As I followed Emboru, heading towards the center of the valley where a yellow, brackish pool of water stood stagnant, I pondered our deal, and I realized something both very profound and subtle.
Emboru had never confirmed the terms, merely waved them off in acceptance.
I knew that they would keep the mist egg as collateral, but otherwise, it was implied that I would be delivered all my other requests. Including, the nice-to-have and unrealistic request that I had thought impossible.
It seemed so outlandish that I absolutely had to confirm.
“Emboru,” I called out.
Emboru continued striding forward, their tendrils carrying them along similar to what a landbound Ursula might have done, flowing across the ground. But while they continued forward, their attention settled upon me. Almost, as if, their head had completed a one-eighty degree turn. Except, it had not. But their head had no external visual organs anyways. Even if their head remained unchanged positionally, their attention settled upon me all the same, like a weight. And not an entirely pleasant one, either.
“Alright, but that was not what I wanted to ask.”
“Are you able to prevent my powers–my Marks–from becoming sealed again? Once the collar comes off, of course.”
It took me a few seconds to parse what they meant. It was an affirmation of the deal, and that the measure was included in that deal. Implied, was that they could deliver on the agreement. That was good. It meant that all that remained was the matter of trust–did I trust them to actually deliver on it, and could I find out more without offending them? From what I knew of Emboru, I thought I could push for more information.
“But… how?”
I struggled to put my fear into words, and it came out a bit cruder than I would have wanted. But I needed to verify. Because, at its heart, there were two simple solutions to prevent sealing. The first, was of course, to avoid being collared. The second, was to wear something over my neck to prevent a collar from fitting. Neither of the solutions was what I was after.
“It… the… methodology. It will affect my infiltration tactics.” Besides the fact that some solutions were untenable. Such as ‘removing my neck.’ That one left me shuddering just a bit. Emboru and the mucary were largely alien to humanoids, with far different paradigms of regularity. “Best to verify now. That’s why I’m asking.”
We continued apace for a minute. The valley was quite large, and we were only halfway to the center. Finally, they answered.
I shrugged then shook my head. “Not really, no. Not beyond the collaring.”
While I failed to understand several of the more complex layerings of what was said, I thought I followed enough to figure the rest out. The Marks had some sort of physical connection that traveled from brain to body, maybe through the brain-stem, which the collar disrupted. But if that were the case… “How will we prevent that from happening?”
“But… how?”
A small tendril, perhaps the width of a pinkie finger, but several feet long, slowly emerged from Emboru’s back. It waved through the air, drawing my attention, before retreating back within the gelatinous material forming Emboru’s body.
That… sounded… questionable.
“But. How… ?” I asked. How would something that size reinforce my spinal column, for lack of a better word? How would it go in. When would it–I grimaced. “When I get the arm.”
“How invasive is this procedure?” I had been imagining new flesh starting from just where the scars began on my stump, or maybe a bit further up, if an anchor was required. But if tendrils were establishing themselves in my neck, and potentially up further, then that might change my consent.
Of course, Emboru read between the lines. Most of the time, when I spoke, it was not the actual words that Emboru listened to, but the feelings emanating around them, similar to how I interpreted their words, but in reverse.
“But what part of that involves sending a tendril into my brain?” I asked, perhaps naively.
Emboru remained ‘silent’ as they continued leading me onward.
By now, the brackish pool was well in sight, and I began to notice some details about it, or oddities. There were no ripples. The wind blew, always and forever; a body of water that size ought to have had some sort of motion to it. But no, there was not. It could have been a sheet of glass, for all it looked. It left me wondering what exactly it was. Because it could not have been water. Not even polluted water.
And as we approached, I saw infested carrying bundles towards it from the far end. Almost a steady procession of such, up to a structure on the far side of the pool. It was still too far for me to make out clearly, but I began to have suspicions.
“Alright. Sure. I do want to feel the arm…” I said thoughtfully. “But can the tendrils just anchor to where the nerves end, similar to the bones?”
After a pause, Emboru answered.
I failed to understand.
Emboru elaborated.
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Verifying that would not be possible. I lacked the means to do so, and the biological expertise to know if that claim was truthful or not. The nerves that had been severed might have been killed, but that would imply that nerves were a continuous organism, which beggared belief.
But instead of pushing further, I allowed the conversation to lapse. Continuing a thread of questioning could imply disbelief, which would imply distrust, and would either offend Emboru or sour the deal. Assuming that the deal was valid in the first place. Which I hoped it was.
We reached the yellow lake, and looking into its depths, I could see some movement. There was a slight wobble to the material. A shake that shuddered through it, almost to slight to notice. It was then I realized what the substance reminded me of, and I wish it had not.
It behaved similarly to jello.
Gelatinous.
Emboru led us along the circumference, heading towards the almost-docks that stretched out over the lake.
Never before had I been a nautically inclined person. I could barely remember towering cranes and gritty storage containers, but naught much else. But to me, the structure almost resembled a boat house. It was a long shed that started on shore and then stretched out over the not-water. Walls and a roof enclosed it completely, except for where the line of infested had queued for entry, along with their bundles.
It was this structure that Emboru was leading us towards.
I peered through several of the gaps in the coarse wood, or rather, the desiccated and pressed vegetable matter that served as wood.
The infested were dipping and holding the bundles in the gelatin, which climbed up the bundles and the arms of the infested. When the infested drew forth the bundles, the gelatin clung and invaded the material.
My suspicion of what was happening had been nearly confirmed, but I still had one further doubt, and that was in regards to the nature of the bundles.
Because if I was right, then those bundles should have been struggling or resisting, or at the very least, some of them. Unless they had been paralyzed, I considered.
The queue of waiting infested, and those likely awaiting infestation, ceased moving forward as Emboru approached. The last of the infested already in the structure finished and vacated just as Emoboru reached the entrance.
With trepidation, I followed, if hesitantly behind.
The infested had begun to encircle the structure, forming a barrier that was quickly surrounding us and the entrance to the structure.
I doubted I could have escaped anyways, but any hopes I did have had just been smashed. Was it a power-play on Emboru’s part, I wondered, or was this just the most convenient way for the mucary to operate.
The floor continued out for some distance, pressed vegetable matter resting on the gelatinous lake. At the end of the hallway, the floor opened up, revealing the almost-lake beneath.
“...but–” I started to protest.
A tendril snapped through the air. Not violently, not towards me, but a startling crack all the same.
Despite all the reservations I was now experiencing, and there were legion, I had little choice. The infested had begun closing in, a subtle encouragement or reminder of the fact I was at their mercy. But even despite all that, I resisted the immediate impulse to obey, to follow.
“What’s the rush?” I asked.
Oh. The arm had an expiration date to be used by. That changed things. Unless it was an elaborate trick. But then again, Emboru had no need of an elaborate trick.
I nodded and followed them in, stepping onto the planking, feeling the slight springiness in the wood, the slight reverberations. While the hall lacked lanterns or lights, the gaps in the walls proved sufficient for my eyes. I somewhat expected there to be a medical cooler with an organ in it waiting for us. But instead, there was only the yellow gelatinous material, Emboru, and myself.
Emboru stopped at the opening and immersed a root tendril into the opening, fishing around for something. A sense of relief radiated off of Emboru. What must it feel like, I wondered, for Emboru to connect with the material? Was it maternal in some way, or something else? Were I braver, I would have asked.
I stepped hesitantly up to join them, with barely enough space for both of us to remain abreast. I tried to see what their tendril was doing beneath the surface, but in the dark, the light barely illuminated more than a foot deep.
“How will this work?” I asked.
I sensed amusement from Emboru, along with concentration.
I winced, getting down on my knees on the filthy wood, and then laying upon my left side. It was my bad side, and it took some effort to lower myself without injuring me. From the ground, Emboru seemed even taller, gigantic.
My stump was held just above the surface. I focused upon Emboru. Did I trust them? Did it matter?
“But… how will this work?” I asked.
Emboru pulled the tendril closer to the surface, and I saw it had wrapped around a similar tendril, that almost was embryonic, with a material around it of a different shade to the yellow lake. I lacked time to examine it further, and it never completely left the fluid. It did come close enough to the surface for me to see. The tendril was woven of several others, all together the corded braid was near a yard long, and it was vigorous in its writhing, though it did seem to be weakening.
The tendril continued to weaken.
With Emboru towering over me, with their pressuring, and with the lack of alternatives, I had to appreciate one thing: They refrained from physically forcing me to submit, which they could have. Easily. And it was that fact alone that allowed me to comply.
Because it was my choice.
And I had requested this.
So, taking a breath to steel myself, I plunged my stump in.
Other than the sliminess, the dampness, the odd warmness of the gelatinous, I could almost pretend I was submerging my arm in a spa. At least, until Emboru wrapped a thick lumbar tendril about my torso and shoulder, both restraining me, and holding my head up at the same time.
“What happens no–” I started to ask, when something tickled the end of my stump. The tickle turned to a pressure. That pressure, turned to a stabbing. And that stabbing, turned to a burning violation of my flesh, traveling upwards, grasping and pulling itself up, using my bones and ligaments and inside of my skin for purchase and–
Oh Mother it hurts!
Blessings: Rank (1/9)
* Body: 65
* Mind: 75
* Spirit: 49
Talents:
* Athleticism (3/9):
* Climbing I (1/9)
* Featherlight (6/9)
* Stealth I (5/9)
* Trackless Tracks I (1/9)
* Area Coverage (1/9)
* Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
* Eschiver (3/9)
* Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
* Illusion I (5/9)
* Touch (6/9)
* Closed
* Closed
Gifts:
* Obsession (3/9)
* Closed (0/9)
* Closed (0/9)