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sorcerous-caress · 8 days

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I'm so jealous of Daniil. Having only played the Haruspex route so far in both game, each time I'm invited to the Bachelor's place I turn green with envy at how he resides at an actual proper house with a real room and a real bed.

A real bed with a whole bedframe. A pillow with an actual pillowcase!! His bed even has sheets!

He has WINDOWS. His house is in a nice neighbourhood, and his roommate is a very attractive woman. There is actual furniture in his room. Not one hint of fungus growing on the walls or rust!

Can you imagine living there as your lair? Spending the whole game knowing you have a real house with a real bed to go back to at the end of each night? Seeing Eva's face every day before leaving to do quests?

Meanwhile, Artemy is stuck in this dumpster room of an abandoned factory. Cuddling with rats on his makeshift bed, held by nothing but a wooden panel, some boxes and a dream.

A pillow so yellow it has its own ecosystem where bugs established real estate. Is that even a pillow or is it some random rock Artemy found and chucked in there? Is it a stale loaf of bread?? Why is it hard looking?

But no, you don't even get to keep the rock roach pillow because in P2, they take it away.

Fuck you Artemy, you had it good for too long. No pillow now because what are you gonna do about it?. Fold your mattress instead to have a resemblance of a faux sense of protection under your most vital organ during the long hours of death rehearsal that you call sleep.

Somehow, they made the bed even more unstable looking. As if that thin panel in the middle could hold Artemy's weight without caving in. Oh, and apparently, I ran out of boxes to use for furniture because the bed and the table have to share custody of the same box.

We have downgraded into barrels now, as you can see :) No, I don't know what they used to contain inside.

Waking up every day to Sticky's snotty face telling me not to spit in the wind and nagging me about cleaning up the week-old human organs thrown around that are stinking up the place.

THERE IS MOLD GROWING ON MY WALLS. RUST FLAKES FALL FROM THE EXPOSED METAL PIPES DOWN INTO MY CEREAL EACH BREAKFAST.

This single wall holds so much mold and fungus that they started crossbreeding and evolved into new, never seen before types of bacteria. Satan's asscrack is more hygienic than whatever biohazard plagues of Egypt this slab of concrete contains.

I live in the gutters. My only neighbours are an illegal gang of minors with a hatred for furries and another illegal gang but of adults this time who sell me bullets way above the market price. A dangerous neighbourhood where you can't have shit because SOMEONE STOLE MY BULL.

The basement I reside in has no windows, the smell is pungent and fucking vile down here. There isn't even a space for a bathroom.

This is my kitchenette/bathroomette/showerette/cupboardette/surgery tools disinfection stationette/sinkette/watercoolerette/toilette/fridge.

also my buckets yk.

One bucket for the makeshift bathroom, another for holding important organs and loose guts during surgery, a third one as a cooking pot for making tasty meat grub soup and the final one for murky water after sweeping the floor.

What do I use to tell them apart? Oh nothing :) I just mix em up every now and then, oppsie daisy.

Oh and the floors are CONSTANTLY wet for some reason. Yeah sticky slipped and almost broke his neck the other day so watch your steps.

There is also this eerie room with literal garbage and broken furniture right next to the entrance. Don't worry about it, sometimes I hear someone crying and screaming for help when I'm trying to go to sleep but it's just the factory being silly lol.

Now this? This is where the M A G I C happens. This is where Artemy the Menkhu makes his famous herbal remedies and natural mixtures. This is where the Panacea for the infamous sand plague gets made!

In a rusty empty food can.

Falling into a bucket with shit stains.

MEDICINE BABBYYY. GET YOUR WEAK SOFT BONED ASS BACK TO THE CAPITAL BITCH, THIS IS HOW REAL MEN MAKE REAALLL MEDICINE!! RAWRRRRR🦅🦅💥💥

Meanwhile, dickovsky has the view of the cathedral and polyhedron just around the corner from where he resides. He has a backyard with a lake, and all I have is a swamp behind my basement. I trudge through the mud each night, collecting weeds and herbs to mix and trade so I and the two orphans who adopted themselves into my life don't go starving.

Not to mention the gaggles of herb brides loitering outside and giving me a false bad reputation.

That dandy douchbag has a pharmacy, a grocery, and a tailor right next door. The closest establishment to my shrekcore place of resident is a dingy basement bar with shady drinks and no bouncer to check for ID, I saw two kids in there once.

Pov: a qt3.14 surgeon says his dad isn't home and invites you over.

#♡otherfandoms #♡pathologic 2 #♡pathologic #artemy burakh #daniil dankovsky #pathologic 2 #pathologic classic hd #the haruspex #pathologic

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autisticbachelor · 2 months

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Pathologic 2 - Haruspex Lair

#pathologic #pathologic 2 #pathologic gifset #ice pick lodge #pathoedit #solgif #мор утопия #video game scenery #gamingedit #indiegameedit #indie games

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katherinakaina · 7 months

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Did you notice that Olgimskys are trying to kill the Bachelor from day one?

Maybe you did. I'm not that smart, it took me a while. I did think that morgue situation on day 4 is weird, but I dismissed it. But then I was thinking about day 1 quest beast like fugitive and it hit me.

So, day 1.

Small Vlad asks a scientist to kill a guy. That doesn't make any sense. What I think is going on is Vlad wants you to go and try to talk to the butcher. Vlad acts as suspicious as possible so the detective Batchelor is like, aha! if I want to know what really happened with Isidor and the Termitary, I need to interrogate this fugitive, I'm so smart. This is why you don't even have an option to tell Aspity 'step aside, I will kill this butcher', you have a choice between letting him go or insisting on talking to him. And when you meet him you can talk to him, which doesn't go well. Which is exactly Vlad's plan - to kill the Bachelor.

Day 2.

Small Vlad wants the Bachelor to leave. He's the only character, who's not involved in Eva's quest, who talks to Daniil about leaving the Town and suggest you talk to his father about it. Big Vlad also wants Bachelor to disappear of course. You can be killed in the end of this quest too, but that's not intentional, I think. The Olgimskys would be content with Bachelor just running away. Too bad.

Day 3.

Small Vlad directs the Bachelor to the house with three (was it three?) butchers to be beaten to death. And it's not even Simon's body. Who's body is it? Are those guys Artemy's friends helping him with something? Maybe. But I think the entire situation was fabricated by Vlad. The butchers were hired for the job. And even if not, if they just happened to be there, that means Vlad used this setup to get rid of the Bachelor yet again.

Day 4.

Okay, how many people does it take to kill this guy? He has a fucking gun, it's not fair. 7? Let's try 7.

And they succeed. I don't think there's a person who beat the Barley's lair with the first attempt.

Now you can go to Barley through Saburov's quest. But it's Grief who sends you there. And on the same day in Changeling's route we discover that Grief works for Big Vlad. But even if this would fail, Vlad made sure to send Daniil to his death anyway. The Barley's lair is the supposed morgue, which you must inspect on your main quest. Vlad sends you there to die. And he 100% knows about the bandits, again, he works with Grief.

You could go further but I think it's enough to make the case.

The question is, why? Why so early?

Well, one possible answer is that it's just good business practice to kill the doctor before the epidemic. Think all the hatred from conservatives towards Fauci for instance.

But the more likely option is that Capella told them to. In the same way that Alexander is constantly trying to get rid of the Haruspex because of Katerina's prophecy. Katerina herself is not on board, but the men in power are using her warnings to crack down on somebody they just don't like. Capella maybe made some unfortunate remarks about how this big city snake is going to destroy our traditional way of life and that was enough for the Vlads.

#pathologic 2 #pathologic #vlad olgimsky #vlad the younger #daniil dankovsky #artemy burakh

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spoopy-moose · 1 year

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The bachelor and the haruspex are literally the ship of all time it’s got everything the oppositional ideals oppositional theming mortal enemies in one timeline begrudging colleges in another timeline and tentative friends in yet a third timeline neither can win whilst the other loses you descend down to go to the lair and up the stairs to the Stillwater one casts their gaze to the sky whilst the other to the earth both are working together for the same goal yet beyond that can they be something more than comrades in arms during a brief crisis

#daniil dankovsky #artemy burakh #crying throwing up #pathologic #yeah they don’t have the insane yaoi swag but they have the tender doomed lover swag #I’m thinking about the nocturnal ending again #burakhovsky

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9th-nueves · 1 year

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Hot take maybe? Pathologic Classic isn't hard. Like, at the very least in the current year, it's FAR from the hardest game i have ever played... which honestly begs the question of why is it so infamous for it's difficulty outside the fandom.

Just to preface, i ABSOLUTELY believe the game is made to "fuck with you". Like that's just a core design aspect, it throws curveballs at you when you least expect it to keep you on your toes... but also to create the illusion of difficulty. The narrative and ambience of the game emboldens the (somewhat lacking) mechanical aspects, in a way, into looking way harder than they are. But once you get past that (and the first day) the difficulty of the game drops significantly and only spikes suddenly in certain days thanks to special story beats.

And, like in most games with a time limit, i would say it's the time mechanic that completely rules over the difficulty of Pathologic.

You are told to keep track of the clock from the very start, and that's very sound advice on day 1: you wake in the morning, so you don't have the usual 24 hours, and yet you have to complete quite a few quests, get familiar with the Town (and the game), and start collecting resources. Naturally, it takes while, and most likely you'll end up with barely a few hours (or minutes) left at the end of the day.

But for the rest of the game? I always had extra time. Finished every side quest with far more extra time to spare than i should have, sometimes having to even pass the time sleeping (not necessarily because i was exhausted) to get the plot moving. This was more noticeable on my Haruspex route, which wholly allowed me to go wandering into the steppe to look for herbs and yet still have time to cross the entire town again to get to the lair and throw my stuff into the chest to go bartering.

And this might seem rather inconsequential in regards to the difficulty of the whole game, but i would say it's actually crucial.

If there's time, there's a way. Every single one of your necessities becomes FAR more manageable the moment you realize this, because with *all* that free time on my hands, i dug into all the trashcans, bartered my soul away with the kids, sold bartered stuff i didn't need to get money for food, broke into houses, etc etc. Not even infection gets that bad when you have the time to go looking for antibiotics and bandages: i spent the extra hours of one single day as the Haruspex and got my hands in 18 pills (among a bunch of other stuff).

My want to not "waste time" (as in going from point A to point B and getting a fence in the face for trying to take a short-cut) arose mostly for a need to not waste real time, because the game is snail-paced. I frankly got bored and tired of walking around that much, specially in days where quests weren't THAT interesting as to get me thinking about them for half an hour.

The only truly difficult days are the shorter ones. When Daniil got knocked out trying to enter the Abattoir and i opened the status menu in front of Block's face and saw it was 2 fucking PM, i panicked. When Artemy got ambushed in Rubin's door and thrown into an infected jail hours later, i panicked. These days, if you didn't play your cards right before, you are fucked. There's barely any time to get resources, and you can scramble to get them, but you are going to be getting really close to failing your quests— if not outright doing so.

And sure, i did panic —the game has been telling me that time is very much important and that is probably the intended reaction— but i wasn't, really, in any danger of either failing a task, dying of exhaustion, or starving. The previous days had already allowed me to gather enough resources that i could just sprint from NPC to NPC solving all the quests and finish them up before the end of the day. The surprise factor is very strong in shaping your perception of the difficulty, spiking it unpredictably, but if you spent the slower days taking care of your needs and learning the mechanics there isn't much to fear. Even death is rather inconsequential when you have quick-saving.

The difficulty of Pathologic classic is a weirdly tall tale which i would be very grateful if someone explained the origin of. Ironically it really made the game take me by surprise: i expected the mechanics to be uncompromising and to scrape by the skin of my teeth, but the real difficulty was not zoning out too much during the ten minute walks across town just in case a plague cloud jumped in my face and learning how to decipher what the fuck these people are saying. Nobody told me the game had this much walking involved.

#day 12 is truly the hardest of them all #literally the walking simulator day #Daniil finished the game with 9 smoked meats in his little bag #I finished the game with my W key faded #This is mostly Bachelor route thoughts haven't finished Artemy's yet #But it's going pretty much the same #NOW PATHO 2 ON THE OTHER HAND-#pathologic #pathologic classic hd #daniil dankovsky's fun steppe vacation #artemy burakh's tormentous nightmare

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rathologic · 1 year

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fun fact: all the boxes in the haruspex's lair are filled with plain sawdust :-)

#at vertical angles too! though you don't see any of it without flycam #buildings #pathologic

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varijacija · 1 year

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Tbh its funny how haruspexs place is called his lair as if people dont vilainize him enough

#the rippers lair come on #pathologic #.mypost

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averagepathologicenjoyer · 1 year

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Surviving and being prepared (Path HD)

Pathologic Classic is a game that requires forsight to play well, and for you to use the time given to you to accumulate as much as possible so you can sufficiently survive without having to worry. Here are some tips to get you started, note that there are quests that will give you rewards but they will not be mentioned here.

Warning for very minor spoilers for the first few days.

Utilise the storage that's given to you - Each character is given their own 'home' which will have a storage container with unlimited space for you to store excess items, for the Bachelor it's the cabinet next to his bed, the Haruspex a large chest in his lair, and the Changeling, a cabinet upstairs similar to the Bachelor's in Saburov's house. As the Haruspex especially you will have a lot of excess items, so use the storage liberally, items dropped on the ground will despawn once the day ends, the storage is permanent

Search every bin you come across - Bins are the primary way of finding tradeable items such as needlies, razors, watches, and empty bottles, hoard these items as much as possible, they will be your primary currency for important items. Search previously searched bins after exiting buildings too, something might be there that wasn't before

Try to interact and trade with as many kids and carousers as possible - Kids can have medicine and ammo on them. Ammo can fetch a good price after Day 1 and due to prices soaring you won't be able to afford medicine to boost immunity and curb infection until you've accumulated A LOT of money (see this post for getting money fast). Carousers can have bandages and tourniquets on them for 5 water bottle each which will be your primary health healing items outside of Pain Killers (which increase exhaustion and health on use but restores health during sleep)

Save often, use quicksaves, and don't be afraid to reload - Try and get into the habit of saving frequently and when doing certain things: save before AND after talking to characters (before in case you screw up dialogue), save before entering and before exiting a building (mainly in case of hostiles), and save (or quicksave) before hostile engagements (in case you die). You can have as many regular saves as you like but you only have two quicksave slots (F5 to quicksave, F8 to reload quicksave). If you screw something up don't be afraid to reload as far back as needed, Pathologic takes a long time to play and its good to have multiple saves to fall back on. Bear in mind that having a lot of saves might slow down your game slightly, if you've gotten far and don't think you'll need your earlier saves you can delete them in-game or from the game files

Focus on maintaining stats rather than trying to reduce them completely - Outside of health and reputation you have four stat bars: hunger, immunity, exhaustion, and infection. Hunger and exhaustion constantly increase over time and are curbed with food and sleep/lemons, respectively. Immunity will always fill/reduce to half over time if it's been changed, and if you get infected, you will slowly become more infected at a speed relative to your immunity (higher immunity slower infection increase). When hunger and/or exhaustion are maxed out you, and when you are infected AT ALL, your health will begin to slowly drain. Food becomes scarce and it can be hard to sleep enough some days so your focus should be preventing the bars from maxing out rather than trying to reduce them completely. As for infection, ideally you should try not to get infected but this isn't always possible, so you should try and curb the infection down whenever possible using pills (or gruel as the haruspex). Some days all you can try to do is live by healing yourself constantly as it reduces due to your other stats, as long as you don't die from stats maxing out you're doing well

If possible for that day try and complete the main quest before anything else - Every day you will have a new main quest as indicated in your journal (Q) that will always start with you receiving a letter (L) from a certain character asking you to see them. If there are no time constraints you should focus on that quest first, or try to do multiple things that are in the same place at the same time for efficiency. You won't be able to do every quest, but completing the main quest will ensure that none of your Bound become ill so you can get the ending for that character. A quest will be complete when the last entry starts with **

I will probably edit this post if I think of anything else and others are free to add (no spoiler heavy stuff tho). If you've tried playing the game a few times and got stuck because you felt you were missing something see this post for things the game doesn't tell you. Once you understand how the game works the game is actually a lot easier than you think it is, the problem then comes with overcoming the time barrier as it can take a LONG time to play, if you want the game to feel faster or want to change the speed of the in-game clock then see this post for a mod that does so

#pathologic classic hd #tips and tricks #for new players #game strategy

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snakecultist · 1 year

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#pathologic #мор утопия #music #mm science type beat

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zapphattack · 1 year

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[Excerpts] Moments in Time - Changeling Fixes Scissors

[based on that rumor that the changeling could fix anything with just her hands, a little exploration of faith-based powers through the lens of inevitablity/preconception]

Of all the latent talents she was told she possessed, the ability to unlock doors and fix sharp objects simply by laying her hands over them was news to her. She masked her surprise and fixed the Bachelor with a look she’d carefully crafted to unsettle people. Well, the look itself was just her face as it was at rest normally, but directed at someone for a long time. It worked well on those who mocked, just as the Bachelor had prior.

“Would you like me to show you?” a bluff. The Changeling didn’t think she’d fail to perform the act, just that she didn’t think she’d be able to hide her surprise and glee at doing it successfully, which would only fuel the Bachelor’s mockery of a teenage girl. She could remember a distant memory of an event that was yet to happen, him sneering at her triumphant expression and mocking how even she didn’t expect her own miracles to work.

“No, I have more pressing matters to attend to that aren’t watching parlor tricks performed by a pickpocket proficient in sleight of hand and pilfering purses.” a success, if a minor one.

~+~

She tailed the Haruspex to his lair one day, for no good reason other than boredom and curiosity at his affairs. Regardless, she slipped behind him as he opened the door, bringing a finger to her lips as the Wonder Bull looked on, with eyes too intelligent to be trusted. She would request the bull for his silence, so that he would not tell on her to the Ripper, and if that was a strange thing to do, one would take it up with her and her bovine accomplice. When it lowered its head in acquiescence, she drew herself into the large man’s shadow, almost as if it were where she was meant to be all along.

With a slouch such as Burakh’s, she almost feared he’d see her hand slip into his pocket, but she was only his shadow, an extension of him, so she grasped the broken scissors inside and tallied that a success when he moved inside the door with nary a whisper of cloth when she pulled away.

The Lair was dark, as most buildings were at dusk in the town, but it smelled of dirt instead of dust, layered with the sharp and spiced scents of twyre, and underneath it all was the sharper tang of blood. She was only dimly registering the Ripper removing his smock and pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to slouch over a desk as she sat on a crate soundlessly.

Clara ran her fingers over the rusty pieces of a tailor’s scissors, not a dent on the blades and yellowed at the handle; she could doubtlessly resonate with the emotional significance of the object, cherished by its previous owner. Besides the Haruspex, that is. She hummed, immersed in her thoughts, only to be wrenched out of them by a curse muttered in a language she was familiar with, yet could not begin to understand.

Looking up, her gaze connected with Burakh’s, who was still cursing under his breath and leaning away from her. Funny, such a big man would keep his voice so low even in his own home. Or, the closest thing he had to one.

“Hell, Clara, you can’t just sneak into places like that, you’ll get hurt someday.” He said that with the voice of someone who’d had to give such advice previously. It seems the children he associated with were most, if not all, ardent home invaders looking for trouble they could not handle if they found it.

“I’d wager you’re most likely to hurt yourself when I inevitably surprise you again. I advise you to get used to it, wouldn’t want to have a heart attack next time.” She quipped, holding a scissor blade in each hand. Two halves of a whole, yet layered together, they would not look exactly the same, similar to a pair of hands.

She noted him muttering “next time, of course.” with a voice of resigned acceptance. “What brings you here, anyway?” he looked to her hands, fingers drifting slightly to the smock laid on the back of a nearby chair. “Did you… pilfer those from my pockets?”

The Changeling looked to the metal pieces, then back up to him, kicking her feet on the box she sat on. “Temporarily. Think of it as borrowing, if you’d like. Actually, I’m doing you a stellar favor, my dear Haruspex! I will fix these scissors before your eyes, just you wait.”

He looked apprehensive, and she could sense a near future, a present where he told her sternly, but not unkindly, not to play with scissors. And yet, that path was no more right before her eyes, like fading mist, as he only motioned for her to go on, perhaps knowing his advice would go unheeded.

With a wink, she drew his attention to her face, hiding the slight shake of her hand as she clasped the two halves of the tool, the weapon, this mundane instrument, between her cooled fingers, muttering prayers she knew were mostly only for show. The rough grit of rust stained her digits as she felt, like all her miracles prior to this, the capacity of it burden her mind lightly. Just as she knew the truth in her premonitions, she knew at this moment she would fix the broken thing she held. It would happen just as the sun rose and as the water of the Ghorkhon ran, it was the natural course of things.

As she unclasped her gloved hands, she was met with a pair of scissors, rusted and old, but united, as they should be. Pride unfurled in her core, a victorious smile turning smug as she looked up to face the Haruspex. He looked as impassive as ever, if one were to only look superficially, but his eyebrows were raised and his hands flexed, as if testing his lucidity or imagining the tool fixing itself in his own palm. He puffed out a breath, slightly shaking his head.

“It seems I’ve witnessed a miracle once again. I hope you didn’t cut yourself while performing it, little Changeling.” and she almost bristled at the title, yet he said it with a levity only achieved by a man such as Burakh. They say anything can sound an insult if said the right way (or the wrong way, for that matter), but the Haruspex seemed to be able to do the opposite, making soothing and affectionate terms out of words once borne of mockery and cruelty. His kindness was nice, but uncomfortable, like a hand-me-down sweater too big for her.

Clara chose only to say “So you’ve bought the Wonder Bull now, what have you decided to call it this time around? I can never remember. Was it Noukher?” and his confusion was more familiar than whatever he had expressed previously. She appreciated kindness, but much preferred to vex others.

#ZapphAtext #pathologic fanfiction #pathologic #pathologic changeling #changeling

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ceph-the-ghost-writer · 2 years

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Variable

Summary: Master transcriber Fior gets wind of a fresh group of humans rescued from the Hinterlands. Excellent prospects to further her work.

Words: 2605

Content Advisory: Inhuman whumper/caretaker, intimate whumper, human whumpee, compliant whumpee, mind reading, bruises, scratches, referenced choke collar, referenced slave trade, brief captivity, restraints, emotional manipulation/deception, brief hints of sexuality, threats of violence/biting, inhuman concepts of gender, neopronouns, it used as pronoun, she/her whumper/caretaker, he/him whumpee, dehumanization (pls let me know if something could be added)

Blood, sweat, and metal. Any place that hosted more than three war-ragers always stank of nothing else. Fior wrinkled zir nose as ze stepped over the threshold of the barracks. At least ze wasn’t kept waiting; a trio of scouts met zir in the first chamber. They straightened into attention from their slouched positions against the room’s central column.

“You’re the one called Fior?” asked the scout on the left, a rangy thing with curiously symmetrical schism scars running vertically beneath the skin of its face.

“No other.” Ze raised a hand to zir nose, countering the ambient scents with the perfume on zir sleeve. In another setting and situation, ze might’ve found it tolerable. Even arousing, if alone with the lean one, or perhaps the thicker scout in the middle.

“I still say a haruspex would give us better trade.” Their tall companion on the right knocked the butt of its spear on the smooth stone floor and curled its lip at Fior’s elegant mask. Ze knew stories of schism scars indicating personality were garbage, yet the third scout’s jagged lines suited it.

“Do you have a haruspex standing here?” retorted the middle. “Besides, it’s too close to breaking the Edict for my liking.”

“Piss on the Edict. Trade is trade.”

“You’d say that to Kinslayer’s face in the arena, would you?”

A hesitation, the most sense the tall one had shown yet.

“We have a transcriber here,” the first scout said into the beat of silence. “A master, no less. Let’s show zir what we found, hear what ze offers, then we can squabble.”

“Agreed,” replied its middle comrade at once.

The last snorted and knocked its spear against the floor again, but offered no further argument. Its companions nodded at Fior, prompting zir to consider. If this was a show intended to flatter, to make zir inclined toward a generous bid, it was well-done. A subtle approach from war-ragers, even scouts, warranted a reward on its own really. Fior returned the nod and followed the trio. They led zir into a passageway and down, down a spiraling set of stairs. Into another chamber whose walls bristled with crystals from the moisture seeping through the stone.

In the first cell, behind a barrier of gleaming spires that grew from floor and roof and interlocked like a beast’s fangs, huddled a human. Its head snapped up at the sound of Fior and the others’ footsteps. Trembling, it tucked its legs tighter to its chest, pressing against the wall despite the crystal clusters. Wave after wave of emotion rolled off of it, washing up jumbled flotsam made of images, sensations, and words in its native tongue. Fior sifted through the assortment a moment, matching memories to the physical present when she could. The constriction and ache in the human’s throat echoed a choke collar. Coarse rope binding its hands behind its back had been replaced by cold metal shackles. The crystals biting into its skin were less cruel, less intrusive, than grasping and prodding fingers. Their scratches were impersonal, not put there by sharpened nails just to watch him bleed.

“This was the only human the slavers had with them?” Fior asked the scouts, not disguising zir disappointment.

“They’d just returned to the place where they were ambushing travelers,” explained the one with even scarring. “A riot was sent to clear out their lair. No doubt they’ll find more prisoners.”

A sneer made the insolent scout’s ragged scars twist like forks of lightning. “You were just so greedy to get your hands on the humans first that you beat our comrades here.”

Fior considered wiping the smug look off its face by biting into its jugular. Satisfying as it might have been, doing so would also admit the little fungus-chewer was right. Instead, ze kept a neutral expression, as if ze hadn’t even heard, and addressed the agreeable one.

“When do you expect those to come in?”

“It will be a while yet, transcriber. The slavers we met were decently equipped, and chose to flee, abandoning this human, so the rest will have had warning. Our war-ragers will brag about the blood spilled during the battle through at least four more cycles of recruits once the job’s done.”

Sandal tapping on the floor, Fior weighed options. What it came down to, though, was ze wasn’t about to wait around in a reeking barracks, regardless whether anything thought of zir as avaricious.

“Let me talk to the human,” ze said. “And if it’s suitable, I’ll make you an offer.”

The scouts turned their faces toward each other, shrugging one by one. Consensus reached, the stout one came forward and gripped two of the crystal spikes forming the cell. The things shuddered at its touch, warping and bending aside as it pulled. Once a space big enough to pass through had been made, the scout stepped aside and motioned to Fior. Ze entered the cell, coming within a pace of the shivering occupant.

The twin sensory organs set in the top half of the human’s head rolled all around, trying in vain to determine who or what was lurking nearby. The air surrouding it hummed with agitation. Fior walled zirself off from its frenetic resonance with effort. Lowering to one knee, ze reached into zir robe, fishing in an inner pocket. After pulling out a prism as long as zir palm, ze shielded it from ambient energy with a free hand and thought of the cold, dead face of a full moon. In response, the prism flared with a steady, heatless light. The human choked up a gasp, bulging organs orienting zir way. Fior took the opportunity to lower zir guard and probe the space between them with zir own senses. Encountering no resistance, ze seized the chance while it was open, wading into the shallows of the human’s mind and being careful not to cause too many ripples.

Angles and spatial distance narrowed, distorted, and compressed as Fior dipped into its perspective. Ze gleaned an impression of half zir face, awash in the crystal’s glow. Fear squirmed beneath the image, yet was bordered by a weave of at least three other emotions strong enough to contain it. Brushing against them, Fior attempted to identify each. The first ze deciphered quickly enough: a simple pleasure in zir features stemming from their symmetry, smoothness, and similarity to the human’s own. Wrapped around that was something Fior wouldn’t have had a hope of interpreting without the benefit of prior research or deft communing skills. A false sense of security associated with breasts, long hair, and parental care. Even zir greater height and mass didn’t deter this notion—reinforced it actually. The human saw Fior as a she, a her, a convoluted and thorny construct of its culture. It was the final thread, though, that made zir think the trip to the barracks hadn’t been a waste of time after all.

Mask wonder what that’s about easier to look at is that why why’s she smiling is she friendly pretty different maybe she’ll help don’t know what to do please help wasn’t supposed to be like this help help Celina was right it’s not fair it’s not—

“Don’t be afraid,” Fior said, withdrawing to the tidal line between its consciousness and her own. “I’m here to help.”

The human’s restless, gelatinous eyes widened further. “Wha…you speak English!”

Ze stretched a bit taller. “I speak multiple human trade languages.” With some assistance via channeling for context, but nothing needed to know that. “My function is transcriber. The war-ragers summoned me here since they were unsure of what to do. You may call me Fior.”

“Fior…” The inflection and pronunciation rolled off the human’s tongue well. “I…my name’s Justin Reeve.” Its mouth twitched in an attempt at a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

It took a moment to quell the urge to laugh. “Likewise. Shall I get you out of your shackles?”

The air between them quivered with its unspoken thoughts. “Can you?” it finally settled on.

Turning toward the scouts leaning into the space between the bars, Fior switched back to her own tongue. “Unbind the human’s arms.”

“It’ll run and we’ll have to kill it,” protested the tall one.

“No, it will believe in whatever I say. Take the shackles off.”

Despite its quarrelsome comrade’s hiss, the thickset scout stepped into the cell and approached. The human stiffened, its aura in a clamor.

“Don’t worry,” Fior told it, twisting back around. “This one is going to free you. The scouts bound you because they were unsure of what else to do. They’re not skilled at communing with other creatures, but with my translation they understand now.” Switching languages again, ze addressed the scout. “Shield your face with your non-weapon hand.”

Pausing, its head whipped toward her. “Why?”

“Observe the little sensory orbs always shifting around in its face. If it were to draw your focus to those, you would attempt to devour it. If you did, you’d get no trade from me.”

It huffed, brows lowered tight, but spread a hand over the top half of its face as it continued to come closer. Fior’s assessment was proven correct as the human tracked the scout from kneeling beside it, reaching behind, and slipping the expanded shackle cuffs off its wrists. She took another gamble right after, reaching across and laying a hand on the human’s bruised wrist when it brought them out in front of it. It flinched but didn’t pull away from her touch.

“There.” Fior brushed her fingers over the welts and blotches in the skin, admiring the contrasts. “Better?”

“Yeah…” It watched the scout retreat several paces. “Am…am I in trouble?”

A laugh burst out of her before she could block it off. Everything in the chamber started at the sound bouncing off the stone.

“Forgive me,” she said the moment she could. “No, you aren’t in any trouble. Absolutely not. You’re free to go back to your world anytime you please.” She took a sampling of the impressions buzzing around it. “Or, of course, you’re welcome to stay among us. Identifying those who broke the Edict would be a great help, and allow other travelers to cross the Hinterlands more safely.”

“Edict…you mean that law your…the law your emperor made? About not hurting humans?”

“The same.” Kinslayer hadn’t expressly forbade harming other creatures, only treating them as chattel. “You tried to cross without a guide?”

The human shuddered, flaps of skin closing over its eyes. “No. I paid Volin…they said…they said they’d show me…” Fluid began leaking from beneath the coverings, trickling down its cheeks, and the atmosphere around it congealed.

“What’s it doing?” demanded the lean scout from the entrance. “Why is it bleeding saltwater?”

“Only a sign of mild distress. It’s remembering being deceived by a transfer called Volin that was working with the slavers.”

“So, it’s smart enough to understand what happened, but not enough to avoid being tricked.” The scout with alteration ability gnawed at some dry skin on its bottom lip.

Fingers trailing over the human’s bruises, Fior imagined what other designs she might make on the rest of its body. “It’s easy to lie when you know what something wants to hear.”

“Who cares why the stupid things start dripping,” snarled the tall one, clacking its spear against a crystal bar. “What’s our find worth to you, transcriber?”

An excellent question. “Justin Reeve.”

The protective bits of skin peeled up and its odd, wet eyes focused on her.

“Why did you leave your home and seek our city?”

“I…” Its aura contracted, searching for a suitable answer within itself. “A new life. I wanted to start fresh. That’s all.” More saltwater overflowed the edges of its sockets. “Your traders, the…the collectors come to our farms a lot. I always pester them with questions, I think it annoys them.” An attempt at a smile, withered and dead halfway through. “But then I heard humans could travel here if they found a mind wo—uh…found one of your people to show them how to cross that…the weird beach.” Pulling its hands away, Justin hugged itself and shuddered, aura viscous and clinging. “I was so stupid. I never should’ve agreed to come alone, or at least told…well, somebody.”

A keen assessment, and what ultimately convinced Fior. “Can you read and write in your trade language? What about numbers and mathematics?”

Justin’s head and shoulders rose out of their miserable stoop. “I—yeah. Yeah, I went to school in the town next door.”

Now the crux. Best to be direct, if not entirely open. “Do you wish to be taken back home? Or, if you had living space and a function, would you prefer to settle in the city?”

Its mouth quivered. “You mean I could stay?” it whispered. “How?”

Fior restrained a hiss of greedy triumph, instead placing her free hand over her heart. “I can show you where to register with the arbiters. One of them will help you arrange for living space and selecting a function.” Of course, she would already have paved the way for it to go exactly in the direction she meant it to.

Her human swiveled its head from one side of the cell to the other, careful to avoid pointing its eyes toward the scouts’ maskless faces. “So…am I free to leave?”

Rising smoothly to her feet, she offered it her free hand. “Let’s go.”

It focused on her sharpened nails. Swallowed. Then wrapped its chilly fingers around hers and allowed itself to be pulled up. Fior caught it by the shoulder as it staggered. The top of its head barely came level with her chest.

“Ah, are you taking it then?” said the thin scout.

“I offer an open commission from the master smith Tijin,” Fior replied, no hesitation. “Ze will craft a set of armor for each of you when asked.”

Their mouths dropped open. While she could afford much more extravagant favors, the trick was to blind others with their own greed before they realized it.

“Trade,” blurted the shaper.

“Trade,” echoed its slimmer comrade.

A growl trickled out of the third. “I don’t like it. There’s some trickery here.”

The first whirled on it, teeth bared. “I’ll rip your mewling throat out if you don’t take the offer, Savik!”

With those craggy schism scars, Savik’s own snarl led Fior to believe it was ferocious enough to take on both its companions. She really didn’t have the inclination to sit through a brawl, however. Justin clutching onto her robes from behind, she stepped in front of the enraged scout. A smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth, she reached out and traced one of the branching scars running down its cheek. The creases of a snarl smoothed into confusion.

“Did you want to come along and be my pet too?” Fior asked, voice low. “Is that the kind of offer you were hoping for?”

Complete silence engulfed the chamber. The scout stood struck dumb, jaw slack, a moment before the slightest quiver ran up its spine, making it suck in a breath. Howls of laughter erupted from the other two, breaking the calm and its stupor. Hawking a sound of disgust, poor Savik batted her hand away.

“Have your shitty trade! May your head be the next one!” Shoving past its crowing fellows, it stomped off for the exit.

“Um, Ms. Fior?” came a shaky voice from behind her.

“Yes, Justin Reeve?” she answered, smiling as she tested the edge of one nail.

“What was that all about?”

“Nothing to worry over. Just some red tape.”

#whump series #beyond & between #inhuman whumper #inhuman caretaker #whump

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