Flashback Crashed Course [Graded]

[Kuvarakh]

Klendor was instructed to remain behind, but the order was given with no evidence of antagonism. He and the administrator checked some charts and lists and there was a delivery of some sort of tirade, which Klendor took in fine reprimanded fashion, but it was with nothing like the fury of chimes before. There was some sort of consensus reached between them and Klendor was dismissed. As he approached them, the relief on his face was mirrored by his two partners, who were standing by Kuvarakh, watching the exchange.

"That was quick thinking." Trovillo complimented quietly. "But you still need to learn our language or stay out of sight as much as possible. We can't keep making excuses for you not knowing it."

"Well, he can't stay out of sight when he has to be present for report." Ilisambro piped in, echoing Kuvarakh's thoughts, who nodded dejectedly.

"Well, we clearly have to teach him Isur, then, don't we." Trovillo declared with a shrug emphasizing the obvious. He called something IN that very language to Klendor as he got near. Then lowered his voice and added, "But amongst ourselves, we can't slip up and go speaking common."

"So who's going to do it? I'm no language instructor." Ilisambro asked guardedly. He clearly didn't want to have anything to do with it. "Look, no offense, but this is your problem, not ours." he said, eying Kuvarakh with a less-than-entirely-sympathetic look on his face. He turned back to Trovillo and continued. having the courtesy to use common so Kuvarakh would know what was what. "We really didn't have time to fully discuss Klendor's proposal in depth. I'm not so sure now that I want to do this. it's becoming more complicated than it sounded at first."

"Only at first." Klendor answered as he guided them back into one of the rooms. "To be honest, the biggest problem is now behind us, thanks to Colo-...Kuvarakh. I was worried that we'd face the Administrator before we could get him speaking Isur well enough. And even though that was a very near thing out there, you bluffed your way through it admirably." He graced Kuvarakh with a conspiratorial grin and a slap on the back. "Now it will be weeks before he makes another appearance. We'll have you speaking sufficiently by then."

"Well now, wait a chime. What is this proposal your friend here mentioned? I'd like to think I have some say in this. It's not that I'm not grateful for your initial support when I arrived, but he's right..." Kuvarakh gestured at Ilisambro, "Me staying here is just going to complicate things. Maybe it would be best if I left."

Klendor leveled a frank gaze and spoke in a no-nonsense tone. "It's too late for that. It would have been best if you'd never arrived. I was about to fill out the report for your disappearance when you showed up. Your behavior immediately drew scrutiny. Your apparent "refusal" or "inability" to speak Isur nearly got you shot down as a spy! It's only because Colomar was part of my detail that I was able intervene."

His expression lightened and he gave Kuvarakh a look of appreciation. "I've got to hand it to you. I wasn't sure what was up with you at first either, and I was just beginning to think I'd stuck my neck out for an enemy. But that story you gave the administrator will serve to account for everyone's initial suspicions. I have basically had to apologize for the incident, and we've been given a term of punishment for it."

Trovillo and Ilisambro rolled their eyes, the arc bringing their gaze to Kuvarakh, who cringed and began to defend himself. Klendor interrupted him. "It's okay. It actually works out very well for us." This brought the accusing looks on Trovillo and Ilisambro's faces to one more reflective of curiosity. "Besides, there's nowhere for you to go right now anyway. That dire wolf is not the only creature out there that would kill you, and I doubt you could find your way out without a map. If you can fake your way around here for another season, we can probably get you out of here as a trade representative to some lower valley station."

Kuvarakh pondered this strategy, not finding any particular fault with it that would not be present in any other. "Well that sounds good, I guess. But I still want to know what this 'proposal' is you mentioned."

[Kuvarakh]

"We are explorers, researchers and historians under the authority of the Hammer. They are providing us the equipment and logistical necessities to carry on the work we are doing. There is a lake not far from here, both fed and emptied by the river you described as the one walled in by the chasm you fell from..." Klendor began.

"Thrown from..." Kuvarakh interrupted, "Hurled from. By the big wolf."

"Uh...yes...'Hurled from', by the Dire Wolf." Klendor corrected, with a subtle roll of the eyes. He carried on with a tone the begged for no further interruptions. "Anyway... From that lake was pulled, a year or two ago, an artifact with indications of Uluth origins..." He held up his hand to stymie the question just about to launch from Kuvarakh's lips. "The Uluth are a clan that fell to ruin and virtual extinction from internal conflict that set them on course to mad self-destruction a short time after the Valterian. There are still traces of their bloodline and arm hues that appear, due to the surviving remnants of their clan having been absorbed into the stable clans still extant.

"As a consequence of the occasional appearance of their arm colorings, there is a belief that there is some divine favor for their old blood. Perhaps the thought is that their hue would have been recessive by now and forgotten without Izurdin's favor. Maybe he found gratification in their passion, however destructive. Maybe just a nostalgic hope to resurrect something thought lost. I honestly do not know.

"What I DO know is that a quite a few items have washed down from the higher elevations and prompted the work we do here now. We use what techniques we can to achieve safe underwater work for short durations and scour the lake and stream beds. Naturally, the lake holds far more promise as a repository of displaced artifacts."

"You still haven't told me how this involves me." Kuvarakh protested.

"You currently possess the body of our most skilled excavator, Colomar. And like it or not, you're not going to be allowed to walk away. You are under commission by the Hammer itself. Truth is, the...well...'death' you suffered the other day is the only way you are getting out of the duration of this contract. I was ready to sign you off as 'Missing, presumed dead', when you showed up, acting strangely enough to bring you under the bows of the guard contingent."

"You mean if I'd have just run the other way, I could have walked out of these mountains and no one would have been the wiser." Kuvarakh asked in a tone of self-betrayal.

"You'd never have made it. You've made it fairly obvious that you have no mountaineering skills." Trovillo piped in.

"Well, why don't I just go explain the situation to that officer. Maybe they'll be gracious enough to give me an escort to the lowlands. I'd have a decent chance there." Kuvarakh said with wishful thinking.

All three of the true Isur snorted in amusement at Kuvarakh's naivete. "The only place you'd be escorted to is The Silver Tower." Ilisambro spoke first.

"Never to be seen again." Trovillo followed up.

"Why? I'm no enemy to your people!" Kuvarakh whined in trapped exasperation.

"You are a NUIT!" Trovillo and Klendor spoke as one, Klendor continuing. "You would be taken to the Silver Tower, and they would probably try to separate you from Colomar's body, to remove the invasion against the sanctity of his body. They'd probably force another body switch on you. Then the Sentinels would use you to experiment on, in order to learn more about Animation at least. Probably Magecrafting and Alchemy as well. They might even hack off bits of you for Malediction experiments, figuring they can always trade you into another body if they damage you too extensively. Now, If you were to be cooperative with them, they'd probably treat you fairly well, but you would never be free. You'd still just be a subject to experiment on, with or without your consent."

Kuvarakh's stare grew more horrified with each statement. he shook away the despair long enough to comment, "Okay, look. It sounds like your proposal is likely to be my only option, but I'm still not sure what it is I'm being asked to do that's different than what Colomar did."

"That's just it! You won't be doing anything different." Klendor nodded. "Just keep being Colomar for the rest of his contract...And remember, OUR necks are on the line as well, for perpetrating this deception."

[Kuvarakh]

"What was it Colomar was...commissioned...to do?" Kuvarakh asked in a resigned tone.

"He goes in...well...went...into the lake with glyphed and magecrafted gear to search for artifacts. The gear is allow him to breath underwater for short durations. We have been systematically charting the lake floor where items are found to see if there is a pattern. You are also expected to make note of significant geographical features, like chasms and caves and such." Trovillo responded as Ilisambro and Klendor nodded agreement.

"But I don't know how to do any of that. I'm not a cartographer!" Kuvarakh protested. It wasn't the underwater aspect of the work that bothered him. He had done similar jobs in other cities. But mostly just lost and found searches, with occasional clean-up and repair or harbor work.

Ilisambro broke in, "Don't worry, you'll gt used to it. There is a buoy that is floated out to where you leave off and you pick up where you left off. There is a grid with a legend for making marks on the map and the chain with the plumb anchor that keeps it in place serves as a depth measure as well. You will get the routine down soon enough. And like Klendor said, it will be quite some time before another administrator comes to check on progress. We are a week or two from Sultros. They do not care to journey here without some special cause."

Even though Kuvarakh did not need the gear for aid in breathing, being a Nuit, he wore it for disguise and also as protection from the tendency Nuits have to absorb and retain moisture when kept in extremely damp environments. Spending several bells, day after day, under water, would cause him to "Soften" and rapidly deteriorate. Though he was animated, his flesh was still subject to corpse-like vulnerabilities.

But his three "partners" were right. He DID get used to taking depth measurements and marking symbols and notations on the grid for reference to finds and features on the lake bottom. And, not needing sleep, he was able to spend considerable time learning the language. They concentrated on terminologies and common question-and-answer based phrases and contexts that he was most likely to have to bluff through, if he was ever in such a position. Dates and time-frame references, counting and weights and measures, as well as routine day in and day out stuff like 'yes sir', 'no sir', 'where is it', 'sorry, orders', 'I haven't been feeling well.' and 'you'll have to ask my taskmaster'. It was not very conversational stuff, but it served mostly to direct attention to one of the three others.

And, over the next few seasons, they did find several items. These were turned over to a man that came through the camp every other week for this specific purpose. Kuvarakh did not talk to him directly, but found the man's eyes on him more often than seemed natural. He mentioned this to Klendor, who explained that it was probably due to his request that "Colomar" be transferred to a lower footlands location far downstream.

Klendor grinned to see Kuvarakh's reaction to this news. They had all grown on each other, but it would be a relief to see him on his way before he was discovered. Yes, things were looking up.

[Kuvarakh]

A few days later, Kuvarakh was, once again, in the lake traversing a new coordinate across the bottom. There were odds and ends, bits of worked stone, metal parts and fittings, rusted beyond recognition. He was coming back the other way when he felt the line connecting him to the trade post side go slack. Then it pulled taut again, and was followed by four tugs. This indicated trouble of some sort back at the trade post side.

His cohorts knew he did not need to breathe, so the arrangement was that he would disconnect the line. If it lay slack within reach, he was to hurry back. If it was immediately pulled away from him toward the post side, he was to go back to the other side. It meant that his friends would be telling a tale of his lifeline being inexplicably disconnected. There would be a muster and search, but he would not be found.

To his dismay, the line slipped quickly away from him. Apparently, he had been found out, or at least was suspected of not being what he seemed. And he had been so close to being transferred downhill to the lowlands site. Then it dawned on him, the whole approved transfer scenario had been a ruse to keep him in place. The only thing left to know was whether the Sentinels were behind this, manipulating Klendor and his friends with false delay on the transfer, or if it was Klendor and crew, themselves, that had spun this yarn.

It took only as long as it took to reach the far side of the lake to find out. When his head broke the surface, he saw an Isur soldier wave and call out something in Isur that was pretty clearly meant to alert others to his location, judging by the waving and pointing accompanying his words. Kuvarakh looked left and right and saw five more soldiers and a seventh figure clad in black robes with silver highlights.

Ilisambro stood, flanked by two of the soldiers, his face set in stone. Kuvarakh immediately perceived that the poor workman had been pressured to betray him into the hands of the Sentinels and was terrified of being held as an accomplice, while also sick with guilt at having given in to the pressure to save himself and his friends from censure, imprisonment, or worse.

Kuvarakh felt no animosity towards Ilisambro. If it was only his own life that would suffer, it could be said that he should have refused to cooperate and accepted the consequences with honor. But when the choice was his own future, plus those of two others, along with whatever families they had, against the escape of a single man, a relative stranger, he could not fault his decision.

But he felt compelled to act in some way to help Ilisambro clear his name of any suspicion of collaboration. He stalked towards him, putting on a look of apprehension and anger. The other soldiers converged on him as he drew close enough to direct an invisible bubble of djed to Ilisambro's head. He let the impression take root in the man's conception that, 'He's not serious, it's an act.' Then, for ALL to hear, Kuvarakh sneered at him, "So, I should have known...Befriending me, only to sell me out! You must be very proud of yourself."

There was a barely noticeable flash of understanding across Ilisambro's face. He suppressed it quickly with a shrug. "You're an outsider, masquerading somehow as one of us. You're a spy, and I'm doing my duty."

The robed man pondered a few seconds, then nodded to the two guards, who stepped away from Ilisambro and formed up as an escort squad to lead Kuvarakh away. Kuvarakh winked covertly to Ilisambro and, after they took a dozen steps, he turned and looked back to shout in feigned defiance, "Tell the others they haven't heard the last of ME!"

One of the soldiers spun him back around roughly and they resumed marching.

[Kuvarakh]

It wasn't that difficult to again raise the bubble of mind-touching djed, directing it this time at the guard that had spun him around. He let the impression settle in that some message had passed between the robed man and himself with the latter's nod. He gave a condescending grin to the man and cooperatively adjusted his pace to keep up. A few moments later he let the guard notice him giving him a sidelong glance that he quickly reined in to face front again.

He thought briefly of giving the man another "dose" of persuasion, but decided against it. Subtlety was the key here. Plus, the range on the shot he gave Ilisambro had been a stretch, and there had been a twinge of a headache that was now mildly pulsing behind his eyes.

But there was nothing to prevent him from occasional non-hypnotic rubs in that direction. But it was important not to overdue it. First and foremost, he knew not to EVER appear to be outraged or even curious about the cause of this seizure. He wanted to give the impression of being IN on it. And he did, in fact, already have a good idea what was going on. The robed man must be a representative of this "Silver Tower" that Klendor had mentioned. Surely, he was being taken for the very reason they had outlined to him. A permanent "test subject" status to be inflicted on him, only marginally relieved by complete, abject cooperation.

There was no doubt that the robed man was a wizard of some sort. But with the isolationist attitude these Isur were rumored to have, there was a great number of questions to be answered. 'How much did these wizards know about Nuits?' They obviously knew OF them, but the very fact of this incarceration indicated they didn't know that much, and wanted to know more.

'Is it mere curiosity or is there some sort of socio-religious offense I am held guilty of by inhabiting this Isur body?' Kuvarakh suspected the latter, else they might well have simply called him to conference and offered him a deal.

'Are the residents of this Silver Tower an even additionally isolationist faction within this society?' This too, seemed pretty likely. 'Were Klendor and his associates exaggerating about the treatment I will probably receive?' He didn't intend to find out. 'Had they been making assumptions due to some secretive nature of these guys in the robes? What was the name again...oh yeah, 'Sentinels." This also seemed pretty likely, but that didn't mean they were wrong. 'Are the guards also intimidated by some reputation for mystery and affliction held by the Sentinels?' THIS was what he DID intend to find out.

[Kuvarakh]

There would be many days of journey ahead of them. Kuvarakh knew he needed to sow suspicion among the escorting guards. He knew from his talks with Klendor and his friends that the color of the men's arms indicated some sort of "clan" affiliation. He wasn't sure of the clan names offhand, but he recalled something about the black and silver arms being more frequently connected to magic disciplines and the blue arms being more inclined to religious zeal. He saw that as a natural predisposition to distrust. Perfect!

The soldiers were evenly divided between the two colors. Kuvarakh figured this was some sort of check and balance by both clans to keep the other on the level. He didn't assume for a second that either clan would be disposed towards thinking his incarceration to be wrongful, but it seemed that the two groups were not terribly friendly with each other either. He guessed it was some kind of give and take by both clans to assure each other that neither group was trying to get more than, or hide anything from, the other. But it would take some serious contention to get them to turn on each other.

First and foremost, was to convince the "robe" that he was completely cooperative, even to the point of being totally unaware of any unpleasantness in his future. Then, he would work on the blue arms, the "Vizerians", he finally remembered. He would make them think something was up, something not to their benefit. He would keep compounding that impression day by day and ease it over into the realm of peril to their persons.

It would be long before that, that the two groups would begin huddling away from each other. Any command to form ranks by the robe would only aggravate the situation, making the blues think the robe is trying to force them into a disadvantageous position. They would quickly consider him to be "against" them, on behalf of the black armed men in the escort. And he would take every opportunity to reinforce that view.

Then, of course, it was the next phase to instill, in the minds of the black armed guards, the thought of the blues as treacherous, plotting to steal away their prize. That naturally, the Vizerians would have to eliminate them, to silence any witnesses. With this in mind, he set out to build up the estimate of his value, to give support for the feelings of jealousy and betrayal he intended to inflate.

He began speaking casually about his "extensive" background in multiple disciplines. He did not try to sound proud, just matter of fact, occasionally asking the robe which of his fields of knowledge they were interested in exchanging with each other. He HAD studied animation as well an alchemy, at Zeltiva University, before his transformation to Nuit. He embellished some of the historical facts and figures he'd gleaned from lectures during his time there, attributing some historical successes to himself and claiming an age well beyond the truth.

It was not difficult to exaggerate his age in the eyes of these men. Zeltiva was so far away, there was little likelihood of any of the escorting group to have any cause for suspicions of falsehood. As he relayed these tales he would also frequently target one or the other of the soldiers with a bubble of djed and instill the impression of his trustworthiness and believability. And he regularly reinforced the hypnotic impression that he was trying to be helpful in the mind of the robe.

This was not only to gain status to boost his perceived value to these men, but it was also to test whether the robe gave any hint of experience with hypnosis. He watched for telltale twitches as he allowed his djed to engulf the man's mind with these exaggerations. There was no scowl or narrowed eyes to indicate any sense of something being wrong. There was no sign the man knew his impressions were being modified. So then he went on about his Alchemy experience.

He planned specifically to dwell on the discipline he truly knew well as the second subject of his tales. If the men had thought there was anything suspect about his previous accounts of Animation successes, they would find only true and sincere recollections of his Alchemical research and experiences. As a topper, he added what he remembered about his old mentor, Aldren Trask's knowledge of Malediction. Trask had been the one that introduced him to Hypnosis, but his first skill was as a Maledictor, and many of Trask's tales of 'The Legacy' had sunk into Kuvarakh's memory. Enough to come off as a skilled practitioner of three major disciplines.

He took several opportunities to overlay this concept of his importance to the Pitrius clan members, adding the subtle sense of how obvious it was that he should be their subject, not the Vizerian's. That the blue arms knew it, but were just being stubborn. It was best for the Isur as a whole that he should go with the group that would glean the most benefit from him, not force half his value to be wasted out of pettiness and spite.

With the blues he took a far different tact...

[Kuvarakh]

When they made camp each night, there was always a two-man team that kept watch, mostly on Kuvarakh, but also on each other. He could easily see that it was just what he had figured, a balance of equal representative force from two clans that did not have much trust for each other. Every night there was one man from each clan. He did not know for certain if the robe knew that Nuits do not sleep, but he decided to assume he did. It still did not bar the time spent in "meditation", as he described it to his captors.

In truth, he was working hypnosis on the team members, though his efforts during the day reduced the amount he could inflict at night without beginning to feel the strain of overgiving. First though, he would set the stage for the impressions he intended to inflict on the blue-armed guards. He would give them looks as though appraising their height and weight, and making gestures indicating he was comparing their build with his own. Then he would mutter to himself about the "suitable body", denying it and saying it was nothing. Then he'd direct his hypnotic bubble of djed to the mind of the man, slipping in an awareness of the concept of "first in line".

If the man looked at him, he'd turn away quickly, but noticeably, trying to look as though he was stifling a satisfied grin. If he did not feel any strain, he would then direct the same influence bubble to the black armed man, letting a sense of amusement settle in. At the least, he'd generate some sense that the black armed guard was in on some joke that the blue armed one was excluded from. At the best, he would give the Vizerian the impression that, just perhaps, he was going to be "the first" to be rendered into a body for Kuvarakh to transfer to during the testing sessions imminent at The Silver Tower. The black armed guard, smirking with amusement, only confirmed this concern. Sometimes, Kuvarakh would smirk or chuckle along with the Pitrius guard. Sometimes, he would be rewarded with a look of suppressed fury on the part of the Vizerian.

It only took two days for the Vizerians to begin huddling and whispering among themselves. Kuvarakh could see his scheme taking root. He would aggravate this situation, as they continued their journey, by inflicting his djed bubble on the Pitrius guards, impressing the notice of how the Vizerians "plotted" something among themselves.

It quickly reached the point where he didn't even NEED hypnosis to add stress to the antagonistic relationship developing between the two factions. He would look towards the Vizerians, making gestures of counting off something on his fingers, and then smirking along with the Pitrius men, whenever there was a chance. And the robe, growing angry at the men for their increasing hostility could not help but display a sight favoritism to his own clansmen. Kuvarakh was quick to hypnotically drive this point home among the Vizerians.

[Kuvarakh]

There was little else to do but continue to cultivate the suspicions between the two groups of men. Kuvarakh refrained from adding his exaggerated perceptions when he did not understand what was being said, especially when it was said in raised angry voices, which was more than half the time now. But he had learned enough under Klendor and his friend's tutelage to get the gist of much of what was said, and accused.

But a very special opportunity presented itself when, through manipulated noncooperation, Kuvarakh was able to "motivate" one of the Pitrius men to walk away and leave him unguarded, while he went in search of the Vizerian who was supposed to be replacing him. The change was not due for another bell, but Kuvarakh had been able to slowly, steadily worm the impression into the man's head that he was being forced to maintain watch beyond his shift.

He stormed off angrily, setting the stage for a grand twist of perceptions. There was a shout of alarm and Kuvarakh had to resist grinning. The men ran to where he sat, already beginning to scout the perimeters as they approached, convinced Kuvarakh was making an escape bid. But he just sat, letting himself give a show of concern and fear of some sort of impending beating or something.

Now it was time to play them off each other again. He agreed that he had not thought it was time for the Pitrius guard to be relieved, but, of course, he was not military and was probably wrong. But then he stated the final stroke, with a hesitation, as though he was not sure f he was supposed to say it.

"I...I...why...would I? If I left, I..." he looked at the robe as if he suddenly suspected some sort of treachery. "You know why I stay. Don't we...have a..." he looked at the Vizerians as though they were the cause of his hesitation.

The Vizerians exploded into angry accusations. Hands grabbed sword hilts. And through it all, Kuvarakh stormed to get in the robe's face, saying intently, but trying to make it SOUND like he didn't want the men to hear. "Not here! I'm not ready yet. And not with swords!" He turned and looked shocked and uncertain to see one of the Vizerians, staring at the exchange with a look of cold fury, draw his sword.

Inoadar's jaw dropped in feigned realization, pretending to only just understand. He spun back on the robe, his face equally outraged, gesturing with a wave of his hand at the Vzerians "You said They KNEW! That they were sick and going to die anyway!"

The inner pressure of his own shout gave quick generation to a last hypnotic twist as he burned the sense of treachery and attack into the robe's mind, then he arched his back as if in pain and screamed, twitching sideways and stumbling into a fall. The sudden burst of alarm in the robes consciousness under the already tense situation broke his restraint.

"KILL THEM!" the robe shouted, going into gyrating arm gestures as shimmering res quickly enveloped his hands.

[Kuvarakh]

On his hands and knees beside the robe, himself concentrating on directing a fireball to the greatest effect, Kuvarakh launched himself at the djed crafter's knees. Taken completely by surprise, the robe crumpled to the side, the res losing cohesion and resulting in a spreading fire just feet away. Now consumed with desperate fury, Kuvarakh grabbed hold of the robe itself and lifted the man to his feet and started twirling him around, keeping himself as the axis of centrifugal force. The fire strobed his field of vision as he spun the man again and again, letting him go, deliberately, to send him spinning and tumbling into the flames of his own making.

With a scream of agony, the man ran from the flames, his burning robe continuing to torment him after he left the larger fire. Horrified suddenly by what he'd done, Kuvarakh stood in mute paralysis, the ringing sounds of the more conventional battle going on behind him. The flaming figure finally shed the burning robe, a grisly measure of skin going with it. He shrieked in agonized madness. "LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME, YOU MONSTER! I'LL SEE YOU SKINNED ALIVE, YOU FILTHY BODY STEALING VULTURE!"

He trembled in both fury and pain, steaming tears running down half-cooked cheeks, the skin cracked and tight, shrunken back from smoking, exposed muscle. Kuvarakh steeled himself against the horrific visage. "You were going to make me a lab rat in your tower! An eternity spent being experimented on, kept from the mercy of death to further your forced accumulation of knowledge at my expense! I won't cooperate with you, you bastard. I'll make you kill me first, then maybe I'll join my wife and daughter!"

The mage snarled through his agony, "FINE! We'll get ANOTHER Nuit for our research! We'll unlock your secrets soon enough. The humans are ALWAYS ready to sell another one of you freaks out. We'll keep running this thing, you stinking corpse! We'll get one of you in the tower. And then we'll rule FOREVER!"

It all made sense now. The sudden betrayal by the human members of his original traveling party. The unlikely location of a perfect body to jump to. They'd been watching him right from the start, waiting for him to arrive. When he'd shown up, the word had been sent back to the Tower and the arrangements had been made. Kuvarakh sneered at the mad mage's last remark and hissed with taunting venom, "But not in your lifetime!"

[Kuvarakh]

The eyes of the robed Pitrius swelled with insane resolve. His mouth formed a hateful grin of its own accord as his hands raised to spin gestures of gathering ruin. Kuvarakh rushed him, thinking to knock him back into the flames a second time, but the man whipped his open palms up and a shimmering wall of wind lifted Kuvarakh off his feet and dumped him painfully on his back fifteen yards back.

By the time Kuvarakh reached his feet again, his enemy was grinning maniacally with a shimmering globe around his hands. Clearly, he wanted to savor the look of terror his impending incineration would emboss upon Kuvarakh's face.

Instead, the look was reflected on Kuvarakh's eyes as the point of a sword sprouted from the robed maniac's chest. One of the Vizerians leaped back, leaving the sword where it was, as the man released his charge of transforming res to drop at his own feet. A geyser of flame rose ten feet above the man's head as the roar consumed his screams. The echoes died long before the flames sank enough to reveal a charred hulk, sputtering grease, with a curled and warped foot of semi-melted steel decorating the smoking chest.

Kuvarakh looked on in sick relief at what had been intended for him. Movement brought him back to what still awaited him as two blue-armed soldiers took up opposite positions, front and back of him. Their blades were not poised in full pre-attack holds, though they were definitely at the ready.

"You aided us. I would have your name, Nuit." the tone of the word made it clear that the soldier was not exactly overcome with trust and gratitude.

"I am Kuvarakh Lashman, originally of Zeltiva. I don't know if you heard all that this man said, but if you did, then you know that the situation which gave me no choice but to inhabit this body was manipulated by him. I only came to this city to offer my services as one immune to most afflictions for the purpose of excavating areas where your people run risk of infection or taint of some mysterious kind. It was never my desire to inhabit the body of one of your own."

He did not look convinced. "No Choice, you say." He took an aggressive step forward. "If you did not want to violate the body of one of my people, my own clan, then WHY DID YOU?"

"Doesn't a man have the right to defend his life? I did not KILL this man, this body." Kuvarakh protested, his gestures indicating himself. "He was already dead! Like I said, if you had heard what this wizard here said to me, then you HEARD the truth of this!" Now he pointed at the charred body of the mage. "He spoke of how easy it is to get humans to sell each other out! How he would just get another Nuit! How he wouldn't stop until they get one of me in the tower so they can LIVE FOREVER!"

He spun to face the man behind him now. "YOU heard it, didn't you? He had the humans in my party betray me at some pre-arranged point, and then they "provided" this body where I would find it in my need. My previous body was mutilated! and then, oh so conveniently, here was this one, in PERFECT CONDITION! Don't you SEE? It was PLANNED!"

He turned back to the man in front. "And once they've unlocked the secret, WHO DO YOU THINK WILL BE THE BODIES THEY WOULD HAVE AT THEIR DISPOSAL THE NEXT TIME? IT WOULD BE YOU, AND YOU! AND THEN YOUR SONS! AND THEIR SONS."

The internal pressure building from his yelling made it easy to build and extend his hypnotic djed bubble to frame the man's impressions, overlaying a sense of trust and empathy for the horror this Nuit felt at how he was to be used. The man's sword began to waver.