Poisonous Fox

I managed to continue stumbling along most of that night.

My heading and direction were unknown, but I needed to put distance between myself and the canyons in order for my Talent Trackless Tracks to obscure me from the hundeor. After all, leaving no tracks would do me little good if they could still see me when they managed to exit the canyons.

A portion of me, a practical and ruthless portion, wondered if it would not be better to simply pick the hundeor off one by one. I could drop stones down upon them, or perhaps even tangible Illusions. If they were dead, then they would pose little threat.

But no, not only was I not a killer–

–liar–

–but I could not be certain to hit all of the hundeor before they reached me. In fact, there could be other hundeor already on the surface striving towards me to take their vengeance.

In the end, I decided my best course of action was to simply flee in a random direction, down into the lower hills, away from the canyons I had taken refuge in.

However, my pace was not quick by any means. By the time the morning came, and the assumed sun began to rise, I could still hear the hundeor on the wind, calling to each other, mourning. Rather than risk discovery, I found a cleft between gray boulders to shelter and rest in.

I found no sleep that morning.

Curled up in a ball and narrowing my profile as much as possible, I kept alert as I listened for pursuers. The hundeor searched for me. I heard them, sometimes in the distance, and sometimes near. It must not have taken them long to exit the canyons, and I assumed they were scouting the hills. But unless they were incredibly lucky to stumble upon me, or I made a foolish mistake and revealed myself, they would not find me.

And so, I waited.

After an hour of constant vigil, I began to grow weary. My eyes weighed heavily. But still, I resisted, in case I had need of a quick Illusion to cover myself, or to strike down a foe.

To keep myself awake, and to keep from wasting time, I busied myself practicing Illusions.

If the hundeor managed to get the drop on me, then I would regret expending much of my energy upon practice. But with my sharp ears, I remained confident that I would know of their approach well enough beforehand.

The first that I practiced, that seemed the most beneficial should I be forced into combat, was a tangible clone wielding a knife.

My first attempt was just as rough and misshapen as the one I had used to tackle the den mother. The tail was crooked and discolored, its clothes stiff and lacking a certain element of realism. Its fur appeared clumpy as opposed to a summation of many thousands of hairs. Its eyes were too big and too dull. The worst part of the Illusion was the knife. I ran a finger along where the edge should have been, but only found a cold surface that was both flimsy and blunt.

While turning and inspecting the Illusion, I used up all twenty seconds worth of Illusion time on the attempt, exhausting my pool, and leaving myself with a slightly worse headache.

Again, I thought.

This time I focused extensively on the knife itself. It had not improved that I could tell. I tried taking it from the clone’s hand, but the knife would not budge from the grip. When I pulled on the blade, it seemed to stretch. When I pulled on the clone’s hand, its arm stretched. It reminded me of cold taffy, slow to give, but giving all the same.

I decided that I would not succeed in taking the knife by force, and I tried having the clone open its hand to release the knife. It took a moment.

It was not as simple as providing an instruction. I had to envision it. I found it easier to imagine opening my own hand, but in the clone’s stead. My hand might have twitched as well when I tried sending the direction. I would need to address that control issue eventually.

But finally I was able to inspect just the knife on its own. Unfortunately, the twenty seconds worth of time ran out, and the clone expired. My headache only grew.

Spirit: 45 (+1)

After my energy recharged, I tried once more, this time immediately opening my clone’s hand. The knife, despite my expectations, failed to follow gravity and fall. It remained stuck to the clone’s hand. Upon closer examination, I found that there was no gap between the hilt and the palm of the hand. I tried pulling the blade once more. This time, I could see the palm deform as tension was applied.

It was a solid piece. All of the Illusion, it was just one object. The knife actually merged with flesh.

I let the Illusion expire as I thought about it. In a way, it made sense. I had struggled to create parallel Illusions in the past. If I had been able to separate the knife from the clone, then it would be two Illusions, unless I let go of one or the other. But was this a limitation of the Spell, or a limitation of my expertise?

But there was no reason for me to tackle this problem wholesale.

The next Illusion I crafted was one of just the knife. This time, it felt real, like metal. I tested the edge on my thumb, and while not razor sharp, it could still cut if enough pressure was placed on it. I used the [knife] to scratch at the boulder. It did begin to bend with undue strain, and it felt easier to disform than my utility knife did, but the fact that the [knife] felt solid at all was magical. Literally. I might have snorted at the poor attempt at humor.

I continued practicing on forming the knife, over and over. Each attempt, it became just a little more solid, and a little more acute. By my fifth attempt, I thought I might be able to shave with it. By my tenth attempt, I thought I might be able to do so without receiving razor burn. Each attempt blended into the next, again, again, and again.

Touch (5/9) (+1)

Spirit: 46 (+1)

Mind: 60 (+1)

A chuff.

Startled from my trance, I realized I had lost track of my surroundings.

I ceased to breathe and let my last Illusion drop. Replaying what I had just heard, I could have sworn it was an animalistic exhale. Very cautiously, I looked around my surroundings. They had yet to spot me, or if they had, they had yet to assault me, at the very least. I assumed it had been the hundeor that I had heard.

“Illusion.”

I cast a [Chameleon] around me. It had improved since my initial inception of it, but not by enough to truly hide me, at least not under the light of day and exposed, out in the open. Still, better than nothing, I thought.

Another chuff. Nearby, but also faint.

Were they waiting for their brethren to arrive to assault me? I could not think of another reason that they would solicit themselves nearby without actually trying to attack me. I expected that they had noticed me while I had been entranced by my practice, and that they had sent for reinforcements. I absolutely needed to know what I was dealing with.

And so, very slowly, very softly, I crept forward to peer around the edge of the boulder.

No hundeor was in sight.

The chuff came again, but this time joined by another sound, a scraping, and what might have been a chitter. It was coming from close. Where were they? Were they playing games with me? No, that made no sense.

The sound was coming from up above.

I scanned the rocks above me. No sign of hundeor there either.

This was unusual, even for hundeor. Not that I would make myself to be an expert on their behavior.

Convinced that something was afoot, I circled the nearest boulders and climbed a ways up a hill to gain a better vantage. I finally spotted the source of the noise. A small mammal was scraping lichen and snails off of the boulder I had been resting under. It had four legs, and looked almost like a gray teddy bear. A marmot.

My Illusion expired, and my head pounded. I grew somewhat dizzy. At some point during my practice, my headache had morphed into a full on migraine. I went back to sitting down in the shade, drinking water, and I avoided practicing again until my headache subsided.

Not completely unproductive, however, as I did check the map.

Likely, the map would be the only way I could survive given my wounds. The one going through my shoulder continued to puss and the rancid scent had only grown worse. Even if I did find medical attention, I felt unsure of my survival. But still… I had to try. I had promised that much.

So after unrolling the map, I tried to find the nearest population center that might be able to assist me.

Whoever illustrated the map spent more time adding artful flourishes than valuable detail. They had failed to add any legend or cardinal direction, so that I could not even be sure which direction was north or south on the map… if this world even had such concepts. I felt certain that they must. I had trouble imagining a scenario where the inhabitants found another way to navigate, but I supposed it might have been possible.

But given that the map lacked much that I would have otherwise desired, there was still much value to be found. For instance, the map appeared to be focused on the Underside of the Middens Empire, at least according to its title.

I scanned what I thought were populating centers. And while I could not be certain, I felt that the most detail would be spent drawing where people lived, especially if those people would be potential buyers for said artistic map.

On the farthest corner, a city of many walls had been built around an assumed oasis. It had several layers of walls from the art, as well as many large buildings that were either artistic interpretation of keeps, or crude sky-scrapers. It could go either way from as far as I could tell. The city, if indeed it was a city, was labeled ‘Bath.’

Considering the oasis it had been built around, it seemed a sensible name. If I had found an oasis in this hellscape, I would have built a city around it as well.

But knowing that this was a marker for a city, I could infer several others based upon this. For from Bath extended a thick and long line bisecting the map. As the line appeared to follow the topography, I decided the line was likely a road, and a well traveled one at that. At the far end from Bath, was another city, though drawn much smaller than Bath. This second city featured a large bridge that went off map, and the city’s name was Southbridge.

I felt certain I had heard mention of it, so it was likely closer to where I was than Bath.

However, I still had difficulty deciding where I was on the map, for the wastes were fairly generic and I could not be certain how accurate the mountains and canyons were on the map.

I did note that parts of the land were more shattered than others, and I thought I was likely in one of the more shattered areas.

Then it occurred to me. The map’s previous owners were bandits with a sizable encampment. Likely, they would have marked themselves upon the map, or at least places of relevance to them. So spreading out from Southbridge, I looked for aftermarket additions, or marks that failed to match the style and weight of the rest of the map.

I quickly found one. Then another. And then, another.

Apparently the previous owners had left plenty of markings along the map, near the major roads, near Southbridge, and a few further out into the more difficult to traverse areas.

Knowing that I had not seen any roads yet, and that I was likely in one of those difficult to traverse areas, I narrowed down the potential areas I was in by a substantial amount. One of two areas. One was on the left side of the road, and one on the far far right side. Both were near mountains and rough shattered looking terrain.

Unfortunately, I was unable to narrow it down further. I was forced to take my best guess. I tried lining up what I had seen with the map the best I could, and I maybe thought I was on the left side of the road, heading towards it, with the canyons between me and the encampment.

By that time, it was getting closer to the afternoon. I forced myself to eat a raw tuber, and I took sips of water, hoping to conserve at least some of it, but knowing that I likely would be unable to.

Since I had not heard the hundeor approach any closer, other than the false scare caused by the marmot, I decided to do my best to take a nap and recover some of my energy. That night, I set out, heading in what I wanted to call an Easterly direction, towards what I hoped was the road.

There were no further incidents while I recovered that afternoon, and that evening I set out once more. As I still was unsure of the hundeor’s last location, even under the cover of darkness I still kept to the cracks and crannies, always keeping an object to my side to break my outline. It made travel last longer, but given my physical state, I had little choice.

I traveled all through the night. I constantly found my path obstructed by crevasses or cliff faces, which was likely exacerbated by my strategy of keeping near rough terrain.

Body: 58 (+1)

Come morning, I felt I had run a marathon, and I had difficulty feeling my left arm. As daylight broke, I collapsed in the shade of a cleft, and I began to shiver uncontrollably. I felt incredibly cold. But was also sweating profusely, which was of course ill-advised, given the shortage of water.

Unable to rest in my current condition, I went back over the map, trying to find any of the hills I had seen on the map. I found a couple possibilities, but it was all too inexact to know for sure.

I needed to rest though, if I were to continue the next evening. I tried my best. I really did. I tossed and turned and curled around my bag and tail. The shivering never ceased. The only comfort I found was in the last of my bottled spirits.

That night, I set out again. This time I took a straighter course, to keep from getting turned around. It had been hard enough keeping my heading the night before. I set a distant rise as my guiding mark on the horizon and I set off.

After I had been walking for some time, I began to grow delirious. Or perhaps, even more delirious than I had been prior. I thought that I might have seen strange green creatures from the corner of my eye. But when I looked, I saw nothing. It was a distant problem. All I needed to do was focus on my guiding mark, my anchor, and keep walking, one foot, then the other.

Another day. My fever grew worse. I trembled and began digging through my bag, looking for anything that could abate the suffering. I drank the last of my water. I ate the tubers until I gagged. The food of this world tasted so foul!

Towards midday, I awoke from a nightmare. I thought that I heard a clickety clacking, reminiscent of high tension wires, or the wind blowing through a bamboo forest. I saw nothing around me, though there were some very curious scents. Ones that reminded me of yellow and curiosity.

Mind: 61 (+1)

A migraine drove me back under.

The sky was dark by the time I awoke. I was unsure how much of the night I had wasted. My health had continued to decline. I smelled sick and rank, and that was ignoring the rotting. My temperature had continued to spike, which left me feeling far too cold.

If I were to survive, then I would need to continue. Working myself up to actually move took some time and internal pep talking, but I did eventually arise. The penalties for failing to do so were far too dire.

And so, I continued onward. Objects continued moving in the peripherals of my vision. But that failed to matter, so long as I continued on my headings. So long as I did that, then I would be saved. Maybe. Hopefully. Possibly.

My breathing labored.

I saw a flash of green. When I looked, I thought I saw a green human covered in flowers and vines. While it did not speak, the scent I caught from it was a mixture of curiosity and impressed with a mixture of yellow.

Mind: 62 (+1)

A stabbing pain near the base of my skull left me cringing and cowering down. When I got back up, other than a trace impression of concern, the creature was gone.

An hallucination. For all the impact the creature had, it might as well have been, even if it had been real.

I continued onward.

Sometime later, the sky brightened. I scanned my surroundings, then the map. I tried to understand where I was. But I felt dizzy and tired. Concentrating proved impossibly difficult. I doubted I could survive much longer. I needed to find help. I needed to reach the road. I decided to take the risk and travel by daylight, to press on.

I continued trudging forward, only occasionally stumbling.

What felt like an eternity passed, just one foot after another, step after step, again and again, and I just had to keep continuing on towards my guiding marker right there on the–

A jolt of dread traced down my spine and knocked me from my reverie.

I was unable to locate the guiding marker I had been using. Where was it? I scanned my surroundings, but could not find it. Which meant I had lost it some time ago. Which meant I had gone off course.

I cursed myself. But no, good girls never–

I don’t care what good girls do! I screamed to myself.

For I had lost my direction. I was lost. The map was worthless. I was going to die.

Despairing, I collapsed to my knees. After all this effort, this would be how I died. Almost humorous.

The scent was calming. A musky scent, carrying concern along with something more, a complex undertone. Taken as a whole, it was meant to comfort me. I thought. A weight pressed against me. I jostled and swayed. When I cracked my eyes open, I was looking up at what certainly must have been a dream.

It was an odd cow-like humanoid, but vines grew into its flesh and skin, while tendrils flexed along its exterior. The clicking sound was from these tendrils as they slipped over each other with its movement.

My head still hurt, along with everything else, but the pain had fractionally abated. The scents were interesting. It was almost a song. They changed over time. Soothing.

Mind: 64 (+2)

I found myself drifting off once more, leaning into the creature’s chest as it carried me.

It was evening when I awoke. I found myself on a rise. The creature had vanished, leaving me on an uncomfortable bed of stone. My back felt cramped. My mouth tasted odd, sweet with sour afternotes. I licked my lips, and found hints of the same flavor.

I had been fed something in my sleep. I had no recall of it. I might have been drugged, as revulsive as the idea seemed.

What the creature’s motivations were: unknown.

I patted down my things. Or where my things should have been. I began going over myself more frantically, then looking around.

It was missing.

My bag was gone!

But if it had meant to rob me, then why had it carried me here? So many things failed to add up.

I needed to determine where ‘here’ was. I began surveying my surroundings. As I glanced down the steeper side of the slope, my heart leapt.

There were wagons. A road. People.

A laugh broke my lips as I started down the hill towards them.

While I was descending, perhaps carelessly, a piece of slate slid out from under me, and I ended up crashing to the ground then tumbling down the scramble.

Embarrassing, yes.

But at the time, all I could do was yelp and whimper and try to protect my injured side as I rolled.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 58 (+1)

Mind: 64 (+5)

Spirit: 46 (+2)

Talents:

Athleticism (3/9):

Climbing I (1/9)

Featherlight (1/9)

Stealth (8/9)

Trackless Tracks (5/9)

Eschiver (1/9)

Evasion (3/9)

Spells:

Illusion I (2/9)

Touch (5/9) (+1)

Closed

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (2/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)