for something.

"Uhb-bu-bu," I said, pushing my knife against Adam's apple. I was thankful that my knife was dulled from the days of travel through the waste, as that dullness worked to my favor. A sharp razor would hardly be felt until it was too late for threats.

I continued issuing those threats.

"Unless you want a shave." The words left my mouth awkwardly, but I refused to back down.

Unfortunately, Charson failed to be intimidated.

Fortunately, I was not alone.

"This cat has a name!" Larissen hissed, storming into the room and taking in the scene before him. When he saw Kissen lying motionless on the ground, he rushed towards her and collapsed beside her.

"Sister!" he cried out in anguish, holding up her head and placing it upon his lap.

Kissen’s eyes flew open, they were glazed and foggy, smeared with a putrid gunk.

“Antidote! Now!” I seethed at Charson, pushing the knife further into his neck.

Despite the threat, despite his untenable position, instead of fixing the problem that he had created, he merely chuckled. He chuckled!

Why was he not worried?

Either he simply held no value for his life, or he had an ace up his sleeve.

“Speak! What was the deal again, beast?” Charson smugly said towards Larissen. “The instructions were to bring the specimen intact, yes?”

A wave of fear washed over me. Had Larissen betrayed me? Yes, he had. But that was in the past. Or so I hoped. But if he had to choose between me and his sister? Even if the hope of success in following Charson's instructions was impossibly slim... No, I was thinking nonsense. My thoughts must have been still muddled from the earlier concoction.

Stay focused! I reminded myself.

Mind: 74 (+1)

“I must pay compliments as they are due, however..." Charson trailed off. "You've achieved your goal whether or not you intended to do so.”

Tension surged through the room as if lightning had struck. He was going to act. I needed to end this. But if I simply slew him, then the hopes of identifying the antidote would be impossible, and Larissen would blame me. But every moment we spent like this brought Kissen nearer death.

And so, I channeled my angst into words, gritting out a question that could make or break this entire situation.

"You can't cure her, can you?" I asked.

Larissen's hiss filled the room in a promised threat, while Charson scoffed in derision.

"Of course I can. Given enough time and materials, I can cure anything."

He sounded smug, even as he was outnumbered, even at knife-point, even as Kissen lay at death's door. My feelings of unease grew. But I had not come this far to be shut down by his bravado. And since I had come this far, I may as well go further still.

"But you don't have what you need and you're not even an expert!" I prodded, hoping to prompt Charson into revealing his hand towards Larissen. "Not even an alchemist if you can't cure your own poison."

But he seemed unbothered, except irritated that a lowly beast would deign to take his attention. He smirked at me, despite the face I was to his back, I could still see the edge of the sneer.

"You cannot even fathom, beast."

It was becoming increasingly difficult to feign level headedness; my voice began to waver just slightly. But I absolutely needed to entrap Charson for the sake of Larissen's loyalty. I needed to end this. So, I tried calling him his bluff.

"You can't do it, can you?" I asked. "I bet you don't even have an antidote.”

Larissen whined piteously as Kissen struggled for breath on the brink of death. So easily could Larissen change allegiance if even the hint of an antidote was offered. I had to make sure he and I remained aligned to save her life. We could absolutely ill-afford infighting at this stage.

Charson scoffed. What he said next caught me by surprise and made the fur on my back stand.

“Why would I even make the attempt?” Charson asked.

He was admitting his motives? Now? Why-

He began reaching for the bag at his side.

My clawed hand clamped down hard on his wrist. To ensure he felt my grip, I squeezed hard enough to leave an unmistakable message in his skin. But he huffed in defiance. Fortunately, he moved no further. I needed to figure out what he had been reaching for, but before I could investigate, Larissen rose from his sister and made a play.

“What is required to save my sister's life?” Larissen spat, trembling with anger and desperation and snarling at the alchemist.

“To begin with," Charson said, unbothered by my grip, unbothered by my knife. "Your side of the deal, upheld."

I cast a furtive glance Larissen's way.

He seemed rather uncertain. Too uncertain.

I needed to keep our alliance secure.

“Very well,” I said, wrenching Charson's arm and beginning to slide the dull knife across his throat. "We'll need to search your corpse-"

Charson's tone shifted immediately as my knife began moving.

"W-wait! You accursed beast!"

I paused.

Charson beseeched Larissen. "If she slays me, then you'll never save your sister."

"I doubt you'll save her regardless," I said, still keeping a careful watch of both Larissen and the alchemist. "You're a liability."

I started dragging the knife once more, and even over the smell of the concoctions, of Kissen's sickness, I could still catch the scent of blood. It may have reminded me that travel rations were unsatisfying.

"Wait," Larissen said, licking his lips. "We should hear him out."

"Yes, yes you should," Charson said.

I could hear a grin forming in the way he spoke.

"In fact, I have the antidote right here!"

He pivoted and ducked down, my knife sliding across his face and passing over his leather half-mask.

His hand finished shooting into his pocket.

I shouted, tried to reacquire his arm, regain control, but he moved fast, far faster than I anticipated.

His hand re-emerged with a glass vial, which he promptly threw straight down upon the rocks at his feet.

He laughed madly as the glass shattered.

An acrid fog billowed up and around us, stinging my eyes and burning my throat.

Charson's face contorted in pain as he grabbed his half-mask, tugging the bottom half down in a practiced motion to protect himself from the fumes. His mask apparently had a hinged filter that could slide over his mouth and nose.

Handy, that.

In seconds, the fog had engulfed both me and Larissen.

“So this is your way of admitting that no one can cure Kissen then?” I growled, unable to hide my fear and rage. I had been aware that it was a slim chance, that there was no possible escape for Kissen once she had fallen into his clutches. But still, I had held onto hope until now. Even if there was little else I could do for her now, at least I could still find closure and make sure I could live with my own conscience afterwards.

But now? Now, I needed to salvage as much as I could, beginning with my own life.

“What does this do?" I asked, trying futilely to wave away the yellow smoke that was now engulfing all of us.

Nothing was dissolving, at least not yet, so I doubted it was something besides corrosive. The taste of burnt mangoes and old copper made my tongue tingle.

“What, and ruin the surprise?” Charson asked, his mask partially muffling his voice.

It was then that Larissen screamed in turmoil, his cries shaking the crevasse and piercing my eardrums. My eyes darted from Charson to the scene in front of me.

Kissen yowled out weakly before gurgling and going silent.

In horror my gaze shifted back to Larissen who had buried his claws into her face.

Larissen turned towards me, disregarding Charson while he snarled with rage. His wide eyes were filled with hatred as his fangs bared and his tail bristled all the way up his back to his ears which were perked up in alertness.

I cursed inwardly, realizing that Larissen was about to attack me due to an unknown alchemical effect which may or may not be permanent. He had gone rabid. Very suboptimal.

He was faster than me and far more vicious.

As the vapor spread, it grew thick enough to cut off what little light there was.

Mind: 75 (+1)

It almost seemed to morph in the shadows from yellow to black, transforming into a death shroud, enveloping us, embracing us, welcoming us into madness.

The world became pitch black and our senses were robbed.

Yet I still heard him. My other senses remained untouched.

He hissed and spat and yowled, uttering insane gibberish that made no sense.

I turned to where Charson ought to have been. I heard a whistling through the air, approaching. I dove to the side, clipping a sharp rock and spraining my left elbow.

Body: 65 (+1)

Evasion: 4/9 (+1)

The vial shattered nearby, despite my maneuvers. A different scent, this one noxious, different than the first. I staggered backwards towards the far wall of the crevasse, trying to escape the smog.

Larissen, hearing the movement, hearing the glass shatter, found my position. He rushed towards me, passing through the choking haze and narrowing gap.

Options ran through my mind. I needed to distract him.

"Illusion." I said, forming a shadowy clone of myself. But of course, if no-one could see, then an illusion constructed solely of sight was useless. I focused on it, and added the next portion of the spell, "Touch."

Illusion I: 3/9 (+1)

Touch: 6/9 (+1)

I could practically feel the energy pouring out from me at double the rate. The [Clone] struck Larissen, distracting him as I tumbled towards the gorge.

A swirling black cloud trailed behind me like a sinister phantom as I fled for my life from the expanding smoke and impending doom.

My [Clone] dissipated. I felt the draw upon my power end, even before I exhausted my pool. I wondered if he had killed it? I wondered if that was even possible?

Larissen roared after me, his howling echoing off the narrow walls.

In my distraction, I stumbled on a rock and crashed to the ground.

He leapt forward, gaining ground on me in seconds. No matter how hard I tried, he was faster. With every step, my muscles burned like white-hot fire.

I pivoted and scrambled back in desperation as he blocked my path.

The yellow smoke did not stretch far enough for cover. It was my only chance at escape and I threw myself into the murky abyss, trying desperately to vanish into its depths. I headed back towards Kissen, where Charson had been before it all began.

But there was no time to think about that now, I had to stay ahead of Larissen until the drug wore out or he tired himself out completely. The haze clung to me like a thick fog as I ran past Kissen and along the crevasse where Charson had gone.

Once again, my sight failed me. But I could still hear! I heard his clawed steps echoing, approaching, gaining. I could practically see him running on all fours, salivating over his prey, his breath heavy with rage.

My Illusions would hardly trouble him, he had already shown he could end my [Clone].

So I chose to continue fleeing, hoping he would lose interest, or lose sight of me. Panic surged through my veins as a plan formed in my mind.

"Illusion."

I tried again, exploiting my trump card.

"Touch."

A boulder formed between him and I. It was no taller than my waist, but it was solid; I had much experience with the drab gray material over that past month in the waste; I would have liked to think the Illusion was realistic, although I took no time to inspect it. I focused on making it as heavy as it ought to be.

I continued running.

He tripped and stumbled and yowled.

I kept going, letting the Illusion drop, conserving what energy I could.

Illusion I: 4/9 (+1)

The fumble ended too quickly; he regained his footing and once again began overtaking me.

"Illusion. Touch."

I sent another [Clone] to distract him.

The distraction lasted seconds, but allowed me to gain yards of distance.

"Illusion."

I surrounded myself with a shadow and let the [Clone] drop.

My energy was depleting fast. I could not keep this going for long.

Larissen would have to tire soon! I hoped. I could not imagine him continuing this level of aggression for long. Not unless the alchemics enhanced him, which, it may-

In the moment of my distraction, Larissen had pounced, soaring through the air, claws outstretched towards me.

I tumbled to the side as he flew past where I had been.

I castigated myself, I had to keep focused!

But, what could I do?

I could attempt to fight him, but I lacked confidence in myself to win, or even survive. For not the first time, I wished I had practiced my Illusions further, I might have had a trick to pull that would resolve this situation.

But no, I had been too set upon hiding my abilities as a secret ace. Which I managed to do, but that disused and unpracticed ace was serving me little good now.

After he landed, he circled, crouched, and once more, He launched himself at me with a primal roar.

Another [Clone].

Another distraction, another course change. More fleeing.

His ears tracked me; he ignored the [Clone] and sprang towards me.

He chased after me like a rabid wolf, ready to pounce on its prey.

We were out of the fog. If I could just last long enough, then maybe the drug would work itself out of his system.

"Illusion!" I cried desperately, attempting to form another boulder, but my energy was gone. My efforts were for naught as my reserves ran dry.

My last remaining choice, my only hope, was to run and gain the time to refill my spirit pools. I began to doubt my chances for survival.

Suddenly he leapt forward and his clawed feet dug deep into my left side, causing excruciating pain. I stumbled sideways and ended up on my rear, scrambling for something--anything--to save myself before it was too late. The gleam of my knife caught my eye, then the vials from earlier seemed like an appealing option, but they would only bring about death for one of us. Would it be him or me or both of us should I grab and deploy a random vial?

Neither!

I had to find another way out of this mess.

My hands felt something hard beneath them just as he lunged forward again: A stone! I flung it straight at his face, distracting him long enough for me to bolt to the side. The drug's effects must surely be waning by now!

The yellow fog was hugging the ground now, with wisps and swirls rising above my chest. It seemed to be dissipating. Leading him back into that would only reset the duration of the drug, but at least I could hide there, if I kept low.

I turned to face him. My back to the fog. Did I dare risk it? He was watching me now. His eyes wide and unfocused. Drool hanging from his teeth. Blood dripped from his claws.

Was that blood mine or Kissen? No, focus!

I heard something soft from behind. It reminded me of leather and stone and perhaps metal. Was it Charson? I had thought he had left. Or was it a scavenger coming for Kissen? Regardless, it was an empty distraction.

Unless, unless I could use it?

Larissen growled. His eyes, unfocused as they may be, shifted to just over my shoulder.

What-?

I dare not show my back to him, but was there a different danger? If a scavenger had wandered into the cloud, then would it also go berserk, would it also pursue me?

I side stepped, keeping Larissen in view as I tried catching a glimpse of whatever it was moving through the fog.

I saw a shadow, a large human-?

I felt it before I realized it.

Claws were digging deep into my back, searing pain that left me screaming and stumbling forward blindly. Larissen had moved so quickly! I replayed it in my hand as I fell. He had darted in and slashed me on his way by.

But he was not riding me down. It was a... a run-by? He came in at great speed, tore through my back and ribs with his claws, and kept running.

I was crashing into the stones, the far too sharp stones. the fog was not far way now. I rolled over to face where he had gone, where the possible scavenger was.

The shadowed humanoid grew and grew. It was a giant. It was--

She stepped into the light.

Sir Kate Guardson.

But I had left her at the camp, to cover for me? What was she doing here?

Her sword was in hand. Her ice blue eyes were wide with too much white showing.

In a moment of clarity, I remembered the berserking gas still looming nearby, which she had come through.

I was injured, exhausted, and vulnerable on my back. Kate was maddened, and Larissen was somewhere, lurking. Kate was focused upon me. I did not like my chances. But some of my energy had refilled.

"Illusion."

I let the familiar chameleon-like blur fall over me. I could not maintain it for long. Kate already knew I was here. But it was all I could muster, and I hoped she would forget me in favor of the cat.

Spirit: 49 (+1)

Illusion I: 5/9 (+1)

Larissen growled from somewhere within the cloud.

Kate was over me, her sword drawn and raised, her technique lacking as she treated the sword like a hammer. Not that I could take advantage of it now.

I doubted I would survive.

I thought of my sister. I thought her name was Trix. She had been adopted. We both had been. Well, adopted being the polite term for stolen.

Kate's sword came down towards my chest.

I raised up my arms to shield me, more a force of habit, a flinch, than any technique.

The angle of her sword failed to match the angle of her swing. It was likely the only thing that saved me. If 'saved' could be the correct term.

Her blade still passed through my left arm, just above the elbow, catching on the bone, shattering and- and-

Hot liquid spilled over my skin as shock spread throughout my body.

My now severed arm dropped onto my thigh. The sword pulled away, back up, forgotten.

I curled around the wound, the pain distant, like I knew it was there, it should be there, but was absent, and I knew it made no sense, and I knew it was shock, but my arm, my arm!

In the distance, I was only vaguely aware of Kate's bellow, of Larissen's growls. Of the clashing steel and claw and grunts of struggle.

None of that mattered.

My arm... my arm...

Blood was pouring.

It was pointless.

It was...

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 65 (+4)

Mind: 75 (+3)

Spirit: 49 (+2)

Talents:

Athleticism (3/9):

Climbing I (1/9)

Featherlight (1/9)

Stealth I (3/9) (+2)

Trackless Tracks (5/9)

Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

Eschiver (1/9)

Evasion (4/9) (+1)

Spells:

Illusion I (5/9) (+3)

Touch (6/9) (+1)

Closed

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (3/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)