Mith'aj the Tactful's page

Osei wakes with a start at distant thunder.

Nurrah calls out, "At ease, Otieno. It's just a training run - no need to be so spooked." She flashes a smile, but it doesn't touch her eyes. In her left hand, she nervously twirled a gleaming sharp knife.

The campfire he and his team built earlier in the evening has burned low, smoldering and casting red light on the three others sitting around the blaze. Aron Nir is bleeding from a small hole in his forehead, and does not notice when his blood, now black and thin, runs into his mug as he raises it to his lips. The rock Osei sits on is getting really uncomfortable, he shifts continually.

Flash.

The air in the Mwangi Expanse is stifling, even at night. Osei is silently stalking a kill that will feed his family for weeks. He must not fail, he must prove himself to be a value to his village. In the clearing ahead, he sees the beast and his heart flutters with fear. Frozen, he can only stare as it rips into something on the ground before it. He can hear flesh and ligament separating, like ripping thick parchment or splitting the spine of a tome.

Thunder.

"Yes, Osei, don't be such a downer. Lighten up - this might as well be a party! And one that won't betray you." Lewis says with a wink. His charming grin is extraordinarily wide, disturbingly so, and his eyes are reflecting quite a bit more light than the smoldering campfire is generating. His elegant white clothes are starting to wither and blacken, and his now impossibly wide grin opens to allow a grating laughter.

Nir takes another sip from his mug, staring into the fire. Drip.

Osei feels his breathing become panicked and prickles of heat rise all over his body - he can't move. Some weight has pinned him to the spot, like being trapped beneath a pile of smoldering timber.

Flash.

He raises his bow, pulls the fletching to his cheek, noting his tattooed bow arm - the runic marks on his forearm are quite visible, flickering and glowing with an internal light. Osei tries to ignore them. He holds his breath on the exhale and looses. The shaft flies true and plunges into the side of the beast, just behind its shoulder, halting is grisly meal. It cries out in unearthly anger, thrashes in the night - and then falls, silent. The hunter slings his bow, looses his dagger from his belt and walks out to give the beast mercy.

Thunder.

Kir stands up, turns around to look to the sky. Osei follows his gaze - blazing lightning flashes across the sky. Aron Kir turns up his mug and drains it, the blood from his forehead running in a rivulet across his temple into his hair. Storm's brewin', Kir's buzzing voice drones. When he turns back to Osei, Kir is no more and there is only the insectile face of the Oolioddroo. And this one has yet to receive the Gift. He turns to face the young wizard.

Nurrah and Lewis are both bleeding from their foreheads now. Osei is struggling, but he can't move a muscle. His runic laced flesh is searing now, the tattooed symbols glowing crimson, and ... melting? They shift and pulse in time with his thundering heart, coalescing into red-hot shackles and chains, lashing him to the rock.

Flash.

He reaches his kill, and his hands go numb, dropping the merciful dagger. On the ground, there are two bodies. One, the meal his prey was enjoying is ripped open, gutted, and full of botfly larvae. It is Master Quednys, completely still but alive - a look of rage frozen in a grimace - staring at Osei. He backs from the corpse, and stumbles over the beast he slew. His shaft sticks up from the terrible, scaled body that sports six clawed limbs from which long barbs protrude. And it's antlered head is that of the Marquis, slyly grinning up at the wizard.

"Evil is evil." Quednys' hollow voice intones, the Master's corpse now pointing at him, accusingly.

Osei stumbles back, away from the accusation and loses his balance. When he hits the ground ...

Thunder.

They are approaching him now, slowly, drifting on some unseen wind. Kir's face unfolded and extended a proboscis, writhing to and fro. Lewis to Kir's left, clutching his stomach and laughing so hard now that his bulging eyes leak tears that stream down his distorted face. His laughter growing ever louder. Nurrah is suddenly at Osei's side. A sharp pain lances through his ribs. The storm in the sky worsens, the thunder and lightning closer together, now.

"It is time, Osei Otieno," Nurrah says, purring in Osei's right ear.

Yesz, Oszei. It isz. Nir's voice laces into and around his mind, the officer's multifaceted eyes glittering.

Lewis tries to speak, but it doubles him over. In the non-time of dreams, it seems like he's been laughing for an eternity. He doesn't pause for breath. His laughter is grating. Repulsive. He's pointing at Osei, lashed to the rock.

Osei tries to call out, but his voice is stuck in his chest. Impossible to scream.

Did you really think you would eszcape unszcathed, Oszei Otieno?

The proboscis lances into his forehead, and all explodes in light and agony and laughter.

...

Osei wakes up in his quarters, screaming, drenched in sweat, with Lewis' mocking cackle ringing in his ears. He rises, and walks out into the common room to open the window for some air.

The air is still, as before a storm. The only sound is the song of locusts and a word in his mind:

... unscathed ...