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Poisonous Fox
Absorption 2.1.3

Absorption 2.1.3

How?

I had been surrounded. I assumed they were the rats, though they displayed an uncanny intelligence. Most predators would never think of sabotaging light sources, and rats were far removed from predators. At least they should have been.

And how had the rats even gotten here? I had kept watch on the drain, on the entrance to the sewer, where the gutter met the wall. Unless the rats had already been in the cellar with me. But why had they waited?

And the rats had somehow coordinated the deactivation of the light source was also a concern?

Nothing about this situation made sense. Nothing at all.

What now? My first impulse was to hide. I crouched beside the first obstruction I found, instincts guiding me to break sightlines of my silhouette, assuming the rats could see better in the dark than I could.

Though I encountered a problem, my Guise was not as robust as my other self.

My breathing came louder. My thighs and calves burned from the tension. The back of my neck prickled.

Stealth I: 6/9 (+1)

As I cowered, I tried focusing my weak human senses on the threat. What pitiful senses I had were crippeled by the dark, by the stench, though my sense of hearing remained. My nose was worthless here. But my false arm? Could it detect the rats? Perhaps, but I had limited control of it to begin with, and I had no practice in cooperating with it in such a fashion. Depending on untested and untried tools would be a foolish idea.

My ears. While far weaker in this human body, could still detect the faint scarpering. Small feet padding through the cellar, tapping on tiles, padding on wood. As I focused, I found myself growing alarmed. Just how many were there? Could I run? Technically, I had cleared the blockage, cleaned the grease-trap.

Did I need to deal with the rats?

No, technically not. But how would it look, an employee only doing half the job? This task was meant to test me. Slinking my way through the cellar, avoiding the rats, it might have been possible, but those were hardly the skills I wanted Ma or Esmerelda to associate me with.

As I ruminated and cowered, the decision was taken from me.

I had been focusing on the rats circling me in the distance, I had somehow missed one that had approached much nearer. In fact, I had missed it entirely until I felt a tapping pressure on my left calf. The pressure came quickly, startling me. Its paws had made contact with my legging. Before I could do more than twitch, there came a burning pressure.

From the surprise more than the pain, a brief shriek escaped my lips, breaking my stealth, assuming there were rats that had yet to find me.

At the same time, I twisted and swiped at my leg. Other than shadows, I saw nothing. As I swiped, I felt nothing. Either the rat was far lighter than I expected, or I had missed. It had scurried up my ankle, bit me, then fled, all before I could counter it. Just how fast were these rats?

I was strongly considering calling for help. But I had faced hundeor, bandits, and mucary. I had faced down an alchemist and a mad kaiva. What were mere rats against that? I would be a laughingstock should I be unable to handle these rats alone.

No, I would best these foul creatures.

I focused upon the only sense I had, upon my hearing. Bothersome how weak it was. Were I to drop my Guise, my ears and eyes would quickly make sense of my surroundings. But as my senses were currently, I struggled to hear the rats come.

Still, I focused the ears that I had.

A squeak from head level, a yard away.

There were shelves there.

A rat must have crawled up the shelves to gain height.

I imagined it readying to jump. I prepared myself to catch it, and hopefully trash it. Any second, I expected a blur to shoot through the gloom towards my face.

When another pressure hit my heel, it came as quite the shock.

Something hot hit my skin. Not heat, fiery, pins and needles, and it hurt. I almost howled. I twisted and kicked out.

A flicker from the corner of my eye.

A slimy weight hit my neck.

It stank.

Oh mother, did it stink.

I gagged even as I thrashed at it, even as its teeth tried gaining purchase on my skin. It scratched into me, leaving gashes.

Where normally I had fur protecting me from assault, now I had only defenseless skin.

These rats! I would not be defeated by them, not after all I had done!

I remembered Esmerelda’s offer. All I needed to do was cry out for help–

Another pinch upon my thigh.

Swiped down. My false arm made contact, but it was fleeting. The rat flew off, without a confirmation of death.

I was surrounded.

There were so many. Frustrating, I could not even count them. They moved too quickly for that. I suspected they intended to make their horde larger than it was. I would persevere.

I crouched down, minimizing my profile, and coiled my false arm before me to the side.

I heard a scamper.

I flailed my false arm.

The gelatinous material hit the stone floor.

Why did I lack direct combat Marks?! I whined to myself, wondering exactly what Evasion was doing for me, if it was doing anything at all.

There was a drawn out squeaking chitter–was it laughing at me?

A growl escaped my lips. These rats.

Another pressure to my rear–my buttocks. A rat had bit me.

Enraged, uncaring of self-damage, I slammed myself backwards to the ground. I kept my head tucked forward, but my ribs ached, as did my spine, where a lump had caught. Or rather, where I had caught a lump.

For as I had landed, there had been a squished squeak.

I pressed back harder into the floor, bruising my ribs and spine, but pressing down all the same.

I heard small bones crack and pop. The rat must have been dead.

But now I was on my back, still surrounded by rats. I had not thought this entirely through.

Seemingly knowing that I had slain one of their brethren, the remaining rats squealed with fury. Their paws slapped the stone as they ran, charging towards me.

Only for a moment, I considered the oddity of the horde caring for any single rat. It was not a swarm mentality that I would have expected. But then again, what expectations had these rats met so far?

With the rats rushing in, I swept my false arm to the side, the tendrils extending further than an arm should, several feet further.

My false arm had extended. That… I did not realize it could do. It almost acted as a whip.

The rats squeaked in surprise, or warning amongst themselves, or perhaps I was merely anthropomorphizing them and the squeak meant nothing at all.

My false arm snapped around one rat, squeezing and crunching then flinging the corpse away.

That had worked well, I could do this. I would persevere. My false arm would see me through, and I could achieve gainful employment, room and board, a cover for me as I fulfilled Emboru’s demands.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

There came another scamper across the wooden shelves behind me.

I flung my false arm once more.

The rat dodged–they were learning! Or was I anthropomorphizing again. Hard to tell.

I twisted, trying to keep the false arm moving all around.

A taunting squeak came from the right.

I punched with my true arm.

My fist struck the edge of a wooden shelf, glancing off, stubbing my knuckle. That could have been worse, but still stung.

Evasion: 8/9 (+1)

Mothersworn rats!

I should drop my Guise, combat these rats with my all.

But that would be impulsive.

But what if someone saw?

No, I could do this as I was! It was mere rats, and despite the frustration, they had yet to leave any true harm, unless they bore diseases–which was a horrid thought. I had better finish this quickly.

The same rat that had tricked me into punching the shelf took the opportunity of my knuckle hitting the wood to scurry up along my wrist and arm, aiming for my shoulder, possibly my neck. Those incisors hitting an artery would surely be the death of me, just the same as a blade.

But I refrained from my knee jerk reaction of recoiling, of flinging my right arm, of relying on centrifugal forces to send the rat flying.

I slapped it with my false arm instead.

It sensed the attack, as quick as the tendrils were, and the rat jumped free, landing on my chest, before resuming its climb. It came even closer now.

The false arm had committed to striking my true arm, and the tendrils had slapped against my jacket and sleeve, spending precious seconds to recoil and prepare for another strike.

The rat was almost to my neck.

Everything was happening too quickly!

I used my right arm to brush my chest clean, but it was too slow, the rat hung on too stubbornly to the dress.

Its whiskers reached my neck.

Motherswear it!

I needed to do something! Drop the Guise? Too late, it would take too long, I–

My false arm split apart, three tendrils, almost tentacles, exploding free of the gelatinous base. They were finer, less encumbered, faster, more dexterous.

The tendrils shot towards the rat.

The rat sidestepped, dodging one tendril.

The rat dropped downward inches, dodging a tendril.

Already, my neck had been saved. But the tendrils would not be denied. The third tendril came from beneath and coiled around the rat’s hindlegs, trapping it.

The rest of the tendrils closed in.

They tore into the rat, crushing it, depositing its broken bleeding remains in the gelatinous material, subsuming it.

It was too dark for me to see exactly what they were doing. I was unable to feel them as I would my own limb. Only vague sensations. They felt satisfied, content. Had they eaten it?! It raised questions that I was unsure I wanted answered.

The fact that the false arm could even do that without my input was frightening. Was it only humoring me–?

Another enraged squeak.

I thought it might have been the last rat. I hoped so at least.

It came fast, as I worried over the false arm.

The rat meant to take me from behind, likely ineffectually.

The false arm seemed to think otherwise, taking steps to immediately protect me. It whipped around, flinging itself off of the shelves, causing my whole body to spin and pivot uncontrollably. Dizzying. The false arm, the tendrils, they swooped low and scooped the rat up from the ground, before crunching into it and flinging it to the side of the room.

I finished falling to the ground, completing the spin.

I glared at the tendrils, sending them orders to get themselves back under control.

I could almost sense the arm’s attitude. It seemed as though the tendrils were giving me lip? Or backtalk? Grumbling proverbially, they complied, eventually. Reforming themselves into the false arm, with the twined tendrils pretending bones and joints. The arm seemed just a bit thicker than before, likely where the mass of the rat was stored.

Questions indeed. To be answered later. They would have to be. Having a portion of my body not my own… it left my hackles up. It left me wondering as I caught my breath.

Minutes passed. No further rats came to attack.

Exhausted, rather than sticking around below and interrogating my false arm, I ensured it was passable as a deviated, somewhat human arm, and I headed back to the ladder and climbed back up.

When I reached the top of the ladder, I half expected the hatch door to be locked or blocked. But the hatch swung up and open, revealing a kitchen of clattering dishes and whooshing flames.

It seemed the cooks had begun for the day. Or rather, cook. When I saw her, I realized it was the same who had spoken to me previous: the Kaivan woman. She was wearing trousers, a laced shirt, and an apron. She looked like a humanized calico cat, with white and brown and black mixed together in a jumble of fur. To be generous, I would have liked to claim her fur looked silky smooth, but that would have been a lie. The damp and greasy kitchen air had left it slick and matted in places.

She regarded me in turn.

“Your heart remains beating,” the cook said. “The rats were dealt with, yes? The grease trap is drained?”

I nodded, still parsing the strange way that the Kaiva spoke, and wondering why she bore no collar. No such collar at all. Was she not enslaved, I wondered. Had I been lied to by Muleater? Were there truly independent non-humanoids? It would require investigation. But later.

While I pondered, she continued.

“Seeing this,” she said, “This one must confess some disappointment.”

“W-what?” I asked. She was disappointed I succeeded? This was raising my suspicions. I had only had mixed experiences with the Kaiva, and despite her familiarity to Kissn, I was not about to trust her. Especially not when she said things like that.

“The gutters cleansed?” she explained. “Good.” She opened a lid over a simmering pot and stirred as she spoke. The sauce or stew, whatever it was, failed to smell appetizing at all.

“But surviving the rats?” I inquired. “Did my battle disrupt your cooking?” I offered her a graceful way to explain herself. An opportunity she discarded.

“A battle?” She scoffed. “Perhaps a thrashing, from what I heard. But a battle, no.” She put the lid back on the pot and worked on a pan of rising bread next, kneading the dough, compressing it back down. She was wearing gloves, thankfully, otherwise her fur would have made its way into the food.

While watching her move about the kitchen, I tried to figure her out.

“But me surviving?” I asked.

I was now staring intently at the cook. Was she planning on murdering me? Was she an enemy? I had to assume not, because only a fool would admit to such. Was this a hazing then? Or a prank? I needed to understand where she was coming from before I could respond appropriately.

“Oh, surprised?” she gave a feline smile, almost a smirk over her shoulder, hardly paying any attention to me at all. “This one had thought it was your tongue that ordered a meat dish last night.”

Thinking back, “Yeah… I did…” But what did that have to do with anything– “wait.”

I had ordered meat. The other patrons had seemed scandalized. Was meat not so common here? If so, was it special ordered? Or… was the meat procured in another fashion, I wondered.

She chuffed as I visibly realized this and she shook her head, clearly amused.

I hoped she was joking. I had to assume she was.

Changing the subject, I asked, “Where’s Esmerelda?”

“Running a task for the human. The giant will return soon, this one thinks.”

“This giantess is named Esmerelda!” The giantess in question, Esmerelda said, poking her head around the open doorway. Esmerelda had apparently been within earshot of the kitchen, just standing outside in the hallway. I thought someone else was out there with her.

“Sorry girl,” Esmerelda said, sounding slightly contrite as she spoke. “I got caught up with Tiff. You good? We’ll get you cleaned up in a bit.” Her eyes had landed on the grime that covered my clothes, silently judging.

“I told you she’d be fine!” Tiffany, the stern woman said tartly, revealing herself beyond the doorway as well. I guessed that she had been speaking with Esmerelda out there as I had been risking life and limb in the cellar. Tiffany, as opposed to Esmerelda, showed no sorrow at my state, but merely disgusted judgment.

She sneered at the front of my dress. Tiffany said, “But I see no point in cleaning her up if the job’s undone.”

“Oh, it’s done,” I replied. I had drained the grease traps and had killed several rats. My arm was thicker as proof of that, though I would hardly tell anyone that part.

“Really.” Tiffany asked skeptically, crossing her arms. “...well, it certainly looks like you were down there. Unless you turned tail and ran.”

“Ha! Feel free to check for yourself Tiff,” Esmerelda answered, a broad smile splitting her face. “I trust her though.”

Tiffany scowled at the hatch door. “I’ll send one of the boys down later to check.”

I refused to get in between this odd dynamic between the two of them, but I really wanted that change of clothes. I felt disgusting.

“This conversation can take place outside of my kitchen,” the cook scolded. “Now get out. Unless joining the larder is your goal.”

Esmerelda chuckled, Tiffany frowned, and I may have meeped.

“You know the madame hates hearing you talk about that,” Tiffany began lecturing the cook, as Esmerelda drew me away.

“She’s joking right?” I asked to Esmerelda’s back.

Esmerelda waggled her hand, “Sort of.”

That answer failed to inspire confidence in my new employer.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

* Body: 65

* Mind: 75

* Spirit: 49

Talents:

* Athleticism (3/9):

* Climbing I (3/9)

* Featherlight I (3/9)

* Inversion (2/9)

* Stealth I (6/9) (+1)

* Trackless Tracks I (3/9)

* Area Coverage (5/9)

* Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

* Eschiver (8/9)

* Evasion (8/9) (+1)

Spells:

* Illusion I (5/9)

* Touch (8/9)

* Guise of the Kitsune (2/9)

* Closed

Gifts:

* Obsession (3/9)

* Closed (0/9)

* Closed (0/9)