Skylar grimaced at the vote trends, sidling away through the shadows to get some distance from the prison; I definitely will need to be cautious here. But it's almost certainly not anything I can't talk my way out of, if what the Devari said is true. He crept under a walkway near the interior mountain wall and faded into the shadows, looking for some raw materials. First thing I'll have to do something about is my clothes, though.
A quick glance around told him that most of the other citizens -- mostly bustling around and paying him little heed -- were dressed in primarily earth tones; a little mud on the outside of his cloak lightened it up fairly easily, but he encountered a lot of difficulty getting the mud to stick; as with before, dirt seemed to slide right off. Hmm. What if I let it dry before I disturb it?
He was beginning to formulate a plan to spread it flat and try to dry mud on top when he caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye; out of instinct, he stepped sideways out of sight and risked a quick glance behind him. He half-expected a guard or suspicious citizen, but what he saw surprised him; the leather-clad man who had called himself "Professor", slipping through a sewer grate. He frowned. What would that guy be doing here? And more importantly, what would he be doing in a sewer? And even more importantly, how do they have sewers in a hollow mountain city?
He looked in both directions, but nobody seemed to be paying him any attention; guess there's only one way to find out. Cautiously, he crept over to the sewer grate, then levered it up swiftly and tucked his feet inside; in a trice, he was through and pressing himself against a wall in a pool of darkness as he lowered the grate gently down after him. Don't want it to make a noise -- he didn't care, but that doesn't mean I have the same luxury.
At first, he thought the other man had vanished again, but after a second he caught a glimpse of leather through a flicker of light from above; he hustled after it as silently as he dared, careful to keep his feet out of the muck in the center of the little tunnel. It must run underneath all the roads and walkways. This is probably effectively a network of secret tunnels throughout the whole city! I can eavesdrop on stuff from underneath and not risk getting spotted!
For a moment, he wondered if the leather-clad man was smoothing his pathway for him; but once again, he remained suspicious of free help. I still don't have any idea who this guy is or what he wants. I should find out what the drotz he's doing down here.
For nearly a quarter of an hour, he pursued the mysterious man through tunnels, switchbacks, and shadowy intersections; the stench was awful, but Skylar was used to worse. Eventually, the noises from above changed; the bustle and rattle of street traffic above was replaced by silence, occasionally broken by the clanking of armored figures patrolling. We must be under someplace with guards. Maybe a bank? Is this guy here to do some cultin'?
Stolen story; please report.
As he watched, the leather-clad man fetched up at a heavily-secured door, then began to rustle through a large duffle bag with numerous clinking contents. Skylar's face twisted with confusion. Sounds like glass. Why wouldn't he secure everything? After a little searching, the masked man withdrew a large flask holding some kind of viscous purple liquid; he swished it experimentally, then rooted around for a similar flask holding a greenish ooze. With careful precision, he unstopped both flasks and began to titrate the contents of the purple flask with the contents of the green; Skylar's eyes narrowed. This is really weird.
He edged forward, trying to get closer and see what the other man was doing, but it was at this point that his luck ran out; his foot nudged a rock into the sewage stream near the center of the sewage tunnel, creating a quiet sploop sound. He froze, but it was too late; the masked man whirled around, glass-lensed hidden eyes searching the darkness. "Who's there?" he demanded, his unnatural two-toned voice echoing menacingly through the corridors.
Skylar sighed; No point being stupid. He's always been sensible in the past; maybe he'll explain a little more of what's going on. Raising his hands to show he was harmless, he stepped out of the darkness. "Hey, it's just me."
He wasn't sure what he expected; more subterfuge and condescension, maybe, or perhaps even a growled warning to mind his own business; a friendly welcome seemed uncertain, but at least not completely out of the realm of possibility. But what he got instead was an immediate, enraged shout of "YOU!!!" immediately followed by a hurling of the purple flask directly at his face.
Skylar's reflexes took over instantly; he dodged sideways with maximum speed, hurling himself over the sewage stream in a twisting somersault even as the flask shattered against the stone where he'd been standing. Instantly, some kind of foul purple foam boiled forth; Skylar noticed in passing that it ate through the thick stone as thought it were paper, before dropping through the floor to whatever lay below the sewer tunnel. "Yo, what the fratz?!" he shouted at the other man, who only snarled in response and began to dig through his bag for another flask to hurl.
Fratz this. Skylar stretched out his hand towards the figure and called upon the power of Weir within him; immediately, the other man bent double and shrieked with pain, and Skylar wasted no time darting away down the tunnel back the way he'd come, sprinting at top speed as more flasks crashed and clattered behind him. What's that dude's problem?
He dashed this way and that, scampering for his culty little life, but it appeared his luck had deserted him entirely; his next turn slammed him face-first into a brick wall, and he could hear the masked man right on his heels. He spun around, heart pounding. Drotz! What do I do now?
Well, since you asked so nicely, Timurus's female voice tittered in his mind; he cursed, angry he'd forgotten he wasn't alone in his skull. Normally I'd let you get a little more practice first before trying this, but you can use Weir for more than just giving people headaches. Try imagining an illusory wall in front of you; if you're lucky, your head won't explode. Skylar cursed, but the voice disappeared from his mind almost instantly, leaving behind only mocking laughter. He cursed silently. Mishkot it. He hated experimenting with new usages for the power in such a high-risk scenario, but he was out of options; screwing up his face with titanic concentration, he did as the Devari bid, standing stock-still and imagining the brick wall behind him spanning the space in front of him instead.
A moment later, the "Professor" skidded around the corner and skated to a stop, cursing; Skylar fought with every ounce of his being to maintain his concentration, which felt like he was levitating a boulder with telekinesis. The other man looked around him rapidly, then doubled back the way he had come; with a silent gasp, Skylar let the power of Weir lapse, and the illusory wall in front of him vanished as if it had been a figment of his imagination. Fratz everything. It nearly killed me to hold the illusion for a half a second; This power sorbnek sucks.
He waited a moment, but the other man appeared to have fled to another part of the sewer; he leaned against the wall and panted for breath, trying to keep his heart from beating straight out of his chest. Great. Now what the fratz do I do?
HOW DO WE WANT TO GET KILLED NEXT?
