Night On The Town (Open, Zantaric Flashback)

[Yeti]

At the time, Nepaket thought she was escaping.

The circus had taken her in Essyrn. She'd been a feral child, caged and little more than a piece to be sold, perhaps a future exotic servant in the North. Fate had been kind to her, though she hadn't recognized it as such. Learning how to speak the common tongue, fighting the entire way against her supposed 'captors', she knew better now that they wouldn't harm her. Yet at this point in her life, an adolescent Nepaket was still wary, and with that lingering distrust came the longing to escape.

So when there was a chance to slip out in Zantaric, she leapt for it without a thought.

The moon loomed over the village streets, its light slipping into the dark alleyway, catching on the edges of Nepaket's four stingers. She'd been lingering from alley to alley, reveling in the dark. All the strange lights and smells egged her deeper and deeper into the city, and it was absolutely fascinating. Yet her nerves itched now, being so far away from the confines of the circus tents. What would happen if they noticed her gone? Would they abandon her completely? Perhaps it had been a mistake to leave them...

She'd made up her mind to return then, but not for awhile. The night was young and Nepaket hadn't felt this free since before the cages! She could do anything she wanted here!

Her mandibles split wide, releasing an excited screech as she began what would surely be a horrifying wonderful night on the town in Zantaric.

[quaggan]

 Hadrian was quite pleased to have found Zantaric. From what little he's observed of the place they called Hyoite, he surmised that it was unlikely that he'd find any necromancer there. While there existed villages and communities, they were dispersed and focused extensively on survival. A very tightly-knit group would have noticed such a talent and, either put it to work to the point where it would be impossible to hide, or let their prejudices take over. He should search elsewhere.

Hid comfortably in his closed armour, he joined a trade caravan heading south as a guard. His appearance drew some questions, but there were enough magically gifted people among them that he could make an educated guess about it and take a risk when preparing an answer. He lied about having a skilled wizard grow metal plates on his skin, for protection reasons. It passed and no one seemed to suspect him.

He's heard about Zantaric from one of those guards. He joined the conversation and contributed carefully, making sure not to reveal his lack of knowledge. They described the place as founded and run on the principle of freedom rather than laws, a haven for those who had no other place to practice their art or indulge in their pleasures. Perhaps it would be the only place in this new world where he could conduct his search without having to account for laws and customs he had no way of knowing.

He took a calculated risk and buried his armour before stripping completely in some bushes near the village. He needed to make sure that he could return in disguise, should his attempt fail. He was not about to endanger his search for a stupid gamble. He felt quite naked without it, but he should be able to escape, barring extraordinary circumstances.

Luckily for him, it turned out his fellow one time guard was right. While some heads turned as he walked the streets, the overwhelming majority of people paid him little attention and went on their way. There were no torches and pitchforks, no howling mobs, no panic; while he was seen and noticed, he was not regarded as a threat. One small furry creature leaped from the roof of a nearby house and scratched at his skull with something he later deduced to be a pencil (people kept snickering behind his back, leading him to the conclusion that it has drawn/written something humorous, possibly insulting, on the surface). Some boys wagered who can kick the ball at him and knock the skull off his spine, they followed him for some streets before growing bored. One curious individual staggered out of a suspect establishment and proceeded to rant about what a perfectly shaped skull he had, perfect for drinking blood out of! She tried to buy the rights to own it after his death before slumping down on a street, overcome by some substance. While Hadrian could neither read nor write any of the modern languages, he memorized her face - perhaps it was something to consider later.

After making a round, he decided to return to his hiding place and put the armour back on. It made him easier to hit, but also provided protection and possibly made him look more professional. He decided against wearing a helmet - there was no advantage in hiding his nature here. He ended up holding it under his arm - probably a bait for strong pickpockets, but he was confident in his ability to procure a replacement.

The sun has already set, but it made little difference to him. After all, he had no limited organic eyes, his perception was not affected by illumination or lack thereof. During his first foray into Zantaric, he noticed few promising locations that appeared to be good places for him to begin. While it was mainly a test run, he also gathered additional information that provided some much-needed direction to his search.

As he walked towards a dilapidated building that functioned as a contract broker's office, a screech coming from a nearby alleyway. While Hadrian didn't have ears, he could still feel air vibrations through his bones and interpret them properly - a lot of the officers he answered to preferred to address their troops with their voices. While his reconnaissance trip provided him with a lot of interesting sounds to catalogue, and he had no foundations to believe that it was anything out of ordinary, gathering information was an always vital secondary goal. He glanced over to see a fascinating figure seemingly blending humanoid top with insectoid bottom, the largest he's ever seen. The screech seemed to be coming from the gaping chasm where the face should be - the chasm that quickly closed, rearranging itself. As functional a mouth as any other he's seen.

The source of the sound probably could see him staring, so there was no point pretending not to pay attention. Better to acknowledge his actions. During his brief stint as a caravan guard, he picked up a few greeting forms that hopefully would be appropriate.

"Good morning to you!"

[Yeti]

Well, should've known making noise would attract attention. Nepaket was so certain it would be a fellow circus performer. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was for sure about to be a violent affair. A hiss was preparing itself in the back of her throat, body settling into an intimidating stance that screamed she was ready to fight all the way back to her tent. But when she opened her eyes and caught sight of the bag of metal and bones stepping around the street corner, she straightened up.

Alive? Was it alive? Were humans able to survive that? Wait, was it a human? Or just somebody who looked like the inside of a human? Nepaket had never seen anyone in such a state as the skeleton. It was the first she'd ever met anyone undead.

This must be what they look like inside out! The thought surfaced a little too giddy in her head. Interesting! Go see. Tonight you can see!

"Hell-low." Nepaket attempted to speak back. She tried again, "Hello." She was still learning to control her mouthparts to form human language. It was a struggle piecing all her plates so that they flowed naturally. As a result, her tone remained flat and impassive.

The skeleton hadn't run off, so it must not have been afraid of her. Nepaket couldn't help but appreciate that. "Who err... are you? Are you-" She peered very closely at the writing on his skull, "-Get Boned? That ni- not nice."

[quaggan]

 Hadrian listened, carefully focusing his attention on the sound. The vibrations seemed slightly different from those emitted by other people, but were still clear enough for him to make out the intended words. The curious individual appeared to be more friendly than the denizens of Zantaric he encountered before - or perhaps she was trying to get closer in order to steal something from him. It was a risk he was willing to take.

It was hard to gauge where was she directing her gaze and her attention, as the curious structure of her head was so different from the faces he was growing used to. But he was not left wondering for long, she spoke up about the subject of her interest. She must have been able to read the script used by that creature. He couldn't guess at how common literacy was in this world, but to be able to recognize the letters in the night indicated enhanced sight at her part.

"Writing on my head is too not nice" he agreed. He had to spare a longer thought about the words - 'Get Boned'? Bones was what he was composed of, but why would anyone think he would need more bones? Perhaps most sentient races evolved radically different skeletons and he should acquire some of those modern bones to glue to himself in order to mask his age. Next time he ended up the vicinity of appropriate corpses, perhaps he should cut them open to see.

For now, there was a more immediate concern to take care of. He pointed to the stained skull. "Is it-" he groped around for a word. "Can it be washed?" Walking around with a silly writing on his head would damage his credibility, so he should get rid of it. Perhaps he should have tried getting some water into his helmet to at least rinse it off, but the colour turned him off any puddles he came across.

[Yeti]

The writing was scrawled quite hastily. Nepaket could see it just fine in the limited light. Its lettering was in pretty poor taste, but it was thankfully in pencil and therefore...

"Yes." The excited nodding she responded with didn't match her voice, but the exuberance was there. She crept closer towards the 'Boned' guy, stingers waving in the air. He seemed alright, though with that pencil, he would probably attract more unwanted attention than anything. But how to take it off? Nepaket remembered seeing human wounds. They would rub alcohol on anything that needed to be cleaned. Maybe this was sort of like the same thing.

An idea was starting to sprout in her mind. This was the first person outside of the circus she'd spoken to. Somebody who could assist in her 'escape'.

She gestured to the armor. "Are you exrrr... explorer? If clean skulled, can I go too?" Her eyes, embedded deep under her facial plates, seemed to be glittering. "I think I know what to do."

[quaggan]

 Hadrian has met 'explorers' before. According to what he understood from the few information sources he could find (the people from that caravan, conversations he overheard, amateur observation), he deduced that explorers are people who sought knowledge of the world through experience - just like forward scouts for an army. He considered adopting this moniker for himself in order to explain his ignorance, but there was no need for it so far.

"Go wear-where?" he quickly corrected himself. There were a few sounds in this speech that he was not used to producing. Unlike words and sentences, it was rather hard to practice - alone, he would have no one to correct him if he got something wrong.

Then again, the individual's destination could matter less than he believed. So far, he was led to believe that Zantaric was a haven of freedom where one could do whatever they desired, without the oversight of the laws or tribal customs. What little he's heard of the contemporary world, there were no separate mention of any countries or areas where the art of death was practiced. If it survived, this town might be his best shot at finding a new master.

At any rate, there was no point closing off alternate routes. He should not pin all of his plans on a single promising city, it would be good to have at least a lead. If nothing else, he would hear her out.

[Yeti]

A confused whistling noise came from somewhere inside the gaps of each faceplate.

Where? Now 'where' was what Nepaket had hoped the skeleton would provide. What did she want to do? The night was young and she was free! Free to do whatever she liked, whatever caught her fancy. Zantaric was to be a playground. But how was she supposed to know what to do? What did people do when they had the world at their fingertips?

Some people went drinking right? But what did that mean? Drinking water was not exactly a celebratory occurrence. So what about festivals? She could latch on to festivals. Those sounded fun. And so many people attended those. They'd be singing, and laughing and-

"I want to go..." What had to be the equivalent of eyebrows for her knotted together as if in deep thought. "Dancing." Nodding with all the reverence of a sage, she seemed set firmly with that answer. It was all she really knew to do.

"If I hel-help you," She pointed at his head, "You help mrr... me see dancing!"

This seemed like a completely feasible trade off to her. Absolutely.

[quaggan]

 Hadrian cocked his head at the strange noise. It was a rather useless quirk - the position of his skull had no effect on his ability to process the environment. The spectre commanding his squad said it must have been a postimprint from the time he was alive - plenty of people in the army had one.

Fortunately, the individual didn't seem to expect him to understand the noise, as she spoke again, this time in a way he could roughly understand. She wanted to go dancing. He did remember dancing from his observations as a part of customs and rituals in some Hyoite villages. She didn't look anything like the people of the tundra, but his surveillance was far from comprehensive. Did she want to go all the way to the frozen north?

There was of course the possibility that this custom spread across the contemporary world, not unlike the way his lost master's armies slowly crept across all continents in the past. He decided to stick with this hypothesis - it was a simpler one, and would not require him to alter his plan. He nodded, mimicking her gesture. It would be good for him to get in the habit of adapting body language typical to this era.

Zantaric was meant to be the town where everything was allowed - there should be at least one place for them to find. And even if they failed, their search should yield a lot of new information. His first walk around the town was by no means a wide-range reconnaissance - and he was never a member of the scout squads to begin with.

He recalled that one of the customs to be observed in this time was exchanging names when meeting for the first time. "I am Hadrian" he carefully pronounced. He still felt a tinge of pride at the sound - only those who distinguished themselves in battle were given separate names. He would not discard it, not without a direct order.

[Yeti]

"Haa-drr-ee-aann." Nepaket articulated her facial plates to repeat back, "Hadrian."

She gestured to herself, the plates around her mouth perking up into a smile before she spoke. "I am Nepaket." A name that the circus had given her, as her old name would be very difficult for those with the common tongue to pronounce. It was a name she liked better than the old one anyway. The old one was what the abandoners had called her.

Hadrian did not seem like a threat at all. If he was willing to take her dancing, then she would try her best to help him. Looking down the alley, buildings upon buildings lined the village streets. Some lights were on in the open windows above them, but for the most part the rooms were dark and closed off.

Except for one window, which stood open, yet remained dark. A place to start searching maybe?

"I can help you there. Find water or al-alcohol?" Nepaket pointed to the window.

[quaggan]

 Hadrian took a moment to match the sounds to the letters. Nepaket seemed perfectly willing to give him a second, as he didn't have good enough grasp of how her head worked to deduce from the arrangements of her faceplates that she was looking around. As he processed, he remained in a state of half-alertness, ready to refocus his mind on any new input. A soldier was not raised to ponder: even when working through information, he was paying attention to his surroundings.

He followed the direction of her gaze to the dark window, as his mind was presented with a solution. He was familiar with using water for cleaning purposes, but never heard about this application of alcohol. The people he's watched before would be very offended at it, perhaps even try to take it away to pour down their throats instead. Was Nepaket trying to play a trick on him, or has the art of writing turned to using such diverse media that simple water was not enough to wash it off?

He nodded. "We go."

[Yeti]

To say the scorpion lady appeared to suddenly spring forwards like a wound up toy would be an understatement. Indeed, her monotonous voice had done well in masking an exuberant, energetic youth. She moved swiftly to the building, all four of her stingers hooking forwards.

One stinger, two, three and four plunged their needle points into the surface. Doubled with her arms and legs, Nepaket very easily scaled up around 6 or 7 feet of flat wall.

Thankfully the cover of night did well to mask all of this from prying eyes. Clambering over the ledge, she turned to look down at Hadrian.

Although she didn't say anything, it was clear she was waiting for him to follow.

In the back of her mind, she was dimly aware that perhaps breaking into someone else's lair might be wrong. But it was all in good intentions. Surely anyone living here might understand.

[quaggan]

 Nepaket moved with a speed of lightning, charging forward so fast, Hadrian's sight barely could keep up with her. What incredible skill she possessed! His warrior instincts couldn't help but admire her raw power, even as he fought down the combat reflexes. She was not an enemy right now, and while he should acknowledge and respect her ability, there was no need for him to strategize on how to deal with her.

  It was clear that she was waiting for him to follow, and he never was the type to lag behind. He didn't have any useful stingers, but his bones were held together by powerful magic that made up for the literal lack of muscles. He pulled the gauntlets off, casually sticking them inside the armour - there was quite a bit of space that was meant to be filled by flesh, and provided him with a good container to keep necessary items.

He utilized the tiny holes left by her stingers as she scaled the wall. He stabbed his fingers inside the small space, heaving himself up. It was a feat a flesh and blood human would not be able to execute - their fingers did not have enough strength to pull their entire body. While the lack of muscles, fat and meat made Hadrian significantly lighter, the plate armour more than made up for it.

He kept pulling himself up until his hand closed over a rather thin windowsill. He heaved himself up and over, as effortlessly as he made the climb look. He glanced outside one last time, but it seemed like no one has noticed their climb - or simply didn't care. The window appeared to have a lock on the inside - they were rather fortunate to find it open. While he was willing to try and see if a bone finger could double as a lockpick, he preferred not to depend on unreliable skills.

The room was rather dark and small, barely large enough for them to stand comfortably without having to huddle limbs and tails around their bodies. Hadrian's sight distinguished some furniture - a chair on three legs, some pile of fabric in the corner and a small cabinet. The last one piqued his attention - he headed towards it, moving carefully in case the place was trapped. He slowly pulled the door open, to his relief finding no suspicious strings or mechanisms. There were a few boxes and containers inside, including some bottles. He's learned that they are used for holding fluids in this time.

He extended his arm to hand the bottle over to Nepaket. "Water or alcohol?" He couldn't tell - both fluids were transparent, and he had no sense of smell.

[Yeti]

Close-quarters was a bit of an understatement. Whoever lived here didn't often visit much. A stale odor hung in the air, dust clinging to fabric piled up in one corner. Something about this picture didn't sit right with her...

She couldn't dwell long on that though, as Hadrian produced a bottle. The clear liquid inside looked a lot like water. Nepaket took the bottle carefully in her claws and sniffed.

If the arachnid had a nose to wrinkle, she would've done so now.

"Alcohol?" She winced, "Strr-ooong."

This would work very well to help wounds! At least Nepaket believed so. She'd watched an injured man use a clear alcohol to clean blood from a flesh cut. Maybe it'd work on the skull to rid him of his 'wound.' Clearly Nepaket knew how medication worked. Clearly.

"I'll rrrub it on your he-head! Fix skull!" She reached to one of the fabrics, intending to pour some of the alcohol out, but paused.

Oddly enough, the bottle seemed quite fancy compared to the rest of the tiny 'apartment.' She peered over Hadrian as the room was so small, noting the remainder of the bottles were just as well kept. The boxes appeared to be labeled in another language than Common.

A bit strange. Nepaket took one of the rags, her plated brows furrowing again, and she began dabbing some of the alcohol on the cloth. She spoke a little quieter. "This room... Feels weird."

[quaggan]

 Hadrian watched as she began to soak the fabric in alcohol. Perhaps there were some other properties he could notice to later distinguish the fluid - viscosity, texture, thickness... His observation was interrupted by Nepaket's words. Was there something wrong? A part of him was paying attention to the room, but he hasn't noticed any suspicious movement or change. Then it would have to be something that was out of place to begin with, ever since they entered.

He focused his artificial senses on the dark room. There were no suspicious sounds for him to pick up on - most of the auditory input came from the outside. If it was a sound, it must have been too faint for him to pick up on. His physical sensations were restricted only to his bones, so he could not rely on it. Visual, then? He glanced up - once raised, he did not retain the same limiting preconception and blind spots a living being would. There was little of interest on the ceiling, only some spots and cracks.

Of course, he was at a disadvantage to begin with. He had no idea how a room in this contemporary world should look like - all he had to compare were memories of a past so distant, it had no bearing on the present that he could tell.

His hand reached lower, resting on the grip of his sword. "Yes? What is it?"

[Yeti]

Reaching out, Nepaket gingerly began washing the writing from the skull. The alcohol left a somewhat distasteful scent, but hopefully the skeleton couldn't distinguish it. At least it wasn't as strong as the bottle.

"Don't knn...know." She muttered, "Jusst... bottle is new, but rrr-room looks..."

Bad. The room looked old, but it was as if someone had intentionally made it so. It was so small and nondescript, it felt off. Yet the bottles were brand new, and even with her limited knowledge of the outside world, it seemed valuable. Something desirable. So why was it here?

The writing easily scrubbed off. If one looked very, very closely the faintest grey lines might be visible, but otherwise 'Get Boned' was no longer there. Nepaket stepped back, satisfied with her work.

It was then that the creak of a door opening below became audible, followed by loud footsteps echoing from beyond the room, down a hall. She caught bits and pieces of dialogue. A raspy, harsh voice mostly, though it appeared to be speaking with someone.

"...Had it coming to him. Poison's probably nicer than what he deserved honestly."

"Do ya think he's got any left?"

"Of course he did. I reckon a whole store is sitting in his stash. Just wouldn't share."

"Pity pity... Should've been a little more considerate."

[quaggan]

 Hadrian stood still. With no restless muscles, it was yet another field where he excelled over flesh creatures, although it was a rather minor and highly situational ability. He focused his senses on the room around them instead. If there was something wrong, he would have to find it - if not to recognize the problem, then at least to be able to summon this memory in the future, and learn from it.

The problem seemed to be ages that did not match. There was dust and no signs of maintenance or upkeep in the room, that Hadrian noticed, but simply chalked it up to Zantaric customs. With no law to enforce hygiene or orderliness, it was to be expected. He recalled the shape and appearance of the bottle, categorizing it as 'new'.

The sounds from the outside grew too close for Hadrian to just classify them as ambient noise. Nepaket seemed to have noticed as well. The skeleton focused on locating the source more than the words spoken. Two voices, one louder and more domineering. The rhythm of the footsteps suggested that they were bipedal, and most species with that characteristic had their speech organs on their heads, without whom they could not survive. He could locate it by detecting the source of the sound to prepare for a strike.

His soldier mind was already preparing for the encounter. Even in lawful places unlike Zantaric, trespassing and helping oneself to what was inside would not be welcome. The two voices spoke of poison in a dismissive and flippant manner that suggested a familiarity with violence. It wasn't likely that this could be solved peacefully.

"Flee or fight?" he asked quietly, his finger bones wrapping around the handle of his sword. He could get in position to take their heads off before they even enter the room, but they should also be able to climb down in time to escape. Nepaket was very fast, and Hadrian would not be harmed by falling from this height.

Only as he awaited her response did he realize that he instinctively deferred to Nepaket. He was a soldier, not a leader - he followed orders.

[Yeti]

In that time frame, Nepaket was in a frenzy, grabbing a couple of bottles.

Why? Well, she was not really thinking much about it. Honestly, it was mostly because the bottle tops were very shiny! A big amber-colored gem was attached to the top. The idea of them being valuable had struck her, and so now, under pressure, she was scrambling to take a few. But as an after thought, she dunked some of the liquid on the floor, creating a puddle.

"Flee!"

Turning to the window, she began crawling out about as quick as she'd made her way inside, carrying a couple gold bottle caps. The voices were getting louder, the floor thin enough that a few fallen bottles caught their attention.

"Hey, what was that?"

"Damn it no way do you think-"

Heavy boots thundered up the stairs, the door knob jostling and keys rattling from the hall.

[quaggan]

 Hadrian didn't even try to reach the window first - he knew he couldn't match Nepaket's speed, and he was confident in his ability to handle whoever came through the door. He gripped his sword tightly as he heard them pick up the pace, ready to defend himself if they came in. He noticed the puddle created by the fluid spilled on the floor, shifting his position slightly to avoid it - he might not have known what he was dealing with, but preferred not to have to find it out directly.

He waited one beat - for Nepaket to get away from the building wall so she wouldn't get crushed under his armour - before turning on his heel and dashing away. Behind him, he heard the scraping of key against the lock and hurried whispers - they must have caught some sounds, or just had very good gut instincts. He charged across the floorboards, all but throwing himself through the window.

[Yeti]

CRASH

Nepaket scrambled clear of the wall just as Hadrian spilled out behind her, the two of them landing in the alley once more. She'd thrown herself the rest of the way down, hitting a refuse pile before skittering further down, trying to find shadows to obscure herself.

Above, the two men trying to get in had managed to finally unlatch the door. The first immediately slipped on the exposed puddle, nearly dragging down the other. Their curses could be heard from ground level.

"What the h-"

"It's a mess! Someone got here before us!"

"Are you kidding me?" A loud bang, most likely one of them slamming their fist into the wall.

Soon the two popped into sight at the window, leaning out and shouting at the dark angrily. It didn't appear they had really seen them, but the sentiment was all the same.

The noise was attracting a few curious people in the street, a few candle lights turning on in the windows of houses bordering them.

[quaggan]

 Hadrian didn't have time to find a hideout, and wasn't fast enough to get clear. Fortunately, his nature could work to his benefit here. He quickly slumped under the wall, craning his spine and staying as still as no living creature can. When the people still inside the building looked out, their gaze quickly moved over a corpse underneath the window, searching for the culprits.

Some of the onlookers found him - or rather, the contrast of a still useful armour with the bones inside. "What do you think?" a lizard looking person asked her companion, a strange creature that seemed to be on fire but perfectly healthy. "A minion left behind by a necromancer, or a victim of some kind of a flesh-destroying spell?"

"My money's on the spell" the creature responded, its voice composed of crackle and hiss. The lizard woman sauntered closer, peering at the armour in search of straps she could undo to take it off. She leaned over, cutting off the line of sight for anyone above. That was enough.

Hadrian discreetly pulled his hand out of the glove, as it was out of everyone's vision now, then jabbed it under the woman's throat before she could react. The way she went still told him that the anatomy of bipeds has not changed much since his time. "Pretend you found nothing, the armour is rusted" he commanded.

Clearly not willing to risk a nod, she blinked purposefully instead. Hadrian removed the finger bone and waited as she peeked around, then theatrically groaned. "Ugh. It's so rusty on the inside, I'm surprised it's still holding together! What a waste of time."