26th of Ashan 719
The sun was setting on Quacia and the end of quite an eventful trial. That morning, Fridgar had fed from a dead whale, then gotten so angry with Rhostus that his lurker totem manifested. He tried to halt the transformation by locking his form, but it was too late; halfway through, his lungs and esophagus had been too small to draw any real breath and he began to choke. Following that near-death experience, they blew off some steam in the fighting pits with Dosan, and now they were headed back to their cave in the cliffside. He flew as a Sohr Khal for only a few bits before reaching his destination, then returned to the form of his Lotharro totem once he was inside.
The mouth of the cave was a solid twelve feet from the normal water level, which left it well out-of-reach of the tidal range when the high tide rolled in. The Protean didn't know how or why, but the cave had not flooded since they'd found it, and for that they were grateful. This cave had become something of a refuge from them, as looking upon the Ashvane Estate and the Woodstock hall made them ill. So, they hid there, in this one corner of Quacia that only they could get to with as much ease, that only they knew of. Once their form set, they looked to Fridgar's hands, then paused. Something was off. For reasons they couldn't explain, his hands looked... pale. The skin of this form was normally quite tanned from the time in the sun, why, now, was it paler? Had they just not been using it as much?
They peered into a puddle, likely left over from the rain, and took a good long look at their reflection. Their hair was lighter, instead of a dark brown, it was a little lighter than a mousy brown. Almost in disbelief, they reached up to his hair to feel it. It was just as thick and wiry, just... a different color? The skin of his face was also paler, his whole body, in fact. Had they somehow overstepped and mutated their totem? Curious, they began shifting in and out of different forms, checking their fur, scales, skin, and hair in all of them bar the shark, lurker, and trachadon, which did not fit in the cave or could not breathe the air. It was the same result through and through, their shades had changed subtly in every form they took. Could this be the result of his advancing in Hone? If so, then why didn't Rhostus look like that? All those questions and no answers.
Somewhat disturbed, the Protean set down their bag and fished their grimoire from its contents. They quickly flicked through their few pages of notes, then fell right back to the first page where it spoke of the runic dialects. Core, which all Runewrights had access to, Lucis, which Rhostus had access to... And Umbral, which he knew nothing about, other than the fact that it was the 'opposite' of Lucis. They could ask Rhostus, but the old man apparently held Umbral Hone in a poor light. What if they were an Umbral Runewright? What did that mean? Would Rhostus disown them? By chance, they closed their grimoire and looked to the roof of the cave with a sigh. There, they saw a spider, just waiting there for some prey to wander into the web it had made. The longer they watched the spider, the more it felt as though the spider was watching them. "What are you looking at?" He spoke aloud, then laid his head back, slowed his breathing and eventually entered a meditative state. Perhaps they could find the answers within their spark?
The darkness surrounded them again, the empty space of his cleared mind. It was an infinite realm of blackness with nothing as far as the eye could see... Until a spider bled through into their meditation, sitting there on its web, spying him. Immediately, the protean recognized it as the same spider from their cave, the one that they'd imagined was staring at them. "What...?" The Protean asked and blinked. How did they get in his head? The spider lowered gently from their web and began to grow exponentially in size, turning from the size of a golden nel to the size of a small dog, then a big cat, and finally a horse. It landed upon the floor before them, and they stumbled back and landed upon their rear while the spider advanced on them.
The monster chittered and screeched, but they didn't understand. Then, the arachnid lifted its leg to carve an odd web-like rune into the air before them. It glowed with the same chaotic, crimson aura that all the protean's runes did. The beast then stepped back and bowed the front half of its body, yielding to Fridgar. The protean eyed the creature with caution, then stood. The rune remained hanging there in the air, so they reached out to touch it. At once, his body tensed and his muscles all but locked as the same rune began to carve into the skin on the back of his hand, the parting of his paler skin revealed a bright, deep red glow beneath, followed by the flow of dark, whispy ether. This was strange because they could feel it in his meditative trance. They shouldn't have been able to feel anything within their own mind, but there it was, burning and itching.
The protean grit his teeth, then pressed hard into their jaw while they endured the carving, then finally, the rune all but dissipated from in front of him and it was done etching into his hand. The rune spoke to him, and it was called 'Numbing'. Fridgar looked back to the arachnid with glee, only to see that it had disappeared. They were left in the void of their mind alone after that, with that searing mark carved into their skin. Perhaps they could apply this rune in the waking world? Intent on trying, they left the trance and took a deep breath of the cold air.
Slowly, their eyes fluttered open, to find that the cave was dark and cold. A glance to the mouth of the cave confirmed their suspicions, it was night outside.
Slowly, the feeling in their body returned to them, and they could feel the same burning sting on their hand, as well as a certain liquid warmth, which ran down their wrist. Disturbed, the Protean activated their permanently echoed night vision and looked to their hand. There it was, in crisp perfect clarity, the same mark he'd seen the spider draw, but carved into his bloodied, broken skin. A glance to his other hand showed his blood-caked claws, still dripping with his own life force. As a Lotharro, he'd inherited very thick skin as an animalistic trait, breaking it with something as dull as a claw was nigh impossible... So for Fridgar to have broken his own skin with his claws while deep in meditation, it was an impressive, if not a moderately morbid feat. Quickly, they opened their grimoire and began to write about their experience with the arachnid, as well as a diagram of this... web-like numbing rune.
Once they'd taken all the notes they could, it was time to try the real thing. Keeping an eye on the bloody, jagged rune, they began to draw the same thing into their arm with their ether. The etchings left in place a deep crimson glow that spurred whisps of darkness, much like the one they'd seen in their trance. Was this Umbral hone? Possibly. But then, this was effectively the pain killer rune, right? Surely such a benevolent thing would be born of Lucis. They were proven wrong as soon as they finished the rune, as Fridgar's entire arm went numb, then limp. It hung lifelessly at his side, and no matter how much they tried, they couldn't make him move it. Not even his fingers responded to his command, which was... strange.
Then the rune faded and all feeling returned. A soft burn throbbed in his hand where his two fingers once sat, heralding that something was definitely wrong. The burn steadily intensified as they slowly returned to reality and realized... they just ripped his fingers off with his teeth... and ate them... Fridgar's breath turned shaky as his self-preservation instinct took hold, it rocked the Protean to their core. What had come over them? Quickly, they refreshed their current form via chrysalis and his fingers regrew, the carving on the back of his hand closed up. He was still caked in blood, but he was whole again. "What the feck..." They asked themselves, still shaking a little from shock. With a sigh, they dipped their fingers in a puddle of his blood, then opened their grimoire again, it was time to take some notes.
And while they wrote in the book, the spider on his ceiling began to wrap its latest catch in a thick cocoon of silk.
The sun was setting on Quacia and the end of quite an eventful trial. That morning, Fridgar had fed from a dead whale, then gotten so angry with Rhostus that his lurker totem manifested. He tried to halt the transformation by locking his form, but it was too late; halfway through, his lungs and esophagus had been too small to draw any real breath and he began to choke. Following that near-death experience, they blew off some steam in the fighting pits with Dosan, and now they were headed back to their cave in the cliffside. He flew as a Sohr Khal for only a few bits before reaching his destination, then returned to the form of his Lotharro totem once he was inside.
The mouth of the cave was a solid twelve feet from the normal water level, which left it well out-of-reach of the tidal range when the high tide rolled in. The Protean didn't know how or why, but the cave had not flooded since they'd found it, and for that they were grateful. This cave had become something of a refuge from them, as looking upon the Ashvane Estate and the Woodstock hall made them ill. So, they hid there, in this one corner of Quacia that only they could get to with as much ease, that only they knew of. Once their form set, they looked to Fridgar's hands, then paused. Something was off. For reasons they couldn't explain, his hands looked... pale. The skin of this form was normally quite tanned from the time in the sun, why, now, was it paler? Had they just not been using it as much?
They peered into a puddle, likely left over from the rain, and took a good long look at their reflection. Their hair was lighter, instead of a dark brown, it was a little lighter than a mousy brown. Almost in disbelief, they reached up to his hair to feel it. It was just as thick and wiry, just... a different color? The skin of his face was also paler, his whole body, in fact. Had they somehow overstepped and mutated their totem? Curious, they began shifting in and out of different forms, checking their fur, scales, skin, and hair in all of them bar the shark, lurker, and trachadon, which did not fit in the cave or could not breathe the air. It was the same result through and through, their shades had changed subtly in every form they took. Could this be the result of his advancing in Hone? If so, then why didn't Rhostus look like that? All those questions and no answers.
Somewhat disturbed, the Protean set down their bag and fished their grimoire from its contents. They quickly flicked through their few pages of notes, then fell right back to the first page where it spoke of the runic dialects. Core, which all Runewrights had access to, Lucis, which Rhostus had access to... And Umbral, which he knew nothing about, other than the fact that it was the 'opposite' of Lucis. They could ask Rhostus, but the old man apparently held Umbral Hone in a poor light. What if they were an Umbral Runewright? What did that mean? Would Rhostus disown them? By chance, they closed their grimoire and looked to the roof of the cave with a sigh. There, they saw a spider, just waiting there for some prey to wander into the web it had made. The longer they watched the spider, the more it felt as though the spider was watching them. "What are you looking at?" He spoke aloud, then laid his head back, slowed his breathing and eventually entered a meditative state. Perhaps they could find the answers within their spark?
The darkness surrounded them again, the empty space of his cleared mind. It was an infinite realm of blackness with nothing as far as the eye could see... Until a spider bled through into their meditation, sitting there on its web, spying him. Immediately, the protean recognized it as the same spider from their cave, the one that they'd imagined was staring at them. "What...?" The Protean asked and blinked. How did they get in his head? The spider lowered gently from their web and began to grow exponentially in size, turning from the size of a golden nel to the size of a small dog, then a big cat, and finally a horse. It landed upon the floor before them, and they stumbled back and landed upon their rear while the spider advanced on them.
The monster chittered and screeched, but they didn't understand. Then, the arachnid lifted its leg to carve an odd web-like rune into the air before them. It glowed with the same chaotic, crimson aura that all the protean's runes did. The beast then stepped back and bowed the front half of its body, yielding to Fridgar. The protean eyed the creature with caution, then stood. The rune remained hanging there in the air, so they reached out to touch it. At once, his body tensed and his muscles all but locked as the same rune began to carve into the skin on the back of his hand, the parting of his paler skin revealed a bright, deep red glow beneath, followed by the flow of dark, whispy ether. This was strange because they could feel it in his meditative trance. They shouldn't have been able to feel anything within their own mind, but there it was, burning and itching.
The protean grit his teeth, then pressed hard into their jaw while they endured the carving, then finally, the rune all but dissipated from in front of him and it was done etching into his hand. The rune spoke to him, and it was called 'Numbing'. Fridgar looked back to the arachnid with glee, only to see that it had disappeared. They were left in the void of their mind alone after that, with that searing mark carved into their skin. Perhaps they could apply this rune in the waking world? Intent on trying, they left the trance and took a deep breath of the cold air.
Slowly, their eyes fluttered open, to find that the cave was dark and cold. A glance to the mouth of the cave confirmed their suspicions, it was night outside.
Slowly, the feeling in their body returned to them, and they could feel the same burning sting on their hand, as well as a certain liquid warmth, which ran down their wrist. Disturbed, the Protean activated their permanently echoed night vision and looked to their hand. There it was, in crisp perfect clarity, the same mark he'd seen the spider draw, but carved into his bloodied, broken skin. A glance to his other hand showed his blood-caked claws, still dripping with his own life force. As a Lotharro, he'd inherited very thick skin as an animalistic trait, breaking it with something as dull as a claw was nigh impossible... So for Fridgar to have broken his own skin with his claws while deep in meditation, it was an impressive, if not a moderately morbid feat. Quickly, they opened their grimoire and began to write about their experience with the arachnid, as well as a diagram of this... web-like numbing rune.
Once they'd taken all the notes they could, it was time to try the real thing. Keeping an eye on the bloody, jagged rune, they began to draw the same thing into their arm with their ether. The etchings left in place a deep crimson glow that spurred whisps of darkness, much like the one they'd seen in their trance. Was this Umbral hone? Possibly. But then, this was effectively the pain killer rune, right? Surely such a benevolent thing would be born of Lucis. They were proven wrong as soon as they finished the rune, as Fridgar's entire arm went numb, then limp. It hung lifelessly at his side, and no matter how much they tried, they couldn't make him move it. Not even his fingers responded to his command, which was... strange.
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And while they wrote in the book, the spider on his ceiling began to wrap its latest catch in a thick cocoon of silk.
