Morax watched with what he assumed was an approximation of what Daq would call angst. The ex-doctor was very prone to the feeling, from what Morax understood, so it was something that he'd been finding himself increasingly susceptible to.
The necromancer's expressions were, however, inscrutable to him, and, wrongly assuming that the man's narrowing of his eyes was a mark of aggression, he reached with an arm inside Daq's coat and felt for a vial. The fingers danced across a couple and backed away. Those were reserved for later. Other than those, he came across nothing filled and ready for use.
He listened to Melagone reply to his request: "No, no..." Dropping his arm to his side, he prepared the weakened body for what may well have been its final lunge, had Melagone not continued to correct his usage of spirit intersection vs. intersection spirit. Morax loosened his auxiliary muscles and pondered about how he had managed to tap into the necromancer's wavelength and disarm him. Was it all just luck and circumstance, or had Daq's unusually strong will actually left an imprint on the undeveloped parts of his psyche over the years?
It wasn't until Pagusel spoke up about the phylactery that he noticed that both he and the old man had gotten derailed.
He listened carefully as the old man corrected him again, but decided it would be best to not push his luck by responding. Nodding curtly and holding his hand out for the object, he was disappointed to see the man simply return to his reading after opening the drawer.
Was he to retrieve it himself? He glanced to Pagusel for an indication, but her expression was also difficult to handle. As if restrained by some force--was it taboo?--she merely leaned toward the drawer and peeked in without approaching it.
The pattering of a drop of the body’s blood on the flagstone floor below reminded him that he was on borrowed time. In an uncharacteristic move, he simply acted without much consideration, plunged his hand into the drawer, clasped his fingers around the small metal box, and motioned with his chin for Pagusel to move out.
As he made for the door, he heard a weak, but insistent cough from behind him. He turned to see the old man with his nose still planted in the book, eyes straining to look up at him. “What are you doing with that?” he asked.
“The.. um. Intersection.. repairs,” he muttered, keeping his voice low to avoid being understood.
The necromancer twitched his nose and, perhaps catching a strong huff of the mold from the weathered pages below him, sneezed softly. “You will lend me assurances that it shall be returned?” he asked afterward.
“Oh—“ Morax said, startled. He hadn’t expected that the device would be missed. “Yes.. uh.. Though.. You won’t know us by our forms—they will have changed.”
The old man rolled his eyes briefly, as if annoyed by Morax’s statement by the obvious, before sneezing again. “Your sign,” he mumbled. He held out one of his grubby quills and slid an open book toward Morax's side of the desk. “If you please.”
Reluctantly setting the box down on the desk, Morax grabbed the quills and scrawled the first thing that came to mind in the margin of the necromancer’s book. It wasn’t his sigul—he wasn’t that stupid—it was Darrius’s. He hadn’t seen that brother in years, and if the necromancer managed to pursue the clue and find him, it would be more of a service than an inconvenience.
As he picked up the phylactery and made for the door, he could hear the necromancer talking to himself, but he didn’t bother to parse it.
Moving to Pagusel’s position, he withdrew one of the two filled vials from the inside breast pocket of Daq’s coat and held it out for her.
“Go to the big window in the library, unlatch it, and drink this. A.. condition.. will take hold over you, and we can make our escape.”
Play Your Part
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Daq Bekkar
- Citizen
- Posts: 369
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 8:49 pm
- Name: Daq Bekkar
- Race: Humanoid Construct
Re: Play Your Part
Pagusel predicted correctly that Morax's next actions would take them out of the study, and as he was reaching for the drawer, she was already shuffling her way backward, toward the hallway. She saw that he found his sought object and plucked it from right under the old man's nose. She continued to slowly exit while keeping her eyes on the scene. As could have been expected, Melagone finally raised an objection to Morax's course of action.
Pagusel's surprise registered as a small curl of a smile--surprise not at Melagone's objection, but at how easily Morax assuaged it with a scribble.
Alongside Morax, Pagusel found herself fleeing the study with a controlled sense of urgency, not unlike when they abandoned the scene of the youth's murder earlier. There was no need to further dally where trouble might arise. As she stepped out of range, she heard only a mumble from Melagone, and if he were to raise and questions about Morax's signing, she preferred they simply not hear them.
She slowed her pace in the hallway to shift her ironwood club into the crook of her opposite elbow and accept the vial Morax offered. Dusty eyelashes fluttered and she seemed to frown with her very gaze, though her lips were parted thoughtfully.
"Explain this 'condition' and why I should undertake it rather than escape in the inconspicuous medium," she said dryly. As she walked she indicated her blunt weapons with a jiggle of her arm. "I don't imagine I'll need to keep these," she added, as clarification for what 'medium' she was referring to: her alternate form, which would certainly be adept at scaling walls.
They had reached the library by this point and she gazed at the heavy velvet curtain obscuring the view out the window. Perhaps he had some insight on what exactly was beyond there that would explain the need for her to drink potion.
Pagusel's surprise registered as a small curl of a smile--surprise not at Melagone's objection, but at how easily Morax assuaged it with a scribble.
Alongside Morax, Pagusel found herself fleeing the study with a controlled sense of urgency, not unlike when they abandoned the scene of the youth's murder earlier. There was no need to further dally where trouble might arise. As she stepped out of range, she heard only a mumble from Melagone, and if he were to raise and questions about Morax's signing, she preferred they simply not hear them.
She slowed her pace in the hallway to shift her ironwood club into the crook of her opposite elbow and accept the vial Morax offered. Dusty eyelashes fluttered and she seemed to frown with her very gaze, though her lips were parted thoughtfully.
"Explain this 'condition' and why I should undertake it rather than escape in the inconspicuous medium," she said dryly. As she walked she indicated her blunt weapons with a jiggle of her arm. "I don't imagine I'll need to keep these," she added, as clarification for what 'medium' she was referring to: her alternate form, which would certainly be adept at scaling walls.
They had reached the library by this point and she gazed at the heavy velvet curtain obscuring the view out the window. Perhaps he had some insight on what exactly was beyond there that would explain the need for her to drink potion.
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Daq Bekkar
- Citizen
- Posts: 369
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 8:49 pm
- Name: Daq Bekkar
- Race: Humanoid Construct
Re: Play Your Part
A confusion of processes were running in Morax's mind by the time he made it to the library. Part of him was worrying about what Melagone had said, another part was plotting out his escape, yet another was considering the reactions and rituals that needed carrying out, and whatever was left was maintaining an internal timer to gauge how much time he had left before he'd have to simply abandon all of his other plans and processes.
And now he was forced to deal with Pagusel, who was, as always, picking the wrong moment to be recalcitrant. Did she not understand his need for action? For velocity?
He was supremely frustrated, which worried him as well. Why was he becoming increasingly emotional? What was happening?
Wordlessly, he brushed past the shifter, tore back the curtains and allowed for his eyes to adjust to the dim light just beyond the pane of glass. The window pointed toward the back wall of the compound, but it was separated from that wall by a long stretch of yard--probably twenty meters or more. Beyond the wall, there was an almost equal distance before other buildings started.
Morax motioned for Pagusel to look out the window. With his good hand, he indicated the expanse.
"Awful long way for a bug, don't you think?" he snarled. Upon saying this, he grabbed the second filled vial, popped out the cork, and knocked it back. "But it's your decision, I suppose. If you won't be taking advantage of the weightlessness potion, I'd ask for you to return it. They are difficult to make and require expensive reagents."
Turning his attention to the window, he unlatched it and started to step out. As he hoisted a foot up onto the frame, he paused to hold a fist to his mouth and stifle a belch. Following this, he supported himself with one hand and scrabbled, with ease and unnatural buoyancy, out of the window, up the wall next to it and onto an angled section of roof. Crouching uncomfortably, he scanned the alleyways and began to plot the trajectory of a jump that would let him clear the wall and land near a carriage his sharp eyes had just barely managed to pick out.
And now he was forced to deal with Pagusel, who was, as always, picking the wrong moment to be recalcitrant. Did she not understand his need for action? For velocity?
He was supremely frustrated, which worried him as well. Why was he becoming increasingly emotional? What was happening?
Wordlessly, he brushed past the shifter, tore back the curtains and allowed for his eyes to adjust to the dim light just beyond the pane of glass. The window pointed toward the back wall of the compound, but it was separated from that wall by a long stretch of yard--probably twenty meters or more. Beyond the wall, there was an almost equal distance before other buildings started.
Morax motioned for Pagusel to look out the window. With his good hand, he indicated the expanse.
"Awful long way for a bug, don't you think?" he snarled. Upon saying this, he grabbed the second filled vial, popped out the cork, and knocked it back. "But it's your decision, I suppose. If you won't be taking advantage of the weightlessness potion, I'd ask for you to return it. They are difficult to make and require expensive reagents."
Turning his attention to the window, he unlatched it and started to step out. As he hoisted a foot up onto the frame, he paused to hold a fist to his mouth and stifle a belch. Following this, he supported himself with one hand and scrabbled, with ease and unnatural buoyancy, out of the window, up the wall next to it and onto an angled section of roof. Crouching uncomfortably, he scanned the alleyways and began to plot the trajectory of a jump that would let him clear the wall and land near a carriage his sharp eyes had just barely managed to pick out.
Re: Play Your Part
Pagusel held back and, seeing Morax's haste, could anticipate the shower of dust that would come when he tore open the stiff old curtains. She steepled her fingers and lifted them to the tip of her nose, the vial of Morax's potion positioned vertically between her fingertips. She had shifted her clubs to the crooks of either elbow, and the slightly painful pressure of the blunt objects poking her ribs on each side provided a welcome sensation of equilibrium to alleviate her increasingly anxious symptoms.
She didn't step forward until the window was opened and the resulting change of air pressure wafted away the stifling dust.
She came forth and looked him up and down to look for any obvious signs of a change in "condition." If he had offered something instead that promised a change in "state" or "mood," she'd likely have gladly quaffed it at this point. She lowered her arms and let the clubs drop onto the carpeted floor. The rolling pin rolled a few inches but got slowed and stopped in the pile of the rug. She twisted the vial between her fingers as she beheld the unexpected expanse.
Morax had asked her a question a few moments earlier, one likely intended to be rhetorical, as he hadn't waited for an answer. She felt agitated into answering it, though. "I don't know," she said flatly. "Bug don't think."
Maybe it was the belch that sealed her thought process. Until about that point, his plan had seemed more appropriate, given the distance they needed to traverse. But that belch practically made her very eyeballs shiver. She would do what people often did and choose to follow her instincts, and at the moment her instincts were telling her to take the comfort of the cockroach and protect her faltering psyche.
She firmly pushed forward the vial for Morax to take before he scrambled away.
Pagusel leaned out the window with her hands on the frame and lifted her feet up onto their toes. She peeked up at Morax and squinted to make out only his silhouette against the backlighting glare of the clouds. With no hand free to shade her eyes, she blinked and turned away for a moment, then looked back and called something that may very well have gotten lost beneath the eaves before it reached him: "Take care of Daq."
Then she looked straight ahead, then down, and then toppled headfirst out of the window. Her hands were planted on wall beneath the outside window sill when she had overbalanced and fallen off her perch. There was no scrambling for footing or cry of surprise when she fell. Her knees had been crooked to keep her feet from catching on the frame, and before her knee could bump on the squat stone sill and throw her into a tumble, her legs disappeared from view and there was no further sign of Pagusel's fall.
She didn't step forward until the window was opened and the resulting change of air pressure wafted away the stifling dust.
She came forth and looked him up and down to look for any obvious signs of a change in "condition." If he had offered something instead that promised a change in "state" or "mood," she'd likely have gladly quaffed it at this point. She lowered her arms and let the clubs drop onto the carpeted floor. The rolling pin rolled a few inches but got slowed and stopped in the pile of the rug. She twisted the vial between her fingers as she beheld the unexpected expanse.
Morax had asked her a question a few moments earlier, one likely intended to be rhetorical, as he hadn't waited for an answer. She felt agitated into answering it, though. "I don't know," she said flatly. "Bug don't think."
Maybe it was the belch that sealed her thought process. Until about that point, his plan had seemed more appropriate, given the distance they needed to traverse. But that belch practically made her very eyeballs shiver. She would do what people often did and choose to follow her instincts, and at the moment her instincts were telling her to take the comfort of the cockroach and protect her faltering psyche.
She firmly pushed forward the vial for Morax to take before he scrambled away.
Pagusel leaned out the window with her hands on the frame and lifted her feet up onto their toes. She peeked up at Morax and squinted to make out only his silhouette against the backlighting glare of the clouds. With no hand free to shade her eyes, she blinked and turned away for a moment, then looked back and called something that may very well have gotten lost beneath the eaves before it reached him: "Take care of Daq."
Then she looked straight ahead, then down, and then toppled headfirst out of the window. Her hands were planted on wall beneath the outside window sill when she had overbalanced and fallen off her perch. There was no scrambling for footing or cry of surprise when she fell. Her knees had been crooked to keep her feet from catching on the frame, and before her knee could bump on the squat stone sill and throw her into a tumble, her legs disappeared from view and there was no further sign of Pagusel's fall.
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Daq Bekkar
- Citizen
- Posts: 369
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 8:49 pm
- Name: Daq Bekkar
- Race: Humanoid Construct
Re: Play Your Part
Just as he was about to make his attempt at the jump, Morax felt his heart begin to race. A queasy, clammy feeling came over him, and his cheeks felt both flushed and ice cold. He didn't need Daq to tell him what was going on--hypovolemic shock. He'd be dead soon, or his current body would be, anyway. A swirling black rim had begun to encroach upon his visual perception, and his hearing had directed itself almost completely inward. He was unable to hear his fingernails scratch against the stone slats of the roof, but the sound of his quickening heartbeat was almost deafening. Perhaps that is why when he heard a faint Take care of Daq come from the open window, he believed it to have emanated from his own subconscious.
"Yes," he thought. "Take care of Daq." It was a practical suggestion. And.. one that appealed to him in a way that he couldn't quite attribute to reason.
To focus his failing eyesight, he looked at his hands, and was almost surprised to find one of his vials in the bad arm's palm. It must have been picked up by impulse when offered to him, but he didn't remember grabbing it. More and more, he was feeling that he understood Daq's experience over the past years--how he might have been surprised to find knives and reeds and glass vials in his hands at odd moments.
Inhaling deeply and feeling the body's heart give a few last hard and resolute contractions, Morax leaped from his perch. With the activity of the potion, most of his movement was horizontal. He was, technically, falling, but it seemed that he was sailing through the air. A torsional element of his impulse, likely due to one leg pushing harder than the other, caused him to twist as he went.
As he struggled to right himself, he saw dirt, fog, sky, brick, deceased youth, Pagusel, and bug all tumbling away from him, accelerating. He closed his eyes and felt the wind whipping at him as he descended.
Suddenly, there was impact, hard enough to cause a resounding thud as he struck a hollow wooden object and the heady scent of old roses. Moments later, two strong arms cradled him, and two hot, dry lips pressed briefly against his. "Brother..." he heard whispered to him. He felt a brief sensation of movement, but after that found that he could no longer direct the body's faculties.
"Yes," he thought. "Take care of Daq." It was a practical suggestion. And.. one that appealed to him in a way that he couldn't quite attribute to reason.
To focus his failing eyesight, he looked at his hands, and was almost surprised to find one of his vials in the bad arm's palm. It must have been picked up by impulse when offered to him, but he didn't remember grabbing it. More and more, he was feeling that he understood Daq's experience over the past years--how he might have been surprised to find knives and reeds and glass vials in his hands at odd moments.
Inhaling deeply and feeling the body's heart give a few last hard and resolute contractions, Morax leaped from his perch. With the activity of the potion, most of his movement was horizontal. He was, technically, falling, but it seemed that he was sailing through the air. A torsional element of his impulse, likely due to one leg pushing harder than the other, caused him to twist as he went.
As he struggled to right himself, he saw dirt, fog, sky, brick, deceased youth, Pagusel, and bug all tumbling away from him, accelerating. He closed his eyes and felt the wind whipping at him as he descended.
Suddenly, there was impact, hard enough to cause a resounding thud as he struck a hollow wooden object and the heady scent of old roses. Moments later, two strong arms cradled him, and two hot, dry lips pressed briefly against his. "Brother..." he heard whispered to him. He felt a brief sensation of movement, but after that found that he could no longer direct the body's faculties.
Re: Play Your Part
For some time, Pagusel didn't think about--couldn't think about--the multitude of troubling things that trickled in her wake as she skittered down the side of the building. The cockroach couldn't speculate on what Melagone might have muttered to himself after Morax forged a false promise, or how long it might be until someone would come across the wide-open window and the discarded rolling pin in the library. She didn't wonder whether the illusory oil lamps would flicker in the whipping wind as convincingly as the real ones, and she didn't trouble herself trying to estimate the age of the youth whose brainy smell marked her like a musk to a canny necromancer.
Nothing really troubled Pagusel within her exoskeleton beyond the periodic blip in her sensory intake signaling a small bump or ledge to be careful of, or a slippery spot on the wall.
When she came to the ninety degree change of angle that indicated solid ground, she crawled forward several feet before she changed. It was a good to be sure that the flat surface was more than just a windowsill.
Pagusel crouched in her human frame with her fingertips pressed to the ground as if she were about to start a footrace. She gazed around at her low, limited horizon to see the gray walls that surrounded the compound. No gap was apparent from this spot. She couldn't tell where she was in the compound, only that she didn't see anything familiar. She had lost her sense of orientation while inside. She needed to move quickly.
Pagusel half-stood from her crouch, and as she rose into the more natural position, a tangle of thoughts came up to bother her. She inhaled sharply through parted lips and dropped back into a cockroach before any worries could fully form.
Two minutes later, Pagusel stood as a human on the opposite side of the wall with her toes in a shallow gutter. She glanced right and left. She glanced skyward. She took a small, indecisive step forward, and then turned right.
Pagusel walked down the side of the road, following the line of the wall until it ended and she came to an intersection. She looked around, and no recognition registered in her gaze. She dipped her head resolutely and walked forward down the road and away from the necromancer's evil house.
Nothing really troubled Pagusel within her exoskeleton beyond the periodic blip in her sensory intake signaling a small bump or ledge to be careful of, or a slippery spot on the wall.
When she came to the ninety degree change of angle that indicated solid ground, she crawled forward several feet before she changed. It was a good to be sure that the flat surface was more than just a windowsill.
Pagusel crouched in her human frame with her fingertips pressed to the ground as if she were about to start a footrace. She gazed around at her low, limited horizon to see the gray walls that surrounded the compound. No gap was apparent from this spot. She couldn't tell where she was in the compound, only that she didn't see anything familiar. She had lost her sense of orientation while inside. She needed to move quickly.
Pagusel half-stood from her crouch, and as she rose into the more natural position, a tangle of thoughts came up to bother her. She inhaled sharply through parted lips and dropped back into a cockroach before any worries could fully form.
Two minutes later, Pagusel stood as a human on the opposite side of the wall with her toes in a shallow gutter. She glanced right and left. She glanced skyward. She took a small, indecisive step forward, and then turned right.
Pagusel walked down the side of the road, following the line of the wall until it ended and she came to an intersection. She looked around, and no recognition registered in her gaze. She dipped her head resolutely and walked forward down the road and away from the necromancer's evil house.