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104. [Uicha] Baby Boy
🕑 Added 2025-05-26 18:57:44 +0000 UTC(Author's Note: I've changed the character Lavenna's name to Lavicta, because Lavenna was too similar to another character's name. The problems of a big cast!)
***
Uicha de Orak, Wildcard of the 6th Renown, representing the Forgotten One, the reluctant traveler
Lavicta, Elementalist of the 10th Renown, Gen’bi Nomads, preparing for her last fight
Bric de Orak, a man of no particular renown, the Flamingo Islands, probably thinking about boats
Samus Bind, Inquisitor of the 9th Renown, Candlefast, off-duty consultant
The Firstson, a sentient gargoyle, wants his mommy
***
18 Rainest, 61 AW
Bask, one of the Flamingo Islands
The night before Uicha set out for the desert
“So, you want to see the sands?” Lavicta asked.
Uicha glanced around the table. “I mean, not particularly,” he replied.
Seated next to Uicha, his grandfather snorted.
The inquisitor Samus Bind had kept his word and returned to the rented house with the Gen'bi champion. Uicha was unsurprised that it was the same woman he'd seen out on the ocean. She was a strange thing up close in her black hat and leathers, her sun-wrinkled skin making her age difficult to gauge. Uicha kept eyeing the scorpion tail mark on her throat and the collection of Ink visible where her shirt dipped low. For some reason, he had expected the Gen'bi champion's symbols to be crimson like his own.
The four of them now sat around the dining table in the candlelit kitchen. Night had fallen and the backstreets of Bask were quiet except for the distant crashing of waves. The Gen'bi woman kept shaking her head to one side, like she had water in her ear. She made no immediate reaction to Uicha's words, but Bind leaned forward with an annoyed frown.
“Now, hold on,” the inquisitor interjected. “We discussed–”
Lavicta cut him off with a wave of her hand. “He gave the right answer,” she drawled. “Don't nobody want to visit the desert.”
“Especially not a man of the sea,” muttered Bric.
Lavicta pointed at Uicha’s chest, where his own markings were visible. Before the meeting, Bind had told Uicha to keep his Ink on display, so Uicha hadn’t bothered to activate [Shapeshifter]. Perhaps it was just the nighttime breeze through the open window, but Uicha felt a tickling pleasure from his Ink when Lavicta looked him over. The Forgotten One had asked that he be seen, after all.
“You stole that color,” she said flatly.
“I didn’t steal anything,” Uicha replied. “I had this forced on me.”
“Huh,” Lavicta grunted. “Bet that’s a story.”
“Is that why you’re looking for me?” Uicha asked. “Because you think I stole this chanic from your desert?”
“I wasn’t looking for you. I was looking for Ink. The black kind.” Lavicta flicked a look toward Bind, as if she had said too much. “Finding you is just a coincidence,” she told Uicha. “Or a bad omen, maybe.”
The light in the room shifted as the inquisitor picked up a candle to light one of his smokerolls. “Everyone knows the Gen’bi champions left the desert to play the game this year, Lavicta,” he said. “And everyone knows why.”
“You don’t know shit,” she replied.
Bind exhaled a cloud of smoke that swirled through the candlelight. “You’re going to close the desert. Banish everyone from the sands who isn’t Gen’bi.”
Lavicta’s jaw tightened. “You reading my mind, mage whore?”
Uicha noticed how Bind’s eye twitched at the insult, a rare moment of uncontrolled emotion from the inquisitor. Or, perhaps, it had just been a trick of the light.
“One of your champions is too talkative,” Bind continued. “The Magelab knows. So do Merchant’s Bay and Crucifalia. Your wish will fail. You are going to die.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Lavicta said, flapping her hand like a mouth. “Unless I take your help, right?”
“No. You are probably dead, regardless,” Bind replied. “But wouldn’t you like to learn something, before you go? About that awful desert of yours? This young man is the key.” He turned next to Uicha. “And you. Wouldn’t you like to know the source of your power, rather than bumbling around as Emza’s most powerful fugitive?”
Uicha understood the implication in Bind’s words. The source of chanic was the Gen’bi desert. How much stronger could Uicha become with direct access to the stuff? But, something in him recoiled at the thought of more symbols upon his chest. He had vials of chanic still in his pack. He could visit the Forgotten One whenever he wanted. Why did he keep putting it off?
“And what’s in it for you, inquisitor?” It was Bric who asked the question, staring at Bind like a particularly shady dice player. “What do you get?”
“Me?” Bind asked, flicking ash off his smokeroll. “I simply appreciate a longshot.”
***
20 Blossum, 61 AW
The Gen’bi desert
40 days until the next Granting
Over the last year, Uicha had become intimately familiar with gargoyles. The creature circling overhead was definitely of that species, but bigger than what Uicha was able to summon in Parrot II. The thing's body was longer, more like a man's than a dog's, and scraps of homemade clothing fluttered about its torso. When it descended, the gargoyle did so with its back feet pointed down. It would land standing up, like a man with wings, instead of an animal.
“You… you have things like that out here?” Uicha asked Lavicta.
“Nah,” she replied, and unhooked her slingshot from her belt. “We surely do not.”
Uicha had suspected the creature was here for him—weren't they always?—but had held out a small hope that it could be a denizen of the desert. He dropped a hand to his scimitar, though he doubted the blade would be much use against a body of stone.
“Mother!” the gargoyle screeched again.
The discordant woodwind wail of the thing's voice was awful, but it didn't exactly strike fear into Uicha. The creature sounded more like a delighted dog yipping at a returning master than a plunging bird of prey. Even so, Uicha watched as Lavicta tucked a polished stone into the pouch of her slingshot and pulled the band taut. He had seen how dangerous she could be with that weapon when they'd been in battle against the giant octopus. Uicha touched his own powers; the chanic, as ever, hot and waiting on his chest. A burst of [Telekinesis] might scare the thing off.
“Don't! Don't harm him!”
Kayenna Vezz hadn't made herself known to Uicha since their fight with Battar Crodd. During the battle, the Orvesian witch had tried unsuccessfully to displace Uicha from control of his body. What had Battar offered her in that moment? He had said something about a crying otter. None of it made sense to Uicha, but he got the sense that the exchange had driven Kayenna into a month of sulking. That was fine by him, honestly. If she sequestered herself into some dimly lit recess of Uicha's mind and never returned for the rest of his days, he wouldn't really be bothered.
“Without me, your days would be short,” Kayenna said.
The witch appeared with her back to Uicha. She padded across the sand, her black dress tugged at by the desert winds, almost as if she were really there. Kayenna put her small frame in the shadow of the descending gargoyle, so she was stood directly before the beast when it landed, kicking up a swirl of sand as it brought its wings in tight to its body.
“Glorious, isn't he?” Kayenna said.
No, Uicha thought back.
Kayenna reached out like she would cup the gargoyle's beak. As if in response, the gargoyle dropped to one knee and bowed its head.
“Mother,” the thing said. “I am here.”
“Yes, my dear,” Kayenna said. “You amaze me.”
Uicha broke off from staring at the gargoyle as he heard Lavicta's slingshot creak.
“Don't hurt him,” Uicha said with a sigh. He urged his wary horsasis closer to the gargoyle. “He doesn't mean us any harm.”
“Figured as much, on account of the kneeling,” Lavicta replied. She let her slingshot slacken, then studied Uicha from beneath the brim of her hat. “You going to let it suckle you?”
“What?”
“It keeps calling you its mommy,” Lavicta said.
“No,” Uicha replied. “I am not going to let it suckle me.”
“What's it want, then?” Lavicta asked. “Where'd it come from?”
“I…” Curiosity welled up in him, an unshakeable urge to study the creature more closely. Those were Kayenna's feelings, Uicha realized. Although her phantom appeared close to the gargoyle, in truth she was stuck looking out through Uicha's eyes. She wanted a better look at the finely sculpted gargoyle-man.
What is he? Uicha directed his question at the witch.
“An old project that I thought was lost,” Kayenna said. “The Firstson. He finished himself. I left him in my workshop deep beneath Infinzel, and yet somehow he sensed my return. I wonder what else my release might have triggered.”
Uicha shook his head. He felt a mixture of flattery and awe radiating off Kayenna, like an artist who has painted a final brushstroke and only now stepped back to admire the full glory of her canvas. Uicha's lips curled back in annoyance.
What am I supposed to do with him? Uicha thought at her. What am I supposed to tell the Gen'bi?
“You needn't tell that fool woman anything,” Kayenna replied. At last, she turned away from the Firstson, confronting Uicha with her gashed throat and narrowed eyes. “He will serve you as he would serve me. A lucky turn for you, at last.”
Before Uicha could express exactly how lucky he felt to have a nearly seven foot talking gargoyle bedecked in animal skins for a servant, the so-called Firstson raised his head.
“Mother,” the Firstson said, then knocked on his stone sternum. “Uicha.” Finally, the creature tilted his head back down. “Serve.”
“Wait,” Uicha said aloud, staring at the gargoyle. “Can you actually hear her?”
“Hear me?” Behind Uicha, Lavicta snapped her fingers. “You forget we was having a conversation, kid?”
“He's here to protect me, I think,” Uicha said to Lavicta. “A friend sent him.”
“You got a lot of strange friends,” Lavicta replied. “Listen, we–”
Lavicta's teeth snapped together mid-sentence with an audible crack, and the woman pitched forward against the front hump of her horsasis. Her hands groped for the sides of her head and she began grinding her palms against her ears. Her hat fell off and went bouncing across the sand, until the Firstson gently stopped it with an outstretched claw.
“Hey…” Uicha said, trying to bring his mount around. “What's happening? What's wrong?”
Lavicta seized. Her legs pumped—once, twice—hard blows with her heels into the sides of her horsasis. The mount bellowed and reared back. Lavicta would've tipped right out of her saddle if Uicha hadn't used his [Telekinesis] to steady her.
“So loud!” Lavicta snarled through her gritted teeth. “He gets so fucking loud!”
While the Firstson stared dumbly at the writhing Gen'bi champion, the animals were getting upset. Uicha's mount spun around and started to trot, so Uicha quickly hopped out of his saddle. He sensed mounting impatience from Kayenna, but put the witch out of his mind. Scrambling across the sand, Uicha grabbed for the reins of Lavicta's mount.
“What should I do?” Uicha asked. “How can I—?”
“He wants!” Lavicta screamed. “He wants! He wa—!”
The Gen’bi woman burst into a column of sand like biting gnats. Having used [Become Sandstorm], Lavicta whipped across Uicha’s body, raking his cheeks with her granules. His hood was swept back, his eyes squeezed closed, and he fell backward into the sand.
Brushing off his face and blinking grit out of his eyes, Uicha’s vision cleared to see the Firstson standing over him. The gargoyle delicately turned Lavicta’s black hat in his heavy, stone hands.
“Hat,” the Firstson said.
“Great, thanks,” Uicha replied, clamoring to his feet, the sun hot atop his head.
He spun about, searching for Lavicta, and saw that the woman had reincorporated some fifty yards away, alongside Uicha’s fleeing mount. Lavicta snatched Uicha’s pack from the animal’s side, ripped it open, and turned it upside down.
“No! Stop!”
The letters written by his father, his angles and rounds, the pouch containing Ahmed Roh’s strange blue-tinted weed—all these items and everything else Uicha owned went scattering across the sand. Uicha scrambled toward Lavicta, grasping about with his [Telekinesis] to gather his belongings. He’d never used the ability with such precision before, or with so many targets in mind, and it felt almost like trying to juggle.
Meanwhile, Lavicta snatched up his remaining vials of chanic.
“He told you!” she shouted. “He ordered you!”
“What?” Uicha yelped, distracted, his attention on trying not to tear the delicate letters. “You aren’t making sense!”
“He wants more!” Lavicta yelled, her voice scratchy with the strain.
Lavicta came bounding forward then, steps light across the sand. She levitated with every yard she covered, until the wind carried her up into the cloudless sky. As she rose, Lavicta fitted Uicha’s vials into her slingshot, her hands steady even as her head twitched on her neck. Her red hair snapped across her face, but Uicha could still see the grimace there. She aimed.
The Firstson took to the air to meet her. Uicha didn’t know exactly what Lavicta meant to do, but the gargoyle assumed danger. He put himself between Uicha and the Gen’bi woman, his wings sending out powerful gusts. The Firstson led with a fist of stone.
That seemed to be exactly what Lavicta wanted. She fired her slingshot—not at Uicha, but at the Firstson.
Chanic exploded across the creature’s chest. The Firstson went still in mid-air, wings bent awkwardly, limbs rigid. Then, it plummeted back to the sand. At the same time, Lavicta released a coo of relief and went limp as well. Both woman and gargoyle crashed back to the sand.
“What the hell just happened?” Uicha asked.
“Your benefactor at work,” Kayenna replied, standing now at Uicha’s side.
Uicha inched toward the fallen pair, still holding onto as many of his things as he could with his [Telekinesis]. Lavicta’s chest rose and fell, shuddering, and she had one arm draped across her face as if the sun was too much to bear. Nearby, the Firstson looked like a toppled statue, limbs akimbo, unmoving.
As Uicha closed in, the gargoyle began to move. He rolled over awkwardly and pushed himself slowly to his feet, flicking confusedly at his chest.
“Bad,” the Firstson said. “Underneath. Worse than.”
Uicha did not know what to say. He could only stare at the crimson swirls that spread across the Firstson’s blocky chest and the familiar empty box painted on his stout neck.
“Look what he’s done,” Kayenna said. “He’s defaced my creation.”
From deep below the sand, Uicha swore he felt a rumble like laughter.
Comments
Joseph
Expected him to start at 3rd reknown.
sparkc
Team Chanic here to win the granting
