.renaissancE –
He could feel his skin melting, sloughing off in wet chunks and into the knee-deep sewage of his would-be grave. The stench of burning hair and rawness and natural and toxic wastes battered him down like some seige engine. The entire fucking world would not stop until he was gone - a dead pile of flesh to add to what Darken Weste had to offer.
Sizzling, hissing, splashing, plopping. Drake was an upright embodiment of grotesque itself. His clothes were gone - somehow they were stolen from him before this atrocity had happened. Through the misshapen orbs that were his eyes, the male could see what was becoming of him. Where there was once pale, ghoulish skin was now the graying redness of muscle and bone beneath. He could see his once powerful legs buckle beneath him, ready to plunge the entirety of his form into the watery, smelly, disease-ridden tomb at his feet.
"Fuck this...fuck this!" The roar of frustration that emanated from the man's mouth would've surprised anyone that could have been watching - although his body was deteriorating like a candlewick, he still could muster up a vocal chord that shook the stone half-pipe he was in. He may have been rotting away, melting, completely bare of clothes and doomed outright, but the man still bore that deep, commanding voice that he was known for.
Staggering only several inches forward, Drake teetered to the side and into the stonework barrier beside him, letting what fresh blood that was left within him to splash from his festering side and onto the wall. The red fluid sizzled as well, like acid, and began to eat into the rock, simulating what was happening to the barely living heap alongside.
What a nasty trick... He mused bitterly, letting his mind run while his body failed. Guess this city's got some problems after all...
Zaigar walked around the foul-stenched sewers trying to find a way out. She had just chased after a hunt and got led straight into this god forsaken place where nothing survives and everything rots. She could feel herself slowly dematerializing and getting more and more in tune with the filth that is Stygia. Another hour in this place and she would soon become one of the rotting corpse she just passed by. She had taken a closer look at it and realized it was the same hunt she had chased after before.
"Great. Just great," she muttered to herself. "What a perfect way to die here. Being lost and rot slowly inch by inch. That's just peachy!"
"Fuck this...FUCK THIS!"
Zaigar heard someone swear at a distance. Who could be still alive in this place? Definitely not someone as fortunate as she was. As she tried to walk through the icky sewage, she tried to sniff in the air to find any smell of the stranger that just cussed. No luck. The horrible smell of the sewage dump blocked her nose. She was lucky she had applied some ancient counter toxic ointment from a very rare species of oak before entering or she would've melted almost immediately.
She never goes on a hunt unprepared, that's for sure.
Few feet away from her, she saw blood splash out from a weird-looking walking, melting zombie onto the wall. She cringed as the blood ate through the rock. 'Man,' she thought. 'Is that what might happen to me?'
She moved as fast as she could to reach the zombie before his body failed, taking out the ointment she used before on herself to try help him. Not that it's gonna do him any good, what with the rate of his decay, but there's no harm trying.
'God damn this place. It's making me a softie every fucking minute of the day,' Zaigar thought as she slowly reached her hand out towards him.
"Don't touch me!" The man snapped. His back was turned to the stranger that was approcahing him, and yet he could sense her trying to reach out. His reaction to her forced him stumbling down again, and he hit the water with a disgusting thud, trying feebly to remain on his hands and knees at least.
His breathing still remained, yet it was forced and random, riddled with rhrasps and wheezing and a deep rumbling that was frighteningly congruous to some huge animal. Drake stared down at the liquid at his feet, totally oblivious to the sour, acrid smell of it and more intent upon his reflection than anything. Something was happening to him that nothing in this literal shithole could do. He could see half of his face sinking into the shape of his skull beneath, the other half following suit by revealing muscle. The long black hair that he once had was no more, with but a balding skullcap that was diminishing as well.
The man's fists clenched underneath the surface of the water, and, trembling, he adjusted the position of his legs. Then he sprang up, as if a burst of adrenaline had suddenly revived his old state. He suddenly brought his legs into a series of cat-like, diligent springs, aiming for what appeared to be a brighter rightbound tunnel but a few hundred yards away. In the spot that he had fallen, however, the water had turned milky and bubbly, now a soup of the creature's remains and oddly acidic blood plasma.
Zaigar almost shrank back at the stranger's yell. She couldn't blame him. In this world, everything is a threat and it pays to be cynical and defensive. She watched quietly as the stranger struggled to get up. She could see that he was melting real fast, and if he didn't get out of this dump sooner, the sewage would eat him alive.
Come to think of it, so would she.
Still, she wanted to help. Pity that she hadn't felt for many long years grew in her. As she reached out again for him, he suddenly sprang up and sped off like some cat who just got chased by a dog. She grimaced at the milky, bubbly water from where he had fallen. She dread to think that it would become her within the next hour if she doesn't find her way out into the open. She noticed he was moving swiftly towards a direction and saw that there was a brighter spot of the sewage at the rightbound tunnel. Could it be it? Could it be that leads to the open?
She'll have to take her chance.
Pocketing the ointment, she took to her heels and followed after the melting stranger.
Drake felt pain, felt weakness, felt the chill of his bare form, but most of all...he felt rage. He felt it for himself, and towards the bastards that brough him to this. He'd find those men, find each and every one of them, and eat them alive. If they had families, he'd slaughter them too - anything to sate his utterly revolting and newborn hatred. They had written their own death sentences, and woke up a beast to carry them out.
Still running through the thick sewage, Drake turned sharply towards the newfound tunnel he was heading for, pushing himself along the wall while holding a large slab of flesh to his chest that was threatening to fall off. He could hear the distant splashing of water behind him, and he knew that the stranger that had tried to help him was following. No matter - it was her choice. She was free to get herself dragged into Drake's mess like so many others had in the past.
The passageway sloped upwards, fashioned from concrete and with a thin line of water running down its base. Drake navigated the thing easily enough, but his hobbling actions were pathetic, to say the least. Eventually he made it out of the tunnel and into an open area. The place seemed like some series of backstreets in the slummier districts, with rotten garbage all around and a small pond of filthy water along the floor.
After Drake studied his surroundings for a second or two, he allowed his body to crumple to the ground with a horrifying grunt. Great effort was taken in his dissolving muscles as he rolled his body onto its back so he could gaze up at the yonder above - which consisted mainly of lofty catwalks and black air.
Naked body sprawled and motionless, the creature stared blankly upwards with his eyes.
Zaigar panted as she tried to chase after the stranger. She had to get out of this place quick and this could be a chance. She spun round into the newfound tunnel and followed after him. She could see him in a distance trying to hold pieces of him that were falling. She grimaced. 'Now that is definitely not a sight for sore eyes', she thought as she continued to give chase. As she continued to follow behind him, she soon found herself out in the open. Rotten garbage surrounded her and a filthy pond of water flowed under her feet, but at least the air outside is much better than the inside. She saw the stranger before her stop in his tracks, surveying the area. She kept her distance. She didn't want to arouse his anger by approaching him so suddenly.
When he crumpled to the ground, she could see the pieces that were threatening to melt and fall off his body. This was definitely not good. She need more than just the ointment to cure his body. She needed magic, and it was something she didn't have.
Unless...
She searched her belt pouch to look for something she remembered keeping back in her younger days. It was a scroll of spells her father bought from the slums of the black market near The Lotus just in case their hunt needed more than just basic survival and vigilance. She took out the scroll and scanned through it to find the spell for body reconstruction. As soon as she found she slowly made her way towards the lying stranger.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," Zaigar said in her nonchalant tone. Years of coldness and indifference influenced her voice to become less compassionate than she should, even if she did feel that way.
The stranger did not reply, but continue to stare blankly upwards. Maybe he was tired, maybe he was just dying, she didn't care. She just wanted to help him.
"This is for helping me getting out of that horrible sewage back there," Zaigar said as she scanned through the body reconstruction spell. She knelt down beside the stranger's head and laid her hand on his forehead. The stranger winced a little but didn't attempt to fight her off.
"Just relax and everything will be over," Zaigar said as she slowly read the spell from the scroll.
"This is for helping me getting out of that horrible sewage back there,"
Drake heard those words and smiled bitterly, though the expression probably couldn't be seen on his grotesque visage. He hadn't thought of anything in the ranges of helping...much less a stranger. But this woman seemed thoughtful on it, and Drake didn't bother to protest...as if he would even be able to.
With cold regard, the man's eyes inched over to where the unknown character resided, observing her odd appearance and noticing the small presence of apathy in her vocals. It was obvious that she wasn't one for good things - her appearance alone hinted demon, or perhaps something else. Drake didn't care to think about it further. Rather, the pain spasms of his body were growing increasingly worse, and he wasn't so sure as to how much longer he had anyway.
How much longer...
CrapcrapCRAP! The thought of dying was something new to him, and he didn't want it to happen now. Or ever. It couldn't. It shouldn't. Not because some small group of self-righteous assholes decided to try and destroy him. No...this wouldn't be the way Drake would go - he owed it to Darken Weste to stay alive longer than it wanted him to. He lived off of defiance, but he wouldn't die of it.
Body lurching to the side, Drake couldn't hear the stranger's spellwoven chanting over the myriad of worry coursing through his own mind. Weak grunts were emitted from his mouth as he did so, trying to roll his body back onto its side so he could lift himself up. He brought his free arm over to the ground, intent upon piushing himself up if it was still possible for his muscles. It was, and like a reanimated corpse, Drake brought himself to his knees. He had his back to the stranger, but managed to turn his head her way, eyeing the scroll suddenly with caution.
"What the fuck is that...NO MORE MAGICI!" The dying man managed to shout frantically again, his mind recalling the event where he had started deteriorating in the first place. They had used a scrollbound magic of some sort too. Drake didn't want anymore.
But perhaps he was too late, since the woman already had been deep in the process of reading the parchment before he acted. Twitching with frustration and the thoughts of impending doom, Drake suddenly felt the surface of his unclothed body tingle, as if worms were crawling atop him all over. Looking down jerkily, the man noticed how the exposed portions of his insides weren't becoming so exposed anymore. It seemed like whatever spell the stranger was doing, was helping him recover. Perhaps this could enhance his...own special abilities now...
The stranger was moving. She didn't want him to move. If he moved, there might be a slight chance that the spell would not work. And he yelled at her that he didn't want anymore magic, she almost wanted to stop chanting.
But she was too far down the spell now. She couldn't stop even if she wanted to. To stop means to kill the man, and that was definitely not something she wanted to do. Not tonight anyway.
Luck was on her side. The magic did work after all. She stood up and held him down, stopping him from getting up any further. She could see the veins and muscles wriggled their way like worms up to the part that they have came off and reattaching themselves to their original positions. The stranger seemed to struggle a little but Zaigar's strong hand held him him firmly on the ground.
"Be still, man. Just a little bit longer."
Zaigar continued to chant from the scroll. After what seemed like hours, the stranger's body began to emit a huge blinding flash, engulfing his entire body. Moments later, it subsided and what replaced him was a perfect body, nice and clean without a single scratch on him. It was as if his melting away had never happened. She replaced the scroll and regarded him a little. Long ebony hair, slightly built body, handsome yet deep, narrow eyes that told her that he was none other than a halfbreed like her. But of what species she wasn't sure. His handsome look seem to draw her in a little but she managed to keep her cool.
Love no longer serve any interest to her than she would want it to be.
"I suppose you're pretty much up and about," Zaigar said. "My services don't usually come cheap. A small offer of food may help. The name's Zaigar. What's yours?"
Well the hurting stopped. First there was a blinding flash, and then Drake felt nothing but chill. It was bitter, and all over. Then he realized what had happened. It seemed that the girl's spell had worked, and Drake's body was finally good as new. But he didn't want to take his chances. He moved a few black-nailed fingers first, letting them flex in sequence, test their ability. Nothing creaked, nothing stung, nothing ached. The man brought his hands into fists, and then swallowed and blinked his eyes several times.
Drake sat up, enjoying the chill of the dirty water around him rather than curse it. His flesh could feel things again, and not in a bad way. It was a relief. But then there was also the thoughts of what had done that to him - what had brought him to a state of near-destruction in the first place...
Shaking his head vigorously, the man forced his mane of jet black hair to wisp about his head in an unkempt dance. He had nothing to tie it back with, so it fell over his visage like a dark veil, making him appear much more sinister than before. He moved his body slowly, with a lazy groan following his movements quietly. He brough himself to a crouching position, back arched to the stranger. There was silence after this, and a stillness in Drake that was reminiscient of a gargoyle-like statue.
But at last Drake moved again, and it seemed like his action jolted the stillness of the entire place. He began to stand slowly, deathly white skin rippling with muscles beneath as his spine and shoulder-blades adjusted to the new position. He straightened himself sinuously, letting out a deep breath through his nostrils. He stood well over six and a half feet tall, and perhaps reached seven, but the darkness of the place made it hard to tell. Pointed ears twitched, and with a flick of his head, the man turned to stare at the female with strangely dull, yet alert satin eyes as he recounted what she said.
"Drake." His voice was different from the crazed roar previously. It was baritone and syrupy, like the heat of a carnivore's breath. Yet there was also a sentience within it that provided intelligence, and perhaps something far more provocative than one would expect from such an odd-looking, yet intriguing individual. Who was naked.
Naked.
Drake's eyes widened like a rodent's as his head darted downwards. It was then that he realized that everything...everything...was showing. In front of a woman. Not that Drake really cared about anything sexual whatsoever - this was still horrifying. They really did steal his fucking clothes.
Looking back at the stranger, trying to keep calm, the man kept his hands hanging low over his nether-regions.
"Uh...that food...thanks by the way...will have to wait. I need some uh...clothes..." Swallowing once, Drake turned on his bare feet and began stalking through the mess, intent upon reaching one of the surrounding walls for whatever reason.
Zaigar watched nonchalantly as the stranger who called himself Drake stagger around looking for something aimlessly. Hmm, male nudity. Haven't seen that for a long while. The last time she saw someone naked was when she was being raped by Ormack before she was being killed. A rare sight but not uncomforting.
She reached over to her pouch and fished out a cloak made of bearskin of sorts. She took it when she was being stalked by a Marauder wanting to kill her in revenge for killing his favourite prized pet. She had to admit the pet she killed was indeed rare, but of no use to her. For her, every animal is either edible or not, and that pet was one of the edible ones. After killing the Marauder, another habit of hers was to rummage through the body to see if she could get any worthy weapons to be used for her next hunt.
She walked over cautiously to Drake holding the cloak over him. Without warning, she draped the man with the cloak and held him still, regarding his looks. He was truly handsome and had that kind of aura that might draw you involunteeringly, despite the fact that he was an obvious half-breed. His deep eyes were the most alluring ones. She couldn't help but stare into those orbs and imagine what would it be like to be inside his mind and find out about his deepest, darkest secrets...
When she realized she was staring for too long, she let go abruptly and regained her cool composure. She cleared her throat and said, "Here's your clothes. This is all I can muster now. Don't worry, I've seen worse. Your nudity doesn't bother me much."
As she watched Drake pulling the cloak closer to himself, she asked, "So...What exactly happened back there? You crawled out from a grave or something?"
It made it even more uncomfortable for him when he realized that the stranger was staring. At what? Drake's eye twitched slightly at her, not thankful for the fact that her attention seemed to make the chill breeze around his loins even worse. She had stopped him - now what?
The man tried to refrain from ripping the offer of clothing out of the woman's hands. He wrapped the garment frantically about himself, and the scene was nothing short of awkward. Him being so large, and the cloak being...not so large, Drake looked pathetic, if not funny. It was the least of his concern though. He looked back at the woman, his angular face pointed downward and satin eyes boring into hers. She was trying to calculate him like he was her. Good luck.
Drake straightened himself, keeping one hand about the clothing so it wouldn't fall off. It wasn't exactly his fault that he was this way - not only had he been nearly fried to a crisp, but encounters with people who usually saw more to his appearance than he did never really ended properly. Drake's emotions were inarticulate, no doubt, but for some reason he bore a celibacy to his psyche that made him practically blind to prospects of love. He was a labyrinth inside, and only a few people in his lifetime had been able to navigate it.
And so here he was, being saved by some stranger, and suddenly feeling very obligated to pay her back. He never meant to put himself in this situation, but here he was...
"There were these people," Drake began to answer the stranger's query. "I never saw them before, but they confronted me as if we all had a loooong standing hatred for some reason. One of them had this piece of paper, began reading from it, and my skin started burning. That was when...they took my damn stuff. All of it. As if they were trying to degrade me or something. And I didn't even KNOW THEM!"
Drake's voice boomed through the enclosure, mirroring his roars in the sewer.
Zaigar didn't flinch at his sudden outburst. She had gotten accustomed to such things. Besides, her impassiveness and indifference saved her the humiliation of retreating like some cowardly rabbit. Her eyes shifted a little towards the direction of the sewer when she heard his echo, then looked back at him again like nothing had happened. She noticed the cloak not very fitting for his big visage but she couldn't help it if Drake was about half a size bigger than the Marauder who owned this cloak.
"I see," she replied, not literally speaking. "I suppose that what all half-breeds have to face. People can be very discriminating nowadays. My clan threatened to kill me if I ever set foot into their territory because I'm half of my human father, and my best friend's gang members framed me for a crime I didn't commit just because they didn't like my heriditary looks. It's human nature."
She scanned the scroll that was still in her hand and said, "I think your attackers got the same scroll I have, coz I see the spell that caused you to become a walking corpse in here," she held up the scroll to Drake and pointed at a section on the middle, "Here it is. The Mutilation Spell."
She noticed Drake's eyes glaring in hatred at the scroll. She quickly put it away into her pouch before he decides to tear it into pieces. She needed that scroll. Her hunt depended on it. She then shifted her gaze towards Drake's hair. Rather unkempt and messy, like it had seen better days. She took off one of her black bandages on her wrists and said, "Look, you don't seem like you're much in a mood to talk right now. I suggest you sit down and take a rest. You've just turned from a melting mutilated zombie to a full person. I'll do your hair if you allow me to."
The look Drake gave her was no more than shock and surprise at her sudden offer.
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