Tilted_Axis
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Chapter 13: Flee!
🕑 Added 2020-10-20 06:45:37 +0000 UTC‘What was that? Disregard it; just keep going! I am not letting that Bishop catch me.’
With the Bishop behind me, I rush down the stairs as quickly as possible. A few moments, and thirty-six steps later, I have made my way down, reentering the hallway full of drawings and words. I stop abruptly when I notice one of The Bishop’s dolls is standing there, moving of its own accord. Leathery old burlap skin and a visage that could match that of a wicked nun’s stare back at me.
‘The doll’s alive?!’
The doll stands unmoving, but in the corner of my sight, I notice some movement. Glancing up, down, and to the sides, I count a dozen additional dolls clinging to the walls and ceiling. The dolls of diverse shapes, sizes, and quality cheer in silence as if they are waiting for a performance to begin.
Suddenly, the original doll removes the needle from its chest and sticks it into the wall as if it's made of butter and then falls flat onto its back. Momentarily bewildered and frightened, I am about to resume my escape, but I am left stunned when suddenly something starts to separate itself from the wall. The sound it makes reminds me of ripping parchment as the thing falls from the wall, striking the floor with unexpected weight.
Its body is as flat as parchment on one side and wide on the other; regardless, it is as tall as the hallway itself. As it rotates around, I can finally see it seems to be some sort of giant red squid drawing that has been brought to life.
‘I-I cannot go back! Not with that Bishop behind me!’
With me being too far away from its eight arms, the squid instead resolves to use its tentacles. It raises its two tentacles in an effort to wrap me in its parchment-like appendages. It grips at my arms and chest and yanks back, pulling naught but some slivers of haze.
This confuses it for a moment, but its confusion seems to cause it to become exceedingly angry. In a rage, it flails its two tentacles around chaotically. I step backward with haste as my eyes rapidly evaluate the objects lying around along the wall, searching for a solution to my predicament. However, the two tentacles are too long, and I cannot get out of range quickly enough.
The sound of the tentacle hitting the shell echoes as pain shoots through me.
Almost at the same moment, a blue wall appears at the corner of my vision, but I utterly disregard it, given my current predicament. The squid seems to notice it struck something with mass, so again it swings at it.
‘Too late! I am out of thy reach!’
While still backing away, I unravel my cattail and wrap it around a nearby broken piece of pipe, promptly throwing it. The squid raises a tentacle and whacks the pipe away effortlessly. Now even angrier, it employs its arms to drag and draw itself forward.
‘More! I will just keep throwing things until something works!’
So picking up everything nearby, I persist with my actions. Chair legs, various metals, brooms, and whatever else happens to be nearby until finally, I grasp a waxy container full of liquid. Immediately, I realize it is the container I inspected earlier. The cattail struggles to lift it as the liquid sloshes about violently. Regardless, I force the cattail to lift and cast it toward the squid.
Like everything else, the squid whacks it away, but this time the liquid sprays all over the walls and floor. Some of the liquid falls onto the squid's body, causing its bright red body to run smear. The squid, unable to make any noises, instead beats the ground furiously, soaking more of its arms and tentacles.
“Child, what was in that mist of yours? It made me quite irritable,” I hear The Bishop say mockingly, “You know, the children almost breathed it in.”
From the top of the stairs, The Bishop’s footsteps and cane clatter against the metal stairs; with each footfall, I swear I can almost see my haze shaking.
‘I am certain I stand little chance of challenging him directly! I need to leave!’
I resume flinging objects while racking my mind, seeking any solution to this crisis. This effort proves futile, yet I suddenly recognize something strange about the squid’s movement in that it seems to be refusing to use one of its arms in any real capacity.
‘That is the arm with the needle, is it not!? It must be protecting that needle! That must be its weakness!’
Hurriedly, I locate the needle in the placid and stationary arm. I twist my head to and fro, searching for a means to gain access to the needle when my attention falls upon the partially full red container.
Resolving myself, I glide forward, and the weakened squid strikes at me. Another one of Earl's messages appears as the squid hits the kiln, but I do not have time to wallow in anguish. Using the cattail, I wrap it around the red container handily and continue to move closer to the squid.
From the top of the stairs, an intimidating voice echoes. “Child, what are you exactly? Certainly not one of the humanoid races, so monster or beast? Lord in the Ash,” he says with an exaggerated sigh, “It’s on the tip of my tongue, I swear.”
With The Bishop moving closer, without hesitation, I raise the red container and slam it to the ground. Liquid erupts from the red container and covers the squid. As for my body, I notice everywhere the liquid touches, it takes my haze with it, thinning my body further.
‘So this is why I could not enter the water! I will melt away!’ The sight of my body dissolving before my eyes causes me a considerable amount of concern. ‘I cannot dwell on it! Not at this moment!’
Pushing that thought away, I use the cattail’s tendrils to grip the needle and yank. The squid thrashes frantically until finally, the needle slips from its parchment-like skin, stopping it abruptly. The squid tips over, falling to the floor flat before becoming naught but a runny drawing on the floor.
A blue wall appears, but I quickly push it away, preparing to flee. ‘Do not block my vision!’
Suddenly behind me, a dignified voice whispers, “Hello, Child.”
Immediately, I swing the cattail and needle at the voice. It oddly feels more natural than it has ever before, but it does not matter.
“Oh, dear,” The Bishop’s voice says with blatant disdain, “Too loud.”
He raises his cane and wacks the needle away. From his suit hangs the dolls, waving their arms excitedly.
“It was a nice try, child, but my hearing and sense of smell are especially good. A benefit of a high Perception without sight bogging me down if you are aware of what I mean. If you’re curious, you smell like a mix of death, disease, and inexplicably a bit feminine.”
He smiles at me, devilishly and with clear maliciousness—my fear only intensifies when I notice that his suit is utterly drenched in blood. The only noise that can currently be heard is the sound of drops of blood dripping from his cane into the liquid from the red container.
‘He knows about the Perception stat!? Did he kill those people upstairs!? What does he want!? How did he know I was here!? Most importantly, feminine!? I do not even have a solid body!’
He stands for a moment, never breaking his impish smile. “Ah, you can’t speak, but that’s okay; the spirits can tell me what you’re thinking. Of course, I would be in the Beta; it would be an absolute embarrassment if I wasn’t. How did I know you were here? Well, you tripped a hex ward of mine, and I was already on my way here, so I simply hurried over. Oh, and no, I only killed one man, who breathed in that smoke of yours and attacked me. Ah, and a body isn’t everything; in fact, they’re a bit overrated.”
Frightened and uncomfortable, I float back rapidly, but not nearly fast enough as he keeps up easily.
‘I do not care for this line of discourse! Simply stay back!’
His cane taps against the ground as he effortlessly follows my every move. “My doll tells me it found your weakness. Something in your abdomen? What an unusual creature you are.” He raises his cane and moves it toward the kiln, but I move to the side. “You aren’t with the Church in Light, The Consortium, Two Palm Society, certainly not The Pit’s Maw despite looking the part. I believe you’re just a lost lamb who wandered into a slaughterhouse.”
‘What is that supposed to mean!? Who art thee?’
He waves his hand dismissively as if the answer to my question is obvious. “I am simply The Bishop of the Hex Church. Nothing more, nothing less.” He steps into the puddle of liquid and stops. “Well, that explains the thick stench of gasoline.”
Finding myself near the medicine room, I dart into it and try to slam the door shut, but he wedges his cane in the door frame.
“Child, can you not wander away when I’m speaking to you?” He sighs as if my running away is simply a given. “I understand lambs tend to be fearful of wolves, but I have a busy schedule, so how about you just tell me what you are?”
Not listening, I move away and toward the container of boiling liquid.
‘I am naught to concern thyself with! Just leave me be!’
“You cannot leave. Not after having been so violent and rude.” He suddenly stops, seemingly having realized something. “Besides, I think I just remembered something about a creature like you. A race that has the possibility of producing highly precious materials. Something like the Superacid in this lab here.”
‘Rude!? Violent!? I have not done anything! Why are all noble's the same accusing others of thine own misdeeds!' He seems to find my word amusing, but I simply scan the room, searching for any solution to my plight. I continue my words, 'More importantly! I do not know anything concerning thy Superacid! I did not consume it! I am not what thee believes me to be…!’
He snickers. “I don’t recall mentioning you eating it, but no need to deny it either way. I already know what happened here, and I can’t just allow such transgressions to slide. It makes us look weak and magical materials in even tiny quantities are quite expensive. Perhaps, you’d be willing to pay me back? Make materials for me for a decade or two?” he says, a bit of smugness in his tone.
‘I-I am incapable of producing anything people would find valuable, and that is far too long even if I were capable!’
Reaching for the boiling liquid, I knock the metal candle from the table, causing it to hang down by a cord. The metal candle enters my haze, but to my surprise, it does not cause any pain but simply burns within the haze as if natural. However, more important things than that hold my attention, so gripping the boiling orange liquid, I hold it up and threaten The Bishop with it.
‘Come any closer, and I will throw this boiling liquid at thee!’
“I recommend you not do anything foolish, child. That liquid is rather volatile, not to mention valuable. Made by something similar to you, actually.”
‘What!? Nay! It does not matter. Just stop! Do not come any closer!’
He stops mid-stride as if thinking. “If you do it, you’ll not be able to escape. Are you really so brave? Or perhaps are you really so suicidal?”
‘Perhaps I am! Perhaps I am the most suicidal thing ever to exist!... Just get away!’
“An interesting choice of words.” He laughs earnestly. “You certainly are a lively one.”
The two of us stand gazing at one another, waiting to see who makes the first move.
‘If thee leaves, I shall do the same! Otherwise, I shall burn thy expensive glass and metals!’
“Oh, but child, to me, the most valuable thing here is you. I could buy everything here hundreds of times over, but not you.” Again he laughs. “But you win!” He steps away and backs toward the door slowly. “How about instead of decades, you just come work for me for a year. Hmm? How does that sound?”
‘A decade, a year, a day, it does not matter! I do not have the time nor the desire to work for thee! I am well acquainted with people such as thee, and I have found them all to be utterly repugnant!’
“Fine. Fine, I’ll leave if you absolutely refuse.”
I stare at his bloody suit and smug devilish face. ‘Aye! I refuse!’
“But before I go...” He holds out his hand with a smirk. Suddenly, I notice movement in the corner of my vision—a doll leaping toward the kiln with a needle. On pure instinct, I lift the cattail and smack the doll away, sending it smacking into a nearby wall. Unperturbed, he finishes his words, “...your kiln belongs to me.”
Feeling an inexplicable pull around my kiln, the lights flicker as I shout in my mind, ‘Nay! Thee Muck-spout! Leave me alone!’
Unable to produce the strength necessary, I grip the pot with the tendrils. Using the cattail, I sling the pot creating a wave of orange liquid that arcs in the air toward The Bishop. As the last bit of liquid leaves the pot, it comes into contact with the metal candle’s flame, and suddenly it bursts into a blindingly brilliant fireball—his brows furrow as he lowers his hand and raises the cane with the other. With the cane raised high, he taps it against the ground, and a complex black symbol suddenly rises from something that resembles a pool of muck at his feet. The fireball surrounds him but amazingly seems to not touch him once so ever. The orange liquid flows off the side of an invisible wall, pooling around him in a perfect circle.
“I don’t believe you stand much of a cha—” He suddenly stops mid-sentence and taps his cane, causing a splashing sound. “Hmm?”
He frowns as the burning orange liquid slowly seeps toward the liquid from the red canister. Suddenly, the orange liquid ignites the other solution, and a roar rings out as everything in the hall becomes engulfed in flames. The doll that attempted to pierce my kiln joins its brethren dolls clinging to The Bishop. Having rejoined, they slap their rounded-hands against themselves as if mocking my efforts.
Despite being engulfed in flames, The Bishop still glares at me as if contemplating whether he should continue assaulting me. Yet, before he makes his decision, a nearby wall bursts, and a third liquid, this one green, sprays from a pipe. Whatever the liquid touches bubbles on contact and starts to dissolve under the liquid's influence.
“Bah. The diluted Superacid,” he scoffs angrily, “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again soon, child. You’ll pay me back one way or another.”
Finally, he reaches behind himself and raises a purple orb, slamming it to the ground. The orb shatters, and The Bishop and his dolls abruptly vanish.
‘Flee!’
Maneuvering through the flames, the haze is nearly unaffected, but I can feel the shell is getting hot. While entering the door, I can see the flames spreading at a visible rate. Finding myself at the hole, I stare down nervously at the water, afraid of being washed away by it. However, the flames do not give me much choice, so I jump, trusting I shall eventually awaken if washed away. Yet, I am surprised to find myself drifting slowly downward instead of plummeting as I expected, much to my relief.
‘Why did I not attempt this earlier?! There were several occasions this knowledge would have been useful!’
From above me, I can hear the building creak, followed by the sound of the ceiling collapsing. I flee swiftly into the chamber pot tunnels. Once I have returned, I am greeted by the figures of elderly rats’ waddling body’s carrying boxes labeled “Survival Ration Crackers.”
‘When!? How!?’ I scream out in my mind.
