Rampant Ambitions

Deep in the heart of the Languan Forests, somewhere in Veskaneth's Phosynthian-infested mid-region, our fabled story-teller sets himself to rest in the early stretches of the morning. The whole night the cloaked figure had been walking from Conguran territory to the un-claimed reaches of the Languan Forest, and finally when the sky lightened from star-spangled black to the darkest hues of blue, he saw fit to rest himself for however short of a time before the dawn came. Night time was dangerous enough being neck-deep in Phosynthian territory, to be sure-- But daytime was more dangerous than even this, if only for the fact there were far more eyes watching you. Having traveled the world and back, no one knew this more than Folgenskie!


"Such a long way yet.." He spoke with bated breath, sullen grey-white eyes staring down into the meager fire he'd started for himself. A small fire, nothing more, nothing less.. He expected it wouldn't draw too much attention, but then he also knew better and figured it might. For this reason, his staff was kept close at hand, the same multitude of pouches hanging from the gnarled end by cords as they always had. Perhaps his was his trademark-- Perhaps, through all his disguises, this was how people knew who he was? Perhaps! Perhaps this, and not his story telling, indeed!


Turning his eyes to the sky, a hand lifting to gently stroke the long silken goatee that hung from his chin, Folgenskie remarked upon how eerily similar this scene was to that of a story he once knew.

"So strange.." He remarked, a smile twisting upon thin lips, shifting wrinkles across his face into the positions in which they had come to be, "...I could have sworn it was a tale of action and adventure." his old voice rattled out, and soon enough his head was lowered again, a fist curled to his lips to release an aged hacking cough.


Folgenskie didn't realize--or perhaps he knew, and simply refused to recognize it?--his talent came from his memories. Things of the past, the future.. Sometimes even the present, by gods, things that he already knew! Such as, for instance, this night as the stars began to fade above and the chilly air felt tense around the warmth of a meager fire at his feet, it was no simple occurance that it should resemble the scene in his story-- It was, in its self, a story! A story yet to be told, he knew, the reasoning why it was so familiar. He knew, too, that what happened next was part of it and he knew precisely what would happen, even if he didn't know he knew it!


Quite a puzzle, isn't it?


So did the mad man grip tighter his staff in aged grasp? He did. Did he turn to glance over his shoulder at a sudden rabble of noise in the forest line somewhere behind him? He did indeed. Cautious did he behave toward the noises, for if it was what he thought it might be.. He'd be back on his journey sooner than he might think, abandoning this nice old log before his nice warm fire in order to sate the thirst for adventure,and the need to tell a story that hadn't yet been told.


And so, as that ruckus stirred in the bush behind him, Folgenskie turned his eyes toward the shadow-gripped tree line and saw...

“Oh god, oh god!” A cry of fear echoed through the dark.

It was accompanied by another noise. A rhythmical sound.

The sound of footfalls beating against the earth.

A massive beast trampled through the underbrush and small woodland animals that had the misfortune of being in the way of the creature and his charge.It looked akin to a large boar - on Earth - but if you were to look closer the distinctions would become evident. This was something far worse and dangerous in nature. It walked on six legs, gazed with four eyes and quills ran up and down the majority of it’s flesh. This one, however, had been severely wounded and quills splintered and torn away. It was dubbed the Sk’rean by some.

Upon it Claves held on for dear life. His hands wrapped around quill and matted fur alike. He could feel the sinews of the Sk’rean as it rumbled through the branches. They whipped and lacerated his flesh. Underneath seething breaths there was an almost silent prayer that the outcome of this would not result in his death.

The beast snorted as if in response, brushing it’s form against passing trees and shrubs. Through strained eyes Claves peered into the darkness in hopes that someone or something could save him from this. It was unlikely. There wasn’t a soul for miles. He had been traversing the borderlands for quite some time and seldom encountered anyone other than those of Photosynthian configuration.

How long had he been out here? It felt like an eternity. Once upon a time all he had to worry about was taking care of his mother and making sure there was food on the table by dusk. Since he had marched out into the world Claves had encountered many new species of beasts and found himself at a loss. This was the world his family had shrouded from him. Perhaps for the better. At home, he’d likely not found himself on the back of a beast with oblivion as his destination.

“Maybe I should-- argh!” Claves was cut off as the creature bucked in anger. A few of the quills cut into his arm, “Damn it!”

Those were going to be a hassle to remove. Nothing short of a blade digging into his arm.

There was a tinge of regret on his heart, for there was hope to avoid reducing his method of execution to one of such barbarism and cruelty. Now he knew that there was no other course of action left to him. He could not simply let his prey escape. That would have meant defeat. Defeat was never an option with Claves.

Calloused hands gripped tightly at the flesh and fur of the beast. As his body rocked up and down, his eyes were glaring forward with unwavering determination. Smoke began to trail upward. The matted fur of the Sk’rean was burning. It was a disgusting odor, but it was only the beginning.

Shortly after the monster was letting out throes of anguish. It fell upon the earth in pain - skidding into the dirt and falling prey to shock. Claves had effectively burned at its flesh until death had taken it. Most of the head had been burned severely. Most notably, the eyes had been boiled away and simply oozed out of the sockets they once resided in.

Claves was still held firmly against the beast, only finally removing himself from his station when it was finally safe. He’d look over the monster with a sense of satisfaction and pride. He had done this. All by himself. Perhaps it was genetics that took such enjoyment in establishing dominance over creatures that could easily rend him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn.

That’s when it occurred to him . . . he was not alone.

He caught sight of the low fire close by and dropped low to the ground.

If one were to look upon him they would see a tattered young man with an almost androgynous set of features. Though he was not the most masculine, there was no doubt that he held himself with confidence. His figure was lean, dexterous. Eyes of crimson were trained and aware. Hands were steady and disciplined.

Claves took but a moment to tuck his hair behind an ear as silent footsteps brought him toward the corpse of his latest kill.

If this man had the keen perception to peer into the fringes of his fire, there would be the sight of a head poking over the bulk of the beast with eyes full of curious intent.

“What are you doing out here in the woods, mister?” It asked.

Ah, yes. Now it was beginning to make sense! The ruckus that had picked up in the background had been coming closer, and closer, and steadily closer even. Each time the pounding of the feet clobbered across the ground it made Folgenskie's hand tighten around his staff, and finally when he heard the boy's errant cry, it lurched the withered man to his feet.


"You've really outdone yourself this time, Sahhre!" he blurted out into the night. It was not a look of panic that gripped his aged features, however-- Instead, it was a look of joy, and amusement! Whoever this 'Sahhre' was, he was applauding them. Apparently he chalked this scene up to Sahhre's doing, whoever it was, for he could see the scene quite clearly despite what his age may have led others to believe! He watched, in fact, with great amusement up until the beast was felled, face burned away with little effort on part of the smart, resourceful lad that clung upon the back of the Sk'rean.


There was a small gap of time--a few moments--between the felling of the beast and the recognition that Claves wasn't alone that Folgenskie had to sit himself back down, head cocking back to the fire to pretend as if nothing had happened. The sky was even lighter now, and growing lighter shades of blue by the minute. Soon, Folgenskie was able to be more easily seen in his black-as-night robes, and the fire was being rendered useless--save for a place to warm one's hide.


Mister. Mister! Oh, he hadn't been called that in ages... Then again, people often recognized his other forms, it figures they'd call him by his name and in this strange form, the boy wouldn't!


"I should ask you the same thing, my boy.. girl. Boy?" He honestly couldn't tell, and chuckled in a wheezing manner, rising up to his feet, turning to pretend to peer into the bushes with a poor-sighted squint toward the fallen beast, "I was just searching for my prized Sk'rean! My dear pet ran off to graze for the night, and I simply won't make it to my destination without her! I'm too old, and wrinkled, you see..." He uttered, squinting again after another moment.

"Say.. What's that you've got there, lad? A great big bog-beast, eh?"

Silence was his only reply for a spell.

Claves inspected the seemingly affable man with great curiosity, for there was naught but wilderness that stretched out in every direction. It only begged one question in his mind.

What kind of man would you be to brave the wilds?

There were not many frail men to take such a brave venture.

It meant this man might be so much more than just a common peasant that came from those large cities he’d heard tales of. He certainly didn’t have the look of a farmer from a hamlet, either.

With great trepidation he’d begin to move away from the corpse that shrouded his form. Claves would begin to round the creature and step closer to the light. It was then that his figure was shown in full view of the stranger.

With leather chestpiece adorning his chest he stood proud, long-sleeved shirt breeches tinted with black dye and leather boots keeping the soles of his feet safe from harm. If one were to look close enough they’d distinguish his gender as male.

His bare and calloused hands wrenched a quill from his arm and cast it to the ground in front of the mysterious man. A look of pain only touched upon his features for a moment before waning to his typical expression - one of happiness.

“Sk’rean? Ohh.” Claves thumbed behind him with a sincere smile, “I’m hoping he’ll make a fine dinner. I’m sorry that he was your pet...” His voice trailed off, as if unsure what to say to offer solace, “But at least we’ll make sure he won’t go to waste!”

Claves let out a small laugh, running a hand through his long strands of hair.

If there was one thing you could say based on first impressions, there was an air of innocence that touched upon every word this Threpa offered. Underneath that was a heart forged of determination and spirit tempered like steel.

Ah, so it was a boy! Folgenskie honestly hadn't been sure at first. Even now, looking at the young man in the light, he wasn't sure-- But the voice confirmed it once again, and so Folgenskie figured he wouldn't fight his senses any longer on it.

The fact that Folgenskie's little white lie hadn't made the man panic but in fact made him smile and laugh managed to dampen the old man's spirits for a moment.. But in the next moment, he was laughing along with the Threpa! A hand washed to his face and rubbed up and down before fingers twirled through his long silken goatee, and finally after a few more minutes of visual exploration of the individual, Folgenskie favored speaking over silence and laughter.


"Come, now. Don't you know it's nigh' impossible to tame a Sk'rean? I'd be a miracle worker if, truly, I could work such magic!" He mentioned with a wave of his hand.

"Miracle indeed. Come, now-- How bad is it?" Folgenskie asked when he began to stride forward in a hobbling gait, a hand outstretched to point at Claves' arm, "That looks right nasty, there, son... How, precisely, do you plan to care for that? Hm? Youuu don't look like any Bealing I've seen!" Folgenskie paused, cocking his head to the side to peer down at Claves' backside, "No tail, either.. Certainly not a Cooanei!" Couldn't he have just.. looked at his EARS instead of his arse? Strange old man.


"No, no. Simply won't do, will it? Ruin a good tale with a bit of a hindrance... I won't have it! Come, now. Come, come." He beckoned. Despite being roughly.. Five feet or so in front of Claves? Folgenskie motioned the young man closer, a boney old hand reaching up to dig his fingers into one of the many pouches hanging from the crooked, gnarled neck of his staff. It seemed almost as if Folgenskie simply expected Claves to do as asked without a qualm! Trusting, or crazy? Or conniving? Maybe a little of each?

Just what could anyone make of this strange old man..?

“Is it?” A few digits ran up to scratch at the side of his head, “I had no idea! If it’s not been done yet, I shall be the first!”

He turned his head to look upon the prey, “Seems I already fouled up, though.”

A look of disappointed touched his features.

As his elder began to speak on the matter of his arm and made motion towards him, Claves looked at it in kind.

There was still a few quills dug into the flesh, blood soaking into the fabric of his attire. One could scarcely make out that he’d been bleeding at all if not for the light beginning to appear on the horizon giving the crimson liquid that soaked into his shirt a sheen. The fabric had been torn away when his assailant had injured him. They were driven in about a half inch or so. The trouble was not the initial impact, it was the damage that ensued once pulled from one’s body. It was much like an arrowhead.

“I was thinking … “ He paused, contemplating the matter. “Leave it be. I’m not familiar with any herbs in this region. Might tie off a
few strips of fabric around it.”

His reply held no answer for the matter of his race - that wasn’t important to him. There was no merit in judging a person based upon their origin - at least to the strange youth. There was little enlightened on the matter regarding his own, after all. A few stories that touched upon his heritage that left nothing but a sour taste in his mouth. His culture was that of... confliction with the way he viewed the world. Claves indulged in being a half-breed for there was what he treasured most: freedom.

When the old man beckoned him, the younger man could do nothing but wonder as to what the nature of this man intended. He drew closer, but a hand trailed down his side to seat above a worn sheath with the hilt of a dagger jutting out of it.

You have to be realistic about these things.

How could you trust a … very strange old man?

“You won’t have... what, now? What tale? I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Very strange indeed.

"Grand thing that these aren't herbs, now isn't it?" Folgenskie laughed, and from the pouch he withdrew his fingertips, which scrunched together to gently clutch a few colorful berries. These berries were foreign indeed, covered in little spines that looked like they should hurt, but still Folgenskie popped the tropical little darlings in his mouth like any other berry! There was a deep purr in the back of his throat as he chewed them, a trickle of their bright green juice slipping from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. For how tiny they were, they sure were packed full of delicious juice!


"I understand there's magic in the world, lad, but not every Will and Mary you see is a healer!" Folgenskie assured Claves. A hand wiped the juice from his chin, and moments later, his tongue flickered out against his calloused thumb, and then that thumb was drawn across Claves' cheek and swirled there like a mother might for her child on the first day of class.


"Nope, I'd say you're going to lose that arm unless you find a healer soon, dear boy. H'oh! I can only imagine what'll happen then. Araea's realm, here you come!" Folgenskie wailed, and soon after quieted rather abruptly, lifting a finger and winking lightly at Claves.


"Only joking," he further assured as he turned to hobble back to the fire, "though you do know how filthy those things can get. Best keep the wound clear, eh? Ohh, if only you had a generous old fart to show you to the nearest healer's hut..." He clucked his tongue softly, shaking his head sadly as he began to hobble off. The sky was painted nice streaking hues of pink and orange now, and his fire had gone out, and that meant it was time for him to move on!

Now, would the lad follow, or stay by himself? Choices, choices.. Very difficult!

There was a sense of familiarity when the old man rubbed his worn thumb against the youth’s cheek, but there wasn’t any sense of warmth from the action. Rather, there was confusion. When the digit pulled away, Claves was left there rubbing at his cheek with a puzzled expression and eyes cast down at the ground to contemplate what just occurred.

“Oh my, really?!” A hand gripped at the flesh just beneath the barbs, “I like this arm! We have to--”

He was joking.

Claves was confused once more. This was such an odd man.

It did not stop him from raising his calloused digits to cover his lips and muffle a spell of laughter. Though he did not fully grasp the joke and the intent of it, there was something discouraging about having your jests fall flat. Claves humored him with this gesture.

“I suppose you’re right, mister. My mother always told me to help those and they’ll help you in kind. So by doing this, is there anything I could do for you? I could not let your good deed go without reward!”

Claves followed closely behind, but cast his gaze backward towards the Sk’rean.

It seemed this would not fill his stomach tonight, but at least the creatures of the wood had something to feed upon tonight.

No waste. His mother taught him well. Did she tell him to trust strange old men from the forest?

She never really touched upon that subject.

The youth took on a gait that matched his elder, hands running through his hair to slick it back with grease and sweat -- gross.

“What’re you doing all the way out here, anyway?”

"Bah," Folgenskie waved his hand over his shoulder at Claver, "perish the thought, boy. I do enjoy a good story, this is quite enough! And all the same, I'm not doing you too large a favor.." He smirked, rounding a bushy bend.

Pushing a wall of leaves aside and leading Claver into a nice little hidden cove not some thirty feet from where they had been, the sneaky old bastard revealed that the healer's hut, apparently, had just been this short a distance away! Folgenskie burst into wheezing laughter, pausing to bend over and slap his knee lightly. Oh, it was too funny! This was just wonderful! Of course, perhaps he found it funnier than Clave might've... He usually did find simple things funnier than most.


Just when you might've thought he'd have killed himself laughing, he stopped. Slowly he boiled down to soft chuckles and wiped tears from his eyes, hobbling up to the moss-covered door to knock.

If someone DID live here.. They didn't do a very good job of upkeep. Along with the doors, the windows were shrouded by hanging vines and circle-shaped leaves fanning out from tiger-striped blooms, and as they walked to the door they had been crushing delicate and beautiful little flowers painted colors of white and teal among the bed of clovers. Strangely enough, though, Folgenskie's knocking managed to awaken lights inside the home, where now warm light backlighted the hanging leaves and vines through filthy, fogged up windows. Floorboards creaked as someone approached the door.


Then, as if the door hadn't been opened in YEARS, the hinges creaked and wailed in despair as the door was only cracked. A thin, glaring yellow eye was seen jerking up and down and all around them.


"...Old fart." A hissing voice stated.


"Brother!" Folgenskie held his arms out, as if beckoning the door to open further.

And so they travelled away from the site where the Sk’rean had fallen to--

A stone’s throw away.

Claves gazed with stupification at the old man as the roar of laughter consumed the silence around them. There was a moment where he considered - very briefly, so briefly - to choke the old man. He shook off that thought and instead humored him once again with an accompany fit of laughter that didn’t last nearly as long.

Oh, this decrepit man was going to grate his nerves.

WIth a heavy sigh he’d peer towards the door. A voice came from inside the shelter. It startled Claves. He took a step back and reached for his dagger once more, but when the old man exclaimed their relationship he found himself grasping at nothing but air.

Two strange hermits in one day.

If only his Mother could see him now, interacting with the strangest of folk on the borderlands. These were the folks that some warned you against meeting and doing deals with, but Claves had no idea what people were warned and told stories of. He had a pair of fresh eyes with which to view the world and indulge in things that weren’t commonplace. His life was simple.

It wasn’t so simple now.

There were old people. Doing strange... old things.
Like telling jokes that made no sense.

Claves chalked that up to not being wise enough.
Perhaps when you grew old your sanity waned.

Clearly it had for this old-timer.
Was this his fate?

Claves shuddered.

No.

If this were, indeed, Folgenskie's brother-- His mother SURE did get around...

When the door opened further, it was not another old man standing there. Rather, it was a tall lizard-like fellow who seemed to stoop in order to be able to stand comfortably in the shack, but upon a second glance, that wasn't stooping.. The fellow had a sharp hunching crick in his neck that forced his neck to hang low, near his midsection! In fact, when the lizard-man shifted back on digitigrade legs and lifted his head to stretch it, he appeared to use quite a few muscles to stretch the long neck upward before letting it fall again.

The reptilian fellow was standing upon a pair of digitigrade legs that sprouted from either side of one long torso that melted into a thick, tri-split tail without any curves from the solar-plexus down. It was almost as if a giant snake had simply sprouted a pair of arms and legs and evolution said 'Hey, let's keep it!' Each tail behind it seemed highly prehensile, and sensitive at that, touching and feeling just about everything they touched, like thick fingers. Or worms.

Yellow slit eyes stared eerily down at Claves, and a hand extended out to his side to catch that of Folgenskie's as the decrepit old man made to slap it and shake it vividly.


"Sashan! How are you, old friend? Is your wife doing well? She was expecting eggs last time I saw her! Oh, yes. And would you mind tending to this young one's arm? He had a very fortunate run-in with a Sk'rean just earlier.."


"Fine - What elsssse would ssshe be exssspecting, kittensss? At any rate, she'sss dead. - And, yessss.. I heard. But how do you call thisss fortunate?" Sashan hissed outward, black leather vest creaking a bit as the reptilian leaned over, three forked tongues flicking out over the wound, provided Claves stayed still and close enough.



"Simple!" Folgenskie replied, waddling to the fire to pick up the ladle, sniffing the foul bubbling snot-like slime boiling away in the cauldron hanging over the fire, "He killed it, and he's alive. Fortunate indeed!"



Sashan could only hiss softly, what was assumed to be his version of a snort. Eyes flickered up to Claves, and Sashan seemed to stare at the boy for a long moment... And after another moment, the corners of his scaled lips turned upward, and he squinted while he smiled.


"You must have had.. quite the exsssperience to have the gall to kill a Sssssk'rean, man-child..."

Claves was silent once again as the door began to creak open and reveal -- dinner? There was a moment where the youth stood with mouth agape. It was much like beings he roasted over spits on an open flame back home. But... a lot bigger. Tastier, perhaps? He shook these thoughts from his mind and simply... gawked.

This was new. This was very new.

Back home there had been scarcely any humanoids that interacted with Claves nor his mother. Almost anyone he had interacted with had been Conguran. He’d heard stories of various races around the world but that was left to wondrous imagination and speculation on what they may look like or what their customs might be other than what was relayed to him by travellers and his mother.

But this?

Nothing prepared him for this.

He’d watch with yearning eyes - as if wanting to soak in every bit of social interaction - as the two greeted each other with familiarity and strange mannerisms. When the reptilian inspected him, Claves looked back with a smile and inclined his head in greeting. How wondrous this was! Meeting such a beautiful creature after … the old man. When the creature closed in with the flickering tongue, Claves would not budge an inch. This was something he did not understand, but it was clearly something that wasn’t harmful.

When it was deemed appropraite, the youth would enter the shelter with footsteps lightly touching up the earth. His jubilation was reflected in his body language. He’d toy with an errant strand of hair as they continued to chatter until the reptilian addressed the matter of the Sk’rean and the “gall” he had to bring down such a beast.

“Gall?” Vacant eyes stared at the reptilian creation before his head cocked to the side, “I was hungry!” A hand pressed against the armor that protected his stomach and rubbed at it for a moment, “Still am.” His nose picked the aroma coming from where the old man had staggered off to. It wasn’t very appealing. There would be no inquiry as to the food within the shelter. Claves enjoyed his intestinal tract being in healthy condition.

“I’m not sure what your customary greeting is, but...” He’d bow his head once more, “My name is Claves. It’s nice to meet you! Both of you!”

There was a moment of awkward, very awkward silence when both Folgenskie and Sasahn listened to and watched Claves' every move. It was like a train wreck that was too gruesome and terrible to look away from. While Folenskie stared in wonder at the mannerisms of the boy, Sasahn stared in horror and with a disgusted grimace...



...And by the time he bowed his last bow and introduced himself, they both were practically rolling on the floor laughing.



"HOW PRECIOUS!" Folgenskie roared with laughter.


"LIKE A DEW DROP ON A SSSSPRING MORNING, S-S-S-SS-SS!" Sasahn hiss-wheezed.




And amidst their uproaring laughter, Sashan had managed to get a good look at the quills. He saw how deep they were embedded, and he knew the Sk'rean's barb-tipped quills well and what kind of damage they could do. And so, toward the end of their laughing fit, Sashan began to gurgle and hack like he had laughed too much and was choking on it.


"Serves you right, laughing at the poor boy like that!" Folgenskie scolded Sashan through his laughter, never mind the fact he was STILL laughing softly at the manners the boy had produced, which apparently they both found just bloody HILARIOUS, "Also serves you right for cooking poison in my good pot!"



What came next might have assuredly surprised Claves, however. With lightning quick reflexes, Sashan struck out with a three-fingered hand and grasped all the quills at once, another hand finding his wrist just as quickly as the quills were, without another word, abruptly torn out of his arm along with a hefty chunk of flesh and muscle, to be sure.


Before he could even react to this, however, a hand clamped around Claves' wrist would keep him firmly in place--in case he DID have quick reflexes, and the boy looked like he did--and before the arm could get to spurting blood too quickly, he'd find that Sashan was spitting.. BILE at him. Spitting all over his arm, retching the horrible, clear-ish white-ish goop onto his arm, whereupon it began to burn like the ever-living nethers, no doubt spiraling the boy into a world of pain like he had never known before. It was like acid, practically, and Sashan only released Clavers' wrist when he was sure it was taking effect as intended.


Sashan did not move, either-- He was aware the boy bore a knife, and was aware that if he could struggle through the blinding and disorienting pain he'd use it. But Sashan wanted to see what the boy had in him.. He wanted to see Clavers' prowess. Even just a tiny hint of it.


Of course, while it couldn't be seen beneath the mixture of gooey milky bile and crimson blood dripping from his arm, the burning was, in actuality, a result of the highly sterile bile burning the infectants out of the wound, sufficiently upping his healing rates as well. Pain for gain.


In short? It cleaned the wound, and was now, in a manner most like cauterizing a wound, closing it. Healing in a most barbaric and raw nature.

And laughter filled the air.

Claves was taken off guard this time. He could not join in their fit of laughter this time. There he sat as they erupted and rolled with their individual fits. He didn’t understand what he had done that seemed so … amusing. A finger scratched at the side of his head as eyes were cast downward during the duration of their spell of joy. They then spoke of him through the fit but still he did not understand. There was a small chuckle laced with nervous tones coming from the youth, but other than that he remained still.

Awkward.

What had he done?

Then -- pain.

A sensation quite severe resonated from his arm. It sent a shockwave of agony that rattled his body. He attempted to jerk his arm to strike at the cause of this -- Sashan -- but found his wrist bound by the reptilian. There was anger boiling within the youth. His eyes turned upward and twisted into a menacing glare at the creature that held him still as the pain caused him to grit teeth together.

That’s when he saw it.

He was spitting.

Spitting on Claves.

W-What?

Before he could even contemplate how disgusting that was a new sensation covered where the wound lay on his arm. It was hurting in a way he’d not experienced before.

“A-Aaaah!” Claves cried out in pain, feet stamping upon the ground below much like the stampeding Sk’rean.

His body twisted in the grip of the reptilian and attempted to pry himself free with all of his strength, but it felt ever so futile. Claves scratched at the hand with desperation. He felt his anger swelling far more than when the quills had been pulled. When his mind acknowledged there was likely no escape -- it happened.

Sashan got his wish.

Claves eyes glared at the hand as his arms began to feel abnormally warm for a moment. The youth was quiet for but a moment save his seething breaths but afterwards it happened. His free hand seemed to grab at nothing but air when an orb of fire began to manifest within his grasp. It was the size of a hefty stone and seemed to flicker in the air like any candlelight would.

He thrust arm forward and pitched it to the reptilian. If it were to make contact with his body the orb would erupt in an explosion large enough to set him aflame and knock him back with concussive force - yet not in a lethal manner. There was only the desire to stop this searing agony by any means necessary. Even if it took hurting his “healer”.

Claves had no idea the bile was helping him. He didn’t care at this point.


He held no malice towards Sashan.
But would he laugh after this?
Probably not.

In fact, he did not. Sashan had stared in an eerily silent manner at Claves in stark contrast to how the reptilian had been laughing earlier, and all in anticipation in seeing what Claves would do. Would the boy fight, or fold, or flee? Folgenskie had been sitting in the background in the meantime, right where he had fallen to roll around on the ground in laughter, still with a grin on his face but no longer laughing.


And then-- FWOOSH! BAM!


Sashan was knocked clear across to the other side of the hut, his black leather vest crackling and smoking as the smell of burning leather filled the room. There was a portion of those scales beneath which appeared exposed, and sure enough, painfully charred.

Sashan had not bothered to dodge in any way when surely he could have. He wanted to witness, personally, the power behind what the boy had, and he still doubted he had seen more than just the surface of his abilities. After all, true power came when you were in true mortal danger.

Sashan hissed sharply in pain, a constant, deep hissing in the back of his throat that betrayed the excited grin upon his lizard-like face. With effort, he stood, careful not to move his arm for fear of moving the wound too much.


"Eeeeexssssellent." He hissed, "Quite the fire in this boy!" Not to be ironic, of course, "A bit dull in purposssse, however... Lacking of will and motivation. Much like when I wasss a youngling, before I met the true king.." Sashan spoke to himself, eventually approaching Claves to look the boy over from somewhat of a distance, lest he provoke the boy into attacking again.


A glance to Claves' arm told him his bile was doing the work. Sure enough, the bile was still bubbling away over Claves' arm, but the wound was already closed up and bile trapped inside of it was still working away. It stung like his arm was being swarmed with bees, but it had calmed considerably and, likely, was no longer unbearable. It reminded Sashan of his own injury, to which end he horked up a glob of bile into one hand and slathered it over the burn wound where similar reactions took place. Sashan took it in stride, of course, having healed himself many times this way. He could now handle it with little more than a flinch and the swelling of his neck, a common reaction to pain and danger.


"You could have warned the boy, you know. And don't go spouting nonsense at him about you-know-who! Nothing but trouble, I say, those royals." Folgenskie wheezed and lifted himself from the floor.


"If I didn't know better, I'd ssssay you weren't neutral, old friend." Sashan hissed defensively at Folgenskie, "Asss old a friend asss you are, I wouldn't accept ssslander againssst my lord, in my housssse, of all thingsss.." he warned, eyes narrowed toward Folgenskie.