Wednesday, July 4, 2018

The Misadventures of Ink Ch2: In the Pits

Ink meditated on the broken temple block. The stinging pain emanating from his fractured arm did little to distract the two-tailed kitsune from his thoughts. From what he could tell, he was deep within the catacombs of the ruins and most likely in a convoluted area designed to kill off intruders.

 Around him were piles of broken brick from the collapsed stone floor nearly fifty feet above him. Whatever was in this room previously laid crushed underneath the rock. When the original architects designed the temple they must have put in that enticing button for kicks and giggles.

"When you see a button, you have to press it." Ink thought to himself, refusing to admit that his lack of self-preservation and common sense was what caused this mess in the first place.

With a sigh, Ink opened his eyes and perused his travel bag. Using the supplies that weren't destroyed by falling stone, he made a rudimentary splint for his forearm. It took a few tries to get the knot just right; he was more used to wiggling free of rope, not actually tying it.

The tod hung his arm around his neck to remove the weight from his damaged shoulder. He wouldn't be climbing any time soon, so he looked for an exit. Having a fair amount of dungeoneering knowledge, he knew trap rooms like this had secret entrances for the owners to loot the bodies of the fallen.

Despite the room being of modest size, the rubble made it difficult to search the walls for doors or passages. After a few minutes, he found the path he was seeking, the “hidden" door eroded with time. In front of that door, however, was another interesting find: a small ratfolk lay unconscious near the wall.

His head laid in a small pool of blood, but Ink could tell that the rodent was still breathing. The fox closed in and carefully flipped the rat. He used a rag to stanch the bleeding and tied a makeshift bandage around his skull. Satisfied by another successful hackjob treatment, Ink smiled and waved his tails.

Ink decided that the best course of action with a broken arm and an injured rat was to stay put until the creature could take care of himself. Expecting to be waiting a while, Ink found a suitable block to sit on and continued his meditation.

Without a reference to keep track of time, it felt like hours before the young rodent finally stirred. He sat up with a dazed looked on his face and assessed his surroundings. It was when he saw Ink that he jumped with a squeak. Ink opened an eye and found his new friend awake. With a smile, he hopped of his stone seat and padded up to the rat.

As with any rodent-based race, the ratfolk stood a good foot shorter than the five-foot fox. “You're awake! Finally,” Ink said in his usual sassy tune. “I decided to be nice and wait for you to finish your little nap. You should be happy; I waited hours for your sleepy butt!”

The rat shrunk up against the wall. “S-sorry. Um, thank you?” he replied, still unsure of the situation. He studied the vulpine's arm and noticed the rudimentary treatment he had performed on it. Remembering what had happened to him, he brought his hand to his head and found it wrapped with cloth. “Oh, you, um, fixed me up too, huh?”

“Yeppers! Couldn't just leave you bleeding on the floor like that. So, anyway, what's your name? Mine’s Ink!” The kitsune proudly exclaimed. His cheerfulness was either contagious or irksome, depending on who was asked. The rodent allowed himself a small smile despite the pounding pain resonating within his skull.

“Uh, my name’s Robin.” Robin’s daze started to wear off and he noticed the rubble-filled room. “What happened? The last thing I remember is the floor giving away and falling.”

“Ye-ea-ah, about that. You see, I may or may not have pressed a button which may or may not have caused the entire section of the temple to collapse.” Despite admitting his folly, Ink retained his cheery face and his tails seemed to wag more. It took Robin a second to parse through his blunt confession.

“I thought I heard a clicking noise from around the corner! Why would you press a button when you don't know what could happen!? How is that the trap that caught you and not the countless pitfalls and pressure plates!?”

The stupidity of the fox boggled Robin’s mind and Ink showing no remorse or regret, aggravated the rat. If anything, Ink seemed to be more elated that someone else pointed out his dumb mistake.

"Damn foxfolk", he mumbled under his breath.

“Since this is your fault,” Robin started, reaching up and jabbing a finger into Ink’s chest, “You're going to get me out of here.” He crossed his arms and huffed at the fox.

“No problem. I'm used to this!” he replied with a confident smile.

“I bet.” The rat murmured.

With a quick search, Robin found his tome unharmed but dangerously splayed open near the small pool of blood. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for his shattered shortsword (or ratfolk longsword, as his coworkers liked to call it) or his crushed supplies drenched in water.

He regretted not splurging on a metal canteen. With a sigh, he salvaged his bag and stored his book. He then sheathed his broken blade, figuring it would still make for a decent dagger. When Robin returned to Ink, he noticed that the tod didn't carry any weapons of his own, not even a knife. With a grimace, he padded behind the confident fox.

The rough stone floor was covered with loose debris, stinging the ratfolk’s bare feet every now and then when he wasn't paying attention. Still fuming, Robin was quite content with their walk remaining silent. When Ink broke the silence, the rat pursed his lips.

“So-o-o, what are you doing here? Looking for treasure?” Ink asked, turning his head to the young man. “I came here cause a nice elf lady told me this place hadn't been touched for centuries.”

“Well, she was right. There was quite a few good finds here. Unfortunately for you, my guild already looted the place a few days ago,” Robin replied with a smirk.

“Wha-a-at? Aww man.” Ink slumped, disappointed. “Wait, why are you still here then? Shouldn't you have returned with them?”

“I was interested in the texts and glyphs carved in the walls, so I decided to stay.”

Ink looked the rodent over. “Was that wise? You're pretty small and poorly armed. What if bandits came through?”

“I can handle myself, thank you!” Robin huffed, clearly offended. “I would have been completely fine if some bumbling idiot didn't set off the easiest trap to avoid!” His small voice boomed through the cavern.

“Pointing it out every other minute won't change what happened. You gotta learn to relax.”

“And, pray tell, how does one relax stranded in a dark filthy hole deep in the earth!?”

Ink gave him a lewd grin, one that answered the stuffy rodent’s question before Ink had to explain. “I can think of a few ways.”

Robin blushed, the redness on his face barely visible through his short grey fur but easily apparent on his bare ears. “Absolutely not! Especially not with you!”

“What!?” Ink replied with a tone and face of feigned ignorance. “I didn't even say anything.”

“Oh, you don't need to. Just focus on getting us out of here, preferably with the head on your shoulders.” Ink said nothing but strode on with a jaunty demeanor.

The duo continued into the increasing darkness. Neither of them had a torch, but, being the bestial races that they are, they each possessed darkvision, allowing them to see clearly without a source of light.

After a few minutes navigating the twisting temple halls, they spotted daylight around the corner. Elated and excited to be free, Robin rounded the corner with quick steps, only to be disappointed with what he saw.

The rat found himself in a large, man-made pit carved into the mountain. The walls were completely smooth, making it impossible to climb out of the hole. Along the floor were decayed skeletons and rotten remnants of wooden spikes jutting from the earth.

Looking up, Robin saw a makeshift rope bridge that a couple guild members erected for safe passage across the chasm. He remembered where they were: he crossed this chasm before, his party deciding to avoid attempting to explore the lower levels due to the danger and inaccessibility.

Ink walked through the passage, took a quick look around, and whistled, the shrill noise echoing throughout the pit. “Yeah, we aren't climbing out of here. I'm good, but not that good. Guess we're trudging through the darkness again.”

Ink nodded toward the doorway across the pit. The door was half-decayed and on its side a few feet away. The duo started toward the door but before they made it halfway across the area, three figures emerged from the darkness. Despite the acoustics of the cavern, their footsteps were inaudible.

The first person to emerge was a burly half-orc standing at least seven feet tall with rippling muscles and heavy metal plates covering his shoulders and chest. Behind him was a wood elf woman with an evil sneer that screamed her criminal intentions. Her hand was partially raised and engulfed in swirling black clouds.

The last one to reveal themselves was what Ink could only describe as a furry lizard-shark creature. It was barely clad in any clothing or armor and carried a large, thick, square-tipped glaive on its back. The weapon look far to large for the creature's lean build.

The woman stepped forward and spoke up, her voice just as condescending and maliciously sweet as her race and demeanor implied. “Lost, boys? Do you need help getting out of here? We’d be happy to give you a hand.” Robin bristled, his nerves on edge; this woman gave off all of the wrong signals. He was about to reply when Ink stepped forward, his walk almost a saucy strut.

“No thanks, miss, but thanks for asking. We’ll be on our way" he replied.

Despite Ink's cheery expression and attitude, Robin thought he heard some sinister undertones. Like a flip of a switch, the tension in the area skyrocketed. The two stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the elf broke eye contact with the fox and turned her attention to the shark creature.

“Kill the rat and loot the corpse, but try to keep the fox alive; he’s worth his weight in gold.” The creature stepped forward, unbuckling the blade from its back. The other two receded into the darkness, leaving the beast to its work.

It stopped a few yards away from Ink before bending forward and screaming a loud, bestial cry from its gaping maw. It charged and swung its heavy weapon at Ink with surprising ease. At the last moment, Ink leaned to the side, the glaive barely an inch from his face, and went to kick his assailant.

Ink’s slender leg made contact with the creature’s side and knocked it back a few feet. Robin, watching the melee from the side, noticed a faint aura around the fox’s limb. Ink followed up his strike with a punch from his good arm, but the creature batted him aside. Despite its slender build, it had quite a bit of strength. With its other arm, it effortlessly swung its blade at Ink yet again.

Again, Ink dodged at the last possible second, but as the blade was still close to his unguarded body, it lit with a crackling blue light and a wave of thunderous power blasted the tod’s flank. Ink was sent flying into a wall where he briefly stumbled. In the split second he was recovering, the beast lunged forward with a devastating strike, adrenaline in it's eyes.

It would have connected, but as the glaive was about to make contact, ethereal chains suddenly appeared and bound the assailant in mid-air. Ink turned and saw Robin, thick tome in hand, chanting the spell Hold Person and conjuring the arcane bonds from his outstretched palm.

He snapped his book closed and the creature froze in place. With its body immobile, all it could do was stare menacingly and growl through its clenched jaw. Ink moved from his position and slumped against the wall. “The Hells is this guy?” He bleated, struggling to catch his breath. Robin walked up to the collapsed fox and held out his hand. Ink took it and righted himself, still a bit overwhelmed.

“This,” Robin started, pointing at the creature, “is a sergal, and they are nasty beasts. Barely smart enough to be classified as people, yet they are ridiculously talented at hunting and fighting.”

“And it can use magic? Didn't you say it was dumb?” Ink asked, remembering the shockwave that decided the battle.

“It’s a special sorcerous magic only sergals can use.” Robin pointed at the creature’s blade; glistening runes etched along its length. “They can channel their magic through their weapons. It suits them perfectly since it relies more on feeling the magic rather than knowing how it works.”

“Huh,” Ink simply replied.

 He walked up to the imprisoned sergal and punched it in the head, sending his life energy directly through its skull. It when out like a candle, and fell unconscious. Robin released his magic and the creature landed unceremoniously on the floor. He then strode up and tapped its cheek with a bare toe.

“Did you kill it?” The rat asked. Ink shook his head.

“Nope, but it'll be sleeping for quite a while. Scrambled its brains with a hefty dose of ki.”

Ink looked at the passage that the sergal’s companions disappeared into. Regaining his cheery demeanor, Ink nodded toward the tunnel. “C’mon, let's get going. If those guys are skulking around down here, there's gotta be something interesting!” The fox jauntily marched forward, Robin padding behind.

As they walked through the darkness, Robin turned to Ink. “So, you're a monk, huh?” he asked, giving the kitsune a questioning look. Ink gave him a toothy smile. “Honestly, you don't seem like one.”

“I get that a lot. People expect us to be all neutral and calm and junk, and most of us are. But that's so-o-o boring. My master had a hard time taming me and always wondered aloud how I can manipulate ki without being calm and disciplined. To me, chaos is calming. It makes me feel alive.” Ink trailed off with that last sentence, his smile wavering.

“Does it relate to that happy-go-lucky attitude and lack of common sense of yours? It’s almost like you're trying to kill yourself.” Ink shrugged with a crooked grin.

“You got me. Well, the happy attitude and commons sense part. I'm not actually suicidal. If I thought through every little thing, I'm sure I'll fall into old habits and life would become boring again. Without a little excitement and the risk of death, living is just...” He paused for a moment to find the right word, “tedious.” His face became somber. “Sorry for dragging you into this.”

“You know what.” Robin said. “I forgive you. You're still an idiot and your philosophy makes no damn sense, but who am I to judge? At least you're making it up by escorting me.”

Ink gave him a sincere smile. “Thanks. That actually means a lot to me for some reason. You know, I have to admit, you're pretty cute. When we get out of this death hole, you wanna do something afterward? Dinner?”

“Um, you do realize I don't...” Ink stared on hopefully with his toothy grin from earlier as Robin's train of thought escaped. “Eh, fuck it, sure. But you're buying.”

Ink leaned down and patted Robin’s rump, eliciting a squeak from the rodent. “Anything you want, sugar,” he replied with a saucy tone. Robin sighed and shook his head, rubbing his temples.

After another few minutes of fumbling in the dark, the duo closed in on a torch-lit chamber. The two peered around the corner and saw the half-orc and elf from before. The large green brute stood uninterested in the center of the room while the elf studied the carvings on the wall. In her hand appeared to be a map or diagram of some kind, but they couldn't make it out from their location.

“What do we do now?” Robin whispered, retreating back into the hall. Ink contemplated a few ideas before coming up with a plan.

“Okay, I've got it. I'll rush out there and strike the elf before she has a chance to react. When the orc turns to face me, you jump out and restrain him with your magic. I'll finish her off quickly, then we can both handle him. Sound good?”

Robin nodded. “That's a pretty good strategy, coming from you that is. Let's do it!”

“I concur. It is a pretty good plan,” a sinister yet sweet voice behind them agreed.

The duo turned to find the elf looming behind them, her face contorted to an evil sneer. She chanted a quick incantation of Burning Hands and thrust her brightening palm toward the two. Ink grabbed Robin by the collar of his shirt, pulled him close, and dove out of the passageway at an angle. Moments later, an inferno blew out of the tunnel where the duo previously stood.

Ink quickly stood, Robin still in his arm, as he faced down the advancing orc and the prowling elf, the latter skulking out of the once-again dark tunnel. She stepped around splotches of molten rock, dodging Robin's Fire Bolt without a single glance, almost like this was just another day to her. The Minor Illusion of the elf examining the walls dissipated behind them.

The elf snickered. “So the foxy has good reflexes and the mousey is a little wizard. No wonder Sora failed us. Usually we admonish him for eating corpses, not becoming a corpse himself.”

Robin, flustered at the sudden shift in power, stepped forward. “Why are you attacking us!? We're just trying to get out of here!”

“Aw, honey, it's because you might be hiding treasure from us. And even if you two just happen to be broke, slavers would pay a pretty penny for beasties anyway. Plenty of sickos out in the world who would love to break in a sentient pet.”

Robin bristled, but was unable to think of a retort. He'd heard stories of bandit encounters and the occasional skirmishes between guilds, but to face down two actual criminal-types had him hesitant. Ink grabbed his shoulder and gave it a squeeze before conversing with the bandits with his usual disarming smile.

“Surely,” he began, his body giving no indication of hostility, “we can come to some sort of agreement? We've handled your friend quite easily, so you must realize we are competent fighters ourselves. Plus, we didn't kill him; he's asleep back in that pit.”

“Oh, you're so sweet giving our dog mercy, but we honestly don't care for him. You're living money, so we'll take you instead.” With a snap of her fingers, the orc rushed forward and with his two-handed sword still sheathed, he brought the covered blade down toward Ink’s skull.

With the same fluent motions he displayed earlier, he dodged every swing at the last second, but unlike the wild creature before, the orc gave the tod no time to exploit any weaknesses. The brute’s efficiency and practiced movements gave Ink very little to work with as he danced around the blade.

The elf laughed and raised her hand, an orb of light building in her palm, but she quickly dispelled it and ducked to the side to avoid another Fire Bolt whizzing by her face. A few loose hairs burned as she bent back to avoid the flames. Quickly straightening herself, she flung a sickly green orb of an Eldritch Blast at her rodent assailant, which he blocked with an Shield.

The two pairs fought on, Ink doing little more than dodging his opponent and Robin struggling to hold back the elf’s onslaught of destructive spells. Growing irritated with the kitsune, the orc swung at him with a free hand and managed to knock him back.

When Ink stumbled, the brute turned toward the other pair and charged toward the physically defenseless ratfolk. He unbuckled the sheath from the sword and threw it to the side, deciding that a quicker end to the ongoing fight outweighed a slightly larger wallet.

Robin saw the orc charging him but could not move from his position; doing so would open up the opportunity for the elf to end him herself. The orc stomped forward, mere feet from the rat, and brought his blade down.

A tear rolled down Robin’s cheek as his life flashed before his eyes. Before the blade came down halfway, Ink jumped in from the side and pushed the ratfolk away. Robin looked up as the orc’s heavy blade split the fox in two.

“INK!” Robin screamed as the body collapsed in slow motion. His heart began to sink, but before he could give up hope, a shadow appeared behind the orc. Fading in from the darkness was a completely healthy, naked Ink, save for his damaged arm flailing behind him. Robin gazed in amazement and confusion as the bisected fox dissolved into a shadowy mist, leaving behind the torn clothing that Ink shed.

Before the orc could react to the trickery, Ink twisted in midair and with murderous grace, he slammed his foot into the side of his head. His limb crackled with life energy as Ink poured the entirety of his ki into it, resulting in enough additive force that the orc’s neck snapped with a sickening crack.

 His head was ripped from his shoulders and was sent flying into a nearby wall, completely shattering in a bloody explosion of flesh and bone. Landing amidst the fountain of blood flowing from the orc’s still standing body, Ink turned his gaze to the elf. Her face contorted from her smarmy visage to an expression of surprise, bewilderment, and rage.

Screaming at the top of her lung, she shouted a chant for a powerful Fireball spell; as she wove her words, a massive sphere of flame materialized over her head. With a flick of her wrist, the Fireball zoomed forth.

Robin, regaining his composure, ran in front of Ink and threw up his last Shield, but to no help. The fireball detonated, blasting the bestial duo across the room. Robin landed on his back but quickly flipped over, slamming his hands on the ground using Mold Earth to forming a wall of earth between them and the elf.

Moments later, a barrage of blazing flames and eldritch bolts peppered the wall, eating away at the crumbling surface. Ink braced himself against the barrier and tried catching his breath. “Damn, I hate fighting casters. Nice wall by the way.”

Robin turned to him, still on all fours and breathing heavily. “Thanks, but it won't last long. I'm exhausted. I probably have one more big spell left in me before I'm out.” He lifted himself to his knees and spun, reclining himself against the wall.

He felt every thud as the deranged woman’s onslaught peppered it. He drew his short-sword-turned-dagger and stared at its cracked length, trying to come up with a plan. Suddenly, his vision grew hazy, his eyes glowing a dull blue, as he was drawn into the reflective surface.

The world around him was hazy. The blasts from the elf’s spells sounded distant and the thudding was nearly unnoticeable. He turned toward Ink, the outline of his nude body blurry yet the rest completely in focus. “This wall’s not gonna hold,” he said, his voice muffled. “I'm going in. Try to cover me.”

“Ink! Wait!” Robin heard himself say, the voice more of a vibration in his skull than actual sound. But it was too late; the fox had already turned the corner and bolted toward the warlock. He danced around her flurry of spells with grace that would leave members of her race envious as he advanced.

He was close enough to leap at her, but as he applied more pressure to his leg, he slipped on a hidden Grease slick. The elf’s face contorted into a sinister grin as she shot barbed ethereal chains of a Hold Person spell from her arm and trapped the off-balance fox. She raised her free hand and incinerated the tod in an inferno of black fire.

Robin awoke, his vision suddenly cleared. He quickly looked around and saw Ink preparing himself for his next move. “This wall’s not gonna hold,” he unknowingly repeated. “I'm going in. Try to cov-"

“I have a plan Ink!” Robin interrupted, his features frazzled. Ink turned to the rodent, who then confided his strategy.

The elf continued to sling her spells, her rage and adrenaline fueling her need to destroy the killers of her partner. “Come out you bastards! I'm going to fry the eyes from your skull and piss in the sockets!” She screamed.

Suddenly, she saw Ink jump out from the side of the barrier and barrel toward her. Shifting her attention from the molten slag that was once a wall, he began flinging a flurry of Fire Bolts and Eldritch Blasts at the tod.

Ink jumped over, dived under, and sidestepped each spell as he made his way forward. As he went to step into leaping distance, he saw the woman’s face shift into a grin and dark chains start to materialize on her arm. Ink flashed a quick, knowing grin back, confusing the witch, as he shortened his step and sidestepped the hidden Grease slick.

With her free hand, she fired more spells at the fox who in turn evaded not just them, but every puddle of oil and grease peppered around the caster. Bewildered that he managed to avoid every single trap, she desperately tried to lead him into a favorable position to ensnare him; if she missed with her chains, it would give him the opportunity to take her down.

Growing frustrated, she thought of a new plan to trap the fox. She flung her fireballs around the tod, igniting the pools of oil and creating a blazing inferno behind him. Unlike the puddles that Ink could simply jump over, the pillars of flames blocked off his avenues of escape.

Soon enough, the elf managed to lead him into a dead-end with his last remaining option being to charge at her. Without hesitation, Ink bolted toward the elf, leaping into the air to unleash a flurry of kicks. Unfortunately, his gambit was too predictable and the elf easily ensnared him with her chains.

Laughing maniacally, she conjured black flames in her free hand. She pulled her arm back to launch the demonic inferno, but suddenly, a sharp, nasty pain shot through her spine. It was so intense that she couldn't utter a cry or scream and her body froze in place.

Her concentration faltered, causing the flames to disperse and the chains to fade into ethereal smoke. She slowly looked over her shoulder and saw a broken sword jutting out of her back. As the seconds passed, a hand materialized, followed by an arm and, soon enough, the recently Invisable ratfolk.

She grit her teeth, admonishing herself for allowing the two animals to pull a cheap trick on her. She barely uttered a curse as she collapsed onto the ground. Robin stumbled back and landed on his rump, his breathing heavy as he realized what he had done. Ink offered him a hand and, after a moment of rest, the fox pulled him up. He collapsed into Ink.

“Gods damn it! I can't believe I did that!” he cried, pushing his face into Ink’s plush chest. The fox laughed and patted him on his head.

“You did great! Your plan was amazing and you took down the crazy bitch yourself!” His toothy grin returned in full force. Robin let go of Ink and looked him in the eyes with a sheepish smile.

“Thanks,” he replied. He then noticed Ink’s lack of clothing. “By the way, why are you naked? Couldn't you have just made illusions of clothing as well?”

“Well, you see, my little fuzzy friend, replicating a fatal wound in a split-second is a little too unfeasible, let alone in combat. Real clothing helps mask the fake wound just long enough to pull off a feint against even the most capable fighter. My master called it ‘Shedding’.”

“Couldn't you have worn something underneath to avoid exposing yourself?” Ink stared at Robin with a blank look. “I'm guessing you never thought of that.”

“Nope!” Ink wagged his tails and smiled. The fact that he didn't show any shame in his nudity drew many conclusions for the rat, but before he could question them, Ink shoved his face into his. “I'm starving. Let's get out of here!”

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