In which kin is lost
The weather outside isn't particularly pleasant, but one is shielded from such things down in the dungeon's of the Arcanist's guild. Zeke leads Pek down the stairs and nods politely to the two guards who always stand vigil outside of the room that they are headed to. They nod back to him in recognition; he does come down here rather often after all, but they give his companion a harder look. Zeke motions for KumainPekPek to follow in his wake and rounds the corner to the cell. "Kin, thisss one hasss brought sssomeone to aid in the sssearch for information..."
"...this is my life." Just 24 hours ago, Chay would have said his life could not get any worse. Destined to die from the plague, or doomed to live in the dungeons of mages, life could not have gotten worse.
It got worse.
The small kitten-like creature, with the body of a tiny lion, the face of a softskin, mewls at him. Its waving, vine-tendrils unfurl from baby-wings, and reach for him like the true tentacles they are.
"...it is the true form of the Charneth," Chay whispers, shakily. He's backed himself into a corner of the cell. The bucket, containing today's generous coating of tar-spit (ala Mikilos' concoctions) lies overturned near his cot. The room itself contains three cots. One is normally occupied by a gobber.
The Cerenzan man clad in armor, follows at the mention of his name. Pek also gives the guards they pass a nod. Looking around, he is intrigued at all of the anti-magic countermeasures in place and wonders how he is to do his good work without the aid of his deity.
The sight is... remarkable and in honesty Zeke doesn't know what to make of it. Of the little creature mostly. Chay in the corner cowering in fear; that makes a certain amount of sense and causes the blue-scaled sith-makar to rise to his full height, looking at the source of the other's anxiety. Namely the little kittenish animal stalking him. Quite obviously his companion moves forward and startles the little thing which scurries closer to relative safety - to Chay.
Quickly Zeke thumps forward, coming rather close to KumainPekPek as he does so, he ignores this closeness to reach out and grab the strange little animal. It isn't quite quick enough to evade him, and so he pulls back. Away from Chay and away from Pek with the thing in his hand. He holds it and looks at it with a considering look. "Sssshould thisss one eat it?"
The kittencore's scorpion-tail bobs ungainishly as it itself bobbles in Zeke's hand. The mewl sounds more like a snarl; from such a mouth no gentle sounds might ever come. Call it...a gentler graze of the knife. A kinder razing of the claws. Any of these are more accurate than its more docile, kitten counterpart might produce.
Call the true kitten stumped, or hampered. A fuzzball of fluff even in its most riotous moments. Here--the kittencore mewls with tiny isistency, tiny size and medium rage and confusion.
"I-it has the face of the Charneth..." Chay is saying. No, 'peace to your nest.' There is nothing. Nothing like that. By now, a few guards peer through the room's entryway. Perhaps some money changes hands.
The rustscale fumbles at his pockets. "If you are a true priest," he whispers hoarsely to PekPek, "You will have a holy ssymboool..."
At the sight and sound of his friend Zeke offering in earnest to dispose of this thing via consumption, Pek takes a small step back, watching the little thing writhe to no avail within his friends grasp.
Pek turns his attention back to the one huddled in the corner. "I have some holy water here to start everything off with, if I may." The cleric reaches into his pack for the item.
Zeke frowns deeply at the little thing in his hand and then glances over at Chay's fumbling. Back to the little kittencore. "Thisss one will jusst eat it Pek." He licks his chops and unhinges his jaw to do just that.
"One is bound--one is bound to take it to the witch. It--"
"Ma-ma," mewls the kittencore, in its horrible, hoarse voice. From such a tiny visage, with its waving tentacles and scorpion-poison tail, comes such insistency. Such...a raw, crackling sound. "Ma-ma," it says again, at the sight of such vicious toofs.
"It must go to Alba. Alba--" Chay says, and stares at it in horror. "The Charneth chassed me, last night. They left a 'gift' behind...one'ss...those one traveled with..."
"They sswear it will be useful to undersstand the plague," Chay concludes in a high-pitched, cracking voice. He pushes himself further into the wall.
Pek turns his head to Zeke at the sound of his name JUST in time to see what he wished he hadn't turned his head to see, quickly turning back to bring his attention back to one huddled in the corner. While rummaging through his pack, his holy symbol dangles from a cleverly made detachable necklace, swaying with his movements.
"Ah, there it is!", exclaims Pek as he draws out the vial of holy water. "Let's see her.." he started to say before hearing "Ma-ma" behind him. "Did... did that thing... just call you it's mother, Zeke!?"
"Zeke, maybe you shouldn't eat that..." the cleric began before the sith-makar gave Zeke warnings about the little creature. "Yeah.. if that thing is to help us understand the plague better... eating it would be quite the waste of resources. It would also help my order out significantly to have less of us tasked out to take care of the plague when we could be used for other purposes. Let us bring this creature back to those that can better determine the usefulness of it."
"Now back to you. You said something of my holy symbol?" Tugging gently but firmly on the rope causes the holy symbol to detach from the necklace. Holding it out before him to the sith-makar, he shows the symbol of Daeus, his deity.
A horrified expression crosses Zeke's face as the thing /speaks/. Suddenly eating it sounds far less appealing and since it is meant to go to Alba.... Somehow the idea that this thing is going to her makes sense. She's a bit odd too after all. Not quite as odd in the sith-makar's mind as a talking plant-kitten but still odd enough. Then something else that Chay says sinks in. "The Charn?" His voice becomes a growl and his green eyes narrow on the little thing; pulling further away from Chay so that the rust-colored sith and the animal are as far away as the room will allow. "Why would they give you sssomething that might help find a cure?"
Chay points numbly from the holy symbol, to the Creature of Horror. Aka, the kittencore. The far, far-away look in his eyes says enough for him.
"Its fasse, ser..." he says to Zeke, when he can speak.
LOOK AT IT. LOOK. IS IT NOT OBVIOUS.
Looking from his own holy symbol to the Creature as the sith-makar points to each in turn. "What of it's fa....." Slowly the horror of the situation shows itself upon the Cleric's face. "What manner of devilry is this? What could have created such an abomination?"
Zeke looks from the thing to Chay, and then back again. His brow furls. Suddenly it matters to him a lot less that it's /supposed/ to go to Alba. It matters a lot less that it /spoke/. The fact that Chay is afraid of it speaks volumes to him. He remembers too well huddling in fear of something. Something that will not go away. "The Charneth are from Charn. They..." Zeke shudders and the kittencore lets out a little pained mew. Then quick as lightning he snaps his jaw forward and... shoves the little monster into his mouth.
"Iss it not the fasse of a devil, sser. The fasse of the Charneth?" The finger he points at the kittencore trembles in fear. Chay barely pushes himself back up along the wall and stares--stares at the creature.
"Ma-ma?" plaintive, hungry and confused from inside of Zeke's mouth. It opens teeny, tiny mouf to display teeny, tiny needle teef, and begins to gnaw on Zeke's tongue. It nips and suckles, attempting sustenance. That it finds none only attempts to make it more desperate.
"Ma-ma? Is dark..."
Mollified at having just watched Zeke eat this baby-devil-creature, Pek is stunned into silence; his mouth opening and shutting a few times, attempting in vain to say SOMETHING about what he just witnessed.
Finally finding words, "Zekee... noooo!!! That may hold the answer to our problems that are plaguing our city!" *muffled "Ma-ma"*
"Zeke... spit it out, please. Do not let it get loose, but please spit it out. If we are to end this plague in the fastest and most efficient method... and that IS that method... your eating it would kill hundreds if not thousands. Please... Zeke.."
Zeke is torn. Chay is obviously terrified of the thing which... means it makes sense to eat it. He's eaten /worse/ things than a little plant monster. Though nothing that's ever talked back to him. It's KumainPekPek's words that decide it though. He spits the thing out. Or rather more tries to and half-chokes on it. Lifts his claw and /drags/ it out little claws scratching, pulling. He grasps it tightly and eyes it viciously. "If it iss from the Charn then it iss ssure to be here to kill usss all."
"There were hands, and gas..." Chay wraps his arms around his knees. He isn't okay. He isn't alright. The boy isn't right. The kids aren't alright. The walls of the heart are cracked and town. He's grown up and his life is worn.
How can one night swallow so many lives?
He threw a chance, and nothing's free. He longs for what it used to be. Still it's hard, hard to see-- "...and faeries one thinks, sser..." Chay says, and shakes. He stands, sort of--and makes his way over to the cot.
He lives here, now. He lives here.
The words of the other sith-makar are beginning to worry Zeke even more. Something terrible happened. He watches Pek carefully as he draws closer to Chay but... Nothing bad. Nothing /else/. He can not begin to explain to this other cleric, but he gladly hands over the creature to be stuffed into the pack. He shifts to make room for the other man at the door. "Peasce on your nessst Pek."
Then the other man is gone and he makes his way just a step closer to Chay. "You musst ssshare wordsss with thisss one kin. Tell thiss one what happened. Pleassse." There's a deep edge of worry to his voice.
"No, sser. You sshould leave," Chay says, as he stares ahead. The rustscale sits half-curled on one side. He's somewhere else, somewhere else for a while.
"One..." he says, and trails off. Stares.
Chay looks down at his hand, then, eventually. He weaves it in a particular pattern--moves his wrist in a semicircle. Makes a loop with thumb and middlefinger. Tugs, draws down the air through that loop with the pointer.
Zeke looks around the room. Finally settles on the chairs and moves heavily toward them. Gently, as is his fashion he sits down, covering his limbs with care as he does so. It was wrong of him to demand such things and yet... "Thiss one can not leave kin alone in fear. Thisss one /will/ not." It is firm but as gentle as his efforts to sit down were. He watches Chay, willing to sit here as long as is necessary.
Chay rolls up from the cot. Then--stepping widely around Zeke, he gets up and heads towards the door. Quiet, softclaw. He moves like a hunter a the highest of skills.
And. Just. Looks to Zeke and then--
Leaves.
As though Zeke couldn't see him.
The blue-scaled sith is on his feet, heartbeat picking up a little. It isn't safe. He moves to the door, following after Chay as quickly as his unusual gate will allow him to. "Chay?" His voice is questioning, his arms tingling with concern. Zeke can feel it in his body, this odd tenseness that has not left him since he found out that Chay was ill, and which it seems can in fact grow worse. Wherever Chay may go, he will follow. Right now, he would follow Chay into the depths of the Charneth.
GAME: Chay rolls stealth: (9)+10: 19 GAME: Zeke rolls perception: (10)+2: 12
-End