Arcanum - Of Steamwork and Magic Ch. 15

The mixture of sadness and hope that filled me with almost took my breath, but Jormund called me to his attention by taking my hand and shaking it, human style. I chuckled and smiled at him. "So, what will you do now?"

"Well, master left behind all his books," Jormund said. "And Quintarra still needs as many wizards as it can get. I may not be as skilled as the rest of them, but I can learn."

"Good man!" I said, clasping his shoulder.

***

As we emerged from that sordid affair, Gillian coughed to get my attention. "Sir," she said. "Might I ask how we're going to find the damn leader of this place?"

I chuckled. "I believe we're being tested, Gill. If we comport ourselves with honor and grace, the elves will eventually open up to us."

"Ah, so, we're going to be here until the new year, then?" Virginia asked.

"If so, it is at least a pleasant place to wile away a few months," I said. "And if that Arronax fellow wants to-"

Virginia made an abortive gesture towards me -- but before she could push me aside, or drag me backwards, a lithe shape impacted into me with enough force to nearly bowl me over, as if I was on the rugby field. This was quite remarkable, as the figure that wrapped arms and legs about me was no more than five feet tall and slender as a reed. The first coherent image of this person that came to me, though, was a massive explosion -- a mane really -- of brilliant emerald hair. I was not sure if this hair came by natural or supernatural providence, but by whatever means it had been colored, it had been left quite luxuriously soft. Only after I extricated my head from the mane did I begin to feel the faint swell of breasts and the feminine shape of the legs wrapped around my hips.

"Hi!" A chirpy, female voice said as the limbs wrapped about me relaxed and the mane of hair withdrew enough for me to see that, underneath it, was a oval face with almond eyes and nut brown skin. Despite her ears being quite concealed, there was no doubt in my mind that this woman was an elf. She beamed at me. "I heard you're a doctor! From Tarant! A doctor of science, I mean. From Tarant." She bobbed her head.

"Well, I was...ah, well, yes, I suppose you can say I'm from Tarant," I said, adjusting my collar.

The elf girl clapped her hands and began to jump up and down on her feet. Thanks to the natural dexterity of the elves and her own innate lightness of being, this jumping brought her forehead above mine with every leap. Her bare feet slapped the wooden platform under her as she landed, in time with her clapping. "Tarant! Oh that's marvelous! Is it big? Are there many factories? Do they really invent things every single day? What's a newspaper like? Do you-"

I held up my hands, laughing. "Now now, hold up. What is your name?"

The leaping stopped and the elf clasped her hands behind her back. She beamed at me, arching her spine ever so slightly as she did so. "Swyft, Doctor. And, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to, er, if you could, that is...I can pay for you to escort me to Tarant. I've never been! And I want to go so very badly! I can pay with gold and my body -- I've been told I'm quite flexible and skilled at-"

I laughed, my face reddening. I had been offered odd payments before. Magickal swords, rumors, tidbits, prognostications, chunks of mithril, but never had I been offered a nubile elf before. Let alone by the elf in question. "Miss Swyft, gold will be more than is required. I'd take you for free, we're sure to head back there soon after we accomplish some tasks here."

Swyft looked at me curiously. "Oh." She beamed. "That's fantastic! Though, you can still have me any way you want, Doctor. I've never been with a half-orc before. My brother says that half-orcs are quite smelly and ugly, but you smell very nice and-"

"How old are you?" Virginia asked, frowning.

"A hundred and fifty, why?" Swyft looked defensive. "I'm an adult."

Virginia looked unconvinced. I chuckled. "I believe, uh, sex does not need to enter into our traveling arrangements."

Swyft looked crestfallen.

"And first," I said. "There are some tasks I need to do before the party sets out for Tarant."

Swyft looked even more crestfallen. I admit, I did take some small sliver of pleasure at finally giving an elf a reason to wait. But with a tousle of her hair, we set out for the elevator that led to the floor of forest -- with the murder solved, all we needed to do was find a waylaid hunter and find a killer Willow-The-Wisp. As the elevator touched the bottom, Virginia breathed in the thick scents of the forest, and 'Magnus' grumbled: "It is good to finally be back on the ground again..."

We set out, using my compass and the marking on the map to guide us. The Glimmering Forest retained its majesty and its mystery, but changes had set in as August came to a close and the beginning of September came. It settled in the color of the leaves, changing slowly as we marched onward through the forest: First only a few were orange, but then more and more turned orange as the days turned into nights into days. It was as if a painter had begun to sweep his brush through the forest, and left us feeling increasingly somber -- and it changed our progress from quiet rustling to crunching and crackling as we strode across thick leaves.

This change in the seasons, combined with the faint frustration that lingered from interacting with the elves of Quintarra, left us considerably less randy. While Sally did proposition me with her normal playful attitudes, there was no real edge of true desire to her voices, and Virginia and I only made love when impulse and energy allowed it. There was something deliciously intimate, though, about the times where she came to my tent, kissing and caressing me to full arousal before impaling herself as I sprawled underneath her. Her head, thrown back, her hair spilling along her shoulders as she arched her spine, rocking herself atop me...it was one of the most uniquely beautiful things in the Glimmering Forest.

Even if we never talked about anything but the weather on some days.

We did spy several Willow-The-Wisps in our travel. During the night, some would prance at the edge of our campfire, glowing in the same colors of the season: Orange, brown, blue. But none tried to suck our cerebellum out, so I was rather confident in saying none were the fabled Vol'ars Wisps.

However, on the 5^th of September, the terrain changed remarkably. The trees petered out, growing smaller and smaller, until at last, we came to the definitive edge of the Glimmering. Here, the ground grew rapidly boggy and filled with mires and pools of stagnant water. Thick, buzzing swarms of insects frittered around the pools -- some growing astoundingly large. Despite the season, I saw a dragonfly the size of my arm resting upon a broad frond. The air felt muggy and hot, like summer had sunk its fingers into the world and refused to release its grip in this fen. Finding dry ground required us to all cut sticks from saplings and prod the surface before us as we walked, which only added time to reach the place where the hunter had gone missing as we wound in wild tracks.

It was here that danger returned to our travels. While prodding our way along the dry ground, either side of the path fenced in by thick overgrowth and thorny bushes, I heard a growl from Dogmeat, who was padding along beside me. He had angled himself, pointing into the underbrush, where I saw a pair of great, gleaming eyes. Drawing my pistol, I called out: "What's-" before the first dart came whistling from the shadows. I jerked aside at the last moment, the dart thudding into the bark of a tree. I fired into the darkness and the distinctive shriek of a kite filled the air. The small, twisted humanoid fell face first onto the ground out of his hiding hole, a crude blowgun tumbling from an opened palm. This death was a signal: The underbrush exploded with green, brown, even purple kites. Carrying knives and screeching their war cries, they were upon us in a flash. My single shot and Dogmeat's snarl had prepared the other just enough for Gillian and Maggie to meet the kites with drawn blades, and Virginia to strike down several with her magical sword -- flashing it left and right, taking advantage of her own armor to ignore blows that might have slain my own self. Sally kicked with her legs, but Dogmeat once more proved his valor and bravery, leaping upon kites to savage and bite at their throats.

In the end, I shot two more, Virginia struck down three, Sally kicked at least four away, and Dogmeat had torn the throats out of an appalling seven. The remaining kites fled once more into the jungle and we saw not another lick of their kind as we prodded out way forward.

Two days later, though, we came to the marked place on the map -- and I found myself face to face with the most remarkable being I had never seen. They were the same height as myself and humanoid -- but there the similarities between myself and the creature that stood in the muck ended. For one, they were nearly completely nude, dressed in but a simple thong that wrapped around the slight bulge of their genitalia (indicating at least that they were male...or...at least, similarly equipped as males of the humanoid races.) But for another, they were completely clad in scales. Their body glittered with brilliant blue scaling, shining in the sunlight that escaped through the thick leaves overhead. They had daubed swirling patterns of white paint along their arms and their chest, accentuating their musculature. Their face, too, was lizard-like and exotic, coming to a narrow snot and with deep set, slitted eyes. Their backside was graced by a long, liberally flicking tail, which stilled upon seeing me. But the thing I should have noticed first was that they were armed -- cradling a spear, in fact.

I tensed.

"Good day, sir," I said, not sure if the beat knew the tongue of man.

"Greetingssssssssss..." the lizard-man said, his tail beginning to flick slowly. "You come, yessss, you come for warm-blood?"

Warm-blood? Was this being cold blooded? I was not sure how a cold blooded creature could be so aware of the surrounding environment in this season...though the warmth that clung to these swamps might have something to do with it. But my excitement faded and turned to puzzlement. You come for the warm-blood? Then it struck me. "Is the warm blooded an elf?" I asked. Seeing the look of confusion on that alien face -- so clear, despite the lack of what I'd call normal features -- I clarified. "Pointed ears. Like a knife?"

"Ah, yessss." The lizard-man bobbed his head. "You ssspeak to chieftain. Come."

He turned -- and we followed. I forced back the sound of displeasure that wanted to escape my lips as the swamp water that I had been so skillfully keeping at bay flooded my shoes and my socks, soaking both completely. Virginia grimaced, while Sally simply took her shoes off. Maggie, though, sloshed forward to get to my side, whispering.

"Y-Ya think I should get my beard back on, Ray?" She whispered.

I shook my head. "These folk don't even know what an elf looks like. I doubt that they'll notice your beard or not."

Maggie nodded -- and looked relieved. Even if we were heading into unknown danger. The passage through the swamp seemed to last forever, an eternity of sloshing through water and leaving behind swirling blooms of blood red clay in the mire. Then, looming from between the trees a bone white skull carved and marked with what was unmistakably magikal runes and incantations. The skull's similarity to our guide unsettled me, as did the strange, altar-like structure of wood and stone that the skull was set upon. Torches flickered to either side of the altar, and our guide made a strange hand symbol towards it, hissing in contentment.

We moved past the altar, Virginia taking but a moment to survey it, whispering in my ear: "It's some kind of ward, sir."

With this information in mind, I stepped past several fronds and realized that we had come to the center of a village. Huts made of woven straw and bits of wood were situated around a crackling fire,, while sleek lizardfolk lounged about in the flames, warming themselves. Basking, as it were. The largest tent was flanked by two of those skull altars, and every lizard in the village (nearly twelve in total) looked at us with dark, slitted eyes. Tails stilled and voices stopped. In the silence, our guide pointed to the largest tent, hissing softly. "There."

We stepped forward as a group, but the guide snarled and snapped his teeth. "No. Only the green one."

Virginia made a face, opening her mouth to complain. I placed my hand gently upon her shoulder and shook my head gently. No. I could handle this. I walked forward, readying to take off my pistol, to give it over...but the lizard did not ask for my weapon. It was clear they had no understanding of firearms, nor the danger they represented. It twisted my gut with guilt to allow them to remain so unknowing. But I had no idea how safe this tent was, nor how kindly the chieftain would be. With such trepidation, going in unarmed would be highly noble...but also quite foolhardy. And so, I ducked into the warm closeness of the tent. Within was dark, illuminated only by the pale glow of some primitive magick. The floor was covered with thick fur pelts that only made me more aware of how soaked and unpleasant my boots were. Sprawled along those furs was a large, curved shape. Two gleaming, slitted eyes peered from the darkness and I gulped slowly.

"Greetings," I said.

"Warm blood...why do you come to our village?"

Something about the voice -- the tenor, the tone -- made me think...female. Then the shape shifted and the light played along their scaled body, and I swore that I cou1d see the swell of breasts. My mind reeled. Lizards...with mammary glands? The thought begged for further exploration, but one that would have to wait. The lizard chieftain leaned herself forward, her breasts swaying in the dim light of the tent. I saw that she was clothed (if such a word could be used) in a thin strip of leather cloth that barely encircled her large breasts, which were nearly the same scale and perkiness as Sally Mead Mug. But attached to such an alien being...it was...

Unexpectedly alluring.

"I come to ask you about the knife eared warm blood. Is he here? Do you have him?" I paused, waiting for a response. The chieftain cocked her head, then flicked her tail. She patted the ground before her with her hand.

"Ssssit."

I sat there, taking the moment to unlace my shoes and take them off. I knew that flight was always a possibility, but to be quite honest, I think that running through the marsh without boots would be a considerably better idea, considering how water logged and heavy they had gotten. I did ensure to tie the shoelaces together, so that I could sling the boots over a shoulder while I ran, for use later. Once I had crossed my legs under me, the fur began the warm my lower body. I wondered if it was enchanted as well -- and put my hand to my pocket, to feel the faint vibration of my pocket watch. The vibration, as I expected, had become erratic.

"The knife ear. He is here..." The chieftain said -- and I noticed that her hissing had become slightly less pronounced. She inclined her head and I could see in the dimness that she had quite an impressive crest, fanning above her head and spreading outwards in a pair of gracefully arced frills. It gave her a regal stature that simple crowns and orientations might have lacked. "But he is being held, to punish him for your crimes." Her voice became tight.

"My crimes?" I asked.

"Yes," the chieftain said. "I, Ken Karsi, say this to you: The warm bloods have declared war on the Bedokaan and we are readying ourselves to carry the war back to your filthy kind." Her palms pressed to the floor and flexed. I could see her claws, burying themselves into the carpet. I gulped.

"Wait, tell me, what are these-"

Ken Karsi snapped her teeth, lunging forward at me. I remained as still as I could -- for I could see the attack was merely her showing her frustration. Her teeth snapped together before my nose and now that she filled the center of the light, I could see that she was, scaling and snout aside, an exceptionally fine woman. With a perfect hourglass shape, a belly so narrow I could encompass her with two hands cupped together, and breasts that were as perfectly round and perky as any I could see. The fact she was clad in clothing roughly as revealing as the clothing Gillian had been dressed in by H. T Parnell...well...

It certainty did not hinder the close, humid atmosphere of this place.

"You know. You have to know, you are a warm blood!" She snarled. "We of the Bedokaan, we are the eyes of Makaal. We see the same, as Makaal sees the world." She glared at me. "Or do you say warm bloods are different?"

"I do!" I said, my hand clutching to my chest. "Warm bloods see the world in many different ways. Elves are not like dwarves. Dwarves are nothing like humans. And I'm not-"

She tossed her head, her frill expanding outwards. "What is human? What is dwarf?" She sniffed at me. "You do smell differently from the knife ear. But is that enough to change how you see Makaal?" Her tongue darted out, almost flicking along my cheek. I managed to, by a hair's breadth, restrain my involuntary flinch at the movement. I furrowed my brow, thinking hard on my next words. Before I could respond, though, she hissed, drawing back into the dimness at the edge of the tent. "Warm bloods came and they killed. They killed eggs, they killed children. They killed the elderly, the warriors, all."

My eyes widened. "Why?" I asked.

Ken Karsi tilted her head forward. I wondered if she was weeping -- her posture, her soft voice -- all of it spoke of great pain. But in the darkness and the heat of the tent, all I could see was the faint reflection of her scales, made dark purple by the blue illumination. "They...took their skins. Rolled the meat and bone into the muck. As if we were animals."

My hands clenched as a frisson of rage ran along my spine, crackling like electricity. I knew who those humans had been: Poachers. Almost immediately, I began to calculate the price one of these hides could go for. It was the pleasing texture of snakeskin, but in batches large enough to cover a suitcase for the gentleman about Arcanum. The very idea made my blood boil. I reached out, impulsively, and took Ken Karsi's hand. Her fingers were slightly cool to the touch, but not unpleasantly moist or slick. Instead, she felt smooth. The almost delicate pebbling of her scales was...pleasant. Her head jerked up at the contact, and she made a quiet, confused hiss.

"Humans, orcs, elves, dwarves -- all warm bloods -- are different. We're not like your kind. One man's heart can be evil, while another can be good." My thumb rubbed along her knuckles and I felt a shift in her posture. Suddenly, she was in the light again, leaning forward to press the tip of her snout against my neck. The contact point made my spine tighten and my eyes widen. Her tongue slipped out, then slithered along my neck, tasting me with a curious wonder. Ken Karsi drew back.

"But..." She cocked her head. "How can a people be that do not see the same? That do not all follow the same god, the same path? How do you avoid chewing one another to pieces?"

I chuckled. "To be quite frank, we don't. Often, ah..." I squeezed her hand more. "We struggle with it. These men are part of that struggle. Between the good of us and the evil."

"But they are still evil..." Ken Karsi snarled.