• Closed • Fixation

[Inali]

30th trial of Ashan, 717 - Center of Rhakros

Inali and Rorom had arrived in Etzos just a few breaks before the taverns began to close down for the night. She had insisted on finding an inn before they so much as stopped moving. While Rorom could store some of his valuables on his sloop there wasn't enough storage space to stow all of her supplies. She opted to carry her pack through the city until she found a spacious tavern that rented out rooms on the upper three floors. The building was well loved and the eidisi smiled appreciatively when the innkeeper offered to carry her pack up the winding flights of stairs. He told her of the special wines they had imported from Hiladrith just a few trials ago and suggested that she order some up to her room once she had settled in.

When they arrived at the room, the innkeeper handed her the key before reminding her of the braised scorpion entree that his chef had prepared for any hungry guests. She had smiled politely, but it was obvious by his hearty chuckle that her eyes had betrayed her true feelings about any insect based meals.

"So why'd you come to Rhakros if not to sample our wonderful food?"

Inali smiled and gestured at her satchel sitting atop the modest bed before replying,

"I'm a linguistics scholar. I came here to learn more about Xanevic. I know bits and pieces of the language, but every book I study seems to contradict itself at least ten times per chapter. The consonant heavy words are infuriating to pronounce and I know I'm saying nearly all of them wrong. I was hoping to immerse myself in the culture here as that's the best way to learn."

The innkeeper raised an inquisitive eyebrow and walked over to the desk before picking up one of the pens and placing it against a sheet of parchment. He wrote some information down on the sheet as he replied,

"Well, if you want the real Rhakros experience, you can learn from Etzekax. He's renowned for teaching newcomers about the city, but he keeps odd hours. You'd have to leave within the next few bits to make it to his home in time. It's on the far end of the city, by the Serganic Temple. I won't promise you that he'll accept you as a student, though. He's rather picky."

With that said, he handed went to hand her the sheet of paper. As Inali reached out to take the sheet, he pulled in back, just out of her reach,

"If Etzekax takes you on, you'll have to try one of our beetle desserts to thank me. It'll be on the house. Watching you squirm will be more than enough payment."

He winked at her and exited the room, leaving the eidisi to her jumbled thoughts and aching limbs. It would be easy to simply lock the door, collapse into the bed and unpack the next morning. Her weary mind begged for the small comforts - a warm cup of tea, a soft bed, and a bath full of delicately scented water. The portion of her brain that still clung to the teachings of Yvithia scoffed at the thought of picking sleep over the pursuit of knowledge. So long as she made it through the night, she could sleep during the day and go to more lessons the next evening. With her decision made, the eidisi started packing one of her smaller canvas bags with two journals, a handful of nels, and a few pens.
A half break later, Inali had arrived at the home of Etzekax. The innkeeper had provided an lengthy description and even went so far as to note the odd markings that were carved into the wooden door frame of the man's small home. Inali knocked tentatively and called out,

"Et...zek... ax?"

She heard some shuffling behind the door and smiled to herself. She wasn't too late after all.

"I was hoping to learn Xanevic from you. Can we discuss it over tea?"

► Show Spoiler

Inn - Spacious Room Cost: 6sn * 10 days = 60 sn

[Djinn]

The shuffling was all well and good, but what opened the door would have horrified even the most stalwart of stomachs. The man, for that's what he was once, was shrewd and shriveled, hunched-back and decrepit, though Etzekax was barely over sixty arcs. Instead, he appeared twice that, with grizzled hair and half a nose. One eye was blackened, as if he'd taken a punch, while the other was a milky white, with a pale blue denoting where the iris once was.

When he smiled, his tooth showed through his lips, which were dry and cracked. Indeed, Etzekax looked the very visage of death, but many found him highly respected. Etzekax spoke sixty-two different languages, could calculate the meeting point of two wagons leaving two different cities going different speeds, and could even read the future in the entrails of birds. The last bit was rumour, but since when were rumours untrue?

The smile never faded as he examined the Eidisi, all legs and blue skin. A part of his stirred, below his sash, but he resisted the urge to reach out. Many allowed him to grope them, but this girl was obviously not of Rhakros... She could not know the true power that Etzekax wielded.

"May I help you?" It took Inali a moment to realize he'd spoken, both because his voice was as frail as his body, and because he spoke to her in flawless Ancient, better than many Eidisi she'd heard before. The words flowed from him like a beautiful incantation, instruction to the wind. Incidentally, a warm breeze lifted the hair on her back, blowing under and onto her neck, causing goose-pimples.

"Or more importantly, will I help you? Do come in, don't just stand there. You'll let the Zvaakdetm in." He looked suspiciously at the empty air near Inali's head. There had been a Zvaakdetm blood-hive close enough to the small shack to attract the quick insects to his home. Typically, they only feasted on the blood from the veins between the toes, but in dire circumstances, they would go straight for the neck. Etzekax did not wish to try the issue. As he ushered Inali into his shack, a strange smell hit her. It smelled vaguely sour and metallic, and once she view the contents of his table, he understood why.

The rumours of Etzekax' haruspicy was all too true, and more so than any knew. The hermit demanded that those who learned of his dark secret remain silent, lest they be strangled in their sleep by the very same intestines that predicted they'd be strangled. Most of the Rhakrosii understood the silent covenant and kept their mouths shut. Those who didn't were given to the Lady of Plagues unceremoniously. But Inali need not be concerned, for the half-blind hermit did not expect her to spread lies after he so graciously helped her.

"You are here to learn the secrets of the Rhakrosii tongue, yes? Xanevic, the outside world calls it. The Bugtongue of the Decayer. Jealousy is so ugly, uglier than many other sins, yes?" He was not actually asking her. He seemed to know her intent, though it was unclear if he learned it from the innkeeper through a special form of communication, or if the entrails told him so. In the grand scheme, it did not matter.

"And what will you give Etzekax in return for this knowledge? The Eidisi knows that all knowledge demands a price, yes?" His smile, which now seemed more sinister in light of his statement, showed black rot where many of his teeth once sat, eaten away by toxin and substance.

[Inali]

Inali waited at the door patiently, trying her best to school her face into that of an eager, respectful student. It had been many years since she sat on the other side of the desk, and her time as a tutor had done little to tame her rampant elitism. 'You sound like a damned fool when you try to speak in Xanevic.' she reminded herself none too gently. Even worse, she only spoke four languages fluently. While such a feat was a worthy accomplishment for an ambitious human, it hardly impressed her kin. Her muscles loosened a bit as she mused on how little she knew, and she felt an old habit rise within her. Unconsciously, her fingers twitched at her side, tapping a mindless beat against her hips as she awaited Etzekax.

While Inali had thought she was prepared for anything, the visage of the elderly man caused her smile to falter for a trill. She was unsure whether Etzekax had been human or some sort of vile mixed breed before the progression of time had stolen his youthful appearance. Etzekax stared upward at her with one eye that was unnervingly similar to her own void white irises. Surely he had not been related to her own people. She banished the thought with a glance to the darkened room just beyond the doorway. It was easy enough to peer past the hunched man and into his home, but her manners and common sense returned to her as he spoke. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she looked back down at the wizened man. His words flowed through her mind slowly, and it took a few trills before she comprehended that he was speaking in her mother tongue.


Stunned into silence at the fluency and gentle cadence of his voice, Inali stepped inside the home closed the door behind her. She opened her mouth to ask how he learned the tongue of the Immortals before abruptly shutting it. The shack opened up into a large room that held a intestine covered wooden table as a gruesome focal point. The smell hit her then, and she realized that the lingering aroma was not that of a foreign tea, as she had originally suspected. Her stomach turned and she stepped backwards, suddenly eager to be back within the warm covers of her temporary bed. The nausea lingered as Etzekax spoke again. He still held her gaze, and the intensity of his stare made her even more uncomfortable. It was quite the feat, given the environment. She found herself nodding, absentmindedly agreeing with the words as she struggled to pull her gaze from the morbid collection of entrails. There was a large collection spread across the table - some bloated and stretching while others leaked fluids of unknown origin. She did not dare comment on the intestines. Deep down, she knew of the legends. She had suppressed the stories in her adolescence, loftily declaring that no one would ever sink to the level of 'playing with internal organs'. She had expected the legends to be about feral subhuman creatures - those who plied their living out of the forests and the earth. Etzekax was known to the innkeeper, respected among the Rhakrosii. He was not the brutal, mindless savage she had expected. Inali breathed in an unsteady gasp and regretted it a moment later. The metallic stench coated her throat and caused a fresh wave of bile to rise within her. With lightly clenched fists, she replied,

"I'm not sure I have anything you would value, Etzekax. I have nels, my own knowledge of various languages and..."

She paused for a moment, grasping for the things that made her valuable to the outside world. She thought of Thetros' artifact, but decided against mentioning it. This man did not deserve to see her memories. She continued slowly,

"Well, that's really all I have. I am a student first and foremost. I would be happy to assist you with any tasks that I am familiar with or perhaps translate some texts for you. I am not above menial labor, though I imagine you have little need of help in that domain. If we cannot come to an agreement, I can always seek another tutor, of course."

While the last line was hardly polite, Inali welcomed the idea of finding a new teacher. There had to be a collection of merchants that knew Xanevic and Common. 'They will be normal, just like all the merchants of Viden. Gruff, bad teachers, and expensive to boot', she reassured herself. No matter what quirks a merchant had, surely none would be so offputting as Etzekax's involvement in his grotesque centerpiece.

[Djinn]

Etzekax's eyes followed her every moment, intent on watching her, a spider to a fly. Even though his physical form impeded him, he found ways to contort his neck at weird angles to better see her. He could sense her discomfort, even if it weren't so blatantly obvious.

The truth was, the imp knew many found his habits vile. He ate rotten meat, he sucked the juice from the thoraxes of insects... He slurped his soup. But still, many knew his value, and it appeared this one did as well, as loathe as she was to admit it. Unceremoniously, the little man shoved the wet and rotting entrails from the table, dropping them to the floor with a loud SLOP! They curled into a pile, splattering cold liquid across the floor in a spray pattern. The table, saturated with viscera, was stained in strange patterns. Upon looking at it, Inali could see that it was carved with the same word, carved in sixty-two languages across the table. "LIFE", it said it Common. "RELA" in Xanevic. "DABI" in Xanthean. It was scribbled all over the table, some more prominent than others as the brown stain from the blood and excrement soaked into them. Etzekax's lopsided smile came after, sure without looking that she recoiled in horror.

"Excuse my home, bluebird so flighty. I only just found out I'd have company. Sit, sit... Don't mind the droplets. They're the least toxic thing in Rhakros." He giggled to himself as he limped across the floor, yanking from the counter a piece of paper and quill and inkwell. He was probably right, to be fair. The air in Rhakros seemed to carry with it the inexplicable quality of toxicity, a slight burning in the back of the throat, a stinging in the corners of the eyes... Even the inevitable throes of consumption. The stagnant blood from the sheep intestines probably was the least infected thing.

"I do not want your money, bluebird. Nor your services. I doubt you know any languages old Etzekax doesn't know. No, I want the blood running in your body. Just a small bit, a taste, really. Not for me... For my... Proclivities." His eyes darted, briefly, to the pile of intestines. Small insects swarmed over the cold meat, darting in and out quickly for a sample. Etzekax stared at them for a moment, then back to Inali.

"If you agree, then we are set. Lessons will begin anon." This time, Common blended flawlessly into Ancient, and back out in the sentence. His ability to play with the words was immaculate, decades of practice coming into play. He was showing off, attempting to coerce her into playing his game. "Let the wings of the Insect Tongue whir through your mind. Meld it with the tongues you know. Flawlessly combine, alter or create linguistic ciphers." He took a guess as to her motives, and smiled as the sentences melded Ancient, Common and Rakahi. He was impressive, this hunchbacked imp.

[Inali]

There was deeply a unsettling intelligence within Etzekax, interposed within the inane ramblings, dancing within the confines of his disturbing visage. The myriad of conflicting signals struck a chord within Inali, urging her to flee. There was something wrong here, something that was far beyond her abilities. Warnings thrummed deep within her synapses, skittering across her gooseflesh covered arms like the insects that crawled in and out of the viscera. Still, she stayed. She pushed those damnable gut instincts out of her mind, and allowed herself to believe that her logic reigned supreme, just as it always had.

While she did not understand the collection of entrails or why Etzekax had pushed them off the table, Inali did take solace in the control she still had. No matter what the wizened man said, she could refuse to move, or simply stop communicating. There was power in such affirmations and the eidisi breathed in deeply, allowing the pungent aroma to flood her senses. She was already acclimating to the vaguely metallic scent and refused to allow Etzekax the satisfaction of seeing her recoil again. 'You've seen this all before, she reminded herself. The memories of other teachers played within her mind's eye, reminding her of the eccentricities that they held. No expert survived in the world of academia without such coping mechanisms. Some faced their inner demons by hoarding. Others sought to drown the beasts in alcohol while proclaiming just how important their work was. In nearly all cases, the academicians studied a single microcosm within a field of work that was too vast and varied to fully comprehend. Her professors lost themselves in those weeds and remained convinced that there was no one else that could navigate the brambles. The sooner a young student came to terms with the unfortunate side effects of obsession and loneliness, the more prepared they were to tackle their own quirks.

Pity stirred within Inali's heart as she gazed upon the languages that had been painstakingly etched on the table. As far as eccentricities went, an obsession with the occult was disconcerting, though otherwise unremarkable. While she didn't wish to think about the number of animals that had died for his grizzly experiments, there was no evidence that he had harmed people. Bits of dried flesh had found their home within the looping ascenders of the script, while stains were more malleable in their eventual resting place. Fresh blood and fluids from the abandoned intestines swirled together in small pools. It occurred to Inali for the first time that she couldn't visually identify the differences between the intestines of human and large mammals. Her host assured her that that the fluids were harmless, and she wanted to believe him.

She weighed his offer against her discomfort and the greed that was satisfied solely on clout and image. There was no real choice, of course. Excuses and justifications came soon after the dreams of near impossible to crack ciphers. It's just blood. He's lonely, or maybe even mad, but he can't hurt you with your own blood. You can still scream, and you can always leave. Besides, could he truly stop you with that limp?

Etzekax was not content to simply hand her language lessons on a silver platter. He was too well versed in the nature of the world to only offer her a primer on Xanevic and the eccentricities of the bug-tongue. He promised something that no mere merchant or tutor could dream of granting her. Indeed, the applications of the new language with existing ciphers was something she was wholly unable to lecture on. The scope of the promise was too inviting, and the practical applications ensured that she would have secrets that most cryptographers would pay thousands of nels for.

Inali leaned on the table and allowed her dominant arm to hold her weight a few feet above the table. She looked into Etzekax's eyes and nodded as the cold liquid sunk into the fine hairs of her arms. The eidisi offered her spare wrist to him and spoke aloud in clear, confident Ancient.

"If it is as you say, if you will teach me all you can of Xanevic and the unique, infuriating considerations of the language,"

She paused with a rueful smile, remembering how eager she had been when Gregory Apsilen had handed her a book on the insect-tongue.

"Then I will give you my blood. Not enough to injure me, mind you, but enough for whatever... your proclivities demand."

She regarded him with a level gaze, seeking out any deception that was held within that single eye. Finding none, she spoke once more,

"Are we ready to begin?"

[Djinn]

Etzekax chirped in glee, shuffling excitedly over to the same counter the quill and paper was sitting on. A wooden draw built in slid open noiselessly, as if on greased slats. From it, the shriveled scholar pulled from it a small spile, made of an extremely smooth wood. He held it aloft, looking through the small hole tapped in it to ensure there was no blockage. He put his cracked lips to it, and blew a small gust of air through it. Satisfied, he returned to Inali.

"Fear not, young bluebird. I will not injure you, though you may feel a pinch." He giggled to himself and slid the spile into the vein in her wrist, allowing a small but steady rivulet of blood to flow from her wrist directly onto the table. Crimson droplets joined the brown stains on the wood, soaking into the letters like the sheep's blood had. He waited a considerable amount of trills, letting the small droplets pool and be absorbed into the wood. For Inali's part, the natural anesthetic on the spile helped dull the pain. Finally, the wizened old man pulled the small spile from her arm, and wiped the remaining lifeforce on his handkerchief. He pulled himself into a chair and looked at her.

"First and foremost, forget anything you've heard of our tongue here. Xanevic, like our Plaguelady, is both savage and alluring simultaneously. It is guttural and flowing, the beating of insect wings and their chirps in the night. Lady Eidisi, this language is not one learned easily, but the rewards are quite worth it. There is nothing quite so beautiful as the sounds of the Poison City." His smile was not reassuring, as Inali was sure it was meant to be. Instead, the old wizard seemed as if he were offering her an apple, poisoned. The smile was grotesque, worse than his normal visage, and it turned Inali's stomach.

The words carved into the table seemed to drink the fresh blood that seeped into them. Etzekax's eyes flicked back and forth to the words, seemingly watching them absorb the blood. If there was some sort of haemomancy involved, some ritual with her blood, she could not counteract it now. Instead, she would have to push forward to complete her goal. She couldn't trust the wrinkled creature before her, but...

Something outside the window stirred, a whisper against the glass. It could have been the wind, or a tree branch tapping... It could be Etzekax's cat, dead now thirty arcs... Of any of the number of things it could be, there was a danger present. Etzekax's eyes snapped to the windows, and a frown appeared on his face. A moment before the door burst open, the old man looked into Inali's eyes with more clarity than he'd shown previously.

"Don't panic." As soon as the words fell from his lips, the door exploded off its hinges. Three men, presumably, shuffled through the portal, clothed in dark green robes with black sigils sewn into them. One carried a hollow wooden tube, shooting through it a dart that stuck in the old man's neck. He grasped at it, gasping, as another stepped forward, a shining athame held aloft in his hand. He grabbed the man's throat and dragged the blade across it, opening it and spraying Inali with arterial mist. As the warm, red liquid hit her cheeks, panic flared in her chest.

A quick note on Djinn's moderation style: I like to think I offer the PC the ability to craft their story the way they want it. So with that, I like to offer different paths that not only affect the story, but the experience/loot/rewards the PC gets. With that in mind...

Path One: Defend Yourself!

The assailants have attacked and slain Etzekax, the strange Rhakrosii linguist. Inali may try to defend herself, fighting back against the three men. This path may prompt a more violent response from the hooded men, but affords Inali the possibility of escape. Choosing this option is significantly more dangerous, but will result in one additional piece of loot, to be determined at thread end.

Path Two: Submit and live...

Obviously, the hooded assailants have no qualms over killing. This path allows Inali to surrender to them, and in doing so may prompt a less violent response. However, there is no chance of Inali escaping them unless the assailants allow her. The choice is hers. This path offers a higher survival rate, and instead of additional loot, she gains a longer life.

[Inali]

For a few brief trills, Inali wondered if she had made some sort of mistake. The cultural norms of Rhakros were so different from Ne'haer. Simple tasks, like walking through the main thoroughfare of the city provided unique challenges. Priests of the local religion all but required her to stop at the various shrines and kneel to Lisirra. While she had been tempted to ignore the custom, the eidisi was not proud enough to draw the ire of Lisirra's followers in the city of the Plaguedaughter.

Inali withdrew her wrist a few inches and blushed once more as bawdy stories filled her head. No. The man standing in front of her was not a vampire or incubus. There was to be no trickle of blood running down her neck as she collapsed to the ground in a mix of ecstasy and terror, not with Etzekax. For his part, the imp of a man all but ignored her as he retrieved a small cylindrical object from the confines of a hidden drawer. The far end tapered off into a sharpened point and Inali felt gooseflesh rising along the length of her arms.

Etzekax grabbed her wrist as he spoke to her, ensuring that she had no time to go back on her offer. A pained gasp escaped her lips at the 'pinch' of the spile. The sharpened wood cut through her the pale flesh of her inner wrist and pressed against the vein before spilling blood onto the table. She gritted her teeth and glanced up at Etzekax after a few trills.

"That seems like more than enou-" she began, but by the time she reached the end of her sentence, the man had already removed the spile. Inali let out a shaky breath and pressed her wrist against the bodice of her dress to staunch the flow of the blood. The duo watched the droplets of the blood slide down the table and into the various words and symbols. Etzekax spoke generally at first, noting the aesthetic differences between Xanevic and the languages of Western Idalos. He didn't mock her, and Inali appreciated his comment on the difficulty of pronouncing sounds that were not meant for humanoid tongues. They continued discussing the nuances of Xanevic for some time, and Inali expressed her confusion at the number of future tenses used. Before they could dive into the next conundrum, Inali's attention was drawn to a shadow that fell across the far wall. Something had passed beyond the window adjacent to Inali and she pivoted to one side, trying to see beyond the collection of cobwebs and dust. The eidisi turned back to the imp, eyes searching that one cloudy iris, hoping for a reassurance that it 'just the wind, young bluebird'. His voice hit her ears too slowly, moved through the dendrites deep within her brain at a sluggish pace. Those two words collided with the sound of the door exploding inward. The jumbled sounds combined and splintered within her as the sharpened dart sunk into Etzekax's neck.

Inali was on her feet before the dagger reached Etzekax's throat. She reached out to him, perhaps to push him away to safety. The men had rushed in the building too quickly for her to assess the situation. She found herself surrounded by them before Etzekax's body had even hit the ground. The murderers moved with perfect efficiency, blocking the door, the window, and the path into the next room. It wasn't a particularly difficult feat, given the size of the imp's home, but it did send a message. There was no escape, no way to scream her way into salvation. Her eyes flicked between the three men for a moment before Etzekax's blood touched her leather shoes. Suddenly alert, she looked down at him, noting the way his arms splayed outward. His gaping throat still leaked blood and the scent of copper filled the air.

Dread, realization, and sheer panic filled her all at once. Unconsciously, her hand reached up to cradle the delicate skin of her throat. Her other hand reached for the nel purse contained in the pocket of her dress and she threw it to the floor beside the feet of one of the men. Her voice cracked as she called out to them.

"Please don't kill me. I have more coin in my room and many other things you would find valuable. I can..."

She stopped speaking suddenly, remembering how similar the words were to her earlier conversation with Etzekax. Her voided eyes moved to his body again and she sank to her knees, allowing the man's blood to stain her dress and calves.

"Please don't kill me."

She repeated the words again, though they had lost all meaning to her. She focused only on Etzekax and the quickly cooling blood that covered the wooden floorboards. There was no real way to stop such vicious killers. Inali reached out to the man grabbed his hand and held it tightly within her own. If she was to die in Rhakros, she would not die alone.

[Djinn]

You have Chosen: Path Two

As she threw her money down, one of the assailants paused and stared at the purse. From under the hood, Inali caught the slight glowing of the man's eyes, as if he'd caught the light from the lantern. Except the lantern was behind him, casting a long shadow over the Eidisi and her hopes of survival. Without stooping to pick it up, the man turned. In a hushed, guttural tone, he spoke rapid Xanevic to the other assailants.

As he did so, the runes on the table glowed according to what the man said, the ones with Inali's blood rearranging their letters on the wood to spell out the discussion in Common. The assassin was too quick for Inali to make anything out, but the tabletop caught everything. "Take her. Bind hand and foot, and carry her to the Pit. Leave nothing behind." He seemed to be relaying instruction rather than offering it, and the others set to work.

Strangely to Inali, wizened hand she held in her own was completely still, as if Etzekax was paralyzed. It lie in her hand, stiffening in a quick rigor mortis. Her blue hands held it tightly, squeezing through the instructions that she could barely make out on the top of the table. As the rough hands of her assailant grabbed her, the hand twitched as if on instinct, falling to the floor with a dull thud when it was pried from Inali's grasp. Quickly, a rough hempen sack was dragged over her heard, and the only thing she knew was her heightened breathing, fright quickly filling the small space with her own breath. The oxygen quickly ran out, and her vision swam as she was lifted and carried from the house.
The walk to the Pit could have taken ten bits or ten breaks, and Inali would have known no difference. In the perpetual twilight of the hempen bag, time held meaning only in the length it took for her to pass out from lack of oxygen. All she knew when she awoke was the steady dripping of liquid and a frigidity that was nearly unknown in Rhakros in any part of the arc, but specifically this time. Even for the hardy Eidisi and their natural resistance to colder climes, the room was freezing. Immediately, pimples rose on her flesh, both from fear and from the chill wind.

Not far away, a voice was heard. With the pounding in her head, she could make out no intelligible words, but instead heard a familiarity in the voice that she could not place. Everything swam in front of her eyes, thoughts becoming intangible ghosts as she reached out to grasp them. Perhaps it was the Innkeeper who offered her a beetle dessert. "You must come back and try it as a thank you!" He had said. Perhaps this was his way of taking his payment.

Nonetheless, the voice faded quickly, long before Inali could prescribe it to a face she'd collected in her memory. Hollow footsteps echoed through what seemed to be a cavernous room, by the sound of it. Though that could be the echoes of Inali's head as the blood coursed through it, blurring her vision with every reverberation throughout the room. As the sound of heels on stone stopped, Inali could nearly feel the heat radiating from the other inhabitant. If she struggled, she would find herself restrained around the waist, the chest, the head, both arms and both legs. She was spread eagle on a stone dais, but was still clothed, though barely. Certainly not even to warrant the cold.

"Awake, are we?" The voice sliced through her reverie, drawing her back to the dire circumstance. The voice was colder than the room, and the Rakahi was nearly perfect. Nearly. There was something missing from it, the usual melodic tone that befit a Biqaj. Instead, it sounded heavy, as if the person speaking it had learned it, though rather adequately, long after learning to speak. His voice skidded over her skin, coming to rest like a stone on her chest, knocking the wind from her.

"Welcome to Rhakros, blueskin." With that, something scurried over her arm as if on command. She could try to recoil, but the restraints held her. "You are new to this crawling city, so let me be the first to show you our ways. The Pestilent sends Her regards." With that, a hot finger prodded her arm, and a pain she'd never felt before exploded on her bicep. The bite, for that's what it was, caused a blazing hot sting in the spot where it occurred, and caused the flesh around it to tingle from the sensation. Another slightly further up joined the first, catapulting her into a state of pain ecstasy. Her endorphins tried to fight the pain, and failed miserably. Another set of legs on her other arm caused a supernova of pain there to, sending both arms into spasms as her body attempted to fight off the debilitating tongues of agony.

"That bite that you are feeling is the native Mar Vuu beetle. In Rhakros, the Mar Vuu is known both for its insidious bite and surprisingly delicious carapace. A hint of the beetle's venom is secreted along the shell, offering a tingling saltiness and acidity to the delicacy." There was amusement in the voice, but it was not the voice of the Innkeeper. Perhaps the whole city was in on the conspiracy, and Inali was just a plaything. Or perhaps the plot was more sinister, and she kept making connections where there were none.

"But the Mar Vuu beetle is not the main attraction here. See, the torment is the symptom... I bring you the cure. The Lady of Plague has beset upon us all the task of knowing the toxins of Rhrakos... And their antidotes. One of our own has created an anesthetic that should prove most... fruitful." It was as if the torturer struggled to find the right word. In her pain, Inali didn't notice that he'd switched to Common. Were all inhabitants of the jungle city so linguistically gifted?

"This may... sting." But it didn't. By the time the man finished the sentence, the pain was gone. Miraculously, the Eidisi felt better than she ever had. Her muscles tensed with energy, her mind cleared to a clarity she'd not experienced since a girl. She could hear, taste, smell, see... She could FEEL better. She knew how porous the stone beneath her was. She could smell the three trials of sweat caked into the man's robes. She could taste the air and knew they were underground. And all of the stimuli processed at a rate that astounded even the studious Eidisi. Suddenly, she was Inali again, but a better Inali than she'd ever been.

"And now we wait." From her peripherals, the robed man sat, his hood lowered. He was young, maybe thirty arcs, and his eyes glowed slightly. Along his arms crawled red-and-black beetles, presumably the Mar Vuu. His face was frozen in a smirk of pleasure, twisted in her misery.

[Inali]

Inali knew that the coin wouldn't save her. She had known it from the second the purse left her hands, but it felt good to have a measure of control. Even if the men killed her, she would not be known as the blue-skinned girl who died terrified, in a pool of her own piss. She glanced down at the blood again and clenched Etzekax's hand tighter within her own. I won't forget you. It was a simple mantra to repeat amid the chaos. She stared at the blood and the quickly cooling corpse of the imp until the men pushed forward to drag her away. It had occurred to her that she could fight, but the energy would be needed for later, assuming there was a later. The bag was fitted over her face with the same efficiency as before and she breathed in one last gulp of the bitter air. During the first few bits, Inali tried to discern which direction the men were taking her. It was a tactic that was used by all of the wittiest heroines in the adventure novels she had read as a child. Invariably, they would commit the trip to memory and overlay it against their own mental map of the area. There would be a moment of fear, then the sudden flash of clarity. She stopped counting the footsteps when the air began to run out. Counting steps only worked when you knew the layout of the city. Inali woke to the sounds of moving water and garbled voices. A piercing headache throbbed from behind her eyelids while her left calf twitched feebly against the restraints. Her muscles ached for movement and she tested each limb in turn while she shivered against the bitter cold. Her failed efforts ended with an attempt to turn her head to one side, though she could feel the leather strap pulled tightly against her temple before she moved a single millimeter. Gritting her teeth at the unfairness of it all, the memory of Etzekax returned to her. The eidisi forced her eyes open, praying an oath to Audrae that she would not die here, not like the imp had. Loud footsteps echoed through the chamber and she shut her eyes on reflex, like a child who had been caught staying up too late. The fine muscles in her face betrayed her wakefulness and the man spoke aloud, pulling her attention away from the events of the past few breaks. He spoke of Rhakros in a cultured Rakahi accent that she couldn't place. Audrae's blessing had stolen both her fear and common sense. She replied in a biting, careless Rakahi of her own,

"The so called Pestilent can shove her damned regards down her fly ridden throat."

There was silence for a moment, and Inali was emboldened by the lack of a response. She pressed the attack, temporarily forgetting the oath that she had sworn to her patron Immortal.

"Tell me, do you feel proud when you kill old men and capture defenseless women to take down to these opulent quarters?"

For a moment, she thought herself safe. She took a few trills to bask in the pride of her insult and smiled upward, hoping that the man saw her defiance.

The response was swift, and Inali regretted each syllable of the childish retort. The sharp bite of the Mar Vuu had speared through her right bicep and down to her fingertips before the smile left her face. Her entire body seized and struggled against the restraints as fire spread ever outward. She had inhaled too quickly and the air rushed out of her as she screamed. Tears and snot streamed down her cheeks in a race to the surface of the dais as the second bite sunk into her right thigh. Inali's fingers sought the sky and her tendons screamed, but the pain in her palms was nothing compared to the agony that coursed through every vein. The man continued speaking to her. She could see his lips moving, but her own whimpers, screams, and gasps prevented any comprehension. Words rushed past her and she caught one here and there. Plague. Antidotes. Anesthetic. Antidote? Had he said anti--- A glimmer of hope filled her, but was wrenched away by a new wave of nausea and chills. He continued watching her and leaned forward. The eidisi closed her eyes and prayed once more to Audrae, this time wishing for an end to it all.

The Night Mother provided. Perhaps it was some other merciful force. There was no time for thankfulness, however, as a new sensation was already coursing through the length of her body.

The taste of copper filled her mouth. The metal coated her tongue like ash and caused her to salivate involuntarily. The Eidisi swallowed thrice, and wondered for the briefest moment, as to why she could feel the saliva moving down the length of her tongue. The sensation was too similar to that of sneezing and she felt herself swallowing over and over, reflexively trying to stop the building itch that had lodged itself deep within her throat. She coughed too, but that only made it worse.

The man spoke, and he said something about waiting, or moving. Inali didn't care. She couldn't bring herself to do anything other than focus on the feeling of ecstasy in her cheeks. The cheekbones within her face thrummed vibrantly and they were further agitated by the words that danced across her face. His words. They were perfect. She tilted her head to the right, aching for more of those precious words, searching for the elusive diatribe that would send her somewhere beyond Idalos. She tried to beg then, to ask for something, or someone to speak to her, to explain the meaning of her twitching feet, copper coated tongue, and sun touched face. Her own voice was far away and jumbled, providing none of the pleasure that his voice had, and her desire to beg faded quickly. She willed calm into her legs, but the connection to the muscles and tendons had been lost to her. Her mind struggled to catch up, tried to piece together the connections between the dendrites by force of will alone.

For the first time in her life, Inali's brain had utterly failed her. The sea between her torso and legs grew larger and she felt something like a whimper rise within her and die. She knew with complete certainty that if she did open her mouth, all of that copper-blood would come pouring out. It made more sense to simply bite down on her lower lip. That would fix it, as her focal point was there, directly beneath her cheeks. She ached to run her fingers across her face and her slender hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly at the thought. The first droplets of blood welled up on her lips and she smiled broadly, causing them to cascade down her chin. Her scalp tingled pleasantly at the feeling of the moving blood. It no longer mattered that she couldn't feel her legs. Something within her warned her that her stomach was beginning to dissolve in that same acid, but she cared not for the proclamation. Her reply came in the form of images. A careless spider danced atop a splintered web and she craved it with ever fiber of her being. Another image melted into view while submerging the spider in a sea of black-blue. It was a kaleidoscopic version of her own visage, staring blankly forward with glowing white eyes. She begged the spider with her newfound telepathy. Bite me. Sink your fangs into the meat of my cheeks. The spider ignored her and continued his jig, legs skittering across the quickly disintegrating web. Inali was content to beg the spider or to wait for that voice to visit her once more.

[Djinn]

No voice came.

The silence was cold and bitter, but Inali's body soared in sunslight and clouds. The dancing spider scuttled from her view, going to find greener pastures or grayer corners. From her place on the table, though, Inali could see no gray corners. The room was a sunburst of colors, each richer and more radiant than the last. The restraints holding her arms and feet no longer felt like manacles, but like the gentle kiss of a snowflake on her cheek, the first of the winter. She smelled the sweet pages of ancient tomes, and could taste the timelessness of her predicament. Something in her bosom swelled and roiled, rolling over her like wind through a wheatfield.

As the imagery floated through her lucid brain, so too did darker, more concerning images. Far more brief than those positive images, the horror flickered through like smoke through a cracked window, slithering in to slowly fill her mind. The drug lasted for nearly nine breaks, but to Inali, it had been mere bits. The sensation dulled, though, filling her with a sense of dread and loathing at the feelings of cold and emptiness it left her with. It was desolate in her soul, barren like the wastelands of Viden, covered in frost and misery.

As quickly as the pleasure had come, so too came the pain. The bite of the Mar Vuu beetle still stung on her skin, but the agony coursing through her veins was not indicative of the beetle's toxin. Instead, the Eidisi's unique physiology reacted poorly with the antidote, and her body was quickly breaking down under the poison that coursed through her veins. Her very savior would be her demise, and all she could do was lie there and allow it to happen.

She instinctively knew, though, that the toxin was affecting her so negatively. Without any real knowledge of Eidisi anatomy outside her own personal exploration, she was able to quickly deduce that the flesh was necrotizing at an alarming rate. Also, she instinctively knew that her left arm was now free of restraint, as if she had shaken it off in her bliss. The cuff hung impotently at her side, and instead was replaced with a short athame, similar to the one used by the assailants to carve the throat of the wizened Etzekax.

The Choice Is Yours... Option One

The dagger left at your side is one of ornate make, encrusted with several sparkling emeralds and a blade of razor sharp steel. The hideous curve retains a wicked serration, but the other side would provide a clean cut, should she need it. Should Inali choose this path, she will be given the option to escape the cell, once again given the bid for freedom. The athame would make a rather convenient weapon, it would seem... This path has TWO Hidden Achievements that, should they be fulfilled, will result in a bonus at the end of the thread. There is moderate danger in this path, especially in the long term.

Or Option Two...

The free hand could have been a test by the tormentors, trying to incite her to escape. The game could be afoot, and should she try to run, they could be waiting to hunt her in the jungle... Or worse, not. Should she choose this path, she will be given the option to restrain herself again, and perhaps will be released for showing that she is not going to run. There is ONE Hidden Achievement with this path, which, should it be fulfilled, will over a significant bonus at the end of the thread. There is low to moderate danger in this path, but only immediately.

She didn't have much time, that much she knew. Would she run? Or would she stay?