My ankles ached.

My feet were blistered and sore.

Featherlight I: 3/9 (+1)

I had yet to drop my Guise since I had received it, although I had all the reasons in the world to do so. I had no shoes, since I had been traveling barefoot before using the Guise, and I had failed to think ahead for things that a human would actually need to travel the wastes.

Most, sane people, would have traveled in the quickest, most convenient, fashion. Especially in a land as hostile as this.

But no, not I. Once I used the Guise, I had cried from relief. For while my new body failed to match the one I remembered, it was human. No tail getting caught. No snout taking up the greater part of my vision. No whiskers. No fur. Everything was as it should be.

And while I lost some of the hardiness and dexterity and perception of being an animal, and while I lost one of the most effective tools in my kit, my Illusions, what I gained in mental relief outweighed all of that by far.

So yes, I maintained the Guise of a human. At least my lightweight lessened the strain upon my body, though it still accumulated.

I was currently traveling around Southbridge, keeping the city to my left, and far enough away that the guard towers would not spot me. I had learned previously, when they had shot both me and the infested vulture, that they would not tolerate any suspicious travelers.

But I would find a way in. As I went, I scouted what I could, even from a distance.

And what I learned was that the city of Southbridge itself was a mess. I could hardly see through the outer perimeter of buildings and towers and heaps of steaming slag, but I still caught glimpses of the towering buildings, the bricked tenement houses decorated by graffiti, even towards the top where access ought to have been impossible. On one side of the city, there were slums and industry. On the other, parks and manors. Naturally, I traveled around the impoverished side, as I could slip in most easily there. At least, that was my hope.

Truthfully, once the first night fell, I could have slipped in beneath the towers. However, even if I did sneak into the city, I worried about my false arm giving me away. Even if I could hide it, I was not confident that I could fit in with the city’s customs.

So I bided my time and I walked, planning.

Clearly, I would need a way to disguise the arm, firstly, I needed to form it into a mostly human shape, as opposed to the three inhuman and jointless digits it was currently.

And so, I practiced.

My jacket, my favorite leather jacket, a gift from my sister, that had somehow survived the journey between worlds, had not been so fortunate through my journey. It was scarred and burned and the better part of my left sleeve was missing. This meant my false arm was in full, easy view, and came to be convenient.

Though I would have still rather had my jacket unblemished.

Regardless, I took what blessings I could.

As I concentrated upon my arm, I pushed other thoughts to the side. I ignored the bellows from the distance, the clanging metal, and the calls of men and whistles. Those sounds were faint anyways, due to my human shape.

Concentrating upon the arm was difficult.

For it was not truly my arm. It was hardly even an extension of my will. It was always slow to respond, by a fraction of a second, but still a lagging delay with each movement. I would request a motion, the arm seemed to consider it, and then it implemented the motion in its own fashion.

Using the arm almost reminded me of a negotiation.

Now, that was an idea.

I willed the false arm to form a hand. I pictured it as clearly as I could, similar to forming an Illusion. I overlapped it over the arm, over the gangly three digits.

They twitched, they shortened a slight amount, but the gelatinous material bunched up, thickening the digits to an unrealistic width.

I released the image, though the limb remained with the three short and stout tendrils.

Either the limb was unable to change, or it failed to understand what I desired.

I tried again and again, showing the false limb, my other arm, using different images, focusing on where the elbow should be, on firming up where the bones would have been.

After two days, all while circumnavigating the city, I failed to make significant progress.

My false arm pretended to have joints like an elbow and wrist, but the hand would never pass inspection, and I could not trust that the ‘bones’ would remain in place.

One oddity I did notice as I practiced, however, was that the gelatinous material was continuing to take on a silver tint, obscuring the tendrils within. I did not know the cause, but it was a significant deviation from the gelatinous material of Emboru, and I took it as a good sign.

I would have continued practicing, but after two days, I came to the edge of the city.

Quite literally, an edge.

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To my left was the city, in all its polluted glory.

Before me, was an endless chasm.

Below my feet, was a trodden highway, leading from the city and following along the edge of the cliff, heading off to presumably somewhere with agricultural ties, as a massive city had to be fed.

But the city and the highway and the logistics of the city were secondary thoughts. As I stood near the edge, I felt a sense of vertigo, as though I were flying. I stumbled backwards and shook myself from my reverie, feeling a sudden fear of heights.

If heights was even a way to explain it.

For the cliffside went down and down and down, stone and exposed ore, all the way until a blanket of darkness in the depths. It was such a deep chasm, that despite the mile from one cliff to another, light failed to penetrate the floor.

It quite literally could have descended forever.

The side of the cliff was not barren of activity. The city itself climbed down the face of it, with semi-permanent scaffolding, and ramshackle stairs and pulleys. Workers climbed up and down, loading ore into lifts which were pulled upwards.

It explained some of the industry, I supposed. Having such materials readily available. It failed to account for feeding the workers, however.

The other startling part of the chasm, and I realized the namesake of the city at once, was the colossal bridge that spanned the chasm, from cliff to cliff. From the distance, the bridge itself was blurred by the air between myself and it, but I could see a steady traffic of carts crossing it.

Most notable, however, was that on the far side of the chasm, just barely in sight upon the horizon, was green.

Verdant, lush, surprising, green.

The wastes which I had been traveling across for what felt like forever, had come to an end. Crossing through Southbridge would bring me to the forests and jungles of the south, the ones that the Kaiva siblings had told me of.

Were I not conscripted to Emboru’s cause, and were they not able to infest me with a certain coded signal that could likely be transmitted by any of their infested, then, I might consider forgetting my bargain with them, just to enjoy something besides polluted gray slate and broken hills.

No. I shook my head at the tempting thought.

Betraying Emboru would likely lead to my death, and I was short allies as it was.

Besides, they had my future companion, which they assured me would be powerful, once I hatched the Mist Egg. It would be an ordeal, but something that they had hanging over me.

A loyal companion was honestly something that I direly needed. For mental health reasons.

Set upon my mission, reaffirmed in my motive, I turned my attention to infiltrating Southbridge.

Where the road met the city, I could see several towers, and a checkpoint of sorts. It was not something I could simply waltz through, at least not without dropping my Guise.

And while I could drop the Guise, in theory, it was not my first choice. I would need to integrate into society at some point, so I figured that I might as well start now.

To do so, instead of heading directly towards the city, I headed away from it. Towards wherever the road headed. I was unsure what I would find, but the road implied traffic, which implied groups coming and going.

If I found a group coming, I thought I had a high chance of tacking along with them. And if they had a spare glove that I could fit my false hand into, all the better.

And so, I turned my back on Southbridge, and began trudging along the worn, single lane road. It was not long until I came across an interesting sight.

A portion of the plateau had been transitioned into agricultural space.

Farms.

How, I was unsure. But someone must have imported the soil. Throughout the farms, water collecting towers had been installed, with pipes dripping water onto the soil. The farms were not wide, maybe a quarter of a mile from the face of the cliff to inland, but the farms stretched further than I could see.

I wondered what crops were grown. I did not recognize them, but spices filled the air, a pleasant change from the diesel exhaust that the rest of the wastes smelled like. Though, the exhaust was still present, even here. Just, less so.

The road I was on did not cut through the farms, but instead went around them, between the farm and the inland wastes. I lost sight of the cliff, but it was always there.

Miles down the road, I encountered a compound, where a ladened cart was exiting, driven by a man, one old, one young, and two meohrs.

I had found my target.

Putting my best smile forward, I approached.

The men tensed, and while the younger one appreciated my features, the older man watched my hands, and grimaced at my silver, malformed, false arm.

“What business do you have, traveler?” The man asked. While he was riding the cart, his hands had reached under his seat, ready to pull some sort of weapon.

“I was hoping to catch a ride,” I answered, cleanly, clearly, and in the sweetest voice I could muster.

“Of course!” the young man said, returning my grin with his own youthful hope and perversion.

Despite the younger one’s lecherous gaze, the older one was not swayed.

“And you were heading away from the city, because?” he asked.

I had thought they might not have seen my bearings, but they were right. That was, indeed, suspicious. Before I was forced to explain myself, and my awkward state of attire, the young man gave an exasperated groan

“Not your suspicions again! Father, clearly she is in distress. Should we not help?”

“My suspicions keep us hale and well, boy. But perhaps you may have a point. What happened to you, girl?” the older man asked me. He was beginning to loosen up.

Fortunately, I had a half-truth ready to tell.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

* Body: 65

* Mind: 75

* Spirit: 49

Talents:

* Athleticism (3/9):

* Climbing I (2/9)

* Featherlight I (3/9) (+1)

* Inversion (2/9)

* Stealth I (5/9)

* Trackless Tracks I (3/9)

* Area Coverage (3/9)

* Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

* Eschiver (7/9)

* Evasion (6/9)

Spells:

* Illusion I (5/9)

* Touch (8/9)

* Guise of the Kitsune (1/9)

* Closed

Gifts:

* Obsession (3/9)

* Closed (0/9)

* Closed (0/9)