Oobliette

Markus hummed around a crudely wrapped cigar, staring out his window at where the very top of a pillar of fire had been not moments ago. He released a small cloud of smoke through his nostrils with a sigh, “How much ya wanna bet our newest hit-rat is involved with that mess?” His voice was dry and sarcastic, not showing any concern for the pyrotechnics display he’d just witnessed.

Laughter was the only response he got, high and cruel like it had been for as long as he’d known the creature that stood behind him in the shadows of his office. He nodded, taking another pull from his cigar, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I figured we should have stressed the importance of understanding the proper use of those damn runes, but I never would have guessed he’d go this far with what little he knows.” He reached behind him, snagging a glass of whisky off his desk and taking a sip. “How many people are crazy enough to write out a dangerous sigil they barely understand in human flesh? And how do we keep attracting this sort of wacko?”

He shook his head, sighing out another cloud of smoke, “You think he killed himself?” His voice was still laced with dry humour, seemingly unconcerned over the answer.

This time the ancient monster lurking behind him actually answered, “Nah, he may be a bit jumpy and strange, but that one’s certainly cautious. I doubt he’d have finished the rune with him inside like the last couple morons.”

Markus nodded thoughtfully, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to see if he winds up coming back or running off; he didn’t try real hard to mask his discontent with how I recruited him.” Once more his only answer was the darkness laughing around him.

----------------------------------------

A loud crunch echoed around me, drawing my gaze to my right before my eyes flew wide. The wall of the alley was riddled with cracks, bricks partially crumbling to fragments as the whole building sagged over itself. An ominous, grinding groan assaulted my ears as the wall began to actively crumble, shards flying out and forcing me to cover my face with my arm to avoid losing an eye.

HP -3

I snarled, but a glance upward had my anger instantly turn to fear; the building was looming over me far more than it should have, and growing closer by the second. It hardly took a genius to put one and one together here and realise the fucking building was about to come down on my head. My eyes rapidly flickered over the alley, looking for something, anything I could use to avoid getting crushed under several tonnes of burning rubble.

My desperately searching eyes alighted upon my potential salvation, finding a section of shattered cobblestone from which a broken pipe jutted up into the air. Its end was jagged, likely having been blown open by overpressure of some kind, but at the moment I could hardly care less why it was there; all I cared to note was that it was just barely large enough for me to fit inside with some effort.

I didn’t pause a moment, twisting on my heel in mid-step and dashing full tilt as I heard more than saw loose bricks raining down around me. I leapt the last step, sucking in my gut and turning my joints to mist to make myself as small as possible as I all but literally threw myself into the rusty, jagged pipe mouth. It was a tight fit, even with my ribs compressed enough I could feel them deforming my organs, but it was enough; I managed to slither down the pipe just barely fast enough to clear the surface before the building crushed the alley where I had stood mere moments before, pounding the bit of pipe above the surface flat inches behind the tip of my tail.

I sighed in relief, feeling the adrenaline racing through me slowly fading and leaving my body shaking even as I struggled to breath with my lungs compressed. Thankfully, the swarm within me didn’t go into full on freak out mode, or crawling down the small exposed pipe and away from the wreckage that had consumed the alley I stood in moments prior would have been nigh impossible. As it was, I was thankful for their presence, if only for the massive amounts of painkillers they flooded my system with distracting me from the deeply uncomfortable feeling of my broken ribs pressing up against my organs and rendering me numb to the rough metal grating on my burnt flesh.

Even so, thankful as I was that it had been there at all to save me from being crushed to death, the extremely shallow breaths I could manage were not going to be enough if I didn’t get out of this cylindrical metal tomb sooner than later.

I don’t know how long I spent slithering through the cramped pipe, searching for somewhere safe to escape to. I was less than pleased to once more be in a cramped, underground tunnel, alone with my thoughts and my flies. Fortunately, my faint Tunnel Sense let me know I decidedly wasn’t going down a dead end and I was only slightly delirious from oxygen deprivation before my Paranoia sensed a clear space wide enough to stretch my limbs and full of air outside my tiny, claustrophobic little drain pipe. I poofed away with Ninja Vanish, and appeared right inside what I could have sworn was an oubliette, rotting and forgotten corpse included.

NInja Vanish +1

I quickly Observed the corpse to be sure I wasn’t about to be attacked by a very hungry zombie, and upon confirming it probably wasn’t undead I spared it little more than a glance over for valuables. I was more than willing to rob the dead, but if I can avoid getting putrefied corpse juice all over me I’d be a much happier rat.

Normally, I’d have only a mild interest in why there was a torture pit seemingly randomly placed in the middle of a fuck huge city; I’d just figure it was some wacko’s particular flavour of dark pleasure and move on. Now, with me literally inside said murder hole, I was suddenly a lot more curious. While I knew my priority should be getting back to the base before they send someone out to whack me, I just couldn’t resist having a look around.

A very cautious look around, but there was something in the back of my mind that made me feel like investigating further was the right idea.

I immediately crushed this strange and incautious part of me, examining my thought process to see if my mind had been altered. Me, explore a random murder den with no backup, preperation, or real reason? Not entirely ludicrous, but I knew damn well that such recklessness was how you get yourself killed. The mere fact I was still highly considering doing more than just finding the quickest way out before whoever it was that made a pass time of torturing people to death showed up had me questioning my every thought.

Extreme Paranoia +1

I ignored the naysayer; I knew it was probably right, that I really did want to explore, figure out what was going on here, and maybe murder the inhabitants if I got the chance. I also knew that this kind of urge could well get me killed and I knew it wasn’t impossible that my natural curiosity was being amplified just enough to still feel natural but overcome my caution. I know manipulating the thoughts and emotions of others is entirely possible in this world, I even know it can be done so subtly most wouldn’t ever notice; Rokharth was a monster, but a part of me I would never admit to existing almost thanked him for confirming my worst fears.

The mere fact that it was possible my thoughts could be influenced had me constantly on edge, rethinking every thought and double checking my impulses at every turn. How could I ever trust my own mind when I know it is vulnerable?! How could I ever-

Extreme Paranoia +1

I cut myself off, panting from the near paranoid panic attack I’d almost induced. The sound of a rusty iron door opening seized my mind and allowed me to grab ahold of my spiraling thoughts; immediate danger always takes priority over theoretical danger, even when the walls around me are seeming less and less real. How could I even trust my senses to-

Heavy footsteps crushed my rising solipsistic rant, drawing me back to the only reality I know can hurt me. My eyes shot to the locked grate above me, though I was unsurprised to see nothing but a grimy wooden ceiling through the bars. As the footsteps moved overhead, small amounts of dust came loose, falling like a miniature brown sand storm, hitting the bars, sifting through them, and landing on my snout. I kept a growl behind my teeth as I quickly brushed off the offending filth, but added a tally to my reasons to kill whoever was up there.

I spent a moment watching, tracking the course of their footsteps as best I could before deciding they were probably coming down here. Of course, that meant I had to decide whether or not my current hiding place was good enough. I spared the very rotten corpse next to me a glance, noting the layer of dust covering everything including the grate, before deciding that the odds were good this pit wasn't going to be disturbed anytime soon. Even if all the evidence of long term neglect was defied today, I could always teleport back into the pipe I came from despite how incredibly uncomfortable it would be.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Though, the question of whether or not I'd be able to effectively spy from down here was much more questionable. Sure, my Extreme Paranoia meant I was aware of everything within seven feet around me, but considering this damn pit was ten feet deep that wasn’t super helpful for seeing what was going on. If I wanted to actually investigate, I’d need to climb up the rough and blood stained walls and get closer to the surface; something that would make it a lot more likely for me to get spotted if my unwilling and unknowing host decides to glance down here for whatever reason.

I sighed, ignoring the cloud of cheerful flies that flowed out with my breath to investigate the corpse next to me.

Deliberately withholding a grunt, I began to climb. Fortunately, the rough and crack filled stone of this tiny cell was easy enough to find or make hand holds in, and before long I was hanging just beneath the grate in a tiny alcove I carved out with tooth and claw. Not a minute later the footsteps halted and I heard the distinctive sound of a heavy wooden door on rusted hinges being forced open, muffled expletives and angry grunts included.

I scowled into the dank room above me, my every muscle tensed to go as I listened to the unknown inhabitant push the door open and walk almost leisurely closer and closer to me. I heard them muttering to themselves long before they entered the range of my Paranoia, their grumbled complaints directed at an unnamed “boss” containing little useful information; the only thing I learned was that this place was owned by an organization (extrapolated from the usage of the term “boss”) and that this ornery fellow was the only one here (something that a rather large amount of their complaints were about). Now, the first part wasn’t particularly helpful, but that last bit drew a smile to my face.

I do so love it when people make things easier for me, especially to their own detriment.

The first thing I saw of them was their scowling face, a hand rolled cigarette dangling between chapped, scarred, and decidedly downward twisting lips. Even with the odd nature of perceiving things through Paranoia, I could make out the annoyed boredom in their murky brown eyes as their gaze idly roamed over the room. They sighed, releasing a puff of smoke through their hooked and crooked nose as they ran a gloved hand through their greasy brown hair, “Fuckin’ boss, wakin’ me up in the middle of… whenever the fuck it is right now.” He spat a glob of yellow saliva on the floor, “Don’t even know why we even have this fuckin’ place guarded; when was the last time we even had a fuckin’ prisoner here, anyway?”

I watched silently as they took a long drag from what I was beginning to suspect was not just a cigarette, though his words had certainly caught my attention. A location being guarded despite seemingly containing nothing of value, with even the seemingly low value guard themselves not knowing why they were there? That just screamed "something is being hidden here" to me.

Were it not for the shadows I wrapped myself in, I’m sure the flickering lamplight that flowed weakly into the dusty pit I hung in would have glinted off my teeth as I grinned savagely through the bars. The moment the guard's slightly unsteady footsteps took him past my hiding place I vanished, reappearing behind the irritable guard as he took a swig of something probably alcoholic and nearly face planted mid-step, stumbling over a slightly raised board. I had already briefly contemplated how to deal with the guard the moment I heard them coming, though I had had to alter my plans somewhat when I actually saw them; despite their clearly drunken and sleepy state, they were clearly solidly built and clad in shabby and threadbare but heavy and thick leather coat emblazoned with a large purple eagle on the back.

Not exactly proper armour, but thick enough clothes could potentially serve as some form of discount gambeson if I just tried to stab him through his jacket.

Now, there were plenty of ways I could have tried to deal with this guy; I could have tried to stab him in the neck as I had the thugs earlier. I could have tried to carve a rune into some sort of trap, though I know I don't know enough about them to do so in a manner even approaching safely; I had that lesson quite literally burned into me last time I tried to fuck around with magic I thought I understood. I could have tried to Blight him or any number of things that might have worked. Instead, I chose the most expedient option with the greatest likelihood to work with the lowest risk to myself.

Pink fire sparked to life in the palm of my hand, dancing betwixt my fingers for a moment before an exertion of will sent it roaring forth with a sound not unlike high pitched laughter. To my soon to be victim's credit, he managed to turn halfway around before the magenta flames consumed him. In the brief moment before his face was lost in the laughing blaze his eyes caught mine, confusion and irritation fading instantly into terror in the seconds between the pink light registering and the agony setting it.

And then he screamed. From his chapped lips tore free a howl of such intense agony, such utter misery and suffering, that the sound felt as if it were itself wracked by unfathomable torment. It was as if liquid agony flowed through their piercing cry, ringing out with such ferocity I could feel as their vocal cords tore apart from the strain and their wordless cry became ever more ragged. I could barely make out their body writhing under the dancing flames, even as their seizing muscles shattered their bones and shredded their tendons from the sheer directionless force of their spasming.

I spent a moment simply watching them writhe, observing the demonic flames in action. I had seen men burn before, seen them electrocuted, and even seen a lab rat have the pain center of its brain directly stimulated; none of them had ever torn themselves apart like this, nor had any ever produced a sound quite like the one physically assaulting my ears.

I wasn't about to wait around for their lungs or heart to give out, knowing well that a scream that loud would carry far. Unless this place is extremely isolated and sound proof, odds are very slim no one will have heard a sound so visceral and loud; though, in a shithole city like this, I suppose it's far from unlikely no one would investigate even such a horrid wail as this. I was just about to leap forward and plunge my knife into their throat when an odd sensation caught me off guard. It was a sort of pleasant tingling, as if tiny, electrified bubbles were running through my very flesh and soul, leaving everything they touched buzzing with warm energy. The bizarre feeling was enough to draw a moment's pause from me, but it was what I didn't feel that made my eyes widen in realization; everywhere the ethereal warmth touched was completely free of pain. A glance down at myself showed my injuries visibly healing and a check of my stats confirmed that I was rapidly healing.

It clicked a moment after I noticed it, and my confusion faded away. In the brief panic caused by just how unexpectedly loud this asshole's screams turned out to be, I had forgotten the arguably most important part of Silxazar's Touch; healing from the pain and suffering I inflict on others. I sighed, lightly slapping the side of my muzzle as I shook my head. With the pleasant, bubbly warmth suffusing me I found it far easier to settle down and analyze the situation more calmly, and without the rush of surprised panic I realized the haste I thought I needed was likely unnecessary; this section of the city is currently in the middle of burning down, something unlikely to inspire any do-gooders that might exist in this pulsating hive of filth and misery to come investigate this particular agonized scream. And then there was something I hadn't initially noticed; I can hear anything coming from outside this dingy building. Apparently someone had taken the time to soundproof this rundown shithole, though how I wasn’t sure.

Eyes rolling in mild self exasperation, I drew my blade and crouched down in front of my still burning foe as his voice grew more and more strained, turning from a proper scream to something that sounded more like air rushing through a pipe. I had made rookie mistakes and forgotten a potent asset in my haste, but at least the second mistake was covered by the first; I had failed to adequately assess my location and I had used a weapon I wasn't fully familiar with in an uncontrolled environment. Thankfully, the rather (in hindsight) obvious oversight I had made was that a black site prison for whatever organization this was (and I was betting on a rival gang so far) would probably require some degree of sound proofing; nobody wants the screams of prisoners they don't officially have reaching the ears of the public, after all.

The fact no one had come running when he first started screaming confirmed I had at least gotten the number of guards right, though I'd need to be more careful to be sure in the future. I'd blame racing adrenaline for just how much I'd missed, but I knew damn well I had simply forgotten in my haste; I could at least be honest with myself, if only to prevent such failures from repeating in the future.

I idly wished I had some marshmallows to toast while I sat back and let my victims agony soothe my burnt flesh and broken ribs, though I wasn't sure if demonic flames of torment would be any good for cooking with. I shook my head, a dry chuckle slipping through my quirked lips at my own thoughts.

I measured the rate my health rose compared to the rate my mana dropped, noting that apparently the incredible agony Silxazar’s Painfyre caused healed me at an extremely rapid pace. My mana drained rapidly, but the flames restored my wounds fast enough that I just barely avoided completely draining my mana pool. As my flesh mended, I watched the magenta flames dance across the thug’s body; the laughing fire left not a single mark even as they drove their victim to shatter their nails clawing bloody trenches into the boards beneath them.

The moment my wounds had healed fully I cut the flames off, powering through the minor headache burning through so much mana caused with an irritated grunt. The instant the flames faded the writhing body of my victim collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, tensed limbs falling limply to the ground with a dull thud as air rushed down their throat with an audible woosh. While I was decently confident they weren’t going to recover from my attack anytime soon, I didn’t give them the opportunity regardless; my blade severed their brainstem and put an end to their misery in one swift strike.

Human Thug Killed Exp +56

You Have Leveled Up! +100 Stat Points

Conjure Painfyre +1

I stood up, feeling better than I had when I first set out despite the electric headache near mana exhaustion brought me. I sheathed my blade, dusted myself off, cracked my neck, and released a half pleased and half tired sigh.

Well, I guess I’d best get to actually finding what, if anything, is being hidden here.