Adric drew his cloak tight around himself as the gondola drifted along the canal, not because of any chill wind, but a discomfort arising from how out of place he was in the area. The gondolier cast the occasional doubtful glance back at his young passenger, and Adric affected an unconcerned smile whenever he felt the man's eyes upon him. This wasn't his first visit to Silkshore, but he hadn't quite learned to be at ease with the place. Perhaps that was for the best, given its reputation. Certainly, he noted as he passed by on the gondola, both residents and other visitors cast wary glances about themselves every now and then.
Before too long, the gondola slowed as it approached the Ridgewater Jetty, and Adric sat a little straighter as he prepared to disembark. The gondolier gave him one more worried glance as he tethered the vessel. Adric just gave him his most charming smile again, paying the fare for the journey as he stood up, then stepped off. He scanned the rooftops with his eyes and picked out the distinctively patterned silk hanging that indicated his destination before making his way for that building.
Climbing the exterior steps to the rooftop, he found the marketplace and wove his way through the crowd, keeping his eyes peeled for Ojak's stand. The vendor wasn't hard to pick out; Tycherosi were a minority in Duskvol, and many had a distinctive feature which indicated their rumored demonic heritage. In Ojak’s case, his skin was red and he had purple eyes. Adric would have found him unsettling even without those unusual traits. The man was unshaven, with a pointy face and goatee beard, and he was always scratching himself and sniffing, eyes darting constantly as if he were always on edge.
“Ah, uh, Wren, my boy!” Ojak greeted Adric in his usual nervous manner.
Adric tried to hide the twitch of irritation he felt at being called ‘boy’ as he stepped up to the vendor’s stall. Instead, he sighed and forced himself to smile pleasantly, “Hello Ojak.”
“What, uh, do you seek today?”
“Well, I could use another vial of electro or two for starters.”
“Of course, of course.” Ojak nodded, pulling out a couple vials from his stocks and slipping them onto the stall counter just out of reach and keeping them hidden within his palm. Adric slid what he knew to be the expected amount of slugs onto the counter, and Ojak slid the vials within reach, before making the silver slugs vanish in one fluid motion. Adric grabbed and pocketed the vials, then turned his attention to what was on display at the stall.
“And what else do you desire? Perhaps knowledge? Yes, knowledge is good for one in your trade, no?”
Adric sighed again. This was the other thing that irritated him about Ojak. He always had in mind something particular he wanted to sell, always some musty old book or other in which Adric had no real interest. Even as he scanned the stall’s wares, he could spy the vendor out the corner of his eye, pulling a tome out and setting it on the counter with a pointed thud. Instead of rising to the bait, Adric traced a finger along the bottles on display, stopping and backtracking as he caught sight of a label that interested him. He smiled, this time in true satisfaction at finding something of interest.
“Yes. Knowledge is good.” Adric agreed, tapping the bottle. “How much for this?”
“Hmm?” Ojak glanced up, scratching himself distractedly as he peered round at what Adric was indicating. Then he immediately shook his head in disinterest, “Oh no. No no no. That is no way to learn, boy. Better to do the work yourself, yes?” He thumped the cover of the book for emphasis. Adric continued to ignore the tome.
“Not everything that can be learned can be learned by reading, Ojak. How much?”
The vendor let out an explosive sigh, sullenly rattling off the price for the bottle. Adric had to haggle a bit, and he was sure the vendor hiked the price to make it less attractive than the book, for which he offered what he promised was a ‘tiny’ sum for such a rare and valuable volume. Adric eventually humoured the vendor by bothering to look at the title on the front page: ‘Bindings, Releases, and Eldritch Bondage.’
Adric suppressed a shudder of disquiet as he closed the cover and gave a tight smile, “I think I’ll just take the Spirit Finish, Ojak. Thanks.”
The vendor glared at him and drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter, scratching himself with the other hand before throwing up his arms melodramatically in defeat, “Fine, I will sell the Finish at a discount, if you promise to come back for this next time.”
Adric narrowed his eyes, suspicious of Ojak’s insistence. Eventually, he shrugged. Even if he bought the book, that didn’t mean he had to read it. “Okay, deal.”
Upon returning to the lair, Adric ducked into the alcove that contained his sleeping space, and pulled shut the curtain around himself before setting his satchel down on the floor. He opened it up and pulled out the bottle he had eventually managed to acquire from Ojak. The label read, ‘Spirit Finish: Essence of Combat Prowess’.
Spirit Finish was a product Adric had learned of recently, and when he saw it in Ojak’s stall he knew he had to try it. It was a form of spirit essence, the distilled memories and experiences of a captured spirit. This particular brand was specifically intended to allow the user to gain the skills of the deceased by imparting their life experiences. Although Adric had no desire to kill anyone again if he could help it, he knew he needed to learn how to defend himself, and perhaps if he were more skilled he would even be able to do so without killing. But he wasn’t learning fast enough through normal training. He needed a little something extra, and this seemed like just the thing.
Adric sat down and stared down at the bottle in his hand for a moment, hesitating. Whose experiences might these be? What might it cost him, to take another being’s experiences into himself? He scowled, shoving these thoughts aside. It didn’t matter. Dr Erdrad would find him and Mara eventually, and he needed whatever edge he could get to keep himself and his sister safe. He didn’t care what it cost him.
He popped the cork and a wisp of misty light curled from the top. He put his lips to the bottletop and inhaled before he could hesitate further. The essence rushed through him, finding its way to his nervous system and he fell backwards in his cot, spasming as if he were being electrocuted, which, in a strange way, he was…
He had infiltrated the manor on the upper floor, and made his way into the study. One guard was patrolling along the bannister overlooking the lower level of the study, and he heard another coughing below. He crept up behind the one near the bannister, kicked his feet out from under him and drove the point of his blade straight through the man’s eye and into his brain, killing him instantly.
As the other guard raced up the stairs, the assassin stood his ground and held his sword ready. The guard rounded the corner and, weapon already drawn, lashed out towards him…
Adric parried his sister’s swing clumsily, his body not yet able to match the experience his mind had absorbed from the essence of the dead assassin. In one of the many visions he’d had of that man’s exploits, the guard had been staggered long enough for a killing blow. But in this instance, Adric himself was the one staggered, and his sister capitalised with a swing that drew just shy of his own neck. She was slightly shorter than him, but as always she managed to make it seem like she were the one looking down. Despite this, she smirked and nodded approvingly, “Well, I s’pose you did okay this time.”
“Thanks.” Adric smiled back.
His sister gave him a stern look, “Don’t get cocky, you still got a way to go.”
Adric sighed, “I know.”
Her expression softened and she shook her head, “Whatever it is you and these ‘Night Feathers’ get up to, you can’t afford to hold back. Not out there.”
Adric winced as his mind drifted back into the recent past...
Alex had dropped the vial of trance powder down the stairs, but it proved a poor delivery method. One of the Lampblacks was stunned, but the other still charged towards them. Adric brought up his lightning hook in a moment of panic and slammed it into the man's chest. There was a pop, a flash of light, and a smell of burnt ozone and flesh as the man flew back down the stairs…
Adric recalled the empty staring eyes of the man's face and shook his head to banish the image. It wouldn't go away.
“I… uh… I need to go… work on something.” He said, turning away and leaving his sister, who watched his retreat with a look of concerned confusion.
Adric sat down in the workshop and got out his journal. He considered continuing his research into Erdrad’s ritual and the Eternal Maw, but his stomach revolted at the notion for some reason.
He had been such an idiot. The death on his own hands was quite enough to haunt his dreams, and now he had given himself the memories of a murderer as well. Not to mention the nightmares of that… thing he encountered in the ghost field.
Still, the Spirit Finish seemed to have worked. His body didn't have the training yet to match what he'd gained from the assassin’s spiritual essence, but the instincts were there now, somewhere deep within in his mind. And, as unsettling as the method was, he did find himself morbidly intrigued and wondering about how it worked.
Obviously a spirit with the proper background and skillset was necessary. It also seemed logical that the spirit should be freshly released from its body, since a spirit's sense of self erodes over time as it is slowly consumed by madness.
As these thoughts raced through his mind, Adric took up a pen and started to scribble down notes in his journal. As he became lost in his observations and theories about how the Spirit Finish might be developed, he was able to forget his fears, if only for a short while.
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