Some days Rye could just not understand her other half. Even though they were more attuned to each other than ever, even though more emotions trickled through their connection day by day, the mystery of who or what Elia exactly was only ever changed shape, forever defying a definitive solution. Some days she was a ferocious tiger, others a loot-rat filled with bathos and snark, and sometimes lazy as a slug. She was rarely an injured kitten that lashed out at everyone and everything. Then again, today was a day filled with the unusual. Maybe she just needed a massage.
Elia had struggled, but between four people holding her down and Rye whispering calming words into her ear, she eventually let herself be medicated. They were far enough away that they couldn’t hear the carnage in the streets anymore. Since Elia had difficulty walking, they pulled her along on a rope, gently suspended by a bed of clouds. The yellow bed of clouds she was slumped down on was a creation of the Cesare, the pink-skinned goat man. His was an odd type of bekki, though Rye preferred his to the feline variety by leaps and bounds. He had a pretty face with beautiful smooth skin and the way he moved showed he knew it, too.
Elia sighed. Right, Rye had more important things to care about. Gently, she took control of the good arm, wincing where the skin strained against the wyckwax.
This cloud bed is comfy, isn’t it?
“Nnnh,” Elia grumped.
Look, I know you don’t trust these people, but by their actions they have done you no harm. Would you like it if I told you a story to take your mind off of things? Or would you rather I take over?
There was a tingle and a nudge before Rye found herself sucked from her mind space and into her body. Immediately, a dozen aches took her attention. Her left arm was broken, she was covered in cuts and bruises and her every thought was interrupted by the headache beating against the inside of her skull.
Rye winced. “O-ok, ow, I can see why you’re so cranky.”
Wake me if we’re in mortal danger again.
And with that, Elia blipped out, leaving an emptiness in her mind that was… discomforting? Why, because now she had free reign to do what she wanted, to guide her body this way and that? Like it had always been, just her and her alone in here?
… yes, ok, maybe this whole merging business was a bit more pressing than she had initially thought. Which could only mean one thing: It was time to not think about it.
“Where are we going?” she asked the goat man.
“To the nearest bowl of respite.” He grinned. “You do look like you could use one.”
“Uh-huh. And it’s at the end of these suspiciously dark alleys?”
“Hey, I didn’t make this city. Besides, you’re lucky we know one close by. Those things are hard to find in the plebeian parts of the city, too many houses and cellars.” His hand felt cold against her head. She must be feverish. Yup. Fever. Definitely. “Are you feeling alright, by the way? I can add more fluff if you’d like.”
“Umm, actually, it’s a bit too soft on the back of my head so–“
“[Floomph]!” A small pillow of fluffy clouds pushed her head upwards. “How is this?”
“Oh. Um. Yeah, this is better. Thank you.”
They continued on in some more silence.
“So, you’re not trying to abduct me, are you?”
“What?”
“Well, I’m perfectly immobile and you’ve got this… cloud-mobile to pull me around anywhere you want. Are you after my souls? I’d much rather give them up than my life.”
“I – what? No, no, we don’t do abductions.”
“So, If I told you I wanted to be somewhere else, you’d let me go?” She stared him in the eyes and let her big blue orbs do the work for her. It seemed terribly effective.
Kessare rubbed his face, pointedly looking away. “How about you introduce yourself?”
“Oh, I’m–”
“She’s Rye” a very tired Karla said, walking beside her. “Definitely Rye. I’ve been in enough abductions to know that this isn’t one. We aren’t even who they are here for, I believe.”
“That would be me.” the monk raised her hand. “Though I don’t know to what end. I humbly accept this divine punishment.”
“Oh come on, why do you have to make us look like the bad guys?” Cesare cried. “We swooped in and prevented a tragedy. We saved your life! If the moonbeast didn’t cut you to ribbons, the 41st would have flayed you alive and stolen your boons.”
“I trust Elia had most things under control,” Karla said, which was manifestly wrong, but the thought still warmed Rye’s heart.
A couple of odd looks were shared among Cesare and company. “And Elia is…?”
Rye blushed. “Me. I’m two people, one body. But currently, I’m Rye.”
“Ah.” Whatever that was on his face, it wasn’t disbelief. “Blink twice if you’re possessed by a demon, once if you are a demon.”
Rye blinked, more than thrice just to be sure.
“She is not a demon. She is a person, like you and I. Sure, she is unusually grumpy, a menace with kitchenware and somewhat wrathful, but she only made a pact once – an oath, I mean, and that was completely on accident. She acted like she had no idea what the words ‘tempting fate and the gods’ ‘patience’ mean. Furthermore, it was you who ambushed us in that dark alley. Do you try to impress any women you happen upon by pressing them into a corner?”
“Well, only if they ask politely.”
Rye scrunched her nose. What a gentleman. Maybe she was just not in the mood for jokes, or maybe she was interpreting too much into it. Cesare kept on walking along. Whether he was naturally aloof or just a good actor, he didn’t seem bothered by her, nor by Karla’s constant trudging and fidgeting, nor that they could run into dregs or monsters at any moment. Rye noticed a thin pink tail swish after him, completely smooth like a lizard’s.
Was he not a goatman? A chimera then? He didn’t look like a five-ton killing machine with a dozen limbs of scything terror. Creating chimeras was made illegal after the magi despots were overthrown though. It wasn’t even a contentious law, most anyone didn’t like people stitching monsters together from reanimated corpses. The forest was full enough with monsters already.
So what did that make him then?
‘Hummm.’ She would definitely keep her eye on him.
The road rumbled. They watched as in the distance a tower toppled over, the house at its base having decided that it would prefer to move slightly to the left. After a moment of wait, they carried on.
Her eyes fell on the armored man taking point. Mouggen was his name, an odd one, perhaps from the far, far, far west, past the ferrish sea and desert right after. He was rather well-built and large, though not by any ridiculous proportions like a giant. No, he was simply a tall man wearing an inscrutable expression behind a polished golden metal mask fashioned like a gentleman’s face superimposed, swirling moustache and all superimposed on a sun. He wore baggy clothes fastened close to his joints, studded and colorful everywhere except his generous metal plating, and where layers of chainmail peaked out from underneath.
He must have been hot walking around like that, though Rye wasn’t feeling all that hot herself.
She looked down, saw that her tunic was cut in half around at chest height again. Yes, that would do it. That damn cutter thing, rather, the moon beast, as Cesare had called it. If there ever had been a lesson to learn about miscasting, this was it.
She turned to undo her backpack and get out a spare tunic and a towel to wipe away some of the blood.
As she did, Mouggen stopped. Everyone else followed suite. They had stumbled into a courtyard hidden behind a circle of buildings, where pooling rainwater had formed a pond thirty meters across. A wagon stood to the side, wheels half disassembled. Next to it, the bones of a horse lay within grass growing from between the flooded cobblestone floor.
There was a bowl in the middle of it, and for her it seemed a beacon of relief.
“Ah shit, we might have to swim. My clouds shrivel up in water.” Cesare took a step forward as Mouggen cut his hand with a knife, then bled a few drops into the pool.
“Well, one thing’s for certain, there aren’t any brain-worms or ‘roon fleas in this place,” he said.
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Mouggen nodded, wrapping his hand. Karla just stared at him, maybe with the desire to do unspeakable things, maybe because she was easily impressed by knowledge, large hands, and people with a competent leader attitude.
“We move through it,” he said. His voice was deep, but neither too guttural nor too gruff. He reminded her of instructor Gnaeus. “Girl, get on your feet. Monk, support her.”
Rye, with the most intense feeling of displeasure, got up from her heavenly bed. She could stand, yes, but there wasn’t much more in the cards for her. Tingles of fatigue and pain ran up her leg as she set it down.
“I have a name you know,” she grumped.
Mouggen looked at her, two dark eyes peering through slits in his mask. “Good for you. Not everyone is so lucky. Now let’s move it.”
Quietly and slowly they sloshed through the water. It was quieter than possible with five people and Rye had an inkling it was the fluffy man’s fault. He had a boon, or maybe just another type of magic she wasn’t yet acquainted with. So far, she only knew of conjuring ice, its forbidden cousin of conjuring fire, adulations, the control of gold, blood, and possibly other elements. Maybe he could control sound. Or maybe it was just a boon bending the will of the world.
Elia would strangle her if she heard her say ‘only’ to a boon that could make sounds louder and quieter. How many encounters could they have snuck past? Definitely the unfortunate deer-thing one. As it were they approached the bowl carefully, reverently even. Cesare hummed happily away but his companion didn’t lower his guard. He noticed it too. The gnarled hand sticking out of the pond in deathly rictus.
“Finally, time to get rid of that twisted ankle.” Cesare leaned down to lap at the water. “Wait, why is it empty. Bowls don’t do that unless… I’m standing on a bunch of dregs, aren’t I?”
A hand grabbed his ankle. He jumped like a chicken and squawked like one too, but his dance routine was on point as he yanked and pulled a swollen dreg from the knee-deep water. Rye wanted to help, felt for her staff, and immediately regretted using her left hand.
Right, she’d have to use her right. Gods, she barely trained with her offhand, she’d have to call, cast, and calm torturously slowly.
Before she even had the chance, a flash of steel lopped the hand off. It sailed in a lazy arc before plopping in the water. Mouggen stuck his blade through the dreg’s skull, a long, wavy blade that he had to wield with both hands.
You have gained: Soul x48
“More in the water,” he said, effortlessly skewering another hand. “We’ll have to kill them all for a drink.”
“Wow, he’s so… efficient. Ruthless.” Karla swooned, with stars for eyes again. Rye was starting to see what her other half was worried about.
“Really? I thought he could have gone for the head first,” Rye snarked, but it was already too late.
“Oh, let me help, let me!” Karla ran through the sloshing water towards him, stomping errant dregs along the way. “Are you an executioner? A knight? A hero from Xandria?”
Rye just stood there with an open mouth. They were stealing her side-kick slash friend slash surrogate little sister! The gall. She motioned to run after her when she felt Nali’s hand on her shoulder.
“You require rest, friend.”
Rye shrugged the hand off. “What I need is to make sure Karla doesn’t do something rash.”
She grabbed for her spear, but only found Elia’s spoon. It… would do, even if it wasn’t reinforced by Elia’s boon. The moment Elia took control of Rye’s arm, it would activate, but Rye had no intention of calling help for this. They weren’t a threat, they were just dregs.
… Elia would kill her if she lost the spoon though. Better not drop it in the water.
She strode on through the water. A hand grabbed for her ankle as well, but she stepped on it, found the culprit, and stabbed it through the head. The motion looked downright sloppy compared to Elia. Maybe the spoon wasn’t the best choice.
She swapped it for her petal knife. Losing her range advantage made her feel queasy, but she was much more proficient with the heavy short sword. A couple dead dregs later and she was next to Karla and the bowl. The girl seemed absolutely possessed by the idea of fighting side by side with Mouggen, who was an absolute whirlwind of limbs and strikes. The dregs grew dense around him, always two or three harassing his sides whenever he had dealt with the previous ones. It didn’t seem to bother him as he slammed his elbow into one, pivoted, then lopped the leg of the next clean off.
It reminded her of the Wolf, how he always seemed to know where the next hit would be coming from. These weren’t very subtle dregs. Their bodies were overgrown with barnacles and brown kelp she could smell even from ten meters away. However, they were unusually strong, and Rye sawn one of them whiff a punch which then shattered the face of another.
You have gained: Soul x56
“Karla, try not to get hit,” she said, but as was becoming frustratingly transparent the girl had taken her advice of thinking for herself to heart.
“I am the tank, I am supposed to be hit.” She stomped on forward and Rye stabbed the dreg jumping to ambush her before it could break the water’s surface. The girl didn’t even seem to notice it, instead advancing to viciously stab at a tangle of kelp.
“Karla, they’re behind you…” Another dreg ambushed Karla, who twirled around and punched its head clean off with her shield.
Not even a word of thanks. Rye huffed as the water returned to the bowl. She took a few deep gulps, felt her radius snap together and her cuts and stab wounds heal to the flavor of pressed peach juice.
*Gong*
It was these few seconds of bliss that caught her off guard, and she saw the shape in the water moments too late.
Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle.
You have died
You have lost: Soul x8,441, Bone shard [Common] x13, [Uncommon] x23, [Rare] x1
Rye opened her eyes again and stared at the shadow in the bowl. Time seemed frozen as her mind caught up to everything.
Wuh? W-what… Rye, what happened?
No time to explain.
She jerked back and felt the air tear, shearing along the other side of her hair. Souls, she had to get her souls, where were they–
Elia! Rye! I’ve got good news. You just won the lot–
Not NOW!
You have regained–
Oh. The souls were right at her feet. Right.
“GET AWAY FROM THE WATER!” she yelled at the top of her lung. “DON’T GO NEAR WINDOWS!”
The bowl distended, bulged, and made a sound like shearing air as a pale-fleshed creature burst from it. Two scything jaws whirled through the air as it completed its arc and blended a dozen dregs before disappearing into the water without a leaving a single ripple. It wasn’t in the water, but hidden in between, swimming in the reflection.
Cesare was the first to leave the water as he had already been on his way out of the danger zone. He and Nali were well out of harm’s way. Next, she worried about Mouggen, who had carved a red path through the swamped courtyard, then herself as she followed him out with Karla in tow.
Rye, status. Have we still not ditched these creeps?
Rye motioned for everyone to move around a corner. “No, we – that thing followed us all the way here. It can cut us, even if all it cuts is our reflection, I think.”
“Moonbeasts.” Mouggen grunted in affirmation. “It looked wounded. The legion did solid work if all it needs to escape is a puddle.”
“It still needs a large enough surface to enter and exit from. Bowl water just cheats. The steam helped obscure it, I think.” Rye breathed in and out. “We’re going to have to work together.”
What? With them? I… I guess more cannon fodder would work in our favor.
Calm. Rye tried to be calm. Elia didn’t see what she did, not here, not in people in general. “If we don’t kill that monster, it could follow us back to the temple. Enough baths there. It would be a slaughter.”
“Clearwater temple?” Mouggen asked.
Rye blinked. “Why yes, have you been?”
His mask looked unusually jolly. He sounded rather uncaring. “Heard it was around these parts. Never found it.”
Great. Now he’ll get info on our secret base too. Ugh, this is going to be such a pain. Hey Rye, swap?
Rye breathed in, Elia breathed out. “Alright, but if that thing drops a soul, I want dibs.”
----------------------------------------
The plan was as follows: Kill it dead. Anything more sophisticated was impossible. Elia would have loved nothing more than having her handful of variables play off each other like a battle-hardened group of DnD-murderhobos. Sadly, the performance she was expecting could be likened more to dropping five balls in a pinball machine and then spamming the bumpers like there was no tomorrow.
And so, the first try went horribly as Mouggen volunteered to be bait and lost his head before he was ankle-deep in the water. The thing laughed in the face of armor, and every building around had at least one window. If they were reflected in even one of them, death was likely, and they had to find a way to get together as well as their party was split. Nali and Cesare were cowering on one end while Elia, Karla, and a now headless Mouggen had been scheming on the other.
“Rye, see if something changes if you hit the reflection with an ice ball.”
O-ok. Just make sure we don’t get cut.
“No promises.”
The first two balls froze a square yard of water, but did nothing besides. The third one hit the shadow in the water spot on. There was a distant chattering roar, muted fury bubbling through.
“Yesss, it can hit us, but we can also hit it.” She jerked back behind the corner. “Alright, for the next thing I’ll need your help Karla.”
Karla looked up at her, tearful eyes, blubbering like an idiot. “B-b-but mister Mouggen… he’s dead!”
“Oh shush, people don’t actually die, that’s propaganda. I’m probably the best example. Of the dying part. Not the propaganda.” She pulled Karla down as a distant tinkle across the road cut a furrow into the building’s side. “O-kay, guess we’re doing something else then. Rye, what about your new spell, the one with the big snowball–“
Two jaws swooped over their heads, stuck in a high up window by the ball joints. Elia swore as the building collapsed all around them. A combination of instinct and a big jump propelled her out of the alley, but not everyone was as competent as her. Karla was well and truly buried, and as if that wasn’t enough, Elia was now back in the courtyard. The thing could come from any angle and every death risked loss of her hard-earned gear.
It took thirty seconds for her to die. The monster had been playing with her. It knew she had no escape. She knew it was wrong.
You have died
Hey my best frenemie, do you think the cage around the ball-pit should be colored mauve, or are you more of a magenta type?
Attempt number two went even worse. As she tried to get a crippling hit in the moment it left the bowl she was caught by one of its fin-tails and slapped underwater. By the time she had emerged, Karla was dead and Mouggen was frantically looking around. He didn’t look in her direction, possibly a good sign that he didn’t remember between loops. Good for keeping her secret, bad for coming up with a plan.
You have died
God, getting blood out of your hair is such a pain. Wish the bowls of respite could do that. Anyhow, until then I’ll just let my manservants comb me through – OW, OLIVER! FUCKIN’ WATCH THE EARS YOU INCOMPETENT PRIC–
“Rhuna's found voice-to-text. I really hope she doesn’t find the voicemail option.”
I hope she didn’t hurt Oliver too much, whoever he is. Was. May his soul rest within our sun.
Elia nearly lost her souls on the third attempt. They were right where the creature would land, but as she dodged the jaws by a hair’s breadth, a frigid wind exploded under its snout. Rye had cast a ball with a mix of intensely cold influences and the creature had smashed its face on the white mass of ice. The quicker ice freezed, the more bubbles were trapped, and the less transparent, the less reflective it was.
“This is it! Rye, freeze its limbs, don’t let it swim, make it–“
Its grasping hand caught her and slammed her into the ground. One last note to take: A beached moonbeast was still a moonbeast.
Still, with this, the fourth attempt proved to be promising. This was the one. One hundred percent.