Solo Waging War Inside

[Alric Lysane]

2nd Winter 521 AV – Temple of the Unknown The streets weren’t empty but were instead filled with faceless people, shadows of their former selves, twisted and wretched. Alric knew that if they knew that he knew then he was done for and so despite his racing heart he had to do something – to break this spell and return the city to its normal, possibly more dangerous but still beloved nature. He was slipping amongst them, his skin crawling as he gathered the needed ingredients. He wasn’t sure why he knew what was needed, perhaps it was ingrained like his blood, but he knew…and so was on a mission to find them. It had taken him all over the place, through the warrens and the dust bed…pretty much the whole city he now knew the layout to – even the little places that many didn’t. He had been dauntlessly thorough with his searching. A Salamander egg had been grabbed from the markets, deftly tucked into his pocket. A Stone Rose, not one of the colourful ones, but still it had glistened quite beautifully in the light of the morning, dew oozing from its petals. He had then retreated to the Temple of the Unknown, a fitting backdrop for eldritch activities. There a cauldron had been set up. It had writing on the side – a name perhaps – but it was covered in a patina of black from so many old flames he couldn’t read it. Still the fire was already going for him. He didn’t question it, he simply started adding to it. The waters accepted the egg easily – at least that meant it wasn’t rotten. The Stone Rose went next, floating for a time as if sadly leaving the world before being overcome by the bubbling waters. Next went a flaming log from the fire, ash clinging to it, some slipping off to leave a trail before it was dumped in. The flames, strangely, didn’t seem to go out but instead be consumed. Alric shrugged and pulled off his cloak, throwing it in with some regret but it was needed, that much he was certain of. And last, but not least, he knew the spell needed a little extra kick. What better than his own blood? It was magically inclined, so he had learned. His thumb sliced he let a half-dozen drops hit the water and ripple out to fill the surface with red before sticking it in his mouth and stirring his work. It took a while, eventually boiling away and changing colour to a sort of silver. After what seemed like and age it stopped feeling like water, molten silver, or anything else familiar. After even longer he knew what the feeling was, the sound – cloth…cloth being brushed up against something. He stuck his hand in and gingerly prodded it – it felt quite cool despite having been in a giant cauldron. Pulling it out he let it flow open and found it to be a sort of bodysuit, grey in colour and seemingly light and stretchy. How was this supposed to help save the city? ********** Alric’s eyes flickered open and he groaned, his body protesting at the bruises, cuts and the hangover he had acquired trying to numb the pains. His mouth felt dry and rough as he opened it several times, trying to push himself up before slumping back down with a groan. Surely just a bit more rest wouldn’t matter? He pulled his soft pillow underneath his head and snuggled into it. A few moments passed before he remembered that he didn’t have a soft pillow. Very awake now he could see only the colour grey this close to whatever it was. He very slowly eased himself up and away despite his body’s protests. When he was on all fours, he saw what it was, took a few moments for it to register, before screaming and throwing it into the corner of what appeared to him to be a tiny little room in the Temple of the Unknown. Back against the wall and fingers shaking now he stared at the thing in the opposite corner and screamed again. He looked at his sliced thumb and saw he was missing his cloak and screamed. It was some time before he calmed down, in fact.

[Alric Lysane]

After a while Alric simply shuddered as he pressed his back into the wall. His eyes were locked to the crumpled thing in the opposite corner, his mind rebelling at its existence. He remembered his dream clearly, which in itself unless it was one of his parents of late was strange, and he felt sure that it was the bodysuit from it. But that was impossible, there was no way it could be. He knew what he thought of magic was likely nowhere near what magic was – in practise if not in morality – but even he couldn’t bring himself to think that magic could make something appear out of a dream. He shuddered again, eyes darting around to look for any attacking Arcadius as he awkwardly drew his broadsword to be ready. When nothing came out of the shadows, doorframe or ruined walls he relaxed ever so slightly and edged forwards to poke the grey garment with the tip of the blade. It didn’t move and didn’t seem to be a threat at all, though deep down in his gut he rebelled at that thought – this had to be a magical thing. Unless the Gods had provided it but he didn’t think he was high on their list of priorities. He slid the sword under it and picked it up. As he brought it closer it slid down the black of the blade and he grabbed it. Putting his sword down he opened it up and would have screamed if he had the energy to do so. Sure enough as he started to shiver he discovered what he feared – it was the very same item of clothing. He brought his hands to his face with a groan before realising that he still held the garment and let it fall into his lap with a sour look. Looking around he definitely couldn’t see his cloak and there was no cauldron. There was, however, a chill in the air and the cold stone had seeped into his bones. Now the initial shock had worn off he could feel his body shivering and demanding warmth. He looked at the bodysuit, then back at his shaking hands, then back at the bodysuit. There was a long pause as his stomach sank and he knew what had to be done. “Shyke” he hissed into the empty building, pulling off his boots and other clothing as he muttered curses to himself, “bloody magic with its dream and strange things appearing out of nowhere…in the arse end of nowhere…why me? Shkyeshkye….damned freezing…I’m only doing this because I don’t want to freeze to death you hear?” he told the garment sulkily before pulling it on and putting the rest of his clothing on over the top, boots, belts and scabbard and all. He sighed, pushed himself up and sheathed his broadsword once more, skin crawling as if it could feel the magic that now covered most of his body. He was now a walking advertisement for anyone in the know to shank him and that only added to the low-level paranoia about being hunted. He shuddered again but at least he could feel his body returning to a more comfortable temperature. Quicker than expected, he noted, then throwing that thought into the slag heap of his mind and not touching it again without a stiff drink to help. Stepping out of the room he could verify he was in the Temple of the Unknown – the construction style was the same – but he couldn’t tell which part he was in. He had never ventured into this section before. He drew his sword again, he had heard tales of things lurking in the depths of the Temple and he hoped with every fibre of his being that he wasn’t anywhere near those places. He started to step on the balls of his feet as he had been taught in the Proving Grounds the last season, blade up and edge crossed over his body for a basic guard. “I hate magic” he moaned to himself as he paused and stared into the dingy passage for any sign of movement. He crouched low, so as to make his profile smaller and made his footfalls softer, as he had practised in this very building what seemed like and age ago now. He wasn’t a master with a blade so he hoped that if anything was lurking then he could avoid it rather than engage.

[Alric Lysane]

Stepping softly he could feel the hairs on his body start to stand up with every sounds, his ears and eyes straining for anything that might signal his doom. He didn’t like that he had awoken somewhere unfamiliar, with a magically materialised piece of clothing he was now wearing – it made his skin crawl. It didn’t make him feel as bad as the skittering sounds that echoed through the stone corridors and the occasional banging and what sounded like a scream, as if someone where getting hit by something and letting the world know of their suffering. Not that anyone could hear the scream, if that is what is is, down here he thought, immediately regretting the thought as he found a corner, stepped softly up to it, crouched slightly and peered around it to see nothing in particular. He gave it a ten count of looking before he pushed himself up and rounded the corner, feeling his legs starting to ache slightly from the posture he was adopting. No matter how much he performed it he still found his legs complaining. Clearly, he needed to train his muscles more, they were starting to get a bit more well-formed but he couldn’t afford them to fail him – not with what he wanted to do, but especially not where he currently was. Movement flickered and in front of him, low on the ground and without thinking he brought his blade around and down, chopping edge first as Itzel had shown him. There was a noise and he hacked again twice more before whatever it was stopped moving. Once the adrenaline had kicked in his fingers started shaking, heart racing and he took a few deep breaths, listening after the initial sound of his blade hitting something and the shriek that came after. He tried to pull his blade free and found it was stuck. He sighed and put his boot on the thing and pulled several times before it wrenched free with much straining of muscle and fingers going white with their grip. When it did give way he stumbled back a step before righting himself and moving forward, squatting down to peer through the darkness, his night vision getting better the longer he spent in the dark, dingy corridors. “Brat” he whispered, listened in case there were any more, in groups they could be dangerous. Hearing nothing but the delightfully terrifying ambience from before he continued his way, stepping softly and carefully, until he came to a crossroads. He paused then, listening to see ig there were any clues as to where to go. The noises were echoing but he felt sure they came from the tunnel to his right. He was not sure what finally made up his mind, a feeling in his gut perhaps, but the familiar tingle picked at the back of his neck and he nodded. That left two other options that looked much the same. He darted across the gap and then went to the second passage and found nothing different up close either, no markings upon the floor or walls to indicate directions. Wait… he thought, returning to the first passage, taking in a deep breath through his nose then returning to the second. He repeated this a few times before tilting his head to the side in thought. He wasn’t sure, it was faint and it made him wonder how on earth he got down where he was in the first place – the first tunnel smelled fresher, as if it had new air entering it from somewhere, an exit he hoped. He made his choice and set off once more.

[Alric Lysane]

As he made his way onwards, stepping on the balls of his feet, placing them down softly and crouching slightly, he fancied that ahead the dingy darkness started to fragment. The air also seemed to taste less stale as he went, his breathing becoming less distasteful even as muscle complained further and sweat soaked into his new clothing. It certainly was absorbent though, he noticed, normally his shirt would be dripping by now after the scrapping, the sneaking and the general fearful situation. Instead his clothes were damp but not overly so. He frowned at that and decided he would have to compile a list of things to investigate about his new find. He paused as a skittering sound returned, this time behind him, and he sped up as much as he could whilst still not running headlong into something ahead. The skittering got louder and this time it seemed different, louder and more chaotic. He discovered why a few chimes alter and perhaps twenty meters further down the tunnel – it was definitely getting lighter now, so much so that Alric turned his back and stared into the darkness so as not to lose night vision, stepping backwards a few more paces before three Brats this time started running at him. He swallowed and resisted the urge to panic and run, he didn’t know what lay that way and besides every Sunberthian knew Brats would just swarm you if they could. No, he had to face them. The first went much the same way as the other one had, a hack more precisely given this time now that he had some vision, blade tip forcing its way behind the head and into the neck – not where he had been aiming but it did the job. He tried to pull the blade free and found it stuck once more and so tugged at it madly, just in time to get one Brat jump at his chest, sending him back and to the floor, the force pulling the sword with him. The Brat slobbered over his chest as it tried to get to his neck as Alric’s free forearm kept pushing at it, keeping it away from his face as he twisted himself and heaved the heavy rodent off of him. Continuing the roll, albeit he felt sure Moritz would be disappointed in his form, he lashed out to catch the back of the thing before it skittered back into the darkness. That was when the third jumped on his back and with a yell he jumped up, legs burning with the effort of the lift, to send it ff him and tumbling to slap into the floor. That one he kicked, again and again, until it stopped moving. He wiped his forehead with the back of his head and raked his head back from his face with his fingers before breathing in a few deep breaths to get back his nerves and ease the burning in his lungs. He shook his head and realised there was little point to sneaking now, anything that might hunt him would have heard the commotion and know he was there already. Instead he upped his pace. He came across the wounded Brat after a while, blood trailing from an almost removed leg. Despite that fact it would have killed and eaten him without thought he felt a flicker of sadness at its suffering and stopped to put it out of its misery, blade tip sliding into the back of its neck as he slumped onto the handle, wriggling the blade around this time in order to ease its way back out. Coming around another corner he found what he had been looking for, a shaft of light from above. The rough stone had caved in the floor, which meant he was just one level down. He felt relief flood through him, he recognised the ceiling and if he could make it up he’d be safe and could rest. His hands traced the stone work for hand holds and finding a few at various heights he sheathed his blade and gripped hard to start the climb.

[Alric Lysane]

He didn’t know why, perhaps his mind just wasn’t working properly, he wouldn’t have been surprised given the start to the day. But climbing didn’t feel as hard as he had tried it last time in the Temple of the Unknown, his fingers found grip on holds that before he wouldn’t have considered at all but in his desperation he was exploring. Feet clung to the jutting pieced of rock, such as they were, more firmly with less scraping and slipping. He didn’t question it in the moment but it was still odd, his hands and feet working their way up the wall, seeking and searching before he finally managed to get to the lip of the sunken floor that had caved in and with tired muscles pulled himself bodily over the edge, there to shuffle onto the more solid floor and roll a few times sideways until he was towards the centre of a familiar space, looking up at the ceiling. He sighed to himself, finally he was out of the nightmare. “Here lads, looks what we’ve got here?! It’s a present from thems down below” came a cocky voice from his left as Alric groaned and felt a hands grab the front of his clothing and haul him to his feet, Alric followed, not that he had much choice, bit fighting on his feet seemed preferable to on his back. Just one teeny tiny piece of luck Ovek? Can’t give me that….really? he thought as he saw three figures, one cocky and stocky one who had grabbed him and one each either side of the man, a few feet back but still close enough to be dangerous. “Got something for us have ye?” the stocky one, who had terrible breath, almost wheezed into Alric’s face. “Charcoal water and a brush?” he muttered with a wrinkled nose. “Whatchu say!” “I said nothing down there but Brat corpses, can have them if you like” “Well then, nothing here for us ‘cept you eh? Don’t look like much” “If I were rich think I’d be down there. Look I don’t want a fight and you don’t want a fight. Fighting does nothing but get us hurt. Why don’t we just walk our own ways. You can go into the newly exposed tunnels and I can go to the Hot Springs” “Could do, could do” “Yes let’s” “But I’m not in the business of letting loose ends get away” the man suited his words by pulling out a dagger and ramming it into Alric’s gut. The last thing Alric thought he would see was the slimy little hand gripped around the hilt and he struggled against it, leaning back to try to avoid it. Death didn’t come though, instead he felt incredible pain as the impact was absorbed by tense muscles and he folded up over the weapon as the man began to let go. He did not know how, or why, but he hadn’t been stabbed so much as punched in the gut. Through the fog of pain Alric had to think fast as when the man returned for the weapon, he’d find a very alive Alric. Instead he ripped the dagger himself, as if he were clutching it and pulled it out, stumbling into the man as theatrically as he could to his laughter before bringing it up and into his throat as hard as he could. Then he stumbled forwards the few feet to the second, pulling out his broadsword and showing it through their stomach. He all but fell behind a stone pillar so that the third couldn’t see him, breathing hard and ragged, pain coursing through his torso with each movement and his back slid down the stonework until he was slumped at the bottom. “Run, now, or you’ll be next” he managed to hiss out through grit teeth. The next thing he heard was the slapping of boots upon stone and the doors slamming open before creaking closed. He sighed and then slumped sideways to fall to his side, breathing as steadily and shallowly as possible. “What….the…shyke?” he asked the world in general with a strained tone. After a while, he didn’t know how long, he was able to move without too much hurting. His muscles were tired and aching all over and his gut still felt like someone had punched him hard but his breathing had returned to normal and he could move without too much hinderance at least. He crawled out from behind the pillar and started to loot the two corpses left. He took everything he could, there was a bag they had been intending to put their finds into and he took it and stuffed everything he could into it. He didn’t care what it was. He left through the main entrance after retrieving, wiping down and sheathing his broadsword. He stayed as calm and straight backed as he could, in case someone else was looking for a fight and waited until he got home, wedged and locked the door shut, to collapse onto his bed and curl up into a ball.

[Alric Lysane]

Your Grades Alric Lysane Skills Acrobatics – 1 Acting - 1 Body Building – 1 Climbing – 1 Dagger - 1 Endurance - 1 Observation – 2 Persuasion - 1 Spelunking - 3 Stealth – 3 Weapon: Broadsword - 3 Lores Bodysuit: Protects Against Dagger Stabs Broadsword: Pulling Out A Stuck Blade Dream Trade: Cloak for Bodysuit Enemies: Sassing Them For Fun Magic: Hate It Spelunking: Keeping Night Vision Spelunking: If In Doubt Follow Your Nose Sunberth Creature: Brat Temple Of The Unknown: Construction Material Recognition Temple Of The Unknown: Screaming Into The Dark Items Gained Grey Bodysuit (Award for Nano 2021) – added to Possessions 1 x Dagger & Sheath Weapon Harness Backpack 25gm to be added to Ledger Items Lost 1 x Cloak – deducted fromPpossessions