Lasutro awoke in pain, only just managing to contain the yelp that followed. The ribbons of dawn filled the sky as she began the inspection of their surroundings, quickly finding their dagger, its tip tinged with a familiar scarlet and no other apparent threat,slightly calming their paranoia. She kept a hold of their dagger as their focus returned to the throbbing pain in their left arm. Even in the dim light of the early morning, it was easy to recognize the growing wet stain upon their left upper forearm. Removing the sleeve and revealing the rough laceration, Lasutro watched for a moment as blood continued to seep out from it before she began staunching the wound, shaking off the growing light headedness. Stopping for another moment to search their bag for some sort of bandage and though their search is successful it is not as fast as she would have liked. After rinsing the wound, Lasutro bandages it quickly, making a mental note to themselves about not sleeping with unsheathed blades, no matter how paranoid she’s feeling.
Partially embarrassed with themselves, Lasutro began cleaning the blood from what she could, stuffing what she couldn’t into their pack after changing into what clothes she similarly couldn’t clean. When most of their expressed embarrassment finally left them, the rest of the caravan was just beginning to prepare itself for the day’s travel. Though she was loath to do so, Lasutro approached one of the cart drivers, who she felt might be open to their proposal and asked if they would let them on their cart for the day, offering some coin for the trouble. Following what Lasutro believed to be an unnecessarily long conversation, she managed to secure a ride for the day and a few minutes before the caravan set off, she placed themselves carefully among the goods stored in the cart, ready for the day ahead.
Although the not quite unsubstantial blood loss of the morning and the wear of the journey itself upon their stamina pushed them toward sleep, Lasutro fought it. At first inspecting the strangely unblemished silver bracelet, finding the same ever changing symbols upon its surface, even so, she felt as if something about it had changed; however after an hour or so of contemplation on the change Lasutro returned it to their wrist. While she removed the bracelet from their focus, Lasutro pulled the increasingly familiar red tome from their pack and prepared themselves to finish reading the story that had slowly driven a psychic needle into their mind.
Opening the book to the page they left off on, Lasutro gave in to the near trance-like state that came over them in their previous reading, their mind sharpened for the purpose of wholly absorbing the layered and hidden essence of the story. For a moment the late morning light danced upon the pages, cutting the shadows that laid across them until the light coalesced, illuminating the page just perfectly, allowing Lasutro to find their place and ignore the smallest rush of energy within their fingertips as she read on.
Using their hand as a guide for Lasutro’s over eager eyes she resumed the story; their fingers traced each word and underlined every sentence. The description of the actual method began, and even though it was filled with terms she did not know yet in reading them she gained vague insight as to their meaning. However that insight didn’t extend in its entirety to through the concepts contained within the description, which in the few unburdened parts of Lasutro’s mind had become more of a freeform instruction manual.
As she continued reading, their understanding of what had now become the subject matter and focus of the story increased, yet even with their growing comprehension, parts of what she was now sure was the method of “The Mind Nourishing Core”, remained alien to them. These holes in their conception of the method only fueled their curiosity more, driving them further on in the tome, until Lasutro found themselves pulled from their trance. Freesill’s Method of the Core: The Mind Nourishing Core, over without even a proper ending, just the last pieces of a description of a series of tattoos for the use of the method.
It didn’t take long for Lasutro to return to the beginning of the “story” only to find the pages blank once more, filling them with a sense of frustrated regret. While Lasutro tried to keep their emotion internal, she shut the tome somewhat aggressively, gaining them a few glares from nearby guards, before she similarly shoved it back into their pack.
After the heat of their feelings toward the book cooled, Lasutro found their mind returning to their memories of details of the method, reflecting on the edges of their understanding as the sun made its way past its apex in the sky. While she continued their review of the method, Lasutro looked out upon the rest of the caravan, splitting their focus only slightly, taking in the now nearly infectious paranoia of the guards, the markings of which had begun to settle upon the minds of Lasutro’s fellow travelers.
By the time they stopped for night the tension in the air surrounding the entire caravan became palpable. Lasutro, after complimenting a portion of their rations with the last of their dried meats, found themselves compelled to mark a few of the symbols that had remained in the forefront of their mind upon their skin. Using a cooled piece of charcoal from one of the many fires and some of their water, she drew several of the symbols upon the skin of their left arm. When she finished Lasutro braced themselves for an event that didn’t come, leaving them disappointed, even so she couldn’t bring themselves to rub away the somewhat dizzying symbols.
Strangely, to soothe their disappointment, Lasutro looked out at the members of the caravan, finding the lack of expressed satisfaction energizing. Though that feeling died quickly when she caught sight of a few members of the resting guard, some of their expressions filled with an anxiety that gave way to anguish born of a certainty of one’s coming demise. Even with just a glance at their expressions Lasutro felt their own anxiety and paranoia rise as a chill shot down their spine.
Despite the anxiety she now felt, both within themselves and upon the faces of the caravan members she observed, though all to varying degrees, Lasutro laid down to sleep even though she felt less tired than she expected to be, especially with how their previous reading went. Their paranoia flared as she got comfortable on their bedroll for the night. She pulled their dagger and its sheath from its place in their boot, gripping it firmly with both hands. Lasutro’s grip tightened upon the blade’s handle in effort to exhaust their excess energy. When their eyes finally shut, she quickly fell into another dreamless sleep.
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The cries of vindication for their paranoia forced Lasutro's eyes open to the scene of battle and in some places carnage. Energy rushed throughout Lasutro’s body, compelling them onto their feet, sheathed dagger in hand. Lasutro tried to analyze their surroundings even as their paranoia mixed with the now dying feelings of vindication before transforming into panic.
In the low light of the camp’s pyres assortments of the guard fought with varying success against large hulking beasts Their growls covering some of the less pleasant sounds coming from those guards who weren’t so lucky with to reach their blades in time, along with the poor souls that were so unlucky to be among the first victims of the attack.
Lasutro’s grip further tightened on their dagger as the situation became clear. The mix of battle cries and panic around them, Lasutro found themselves running toward one of the loose groups of guards, their dagger ready to pierce the skin of one of the many beasts. When she arrived by their side they had finished off the beast,the features of which now clearly displayed its clear lupine appearance up close, and with it slain the guards had begun catching their breath while giving Lasutro a silent look of understanding as they readied themselves for another battle.
A singularly bone chilling howl filled the night air, drawing Lasutro’s sight as well as the still panting guards beside them to a figure just visible in the moonlight, despite Lasutro’s half elven vision. Though the tall grass could have easily come up to Lasutro’s chest, the grass barely reached the figure’s hips. Its eyes gleamed a dark orange as if tainted by blood it had clearly spilled through its life.
Time seemed to slow as the figure lunged towards Lasutro, revealing its matted fur, elongated, claw-like hands and their gaping maw. Lasutro moved to run but found themselves unable to turn away from the creature even as it swung its comparably short and gnarled bone staff at them. Lasutro took a single step back, raising their arms defensively in what seemed to be a futile attempt to avoid the coming death blows from the creature that towered over them despite being little under two arms lengths away.
With every fraction of a second fear grew in Lasutro’s mind, the monstrous claw of the creature in front of them slashing out past their arms to their throat. Bits of flesh were torn from Lasutro’s right arm as the clawed hand swiped out. The creature’s hand just barely failing to pull their arm from its defensive position, sending Lasutro stumbling backwards in pain. As she stumbled back, their thoughts jumbled only becoming harmonized when she caught sight of the twisted staff swinging their way. Instinctively stepping back again and bringing up their arms defensively despite the throbbing pain in their right arm, Lasutro’s better arm was met with a blow from the staff. She felt pieces of the small gnarled spikes of the bone staff dig into their arm as she was thrown aside by the force of the attack.
When Lasutro reoriented themselves, she watched as the trio of guards struck out at the creature, the fear plain on their faces while they did so. The creature howled a similar bone chilling sound to the one it made when Lasutro first spotted it, though lower and marked by the pain inflicted upon it by the trio of guards. Through the throbbing in their arms, Lasutro felt a familiar rush of energy flow across what she imagined to be every single one of their nerves as their eyes returned to the battle in front of them.
Lasutro watched as the creature’s bestial strength finally provailed against the guards, pushing one off balance with a strike with its bone staff, grabbing another by their neck and lifting them off the ground before being thrown lat the final guard with such force to produce a crack upon their impact. Fighting past the dizziness and spreading weakness in their arms, Lasutro tightened their grip on their dagger before charging towards the creature. As she rushed forward, blade in hand, the creature opened its jaws wide and lunged at the guard they previously knocked off balance, catching them in the shoulder with their toothy maw. The creature's teeth tore through the hard leather armor, painting the inside of their jaw with a fresh coat of crimson. Distracted by the process of its petty revenge, Lasutro narrowly managed to pierce the tough hide of the creature, slipping between its upper ribs, drawing from it a pained growl of rage.
With its focus directed to Lasutro once more, the creature, albeit slower than before, but no less deadly swiped towards them with its open claw, catching only hair as Lasutro rolled backwards. When Lasutro got back on their feet she was met with the now ragged breathing of the creature, and impulsively moved to stab at it once more only to realize their dagger was still embedded within the creature. As the realization turned to panic, Lasutro found the clawed fingers of the creature gripping tight on their throat and before she could process what was happening, the creature heaved them through the air. For a moment as she flew towards the ground she felt a sudden drop in the energy that filled their nerves, followed by a slight chill emanating from their left wrist. When the moment passed she found themselves winded, but otherwise uninjured, having crashed into one of the dead wolven beasts.
By the time Lasutro had recovered from the impact, the creature was upon them, opening its mouth wide to take its final and fatal bite. In face of their doom, regret and frustration lashed out within Lasutro’s very soul, and even as the creature’s hot breath blew upon their face she refused to close their eyes to the sight. Just as the end seemed imminent, the creature was struck by one of the guards previously busy with the wolven beasts, drawing enough of the creature's attention to allow Lasutro to slip away.
Using the opportunity provided to them, Lasutro moved as fast as she could on their now shaking legs and headed towards their pack, the memory of their hatchet pulling them to the potential weapon. Behind them, Lasutro could hear the cries of pain from the guard who had saved them, followed by a series of growls that layered together to form a variety of natural noises: the crashing of water against the surf, the creaking of trees, vicious whipping winds, and the colliding of stones. When Lasutro reached their bag and grabbed a hold of their hatchet, the strange almost linguistic growls had stopped. A sense of unease settled upon Lasutro as she turned to face the creature again and suddenly the creature, as injured as it was, became deadlier in appearance. Its teeth sharper, its jaw wider, its claws longer, its form larger and its eyes full of unending hunger. Lasutro’s grip tightened upon the smooth wood of their new weapon, their fear of the creature reaching new heights with each movement it made towards them.
Time slowed once more for Lasutro as the creature towered over them again, when a thought wormed its way to the forefront of their mind after another wave of cold energy slithered along their left arm, “Is this fear wholly my own?” The thought settled in their mind and all at once Lasutro watched as the exaggerated features of the creature melted back to their original state; the creature's injuries clearer and behind the hunger in its eyes Lasutro caught a seed of distress. In that moment, with the creature's jaw wide in preparation for the coming bite, Lasutro’s left hand tensed around the handle of their hatchet before she swung their arm with all the force she could muster at the thick neck of the creature.
As the head of the hatchet met its target in the thick muscle of the creature, it attempted to close its jaws around Lasutro’s now exposed wrist, only to be stopped in some strange stroke of luck by the silver bracelet, forcing its head back violently. Whimpering onto the ground, the creature tried to regain its stance from its now crumpled form, with a new found energy Lasutro struck the creature again, and again until she was sure of its death.
Gradually all the energy faded from their body, and Lasutro slumped up against the dead creature. While she laid there she watched as the remaining guard and some of the uninjured caravan workers as well as the calmed travelers began treating the injured best they could. By the time somebody had spotted them Lasutro’s vision had already started to blur, and the last thing she saw before the darkness set in completely was a pair of somewhat muscled individuals jogging over to them then nothing.