A single heartbeat passes as Kell considers the hand before him. Wrapped in overlapping strips of white cloth, most features of the palm and fingers are hidden from view. What would taking it mean? What about if he doesn't? Does it even matter what happens if Kell refuses? It's not like he's got any other real options, nothing that would help him find long life, anyhow.
Making up his mind, Kell nods and meets Karter's palm with his own, "I am in."
"Excellent!" Karter stiffens into a masked 'smile' as he rocks back and forth on his heels, "We'll have to retrieve a mount for you before we embark," he chuckles, running fingers through his wheat-colored hair as he shakes his head, "No matter how entertaining it might be for me, having you run alongside Nero and I isn't the brightest of ideas."
"No, it is no-" A sudden muscle spasm sends pain shooting up and down Kell's legs as his teeth snap shut with a harsh click. Smothering the wince by pressing his lips tight, Kell sucks down a sharp breath of fresh misty air as the activities of the past day and a half start catching up with him. Like someone kicked a chair leg, Kell's knee suddenly gives out from under him and pitches him forwards into a staggering stumble.
Strong, cloth-wrapped hands steady Kell's arms as Karter swiftly steps in, catching him before he can fall. Kell lifts his head to find a mask tilted slightly to the left and bright blue eyes shining with humor yet speckled with worry, "How long has it been since you last laid head to rest?" Karter quickly shakes his head, dashing any chance for Kell to respond, "Don't answer that, the truth is self-evident. You need rest and you need it now, we'll conduct our adventure when next morning comes."
"No!" The intensity in Kell's voice surprises even himself as he pulls away from Karter. Slipping free of his grasp, Kell wobbles on legs made of rubberstalk as he grits his teeth and meets Karter's eyes, "I-I can manage. I made this choice, I will see it through."
Karter stands still for a long moment, just observing Kell as he desperately tries to remain standing. A shrill whistle of wind fills their ears as salt meets blue in a heartbeat-held eternity. The lengths of unwrapped cloth about Karter's body wave as the folds of Kell's robes do likewise, their hair like twisting serpents whipping in the wind. Mist swirls about their bodies as a dark wall of lightning-coated clouds threatens the distant horizon.
A sharp snort breaks the moment with a hearty chuckle close behind. Nodding to himself, Karter wraps one of Kell's arms about his shoulders—Kell's attempts at a struggle completely disregarded—as he snakes a hand around Kell's back, providing the younger man a measure of stable mobility as he guides Kell on, "Come, succor awaits!"
"Bu-but, I am a man," Kell mumbles, his lips suddenly struggling to form the right words as Karter keeps him steady.
"A man you may be, dear cousin," Karter tilts his head in a 'smile' as he helps Kell inside, "but a true man knows when to choose for himself and when to sit back and let others do the deciding. Here's a hint," a wink escapes the mask, "this is one of those latter scenarios."
Kell falls silent as Karter bears him to a spare room with a cot and large chest as the sole furnishings. Blessedly, Karo had little to say as Karter bore Kell past, merely watching the procession with those impenetrable eyes. All the while, Kell strives to stay awake and active in a desperate attempt to convince any onlooker that he didn't need rest or anything of the sort.
The last thing Kell sees before sleeping shadows take him are his holsters dangling from a wall-mounted hook.
0~0~0
Dream Roll: 62
As far as the eye can see, from horizon to horizon, grainy dunes of pure white stretch. The sun, ever-enigmatic, beams from on high as it spills like ink across a canvas of blue. The sole blemish upon the surface of the sky is the black chevron of feathered death as it circles high overhead. Waiting, ever-present and with endless patience, the crow calls words of torment for its soon-to-be carrion feast.
"Your bones will clean our teeth!" The crow casts jeers down from on high. Nonsensical and deranged, but no less strickening for it. "Your hair will adorn our nests!"
Every fiber in Kell's body urges him to put finger to trigger and send the crows straight to hell. Every ounce of willpower musters as his hands begin to move, yet stall as motion comes at a sickeningly slow pace. Like he was swimming through a tar pit's mire, his body moves as if laden down with heavy weights.
The crow disappears in a shower of spiraling black feathers, the crack of a gunshot still echoing. Was it his finger that pulled the trigger? Was it his hand that held the gun?
Maybe, maybe not.
Kell wakes like he always does. His eyes snap open and that's it, nothing more and nothing less. There is no half-awake stumble for coffee. There is no stretch of time spent yawning. There are no bags under his eyes and there is no sleepy feeling in his mind. One moment, he's fully asleep, the next, he's fully awake.
But it was not the familiar sandstone ceiling that he woke to, and it was not the croaking of the dawn-frogs that pulled him awake. It was the shuffling of bare feet on soft wood, the gentle creaking of misapplied weight.
Soft blue eyes meet Kell's as he rolls over in his cot. A young girl, maybe ten or eleven, freezes like a thief caught in the act—her outstretched hand still creeping towards his pistols completing the picture.
"This is a dream," the young girl tries, thinking quickly on her feet, "and you should go back to sleep?"
"No, it is not," the young girl squirms as Kell's eyes stay in a steady lock-stare, "What do you want with my guns?"
The knee-jerk reaction would be to assume that she was stealing them and act accordingly. Strangers are dangerous at the best of times and being unarmed and alone in a foreign village is a far cry from those halcyon days. Most people would grow angry and may even turn violent, but Kell is not most people.
"I-I just want to look at them!" The girl is quick to exclaim as she hops back a half-step, her hands waving before her like vinestalk flowers in the wind, "They're so shiny and pretty and"-
"I understand, they are very fine weapons," Kell climbs from the cot, reaches over, and slides a chrome pistol free. Pausing a second, he regards her with a careful look before, in a series of well-practiced motions, thumbing the release and tucking the slugs into his belt. Clicking the cylinder shut, he spins the gun around so that he holds it by the barrel before offering it her way, "If you promise to be careful, you can look at it."
Her fingers twist together as if string on a weaver's frame as she, almost hesitantly, speaks, "Really?"
"Yes, really," Kell says, wiggling the gun, "but only if you promise to be careful."
"I promise!" The girl is quick to give her word as her eyes sparkle like twin stars in the night sky. Reaching out, she takes the gun from Kell before spinning on the spot and skipping from the room.
Kell watches her leave, an odd pain throbbing in his chest as he does, but the empty doorway doesn't stay that way for long. A handsome young man, tall in stature and graceful in stride, fills the doorway as he steps inside. Hair like spun gold piles on and around his shoulders like water from a waterfall as humor ignites in his eyes.
And what eyes they are! Bluer than any painting and deeper than any body of water, the man's eyes shine as a pair of landmarks on his face. But the most striking details of all are in the iris. Like someone had dropped a pane of glass against the ground, dozens upon dozens of minute cracks dance across his eyes.
"The mask hides much, dear cousin," Karter's moving mouth sends the hint of a chill down Kell's spine as the illusion of a complete face shatters before his eyes. Motionless, Karter appears like any other person, but the facsimile breaks down when he begins to speak. The corners of his lips stretch back too far, revealing far too many teeth. Vaguely pointed and at a slight angle, each tooth is as uniform as the last as they fill every inch of spreading maw. "The Sands are not far from here," he says by way of an explanation, a hand lazily gesturing to his face—the back of each finger and hand reinforced with an outer layer of sun-bleached bone, "which a young me found out the hard way."
"I see," Kell nods before a question comes to mind, "Is that why you wear the mask?"
"Nope." A flicker of humor shines behind those clast-like eyes as Karter claps his hands together, "Now then, shall we go collect your gun from little Sari so we can embark on our hunt?"
Kell nods as he ignores the emptiness in the pit of his gut. He took some rations from the Nordenite camp, which he can eat on the move. He'll be fine.
"It would be prudent to stop by the stablery first," Karter continues, either not noticing or not particularly caring about Kell's thoughts, "wouldn't want you to be running around while I'm on Nero," he chuckles before adding, "after we have breakfast, of course."
"I have rations," Kell is quick to say, "we can start now."
Karter gives him an odd look, "While that's all very well and good, for you, I'm a rather hungry hunter."
"I..." Kell stiffens into a slight frown, "I apologize, I did not think."
Karter chuckles and waves it off.
0~0~0
Tracking roll: 78+10=88, Failure
The cold mud does little to soften Kell's fall as he rolls with it to a halt. Letting his lips thin and his jaw set, Kell climbs to his feet as Karter audibly laughs from atop Nero.
"You really do need to learn how to properly ride me, kiddo," the old, six-legged and three-horned mountain-beast says as Kell clambers up onto the riding blanket splayed across the ridged back. The beast's—who introduced himself as 'Corne'—forepaw tugs at his long beard as Kell takes hold of the reins again, "'Specially if you ever wanna go any faster than a little light trot, which we'll need to do if we get into any sort of tussle."
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Karter—now covered head-to-toe as is his wont—says as Nero's eyes scan the mist-stricken surroundings. At least one cloth-covered hand is always touching either his rifle or his saber, even as he laughs. "The ferals around these parts know not to mess with an outrider and any monster stupid enough to try will soon find out why that's the case."
Kell frowns as he balances on Corne's back, "Speaking of the monsters, do you have enough ka to overload the hive?"
Karter thinks for a moment, his fingers tracing gentle figure-eights on his mask, before his head jolts back and a full-belly laugh rattles free of his mask, "Why don't we find out together?"
Kell stares, a spark of regret igniting in his chest. Is this really the best option? Maybe, maybe not, but it's the one he chose. As a man, no path may be walked other than the one you start down. Such is the way of things; such is how it should be.
Kell chose this road; now he must walk it.
0~0~0
By the time Kell and Karter reach the monsterhive, the sun had already traversed two-thirds of the way across the sky. Laying belly to ground, Kell and Karter observe the monsterhive from atop a shallow ridge—Kell with a set of binoculars provided by Karter and Karter with a ka-pattern to enhance his vision.
"How many do you count?" Karter asks, the momentary hitch in his breathing causes his ka-sight to shimmer and shake. In the shadow provided by the dense canopy of overhead trees, Karter's ka glows a subdued, deeply desaturated blue. On the inhale, his ka gleams slightly brighter while the exhale darkens.
Kell frowns as he lowers the binoculars, the mud clinging to his naked elbows—his robe-sleeves having been rolled up, "The mists are too thick, I cannot get an accurate headcount."
Karter's mask tilts Kell's way, "Aren't your eyes salted? A little bit of power should wipe the slate clean, yeah?"
Kell's frown tugs deeper as he lowers his head, warmth pooling on his cheeks, "I... I lack ka, I cannot pierce the mists."
A low-pitched hum escapes the mask as Karter taps a finger against the white-painted wood, "Well, that is quite the problem." Fingers snapping, Karter nods to himself as he takes a deep breath, "We'll have to unlock your ka after this, but I'll do what I can for now. Hold still."
Lungs expanding to their fullest capacity, Karter's chest fills with as much air as he can stuff in. A slow exhale follows as he breathes it all out before following that with another massive inhale. Over and over, he repeats this process, each time his lungs filling with that much more air. Eventually, his ribs start creaking from the pressure building up in his body.
And then, with a final exhale, he gathers up all the ka generated and pools it between his hands. Like a miniature ball of blue flames, the orb of writhing power clings to his palms like nothing else in the world. Extending it Kell's way, Karter speaks with a slight raspy tone, "Here, this should get your eyes going. Oh, and, you should probably bite down on something."
With a slight push, the ball drifts up from Karter's palm, floats like a leaf in the wind, before alighting against Kell's chest like the gentlest bird in all the lands. The sphere hovers there for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Kell to notice its presence, before the tendril-like extensions of writhing flame grab hold of his body and Karter's ka forces its way in.
Kell's eyes widen as pain rockets through his body. His limbs stiffen as muscles spasm and he collapses fully to the floor. It's all he can do to stop a scream from tearing its way through his throat as the ka merges with his spirit and, like water through a funnel, flows straight to his eyes.
Like a blanket pulled away, the world unveils itself before his eyes. What was once cloaked in mist is now as clear as the sunniest time of day. The monsterhive immediately draws the gaze as the pain leaves Kell's body just as quickly as it arrived.
The monsterhive is an oddly shaped construct. The overall shape is that of an upside down, fully-rooted turnip while the surface resembles that of a heavily-wrinkled, black-colored walnut. Slime seems to drip off the outside as tar-coated creatures—monsters—dart in and out of the many openings.
Coming in every size imaginable—from gargantuan to insect—each monster is as unique as the last. Wings, tails, spinnerets, and stingers rise from every which way as the monsters flow like water through the monsterhive and its surroundings. Sometimes monsters bump into each other and a scuffle ensues. Any fights usually end swiftly and with great brutality, the winner leaving with a full belly and claws bloody.
"There are too many to count," Kell says after observing for several minutes, "at least several hundred, definitely more."
"Damn, so that was a wash," Karter swears as he grips his rifle tight. After a moment's silence, he begins again, "I'm sorry about the pain, by the way, and for not warning you. It's best if you're not tensed when ka is exchanged, makes it easier to recover."
"It is fine, I am not mad," Kell shrugs as he tells the truth, "Pain is only temporary, after all."
Karter snorts, "You, dear cousin, have wisdom beyond your years."
"Thank you," that was something that Kell had heard a lot growing up, but never really understood. Do emotions cloud wisdom? Does wisdom arise from seeing past thought and feeling? Maybe, maybe not, either way Kell has work to do, "How are we going to kill the hive?"
"That's a good question," Karter hums a jaunty tune as he thinks, his head tilted at about thirty degrees, "I suppose we've got a number of options, but none are especially stand-out." Tapping a finger against the ground, Karter starts drawing out a simple map in the mud, "First things first, we've gotta figure out what the objective is."
"Destroying the hive," Kell mutters as he thinks and Karter dutifully scribbles that down, "and there is only one way to accomplish that goal."
"Overloading the spawning pool," Karter says as he writes that under the objective, "since I'm the only one here who has the ka, no matter how we do it, I have to be in the spawning chamber."
"Right," Kell says as he turns his gaze back to the monsterhive. "Nero, Corne, and I could distract them while you slip inside."
Karter shakes his head, "I dunno about that one, cousin. You lack ka and experience fighting on mountback while Nero and Corne are both accustomed to having riders." He does shrug, however, and carry on, "But I won't stop you if you that's the route you want to take it."
"What are the other options? A frontal assault?"
"Sure," Karter snorts as Kell stares, "Don't give me that look! It's a decent idea when you look at our other options, which are jack and shit."
"Not quite," Kell says as an idea comes to mind, "if we can gather enough materials, I can construct a sort of mortar and shell the monsters from a distance."
Karter squints from behind the mask, "How hard would that be?"
"Very, depending on circumstances." Kell shrugs before adding, "I could also build a bomb, which would be easier, but also much more dangerous."
"So, our options are," Karter starts listing each plan off with his fingers, "distraction, assault, mortar, and bomb, right?"
"That is correct."
"Well, which're we going for?"
[ ] Distract the monsters while Karter sneaks in
-Combat, 4 Successes
-Extremely high likelihood of injury, even on victory (80+ to avoid injury)
[ ] Conduct a frontal assault
-Combat, 3 Successes
-High likelihood for injury, even on victory (60+ to avoid injury)
[ ] Build a mortar and shell the monsters
-Crafting, 5 Successes (Difficulty raised due to no Perception (Scavenging)
--Failure means injury
-Combat, 3 Successes
[ ] Build a bomb and blow the monsters to smithereens
-Crafting, 3 Successes (Difficulty raised due to no Perception (Scavenging)
--Failure means injury
-Combat, 2 Successes
0~0~0
AN: Fair warning: Not all options will work, even if you pass all the checks. Conversely, others may work even if you fail.
No moratorium
