Chapter 10
The longer they spend in the desolate, blighted village they’ve stumbled on, the more uneasy Orochimaru finds himself.
Moss and ivy sprout between the cracks in the cobblestones and the broken down buildings, busted carts full of rotting food and moldy clothes set up as if someone is still going to come pick them up.
It’s as if the village had been abandoned in a great rush, with people fleeing with whatever they could carry and leaving the rest to be slowly reclaimed by nature.
Orochimaru plays with a loose strand of his hair as he ponders the situation.
“It looks like this village has been abandoned for a good while- do you suppose that was the goblins’ doing?”
“Hard to say. Maybe they left before. Maybe they all got slaughtered by someone totally different, and the goblins just took over the ruins.”
“There are enough corpses to support that theory.”
Astarion stretches out like a lazy cat, reaching his arms out toward the sun.
“I wonder if that old apothecary over there has something that might be of use.”
Orochimaru perks up, wondering if perhaps some herbs or perhaps medical texts would still be kicking around the remains.
(Of course, he can’t read any of the texts in this strange new frontier. But he can have his vampire friend translate for him if he nags him enough, he’s sure.)
The door falls off his hinges and hits the ground with a dull thud as they enter the dusty space, daylight streaming through the gaps in the windows.
There’s some herbs and other medicinal type things still on the shelves, still untouched and still appearing to be usable.
Orochimaru gathers them up- some of them look familiar enough, so he should be able to figure out what to do with them easily enough.
Astarion curses as he trips over a long forgotten trap door.
“What the hells-”
“Hm? Interesting.”
Orochimaru grabs the latch and pulls- to his surprise, it opens without issue.
“Is this normal in apothecaries around here?”
“Not particularly, no.”
Astarion glares at Orochimaru as he stares into the abyss with intrigue.
“We’re not going down there, are we?”
“You don’t have to. I am.”
With that, Orochimaru climbs down the rickety ladder, marveling that it doesn’t snap under his weight.
With a groan and much complaining under his breath, Astarion follows behind.
“Ugh, it smells like a crypt down here.”
Astarion isn’t wrong. It smells like dust and neglect and things left to fester for far too long.
“Interesting. Someone was plotting something down here, that much is certain.”
Empty bottles and vials with the remnants of their contents crusted on the insides of the glass litter the place, along with notes and diagrams in atrocious handwriting.
“Now, what on earth was this stranger hiding?” Orochimaru muses, rifling through the bottles and notes and pilfering anything that might be useful.
(Waste not, want not, after all. He can figure out how to read these in due time.)
Despite complaining all the way, Astarion joins him in exploring, eventually finding a switch that, with some effort, he flips.
A secret door opens with a great creak, revealing yet another opening into a dusty, dark cavern with only a few flickering torches along the walls.
“Whoever lived here, they certainly like their secrets.”
Coffins. Old, dusty coffins smelling like mildew and neglect.
“I didn’t think apothecaries doubled as morgues, but maybe small villages do that,” Astarion mutters, mostly to himself. “I wonder if there’s anything interesting.”
“Oh go right ahead, don’t let me stop you from having your fun.”
Orochimaru kicks one of the caskets open, peering into the inside.
A giant rock. A rusted knife. A busted shovel. And a scroll of something or other.
He picks the scroll up and holds it out toward his companion.
“Indulge me- what on earth is this?”
“Hm?”
Astarion takes the scroll from Orochimaru’s hands, unraveling it and reading the runes that look like nonsense to him.
“Ah, this is just a scroll of quasit summoning, nothing that important.”
“A what now?”
“A quasit. Small, hideous little beasts that get used as familiars.”
“Something like a summon, then…”
Orochimaru takes the scroll back, squinting at it and hating that he can’t read it.
“Well, what does it say then?”
“ Ex textura, ” Astarion answers, as if it were trivial. “I suppose you can give it a go, but be warned, those beasts smell, and they’re prone to biting.”
So do you, Orochimaru wants to say, but he bites his tongue.
He trips a bit over the incantation, but he gets it close enough that the scroll lights up, and a sulfurous cloud erupts in the air.
“Oh shit-piddling toe rag!” a shrill voice declares, emitting from a small, horned creature with a wicked set of claws. “Illy never summon Shovel! Never feed Shovel! Now call Shovel?! Bah!”
“Well you’re an…interesting creature,” Orochimaru mutters.
“Wait,” the quasit says, cocking its head in puzzlement. “You’re not Illy.”
“I’m not. Who’s Illy?”
“My master. Tall. Skinny. Prick with ears.”
“Can’t say I’ve seen him.”
The creature scratches its head, then its backside, contemplating its situation.
“So. You’re Shovel’s master now. Fine.”
“I told you they were hideous,” Astarion grumbles. If the creature hears it, it doesn’t comment.
“...Your name is Shovel?” Orochimaru has to ask.
“Master Illy calls me Shovel.” the creature says. “Don’t like it? Change it.”
“Hm.”
Orochimaru glances around the dim area- rotting coffins, old wicker baskets- nothing much interesting to name a pet.
(Or…whatever this monster is.)
Well, since its old master saw fit to call it Shovel-
“-Is Basket okay?”
The creature mulls it over for a moment, then does a small sort of dance in happiness.
“Basket? Yes- basket is fun! Baskets hold babies- my favorite!”
It scampers toward Orochimaru eagerly.
“So, what first, Master? Gutting the locals? Raising the dead? Making them walk? Making them scream ?!”
Such an interesting creature…
At least Hidan should be amused by it, anyway.
“As a matter of fact,” Orochimaru muses, scratching his chin and smiling at the strange beast, “I’ve got quite a bit of murder in mind- maybe a bit of pillaging after, if the mood is right.”
“YES!!” Basket squeals excitedly. “Master is fun! More fun than Illy!”
Strange creature. Maybe too small to be of much use, but its claws are wickedly sharp, and it seems willing enough. He can probably find some way to make it worth his time.
…If nothing else, maybe he can throw it at some goblins as a distraction.
“Illy only cares about the book! Book this, book that, bah! Boring!”
“What book are you talking about?”
“Oh, fun! Master will enjoy this- talk to the mirror! And remember- Balsam is good for burns!” Basket says, with a cheeky smile.
The mirror.
Orochimaru looks around and spies what the creature was talking about- an ornate but old mirror, covered in a thick layer of dust and grime from ages of neglect.
Interesting.
Orochimaru isn’t a stranger to speaking to inanimate objects, but this feels a bit silly even to him. Nevertheless, he steps up to it and stands before the glass, with Astarion lingering close behind.
Within the mirror, a face flickers into view, and it speaks in a stuttery voice like it hasn’t used it in quite awhile.
“Spe-ak your na-me,” it demands.
“Uh- Orochimaru.”
“I do not kno-w this na-me. If you are kno-wn to my mas-ter, step forwa-rd, and dec-la-re yourself an all-y.”
He and Astarion blink at each other for about thirty seconds.
“I’m not about to be ordered around by a looking glass,” Orochimaru growls. “Whatever you’re hiding, spit it out or I’ll break you into a thousand pieces.”
There’s a silence, then the glass dissolves away into nothingness, revealing a cluttered room beyond it.
“...I suppose that solves that,” Astarion shrugs. “We sure showed that pane of glass who’s boss.”
“Did you have a better idea for getting in?”
“I never said I did.”
They step through the mirror’s ornate frame, into what must have been an office, but has long ago fallen out of use.
“The book is right in here!” Basket says, scurrying into the room. “Uh- somewhere. I forget where Illy put it.”
“What’s so special about this book, anyway?”
“Not sure. Illy could never get far in it- it kept fryin’ his brainhole.”
“Now this is something I've got to see,” Astarion giggles.
Orochimaru has to admit, if only to himself, that his curiosity is piqued as well.
Despite the office (laboratory?) being long abandoned, neither of them can shake the feeling they’re being watched.
Astarion elbows Orochimaru in the ribs and gestures toward a barred, locked cage structure with some kind of pedestal inside.
“If I were going to stash a dangerous book, I think it’d be in something like that, don’t you think?”
“I would say so.”
They approach the barred door cautiously; both of them know that there must be some sort of catch or trick, but it’s as if something is whispering to them from just beyond, beckoning them closer.
“Hold on-”
Astarion throws out his arm to keep Orochimaru from stepping on a brass plate on the floor, eyeing it warily.
“Someone doesn’t like visitors.”
He kneels down to look the plate over, running his fingers along the edge of it carefully and muttering to himself.
“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“Hm? A way around this little trap, yes. I’d rather not get blown up today.”
While Astarion fidgets with that, Orochimaru looks over at his quasit companion.
“Those coffins,” he says. “Who- what- is in them?”
“The butcher. The baker. The candlestick maker. Master Illy finds them. Cures them. Then they die. Then he raises them! Necromancer, your kind call him. Fun, I call him!”
Orochimaru ponders the tiny creature and the strange things it says.
“So there are people in this world who have mastery over the dead?” he asks.
“Ooh yes!” Basket declares. “Make dead dance! Make them make more dead! You should get the book, the book will show you if you can finish it!”
“If?”
“Master Illy was always horny for the book. Tried to read the book and it ate his fingers like sausages!” Basket squeals. “Bony little sausages- crunchcrunchcrunch!”
Intriguing.
“There we go- after you, my friend.”
Astarion stays a good distance back, just in case there’s a trap or a trick he missed. Orochimaru approaches the book standing on a long-abandoned podium, as if it’s waiting for him.
It looks like it’s bound in human flesh, its cover a face contorted in a permanent scream. Orochimaru picks it up and looks it over, looking for any sort of keyhole or way to open the heavy tome.
Whatever it is, it’s definitely gotten Astarion’s attention.
“...Why don’t you let me carry that for you?” he asks, in that twitchy, nervous sort of way like he knows something he doesn’t want to share; he holds out his hand eagerly, unconsciously giving away that, whatever this book is, he wants it very badly.
Orochimaru could probably say no, or at least demand to know why he wants it so desperately, but he doesn’t really see a point, so he holds it out.
(It’s not like he can read whatever’s in it, anyway.)
“I can’t get it open,” he remarks, giving Basket a pointed look. “Do you know anything about that?”
“Oh you gotta put the crystal in the mouth hole!” Basket informs them, as if it’s a stupid question.
“Crystal? Where would that be?”
“Dunno. Illy took it with him when he went to the creepy crawlers’ place in the well.”
The well. The strange, dry well in the middle of this crumbling village.
“We should look for it, since we’re here anyway.”
Astarion is perhaps a bit too eager for this as he snatches the book out of Orochimaru’s hands.
Even now, with the book safely shut, they can hear whispers from between its pages.
Whatever secrets it's hiding, Orochimaru wants them so badly it's like an itch in the palms of his hands.
But he has to be patient. For now, at least.
“Oi, here’s where those so-called Paladins are supposed to be holing up in. Figures they'd try to hide in a toll house of all places."
Karlach is practically vibrating with the eagerness for violence, hand curling around her battleax and fire in her eyes.
“Alright, let’s fuck shit up then.” Hidan says, his blood already humming with the promise of murder.
“I like your attitude, buddy!”
Wyll seems…quite a bit less eager, but willing to fight if it means some ne’er-do-wells get punished.
The closer they get, the more Karlach’s cheerful demeanor melts away, replaced by something halfway between rage and panic. Her hands twitch as they curl around her weapon, and he can feel the heat pouring off her has the engine in her chest glows white from the pent-up energy.
(He wonders how she can live like that- it seems like it must be horribly painful, and that huge zipperlike scar splitting her from sternum to navel makes him think the installation wasn’t pleasant.)
Hidan wonders for a moment, as they stand in front of the door to what used to be a toll house, whether he should knock before making his entrance.
After that moment is past, he decides fuck it and kicks the door open with a flourish.
The small group of people holed up inside the abandoned toll house go rigid and totally silent.
“Who are you?!” the tallest man who seems to be the leader demands. “Why did you bring her here?!”
“Cause she said there were some asses that need kicking- and whenever there’s asses that need kicking, that’s usually my job.”
For a moment, the four people holed up in this shithole pretend to be afraid.
Then, the man at the desk sneers at them.
"Poor Karlach. Latches on to the first people to show kindness, and it won't even help her."
He picks up a giant sword from seemingly nowhere, pointing it square at Hidan.
“You came a long way just to die!” the so-called paladin declares, brandishing his sword in a warning.
Hidan whistles, eyeing the impressive weapon with a smirk.
“That’s one giant fuckin’ sword you got there, buddy. You compensating for your tiny dick or do you just like feelin’ like a bigshot?”
The man howls in indignant rage and swings the blade- it finds its mark and slices Hidan’s shoulder deep.
He reels backward from the force of the blow, cursing loudly as he pries the metal from his flesh.
The man watches in horror as, as soon as the sword is free from his shoulder, the wound starts to knit itself shut, the split-open flesh binding itself together without so much as a scar left behind.
“Wanna try that one again?” he asks, holding his arms out to goad him. “Come on, I’ll give ya another free shot! Fuckin’ hit me!”
The man looks horrified, but gathers his nerve and strikes out again, this time getting Hidan in the side.
“Soldier!”
Karlach catches him as he staggers backward, still grinning maniacally. Wyll seems frozen in place, slack-jawed in horror.
“What the hells are you-”
“Don’t even worry about me- and I told ya not to fuckin’ call me soldier.”
“W-what the hell are you?!” the paladin demands, shaking from head to toe as Hidan heals before their very eye, the split-open flesh binding itself back together without even a scar left behind.
“Not a bad hit,” he remarks. “But honestly if you wanna off someone you gotta aim lower. If you get a guy in the liver it does a lot more damage y’know.”
With a gleeful grin and a flourish too quick for any of them to see, the behemoth sword is in his hands, with the others staring at him in wide-eyed horror.
“Now as fun as this weird shit is, I kinda promised the lady here I’d take you out, and I’d hate for you to make a liar outta me.”
He looks over at Wyll with a gleeful grin.
"You good to go?"
"I suppose I am."
Between the three of them, these so-called Paladins don't stand much of a chance. Not the least of which being Karlach's blinding, red-hot rage as she swings around that wickedly sharp ax of hers.
Their blood is warm and red and sharp and so wonderfully familiar in this alien landscape. Hidan only hopes he's doing a good enough job pretending to not be totally enthralled with it that he doesn't freak out his new friends.
If he was worried about that though, he doesn't have to be for long.
Fire pours off Karlach, igniting the toll house as she runs around like a madwoman, screaming and howling as she swings her ax at anything upright.
The smell of burning wood and charred flesh fills the air, choking and horrible.
"You want me, Zariel?! Come and get me!! I'm not fuckin' goin' back!"
"Hey hey hey hey be careful!" Wyll implores, reaching out to try to grab her before realizing that's a terrible idea.
Karlach doesn't seem to hear him, so he and Hidan make a quick exit out of the toll house while she vents her frustration.
Hidan coughs nervously, and the two men glance at each other.
"...She do this a lot?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Shame. It's kinda hot."
"...Excuse me?" Wyll asks, side-eyeing him.
"Nothing!"
"Alright then..."
Once the entire building is ablaze, Karlach comes back out, breathing heavily and grinning from ear to ear.
"Sorry about that," she says, sheepishly. "I feel better, now."
"...Okay."
"It's weird- usually I'd have cooled off by now. I'm sure it's fine, though."
Hidan and Wyll look over at each other again, and decide it's best to just shrug it off, and leave the building to burn.