Octophobia
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Spire's Spite - Arc 2 - Chapter 34
🕑 Added 2024-09-01 03:00:05 +0000 UTCOn wobbly legs, Fritz strode through the small section of red and gold jungle. His whole body ached while his brain felt like it was trying to escape his skull with small, cold claws. Dark veins stood out on the too-pale skin of his arms and the cuts he had taken. The venom had soaked deep into his flesh, burning and cramping his muscles. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped, the newly formed scabs, however, had an almost green tinge and the flesh around was bruised black. His heart would skip a beat now and then, causing him to sweat and shiver. Of course, he hid all these ailments and afflictions under a mask of affability and avarice.
For all he had complained about the heaviness of his moon silvered bones, it was evident that they had saved him this day. Without the precious metal that lined his skeleton, purifying the muscles corded around them and the blood that ran over them, he was sure he would have died. Whatever he could say about the malevolent Sunken Spire, he couldn't say its rewards were meagre. Though he did think he would still have to visit a Well to recover fully. Or maybe find an antidote. Perhaps he'd find one in the raider's belongings?
Fritz stood over the fern-covered corpse of Vaa'gur, or what remained of him. The copper stink of blood suffused the clearing. His face fell and he covered his nose. He didn't want to look on the body, or the remains of it after his... rage fuelled revenges. But he knew that he had to. Had to face what he had wrought with nothing but hate and his own sword. Quicksilver lay not far from the dead man, so he recovered it, cleaned it and returned it to its sheath, before taking to his grisly task.
His blade had done well and deserved to rest in its home. As did they all. If they had homes that was. He would have to see to that, maybe a large house that the entire team could reside in. It wasn't uncommon for Climbers to pool their resources that way. But it also wasn't the rule, many could only stand each other for so long after all. From spending all your time stuck with your team in a Spire only to be trapped with them at home as well would be a nightmare for some.
Fritz didn't think he was that type, but he had never really stayed in one place too long since being in the gutters anyway. He wondered how others, like Cal, Rosie and George, might take it, or how Sid might like it. He shook his head, his mind had wandered to a distant future, one not relevant for now.
He looked over the bloody leaves and dreaded, again, to look under them. But he had to strip this man, no, this monster, of valuables. Bert had offered to do it for him, but Fritz had waved him off. He couldn't have anyone else do it, it was his kill, his failure, that and they might miss something hidden.
Gingerly he removed the coverings and saw the terrible sight below. What used to be Vaa'gur had been slashed to ribbons, skin and armour hand in tattered strips over notched bones. Blood pooled under the body and the black eyes stared blindly at the canopy above, where the bright birds flittered about and sang their joyous songs. It was a gruesome sight and Fritz confronted the guilt. He had taken another life. Though this one he knew was different to the others he had taken before.
He had to remind himself that this thing would have done the same to him, if not worse. Then he would've done it to his friends. It did ease what little guilt he felt at causing so much agony, but he still worried. He didn't want killing to become routine. An obvious answer to all his problems, like it seemed to become to those who abused their power. He straightened his back and gripped Quicksilver's hilt.
Vaa'gur had it coming. That and worse. He would spare no more grief, not even a passing concern, on the creature before him. This thing had given up its humanity long ago, and he hated it.
He got to the bloody work of stripping the corpse of anything useful. A belt, a surprisingly heavy dagger sheath, pouches, the quiver, a waterflask, the rings and jewellery, he piled them all on an unfurled blanket beside the body. He left the torn clothes and the ruined strips of leather, and the boots as they were studded with holes and caltrops. He found the bow where it had fallen, still in good shape, but missing the black gleam it had before, and added it to the pile.
What he was left with was a sizeable stack of objects, though Fritz suspected that more of the man's wealth had to be in a pack or bag somewhere. Likely the raider had stashed it before springing his ambush. Fritz could only hope he'd been hasty and hidden it away poorly. His hope was soon realised as he circled the outskirts of the clearing. As he searched he spotted a tree and, just nine feet above the ground, a dark hollow within its tall trunk. He got a peculiar feeling about it and could see a flock of agitated songbirds chirping angrily in its branches.
The birds more than the feeling convinced him to check it out, the raider had probably disturbed the pretty little things some time ago. Fritz could have made the climb easily if he was in good condition, unfortunately, he didn't think his envenomed arms could take the entire strain of his weight. Luckily he wasn't alone, he could get Bert to search it when he called for him. Which he did.
Bert came running, already he had recovered much in the last couple of minutes, though he still looked shaky.
"What's wrong?" He asked as he slid to a stop.
"Nothing. I need you to check out that hollow," Fritz said pointing. "Mind the birds."
"Oh. Too lazy to do the real work," Bert teased. "Or are you afraid of birds now too?"
"Yes to lazy, no to fear. Now get to it, we don't have all day," Fritz ordered as arrogantly as he could muster, which wasn't much. He was feeling more than a little off.
Bert laughed and climbed the tree with ease, pulling a large, black-leather backpack from the tree's hollow. The birds chirped indignantly, but didn't swarm Bert as Fritz may have feared. He carried it down and hefted it from arm to arm thoughtfully.
"Something strange?" Fritz inquired.
"It's light, too light," Bert said, grinning.
Fritz grinned back, another weight reduction pack was a great find, not to mention all the wealth that might be within it.
"Let's go then. We can wrap up all the other stuff and relocate to the cave. We can sort it there and rest," Fritz outlined.
"Yes, sir," Bert agreed with an extravagant, fist-to-the-chest salute.
They returned to the clearing, wrapped up the items in the blanket they lay upon and made their way to where the team had been gathered. Only to find they had left, and must have had the same idea about regrouping in the cave. It annoyed him they hadn't waited, but he could hardly blame them, it was afternoon and was getting excruciatingly warm. He himself was terribly sweaty, dripping like a leaky roof.
Fritz and Bert walked through the slight mist, splashed through the cool waterfall and into the passage of damp stone beyond. With the dull roar of the falling water and its pervasive wetness, it felt almost like a hideout in Rain City.
Cal and Rosie sat together, backs to the wall and near enough to the entrance to be the first to see the two enter. Rosie didn't seem to be doing well, she was paler than she had been even an hour before.
"Rosie, you okay?" Fritz asked as he led in Bert who carried in their well-earned wealth.
"I'm fine-" Rosie began before Cal interrupted, "-still sick, and pissed off that you didn't let her 'get a stab in'."
"Sorry to hear that Rosie," Fritz said amiably. "Though maybe there's an antidote to whatever was on the dagger."
"I coulda helped. With the ambush," she whined, again.
Cal released a worried, long-suffering sigh and met Fritz's eyes for the first time since he had 'died.'
Fritz smiled and the other man looked embarrassed, then annoyed. It brought him no small amount of mirth to know Cal had wept and even yelled at Bert on his behalf. He tried to stifle a smirk, but obviously wasn't successful as Cal turned away, grumbling.
"Bring the loot here, in front of the lantern if you would," Lauren said primly, her lens already set to one eye.
"Yes milady," Fritz said, attempting a bow, but instead lurching forward and nearly falling over as his aches, pains and dizziness caught up with him.
"Out of the way, lordling," Bert groused good-naturedly.
"Squidling to you! I was promoted remember," Fritz said, sitting down and letting his body rest for a moment on the blissfully cool stone. "A far more esteemed title."
"In what world is a squid more esteemed than a lord?" Lauren asked somewhat incredulously.
"In any good one," Fritz supplied. "Alas, we live on Epsa."
Bert slipped past his friend, ignoring the banter. He placed down his burdens, opening the blanket, and adding the raider's leaden dagger to the top of the pile of mismatched objects.
After only a moment of staring at the dark blade, both Lauren and George hissed, then looked to each other.
"Is that what I think it is?" Lauren said anxiously.
"I think so, would explain the wounds. We should get away from it," George said, a note of dread in his tone. Something seemed to occur to him and he quickly added, "A sheath, where's its sheath? Cover that blade immediately!"
Bert looked confused but did as George demanded, finding the heavy sheath and sliding the dagger into it, eliciting a strange click once it was fully secured.
"What is it?" Cal asked, "What's got you two so worked up?"
"Bittersteel," they said together.
Fritz had heard of it, but only in legend. The dark, ruinous metal was said to be a relic of a time before the Spires.
"Oh," Bert said dumbly. "Dangerous?"
"Yes," George grimly stated. "It's among the most deadly materials to work with. Exposure to even the air around it will make you sick. Very sick. It's incredibly hard to treat and cure."
"Is Rosie going to die?" Cal asked with a small catch in his throat.
"No, the healing magics of the Well should work to reverse the damage. One of the few things that will. And its toxic power is said to be slow and, unfortunately, very painful. But we have time, she'll be fine," George explained. But Fritz could see the worry under those words, the doubt in his yellow eyes.
"Will it be safe in its sheath?" Bert asked, peering closer.
"Yes," Lauren said, staring at it through her lens. "The leather and the lead underneath is inscribed, as is the blade."
"Not imbued?" Fritz asked.
"Not imbued," she stated. "Likely protections on the sheath, and reinforcements on the dagger."
"Maybe inscriptions that focus and refine the ruinous power the vile metal holds," George supplied. "Though such things could harm the wielder too."
"It poisons even the wielder? Why on Epsa would anyone want to use such a weapon, it goes beyond insanity," Cal said.
"Think of who, sorry, what we took it off," Fritz said. "A Krakosi. I knew they were bad and I had been warned. Still, I had thought the rumours an exaggeration, a fear of foreigners cultivated by the narrow-minded. Though it does seem that the monstrous reputation of Krakosi raiders exists for a reason."
The team nodded solemnly.
"Who wants the dagger?" Bert asked seemingly unperturbed.
Fritz looked it over and decided against taking it. He already had a dagger, one with a deadly curse, and this one, which would slowly poison him, was not appealing in the slightest. It seemed that most shared his thoughts.
"We can sell it when we get out," Fritz suggested. "Might fetch a decent price."
There was a collective nod at the proposal.
"Can I carry it? Maybe the magic on the sheath will help me," Rosie asked.
"No. What if it just makes you sicker?" Cal objected.
Rosie shrugged. "Sick either way."
Fritz found no reason to deny her the dagger, so he threw it to her and it landed cleanly in her lap. She smiled weakly and hugged it to her chest.
A dark mood had come over the team, so Bert, seeing an opening to distract them, upended the raider's pack, dumping out the contents. There were vials and flasks, a mortar and pestle, many flasks and small boxes of herbs, monster parts and powders. A familiar iron flail dropped out with a thud, almost crushing one of the glass vials.
"Hey, my flail!" Cal cried, snatching up his abandoned Treasure. "Wasn't sure I'd ever see it again."
"Rejoice, you have been rewarded for your bravery," Fritz said before turning to Bert and scolding him. "Stop! You might break something."
Bert stopped emptying the pack in such a rough manner, but it was too late as one of the vials had broken, the black-green sludge within seeping out. A sheepish smile spread across his face as the others chided him.
"That better have not been an antidote," Cal said.
"Whoops," Bert said. "But it looks more like poison."
Fritz had to agree, the substance, while not overtly caustic or acrid, definitely had the subtle scent of ruin and bitter toxin.
"Probably poison, what with this raider being some kind of venom user," Fritz said.
"I wonder why he didn't use any of these on us," Lauren said, sorting through the unbroken vials, matching like to like into small piles.
"Too deadly, too valuable, or maybe they don't work on people but rather monsters," Fritz theorised.
"Hmm, I can see that being the case," she conceded. "Oh look, more potion testers, and a Door dowser."
Bert began to unload the pack more carefully, and Fritz heard him inhale sharply, seemingly in surprise.
"Fritz, look," he said, proffering a head-sized pouch filled to the brim with gold triads. Though even more wonderful than the glut of gold was the small thumb-sized badge sitting on top of the coinage. Its clear raindrop-shaped gem glowed with flickering, pale-blue light. Fritz grinned, picking out the silver-backed badge.
"Amazing, the idiot brought his Rain Spire badge with him," Fritz said reverently, staring at the precious piece of jewellery. "What a stroke of luck."
"Hardly luck," Cal said. "We almost died, we still might die, if we can't find the Stairway in time."
"What I mean to say is that all this," Fritz waved over the piled objects. "Is an unexpected fortune. At least two Treasures. The bow and one of these rings respectively. All these poisons and potions, what I suspect is another re-filling waterflask. All that and a sack of gold and a bloody badge to enter the Rain Spire."
George whistled at that, and even Lauren looked suitably impressed when he showed off the glittering gem.
"Too bad there's no no-notes," Bert groused.
"It is, though you'll be happy to hear that there are three Treasures," Lauren said. "The quiver is imbued as is the bow and this ring," she added, picking out the ring of pale bone and tracing its spiral pattern with her finger. "It looked dim through the lens, though I think that's because it's out of mana."
"I suspect that the ring is a defensive Treasure, likely responsible for the slippery shield that blocked your fire," Fritz said. "It should go to someone without a way to protect themselves yet. Or I could swap it for my own barrier ring."
"I think you're slippery enough, any more would be wasted," Bert said.
"Perhaps," Fritz hedged.
"I'm happy with Lauren having it," Cal said, smiling at her, a gesture she mirrored prettily.
"Yeah, don't want her to get struck again," George agreed.
"I got scales, don't need to be slippery too," Rosie said.
"And I don't need it," Bert claimed, flexing his increasingly well-muscled frame.
Lauren nodded, slipped the ring onto her finger, and held her hand out, admiring the band of white. "Lovely."
"And Fritz will likely want the bow and quiver," Bert continued as the team looked to the rest of the treasures.
"And why would that be?" Fritz asked.
"Who else could use them?" Bert said. "George Cal? Rosie? Lauren? Do any of you want to use a bow?"
"Not particularly," Lauren said while Rosie shook her head.
"Sword," George stated as if that one word explained everything, which in this case it did.
"I've never used one," Cal admitted. "But it could keep me out of danger."
"How much Agility and Perception have you Aligned?" Fritz asked as he hefted up the dark wood of the bow.
"Not much, does it matter?" Cal asked.
Fritz shrugged. "It does. Though my Attributes are higher, I'm no marksman or hunter either. I know the barest of basics that 'The Observations' taught me. You might have a talent for it that I don't. We'll test it later."
Cal nodded.
"And here I was sure that our mighty Hauler would want the raider's magic pack instead of the bow," Bert lamented. "I'm disappointed."
Cal perked up at that. "It's magic?"
"Oh, yes," Lauren said. "Looks to be quite the good one too. You don't get many this fine in Rain City. You could go straight to the King's Treasury with this one. And make a real fortune at the auction there. If you wanted."
"Or you could keep it and become the great luggage boy you were meant to be!" Bert declared caught up in some fantasy.
The comment got a chuckle from the team. Even Cal. Though Rosie's laugh became a hacking cough quickly enough.
"Are there any antidotes to the dagger's poison?" Cal asked anxiously.
"Right, yes we should test these vials," Lauren said. "Wish we had an alchemist or even a book that might help us identify these things.
"A book you say?" Bert said, distractedly pulling forth and holding a long, stiff tube covered in snakeskin. He opened a clasp at the top and pulled off a lid of sorts, revealing yellowed, rolled parchment within. "How about these.... scrolls? They have pictures of potions and herbs on them."
"That would help. Yes," Lauren said, taking the scroll case and gingerly handling the thick parchment she drew from the scaly cylinder.
While she pored over the scrolls for anything useful Fritz turned to the rest of the far less interesting gear.
"And here we have another waterflask if I'm not mistaken," Fritz said.
"You're not," Lauren provided absently.
"George, here," Fritz said throwing him the flask. "You'll need it the most, with all the sweating you must have to suffer through in all that armour."
"I have my acclimation Ability and my cloak, but this is a welcome addition," he replied with a tired smile.
The rest was truly the most mundane of things: rations, a spare set of clothes and undergarments, a bedroll and blanket, spare daggers, they were up to necks in daggers at this point. There was also a compass, a useful item for navigation, though prone to simply not work on some floors or behave oddly on others.
"Aha!" Lauren cried. "These two vials are antidotes! This one is specifically for 'ruinous or caustic toxins.'"
"Wonderful," Bert exclaimed taking the small vial Lauren held out.
"Only one?" Cal said dejectedly. "What about Rosie?"
"What do you mean?" Bert said, rushing to the sickly woman's side and handing the vial to her.
Cal frowned slightly. "Weren't you also stabbed?"
"What?" Bert said. "Yes. I mean, no. I'll be fine, I have a Passive, or two, that makes me very hard to kill."
"Are you sure?" Rosie asked tearily.
"Of course," Bert said, rubbing at the base of his neck wound that still leaked thick dark blood. "The wounds look worse than they are."
Fritz doubted it, and so did everyone else judging by the worried looks on their faces. But he wasn't going to stop his friend from handing off the antidote. Not if that was his choice.
She drank the clear liquid from the small vial, grimacing from its obviously vile taste.
"As bad as them lobsters on the first floor," she complained. Though her eyes had already sharpened, losing some of that bone-deep malaise all those touched by that blade felt. Including himself.
"How do you feel?" Cal asked sitting next to her.
"Just drank it, didn't I?" she scolded. "Don't know yet. Idiot."
Cal smiled, a bad mood was better than a sickly one after all.
Fritz looked to his own wounds, covered in healing grease as they were, they still didn't look like they were recovering well. They'd have to move on from this Floor soon. No chance to enjoy its relatively safe jungle or find any of the treasures or rare materials it concealed. He sighed.
They watched, chatted and waited as Lauren sorted through the rest of the raider's gear. She was a natural at that, easily grouping things and theorising their uses or identifying them with her own stores of knowledge or any provided by the scrolls.
"I think," Lauren began with some surprise and a little awe. "I think that these scrolls are a Technique book."
"Really?" Bert said. "Doesn't look like one. It's not even big, hard and red like mine." He added blandly.
Lauren wasn't impressed, but George and Cal snorted like children hearing a new curse word.
"Techniques don't only come in books, they can look like all sorts of things," she said. "And maybe it wouldn't be so red if you handled it less often and less roughly."
Bert seemed stunned for a moment, then he grinned while the rest laughed as their own shock wore off.
"You got me there!" He cried.
After the laughing had ceased, Rosie let out a yawn that was quickly echoed by Lauren and Cal. Suddenly they felt their weariness. The excitement for the Treasures and the fears for their injured slipping away.
"I can sort through the rest tomorrow," Lauren said, her tone devoid of energy. "I need some sleep."
"Should you sleep with a head wound like that?" George asked.
She shrugged. "Can't avoid it I'm dead tired. And I drank one of the remedies in the raider's pack. It's not a potion, but it was said to help those struck in the head."
"If we sleep, what if Rosie gets worse?" Cal
"I'm feeling better, much better," Rosie said. She looked better, she was less pale for one."I just need to rest. How long have we been running anyway? Feels like a week or a month."
"Half a day at most," Fritz corrected, though he agreed with the sentiment and wasn't exactly keeping track either. The last day had felt like a blur filled with terror and torment. "Very well, get some sleep. I'll be at the front and on watch."
"Oh no, get some sleep, Fritz," Bert demanded. "You can barely keep your eyes open. I'll take the watch."
Fritz didn't even have the strength to argue, a sure sign Bert was right, so he acquiesced.
When they had quieted down and set in to get some rest.
Finally, some sleep. After all the running and the terrible march, then all the incredibly draining fighting. All the passions, fears, dreads and furies they had felt over the course of the two floors, three if you included the fourth. Looking back on even the last hours, Fritz wondered how they had pulled off their victory.
He supposed his new Power had something to do with it. Not remembering quite what it did, he fell into his Sanctum.
It was raining, and he yawned. His willow groaned while it swayed, seemingly joining him in exalting his weariness. He was sitting on a chair in the pavilion and right by his Eldritch Flame in its new moonsilver brazier. The carvings were different but Fritz had no mind to examine them now. Instead, he thought his Spire sheet into being.
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Spire Readout
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Name: Francis Hightide
Level: 15
Path: Spy
Strain: Human
Sigil: Sunken Spire, Gold Award
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Attributes
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Strength:9
Agility: 9
Endurance: 9
Perception: 18
Focus: 12
Memory: 9
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Advanced Attributes
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Awareness: 18
Control: 9
Dusksong: 12
Grace: 6
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Activated 3/3
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Stone Pit
Gouge the stone, shift the ground, instant craters, holes abound.
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Gloom Strike
Weapon writhes, in shadow's grace, deliver foes, to night's embrace.
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Lethargy
Feeling tired? Getting slow? Take a rest, let it go.
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Passive 3/3
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Trap Sense
Pits and wire, falls and fire, discover danger, before it's dire.
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Danger Sense
Behind the boulder, up in the tree, lurking threats, can't hide from me.
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Umbral Phase
A shifting shadow, unmarred by blade, foes fail to harm, a formless shade.
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Trait 2/3
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Door Sense
Beyond the portal, behind the door, a brutal death or distant shore?
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Cloak of Dusk
Wrap yourself in twilight's cover, what's one shadow from another?
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Path 1/3
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Illusory Shadow -Evolution 1/3
Fake darkness, mocking light? Pseudo shadows, subdue sight.
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Technique 2/3
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The Observations (Novice)
Whittle away, scatter survive, poor prevail, covertly thrive.
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Arte Pugilist (Novice)
Strike, Slip, Punch, Kick, Dive, Skip, Grab, Flip.
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Strain 0/3
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He focused on the glyphs describing his newest Passive and a more detailed description hummed forth from the sliver lines and circles.
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Umbral Phase
A shifting shadow, unmarred by blade, foes fail to harm, a formless shade.
When you are about to be brought to harm, you instead phase into Shadow.
Alignment: Shadow, Space.
Cost: Two, Aligned, Near-Aligned Only.
Duration: Passive, Suppressible. Effect: One Second.
Refresh: Three minutes.
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He stared at the fantastic Ability, though wondered what some of its description meant. It held secrets, but those questions could wait for tomorrow. He left his Sanctum and lay on his bedroll, placing his head on his pillow, listening to the calming crashing of the waterfall.
He had won, he had survived, and he slept.
Comments
Octophobia
Thank you so much!
Mason
Love the story! ๐
