Stratothrax
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Chapter 123
🕑 Added 2021-09-17 00:41:43 +0000 UTC◈ Chapter 123:
Morning light filled the room.
Rain cracked his eyes, then quickly shut them again as the light stung. Too bright.
He was considering simply going back to sleep then and there but there was this annoying noise that was grating on his peace of mind. Snoring. It was snoring. And it was very nearby.
He opened his eyes a little once more, squinting through the brightness.
His eyes drifted down from the ceiling, trying to find the source of the snoring. Opal? But no, his eyes were met with a pair of overly large pajamas, a pair of pajamas on a white wooled sheep girl who was currently spooning a curled up Goblin. Both of them were on top of him.
It was honestly a wonder that Opal was managing to sleep at all with Lyra making so much noise so close to her head, like a two man lumber saw being slowly put to work.
Lyra’s face was smeared against his chest and to his dismay she was openly drooling on his fur. He really wanted that to stop, but then they were so painfully cute together that he couldn't make himself move them off.
Lyra had gone from her neat bed to slumped on top of him at some point in the night. He had to wonder why.
A noise provided a potential answer to that and he turned his head to the side.
Bean was in the room with him. The unsettling lizard leveler was on one of the other beds… curled over something.
It took Rain a moment to realise what it was that he was looking at. Red was beneath the creature, still curled up on his mound of gold, and the creature was curled up on top of Red.
He watched in a kind of detached horror as Bean’s foot long black tongue rolled over Red’s scales, a wash of yellow foam left behind, licking over his face, his cheek, then up to his eyelid where the tip slipped across the rim, then tried to penetrate.
Red seemed to be in a deep sleep but he still murmured incoherently, claws waving vaguely at the air, legs kicking faintly as the black tongue pushed harder, trying to get inside.
Fortunately for Red his scaled eyelids seemed impervious to Bean’s tongue, frustrating the horrifying lizard’s licking.
Bean let out a soft hiss at this and drew back puzzled. He licked some yellow foam from his lips then eyed the Kobold’s neck.
He opened his mouth wide, crimson interior flashing, then brought his needle-like five inch fangs down onto Red’s neck. The fangs touched and then simply pierced through Red’s scales like they weren't even there, their scalpel sharpness puncturing with ease. Rain, in a fuzzy half-asleep state, wondered when Red was going to start screaming or if this was really some kind of weird dream he was having. Instead the Kobold only murmured incoherently as the lizard thing’s fangs became tinted red, swiftly pumping blood out of his body.
It occurred to Rain’s sleep addled mind that Red having his blood drained was probably not a good thing and he fought past the sleepy mind fog, becoming more awake by the moment.
His paw came down on the bed next to his and gripped the bed’s pillow. He then pulled his arm back and flicked it away in one motion. The pillow sailed across the room and slammed into Bean’s side so hard that he was knocked free with a grunt of surprise, droplets of blood flung into the air as his fangs were ripped out of the Kobold’s neck.
Bean landed on his back, claws scrabbling at the floorboards.
“Fuck. Off.” growled Rain, low and dangerous.
Bean hissed and scuttled across the floor on his back, and then up the wall, still on his back, and then across the ceiling, talons allowing him to grip it like some nightmarish spider.
He stopped over Rain’s bed.
Rain decided this was one of the worst sights he had ever seen while waking up in the morning. He glared up at Bean who’s tongue was rolling across his own face, tip slipping under his eyelid and then circling his eyeball.
Rain bared his teeth at the creature hoping it would take the hint.
Bean continued washing his eyeball.
“Shoo,” whisper hissed Rain.
Bean continued gazing at him while washing his eyeball.
Unfortunately, A large blob of yellow foam was building on the creatures lip as he waggled his tongue around and Rain’s eyes widened in slow motion as the blob reached a critical mass and then fell… directly on Lyra’s face.
There was a moment of silence as the blob of foam rolled down her cheek and Lyra’s snoring came to an abrupt halt. Then Lyra blinked awake, her head turning, looking to see why ‘wet’ had dropped on her from above.
The first sight she got to see as she opened her eyes was Bean directly above her on the ceiling, his tongue rolling over his eyeball, mouth wide.
She screamed.
Bean screamed.
Lyra screamed some more.
The yellow foam on her cheek rolled into her mouth.
The screaming ended and she started gagging and spitting, thrashing around on Rain, slapping at her mouth. The struggling woke Opal with a loud curse and the sheep girl suddenly found herself punted over the side of Rain, falling to the floorboards, flopping and flailing like a beached fish.
Bean gave her one last red mouthed hiss and then scuttled across the ceiling to the window where he climbed through at the top and disappeared out of sight.
Rain watched him go, mouth slightly parted. That thing was going to be coming into their room each night?
Maybe it wasn’t too late to find somewhere else to stay...
Across the room Red appeared to be waking, Lyra’s screaming finally getting through to him. The Kobold was clearly pale from the blood loss, his head wobbling as he rose. He blinked at Rain then lifted claws to his face, touching at the yellow foam smeared across his scales.
“Wha?” mumbled Red.
“What the fuckkkk,” groaned Lyra who was slumped breathlessly against the floor.
Rain settled his paw over the hyperventilating sheep girl, giving her something to hang onto and hug.
She latched onto him like a life raft and wiped her mouth on the back of his paw before looking up at him, tears in the corner of her eyes.
“I-I need to renegotiate this deal with Warwick, that, that thing! That horrible nasty Bean creature! ARHHGG-” her scream of misery was cut off as she buried her face in Rain’s fur.
An extremely shaky Red was trying to rise from his pile of gold, arms like that of a decrepit old man, shaking wildly until they gave out under his own weight and he crashed back down, gold coins scattering across the floor.
“Whur harpened?” he slurred.
Bean had taken a lot more blood out of the Kobold than Rain realised. Whatever Warwick said about the creature it was genuinely dangerous and far from being harmless. It made complete sense to him now that this part of the slums was deserted, a person would have to be insane to live around here with that horror crawling through the windows at night.
He wondered what that said about Warwick.
A sleepy Opal was sitting up on his chest now, rubbing grit from her eyes and yawning. He sat up too and she slipped down into his lap.
Red managed to sit up also after a struggle, his back slouched forward as he sat on his pile of gold. He touched gingerly at the bite mark on his neck and gasped as he found it sore and sensitive, the pain waking him properly.
“Will someone tell me what ha-happened?” said the Kobold.
Lyra had recovered somewhat too, climbing to her feet and straightening her dishevelled pajamas as she stood, a small speck of Bean foam still on her cheek. She wiped it away and glanced over at Red, her breath ragged, eyes alighting on his wound.
“We were assaulted. By Bean.”
Red slow blinked at her.
“We were assaulted by a bean?”
“No, the Bean, not a bean. Bean is… wait weren't you listening as we came in yesterday?”
Red got a little defensive, “I was busy. I don't have time to get involved with all of you crazy people’s problems.”
“Busy doing what?!”
“Counting gold. I am the treasurer you know.” He sniffed as though she wasn’t able to understand the importance of his work.
Lyra rolled her eyes. “Look that doesn't matter, the fact is that we were both attacked by a mons- by an insane thing called Bean. It bit you and drooled on me and it’s going to come back!”
Red touched once more at the two red dots on his neck. “...I was bitten by this Bean thing?”
“Yes!”
“And you think it might happen again?”
Lyra nodded seriously.
Red shivered. “That's creepy.” He turned to Opal, “I want a sword. Next time it comes back I’m going to stab it.”
Opal cracked her knuckles as she slipped from Rain’s lap. “Oh yeah, it’s about time.”
She darted over to the Kobold who blinked in confusion as she pulled him off the gold so that he was standing, albeit swaying slightly. She looked him over then lifted his arms and compared their length to her own, then she moved them up and down experimentally, then extended and retracted them.
“What are you doing?!”
Just checking your balance and fit.” Opal waved for Lyra’s attention.
“Open your weird Rain space sheepy I want to get something”
“It’s not, It's not his space it’s mine!
“Then why is it exact same shade of black as his fur?”
“That’s just a coincidence!”
“Uhhuh. Well? I’m waiting.”
Lyra was clearly displeased but her wool washed to black as she rolled up her pajama leg.
Opal darted inside the billowing wool cloud and in moments was back out, she held a gladius in a fat leather scabbard wrapped tight with steel chain down its length making it even larger, it had no guard as it was a gladius so it appeared as if it was a crude cudgel.
“I’ve seen this and it’s not a sword, it’s a club,” said the Kobold.
“Maybe to someone who doesn't know the trick. Look, it opens.” She fiddled with a hidden catch on the scabbard and drew the blade. The highly polished gold blade.
Red’s eyes went very round as he examined it. “For… me?”
“See I thought you would like this one, it’s like a blade made of treasure.”
He carefully took the blade.
“This is-” he seemed to gather himself. “Treasure is not for stabbing! This is as bad as that crazy sheep throwing gold at people!”
“You aren't letting go of the treasure though, you’ll still have it in your claws, that means the person you are stabbing doesn't own it even when it’s inside their body.”
“It’s still disrespecting the treasure. Treasure is for heaping in piles and sleeping on, not getting blood all over.”
“So you want a regular boring steel blade instead?”
Red paused as he considered that. The blade was admittedly very shiny. “I… I… I will trial it for now. Temporarily.”
He waved it in the air experimentally, then, gaining confidence, he made a few shaky chopping motions.
“This… isn’t bad, it feels nice to swing and is well balanced. You do know something about this kind of thing I guess,” he paused in his experimentation, something occurring to him. “Why do you like sharp things so much anyway?”
“I don’t. I only like good sharp things, good sharp things that don't fail you at the worst moment.” She picked out The Sounder from the pile of treasure on Red’s bed, lifting the thorny rapier into the air. She looked it over carefully. “I was a young Gobbo being chased in the dungeon by a cave dog, it cornered me, I had to fight it, but of course I thought I could win. I had a great Gobbo sword, everyone said it was a great sword, absolute peak of Gobbo crafting, a masterpiece. The dog charged and I swung the sword. The sword snapped in two. I drew my valuable Gobbo dagger and stabbed it in the chest. My dagger disintegrated into little bits. I then realised the dark truth. Gobbo weaponry is very shit.”
“How did you survive?”
“I bashed it on the head with a rock and then kicked it in the balls. It ran away.”
“Oh.”
“Point is,” said Opal waving the rapier and waggling her eyebrows at her own ingenious pun, “That a good weapon is important, you may as well have nothing if it isn't good… But Gobbos can't create that because Gobbo ancestral memory for making good weapons is... nowhere to be found… It’s just gone, if it ever existed.”
Red blinked at her in surprise. “Really? Kobold’s have ancestral memory of weapon making. I’ve always wondered why Gobbo weapons are so terrible in comparison. Huh.”
“Mmhm. So I collect good sharp things because I never want to experience that again, also sharp things are neat.” She lifted the Sounder, “and this one has lots of sharpness.”
As if recalling something she turned to Rain who was cleaning and inspecting his fur for yellow foam as he sat on the collapsed bed.
She raised the thorny rapier and pointed it at Rain’s chest.
“This,” she said, “Is The Sounder.”
Rain paused in his inspection and looked down at the very thin and spikey weapon.
“Oh. Looks pointy.”
He went back to cleaning and inspecting his fur.
Opal instantly rounded on Lyra, “Did you see that! Did you see how brave he is! All those Orcs were terrified of The Sounder but Rain didn’t even flinch! He wasn’t afraid at all!”
“Do you really have to insist on that name,” muttered Lyra, then louder, “I, uh, think he might not know what that- uhm, w-well, I’m not sure in a small town they would- uh, look can you please stop calling it that, I wish I hadn't said anything, really, please.”
“No.” said Opal. “I’m going to use The Sounder and sound my enemies to death… Unless you tell me what it means.”
Lyra’s dismay was clear and her gaze moved to Rain. She would have to explain-? In front of-? She was sure she would die of embarrassment if that came to pass. No. No way.
“It doesn't mean anything, it’s just something I made up.”
“Oh? Then why were those Orcs so scared?”
“They were scared of you, you’re very scary holding a weapon like that, it wasn’t the name or mental image at all.”
Opal considered this, “I don’t believe you, and hold on, what do you mean by mental image?”
“The mental image of being swung at by that, it is very pointy, look at all those thorns.”
Opal held the rapier up thoughtfully. It was very pointy, that was true. Was Lyra really telling the truth?
Red took notice of what she was doing and paused.
“I want a name for my sword too,” he said, “I’m calling mine Gold.”
“That's not a very scary name, it just sounds like a name that will get you robbed.”
Red sniffed “You can think that if you like.” He chopped at his bed, annoyed, the metal hacking down into the wooden frame half an inch before he levered it free and chopped again, the gladius landing with a shunk, then again, and again.
“It doesn't matter what I think it matters what your enemies think, and a good intimidating name is an advantage. ‘Gold’ is just going to attract pickpockets.”
“It’s a good name!”
“I mean, is it though? Your name is Red with a sword called Gold. What? are you going to name your clothing Purple?”
He flushed with real anger, “I didn't name me that! It’s not my bloody fault I-”
His shaky armed chop missed the wooden frame completely and shunked into his leg.
Red stared down in horror at the sword part embedded in his leg, blood already washing down the blade.
“Food for Rain… and a healing potion for Red,” said Lyra with a sigh.
Comments
andrew murry
lol poor red
