Member
kapuchu
Sylvan
Expendable
MrSkimobile
Timemaster
Izurich
Abstract Proxy
Vixere
PrinceAlexus
Just as Shertul nearly grasped Sophia's hand, yet another lost soul wondered in.
"Yeah right," their new guest scoffed, "Mercy has never been anywhere near Nephilim in any description of them ever, so whatever you did, you should go with him."
Another helpful one. Things were turning his way again.
"What are you by the way? Do you guys needs some help?"
How fortunate! He liked her already.
"Where ya going? Can I go to?"
Nevermind.
Shertul performed some combination of a squint and a scowl. "Have you seen us? Where else but the Wastelands?" A single sharp claw pointed to the trees. "A Nephilim is there! We have done nothing to provoke him! Start a fire!"
Then he withdrew his claws back into a defensive posture. He dug his feet into the dirt like a bull, ready to grab them both and charge off if those trees finally decided to vomit up whatever they were hiding.
And so they did. There was a rustle, a shake, and an angel dropping out of the forest roof.
The Fleshspinner was ready to bolt, yet the Nephilim's words gave him pause.
"Please don't run, I've-"
He stopped mid sentence... to drink from an alcohol flask. Shertul wasn't certain whether to laugh, or to be frightened of this display of confidence. Briefly, he wondered if he was still dying in Wellborough. Or already dead. Is this a new layer of hell?
The angel threw the bottle to him, which he caught by instinct alone.
"You, my abominable friend, really need to eat".
Of course, part of becoming a Fleshspinner proper is forcing your body to ignore poisonous substances. The moment a drug begins having any sort of effect, including dizziness or loss of inhibitions, his body pumps it right back out.
In other words, Shertul can never get drunk.
If he swallowed down this dirty water, for that's all it is, he'd be urinating out pure alcohol in an hour. Maybe half.
"I do not know if you are ignorant of us," Shertul's voice was still weak and coarse, "or simply mocking me." The useless bottle of bile slipped from his hands to drain into dirt. No good. His stomach could only accept very specific brews, made by skilled alchemists, to ease the pain of bone growth. For the sake of his friends, he added "I physically cannot digest alcohol."
"Now, after your story I actually had to consider you as an unfortunate byproduct of a disturbed upbringing and then, low and behold, after having to come for an innocent child, I find you feeding a mark that is not just within the realm of disturbed, but utter madness. Not to mention being more than willing to bring her, the aforementioned innocent child, to within the waste's of Alithe herself. Annnnd lets not forget being in the process of picking up yet another tag along, which, I really really suggest you retract miss. So can someone please explain to me how to rationally resolve any of this without blood"
Shertul raised his eyebrow.
"We have a little myriad of options for resolving this without tearing ourselves apart, I'm certain. There's always another way out, isn't there?" The mage realized that making pleasant conversation in the middle of a life-threatening time was becoming his specialty.
That and spewing out long speeches.
"We can simply flee. You could never match my run." He studied his aggressor, then sighed admittedly- the endurance runes on this man's body were all too clear. "But you'd find me eventually, wouldn't you? Fine. Another option.
"You can give up because we have harmed no one at all. My only crime is having more arms than you're comfortable with. This girl's... problem, I'll call it... can only be solved by those with serious expertise in dark magic, so that's exactly who I'm taking her to.
"Or the girl can chose to go with you, where you will mercilessly, remorselessly murder her as soon as you realize how deep that Mark goes." He sounded equally apathetic towards all the ideas.
Shertul still felt the need to travel with his rescuer, certainly, he had simply become too starved to feel strongly about anything. Right now, his only real emotion was the instinct to eat.
It's times like these that make flesh-mages feel like animals. He hadn't eaten in all of twelve hours. No problem, for a humani, but Shertul was halfway to going comatose unless he found something edible now. His whole world was hunger. He didn't feel angry at the Nephilim. He felt hungry. He didn't feel sorry for the girl. He felt hungry. Even his curiosity about the flaming one could be held off 'till after dinner. He felt hungry.
He shocked himself when he suddenly found himself licking his lips at the enemy, wondering what angel tasted like.
