the blade of frontiers
Another day gone, and still it seems they’re no closer to resolving their problem. All they have is some drama threatening the Druid’s grove, and the confusion of knowing they should already be changing, but haven’t yet.
Riddles on riddles. And not an answer to be found. The clock constantly ticking, but all of them far too tired to do much about it until they rest.
Gale does his best to make everyone a good meal to lift their spirits, but there’s only so much scrounged up ingredients can do to lighten the mood.
Itachi pokes at his dinner, though he isn't very hungry, hoping he puts on a good enough act that Gale doesn’t notice his lack of appetite and start to worry about him.
His body aches terribly, and nobody says much at all.
Their gloomy silence is broken by three short, careful barks.
Itachi’s head snaps upward. The white dog’s tail wags low to the ground, slowly, cautiously. His ears flick back and forth, and he licks his muzzle in worry.
“Scratch.”
Itachi holds his arm out, hand outstretched toward the dog in an invitation.
He doesn't smile, but he has an air about him like he's happy to see the animal.
“Glad you could make it.”
Scratch approaches him, tail lifting up and wagging a bit faster.
“I’m sorry about what happened to your person.”
Scratch whines, low and mournful.
“Master…” he whimpers. “...Friend. I stayed with him until I- well, until I knew he was gone.”
He pushes his head into Itachi’s outstretched hand, eager to be petted.
“I’ll never forget him, but I’m glad I met you. Is it alright if I stay?”
Itachi nods, offering the remainder of his dinner to Scratch, which the dog eagerly takes.
“Yo!” Hidan shouts out of the blue, with his mouth still full.. “Where’d the weird pasty-faced fucks go, anyway? Thought we all agreed to be back here by dark?”
As if summoned by his words, Astarion limps his way into camp, cursing under his breath with Orochimaru close behind him.
“What the hells did you get yourselves into?” Shadowheart sighs, getting up to look them over.
“Just a little bit of treasure hunting,” Orochimaru reassures them. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Our lives are in danger, and you’re out there looking for treasure?”
“It’s not just some bauble. It’ll be useful.”
“For your sake, I hope you’re right,” Shadowheart sighs, setting to work healing his injuries first.
“You’re damn right, Astarion growls. “We had to fight a lot of giant spiders for that godsdamned book. Not to mention the bloody ettercaps…”
“But did you die?” Orochimaru asks, with an annoyed huff.
Astarion only rolls his eyes in response.
“I’ll poke around in it more before turning in for the night. Maybe it will even have some insight into our little friends.”
Nobody cares enough to question them any further, so they settle in so Orochimaru can eat and Astarion can take his turn to get healed up.
Despite Shadowheart’s show of annoyance, she does her job well enough, putting them right as if they hadn’t ever been injured.
“Healing magic doesn't usually work on vampires,” she remarks, as she patches him up.
“So I’ve heard- never really been in a position to find out.”
“I wonder if the tadpole has anything to do with it?”
“Who knows? Everything is so very strange already, I try not to question it too much.”
“Be careful once we get them removed, then.”
As amusing as that conversation is, Kisame wanders off to find more cheerful company.
Of course, that’s a rare commodity these days, and the best he can find is Lae’zel, sharpening her sword while shooting wicked looks at someone else.
Maybe Lae’zel didn’t expect anyone to catch her glaring, but Kisame does anyway. And maybe she didn’t want anyone to ask about it, but he can’t help himself.
“Got somethin’ on your mind?”
She gives him a dirty look for a moment, before redirecting her attention to whatever it is she’s angry at.
Kisame follows her eyes; her gaze lands on Itachi, who’s quietly doting over the dog, checking him over for injuries and making sure he’s eaten enough.
“I don’t understand.”
“The dog? Or Itachi?”
“I don’t get why he’s so keen on keeping that creature. It doesn’t seem well suited to combat, nor suited to carrying supplies, and it is far too bony to make a decent meal. What is the point of such an animal?”
“Strays have to look out for other strays, I guess,” Kisame answers, shrugging his broad shoulders. “He probably just wants the company. Why does it bother you?”
Arms folded, Lae’zel’s mouth presses itself into a tight line.
“Githyanki have a word for people like him,” she says.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“ She'lak,” she says. “In your tongue, it would mean something like do-gooder- or, more directly, benevolent burden . He and that Blade of Frontiers are the same in that regard.”
“Yeah? What gets someone that title?”
“Sacrificing oneself for a worthy cause is to be admired,” Lae’zel explains. “But throwing yourself in front of every blade and arrow that threatens a stranger will only waste your time and energy. People like that never last long.”
She looks up to see Itachi glaring at her, and falls quiet- evidently she didn’t expect to be overheard.
He turns his head away, staring into the campfire.
“That’s what my clan used to say about me.” he says, voice totally level. “A few of them even muttered about doing me in, because I was a sickly waste of time, anyway- they thought it would be doing me a favor. No matter what I achieved. No matter how hard I tried or what I accomplished, it was never good enough for them. I was never, ever good enough for them. Too soft. Too weak.”
Black eyes turn scarlet in an unspoken warning.
“They’re gone now. All of them. But I’m still here. I think that speaks for itself.”
He stands up and walks away without saying anything more, Scratch following at his heels.
Kisame's eyes flit from his retreating form to Lae'zel, wondering if she'll be angry.
After a silence that lasts far too long, the corners of her thin lips quirk up in a simulacrum of a smile.
“I suppose he has a bit of bite to him, after all.”
“More than a bit. He just doesn’t show it unless he needs to.”
“So it would seem. I will have to keep a closer eye on him from now on.”
“You should. You might even end up liking him, you know- not the worst thing, if we're going to be stuck together."
"Hm."
She may have been about to say something else, but out of nowhere Wyll lets loose an uncharacteristic string of curses.
“Hells-” he mutters. “She’s coming…”
“What? Who’s she? What’s going on?”
A swirling, pitch-black vortex opens up in the ground. Then, fire starts to spiral around, faster and faster, until a figure shoots up in the middle of camp.
When the fire dies away, a beautiful woman with long, wickedly sharp horns and a set of leathery, bat-like wings grins, looking down her nose at all of them.
“Well, well, well, Wyll,” she scolds, wagging her finger at him. “You’ve been a very naughty boy.”
She has the air of nobility about her- the sort of haughty, better-than-you aura of someone who is well used to being in control.
“Wait, who's the hot chick?!" Hidan demands. "You know her?!"
“Oh, you flatterer. If I had a heart I’m sure it would be aflutter.” the new arrival scoffs, with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Wyll flinches when she looks over at him again.
“You didn’t tell your new friends about me? I’m hurt.”
The others gather around, donning confused expressions.
“My name is Mizora. You could call me Wyll’s handler. And his leash-”
She closes her hand around air and pulls, as if tugging on an invisible rope. Wyll chokes, dragged close to her while she sneers down at him.
“-Needs a yank. ”
Wyll clutches at his neck, trying to get words out, but unable to.
When Mizora speaks again, the mirth is gone from her voice.
“You were told exactly what to do, pet. And yet Karlach still lives.”
Wyll manages to pull himself free.
“You said devils only!” he spits, between gasps of air. “She’s a tiefling, not a monster!”
“Claus G, section nine,” Mizora says, in a chipper, businesslike tone. “Targets shall be limited to the soulless, the heartless, and the infernal. Karlach qualifies, I promise you that.”
“You’re wrong! She’s-”
“-Get away from him!” Karlach snaps, getting between him and Mizora and brandishing her battle ax at him.
“Ah, there you are. Zariel says hello.”
It’s only Wyll’s silent urging that keeps Karlach from lunging at her.
“So hostile- it’s almost as if you aren’t happy to see me.”
“I’ve taken more pleasant shits than you, Mizora!” Karlach spits. “At least those can be buried afterward.”
“Oh, Karlach- that’s no way for a lady to talk.”
“Can ya get to the fuckin’ point or are you just here to be annoying?” Hidan asks, stepping between the woman and his newfound compatriots.
“Ah, yes. The point. Thank you for the reminder.”
With a little wave of her hand, a ring of fire springs up around Wyll. He bites his lip and tries to look brave, though it's obvious he's terrified.
Tendrils of fire wrap around him, pulling him downward before he even has the chance to cry out.
There’s a brief interlude, before screaming the likes of which none of them have ever heard before ring out all around them, harsh and inescapable, like the hells have been unleashed in their camp.
Then, as abruptly as it started, he’s dumped back out, dark skin cast in a reddish tint, and a curled pair of horns growing from his head.
It takes a moment for Wyll to come back to himself, but when he does he feels around, groping at the horns and his newly-sprouted tail while becoming increasingly more panicked.
“What have you done-”
“-A promise broken. A price paid. I think it suits you, pet.”
Mizora looks gleefully spiteful, clapping her hands together happily.
“Get used to the new form. Some magic even I can’t undo.”
She seems satisfied with her handiwork, so she waves at them as she starts to fade.
“Oh, and Wyll, darling? Our pact still stands.”
Mizora blows a kiss at him, smirking all the while.
“Ta-ta for now.”
Just like that, as suddenly as she'd arrived, she's gone.
Hidan cocks his head to one side, then the other. He puts his hands on his hips and looks around the camp,
“...Well that was kinda fucked up, wasn't it?” he mutters.
Wyll stumbles to the nearest fallen tree so he can sit down. He buries his head in his hands, sighing heavily in defeat.
Karlach approaches him, sitting beside him but not close enough to touch him.
“...I can't believe you stuck your neck out for me like that,” she says. “Nobody's ever done that for me. Thank you."
Perhaps it's cold comfort to say that, but Wyll takes it as comfort nonetheless He musters up the feeblest of smiles.
“I don’t regret it, so I’m glad you appreciate it.”
“Appreciate it? I’d hug you if I wouldn’t scorch your skin off! Gods, I was so worried when she showed up- I thought for sure that would be the end of me…”
Nobody else dares to say anything, for fear of invoking Karlach’s anger or spoiling the moment between the two of them.
It lasts until, at last, Astarion clears his throat.
“So,” he says, awkwardly. “Does anybody else have any huge, life-altering secrets they would like to share with the group?”
“I think that’s quite enough excitement for one evening,” Gale replies, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Now uh- there’s still plenty of food left, if anyone is still hungry. I would hate for it to go to waste!”
A few of them decide to take Gale up on the offer, but conversation is pretty much dead after that, and they spend more time picking at the food than eating it.
It’s about time for them to start turning in for bed, but the also have far too much on their minds to be able to relax enough to even think about sleep.
It seems like it’s going to be another very long night.