Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2016 21:21:04 GMT -5
Thread PL: 6, 664
The desert was a place of deadly extremes, a scorching hellscape during the day, and yet almost freezing at night. Fenris almost swore he saw frost when his eyes first creaked open a day after fighting for his life against a posse of bandits intent on taking everything he had. A groan issued from his throat when he tried to move, every muscle protesting the sudden and rude awakening. He hurt all the way to his bones, which made going back to sleep all the more appealing a prospect. The demon couldn't afford that, though, knowing that the longer he stayed still the more he'd be sore. Besides, if the earth-shaking growl that issued from his stomach was any indicator, he needed to eat. Getting to his feet was agony, first because he had to do away with his blanket (threadbare though it was) and secondly because he actually had to move. Gritting his teeth, Fenris forced himself to work through the pain and eventually managed to stand upright, wincing as fire lanced through his limbs with each motion. Things got easier as he shuffled around the camp to get his blood flowing, though he knelt to use his canteen instead of bending at the waist, holding no illusions that he was incapable of managing that right now. His duffel bag only held a few small snacks that he had been able to afford before leaving Satan City, but the ravenous pit in his belly demanded satisfaction no matter what, and so the food was consumed quickly and without hesitation. The warrior felt a small pang of regret when he eyed the empty wrappers afterward, but only because the edge had barely been taken off of his hunger. Shrugging, Fenris balled the plastic sheets up together and stuffed them away, returning to his feet with a pained groan and gathering his things.
The eastern horizon had started to brighten by this time, though sunrise was still a ways off, so Fenris decided to get on with his day and packed up everything quickly. A ragged group of tracks led north, still sitting in the sands from where the motley collection of highwaymen had beat feet after realizing that they were outmatched. His limbs still protesting any movement, he began following them as the sky grew more and more blue. The reasoning was simple: the more he used his limbs, the less sore he'd be in the end. Flying was truly all well and good, but not necessarily the best action in this case. The more loose and limber he was, the more easily he'd be able to handle anything that was stumbled upon out in the wastes.
Without a watch to keep track of time, the only thing Fenris could use was the sun, and by the time it had started to peek up over the line separating sky from earth, the air was warming. Within an hour the sands had heated up. Another sixty minutes after that and they plagued his feet with a burning assault every step, the years of toughening himself up from walking barefoot meaningless under such conditions. There was nothing for it, however, and so he suffered in silence, pulling his jacket up around his head and shoulders to prevent his skin from getting burnt. By mid-morning, he had decided to relent, both because of practicality and because his body had exercised enough by that point. Sand swirled beneath him as he lifted gently off the dunes, gaining some altitude before bursting forward along the path. The air was hot as a furnace against his face as he traveled, but Fenris reveled in it all the same, pushing his speed to the limit and carving a long path northward. When the sun reached high noon, he slowed and found shade in an unexpected oasis, his movements still stiff as he sat and ate one of his few remaining meals. The tracks he'd been following had detoured through here, regardless, so he felt less bad about stopping. Besides, it actually felt good to stop and rest a moment. Restored, the demon took to the air again and flew until the sun began to hang low in the afternoon sky. The bandits had hardly stopped to convalesce during their flight, and he could see why: their destination had been a large series of plateaus and rocky formations, all naturally perfect for a hideout. Several torches were visible, lighting multiple entrances up and making the choice of any one in particular difficult. Knowing that he had likely been spotted from a distance, despite his speed, Fenris decided it would be better to just get things on with and blurred to an opening, nonchalantly kicking a guard in the process and sending him caroming off the tunnel walls like a ping-pong ball. It was almost funny, but the demon's own experiences had taught him not to laugh at suffering, so he just set his duffel down inside the entrance and stretched his ki sense out.
There were quite a few people in this particular little hideout, to his surprise, but none who could quite match his power. That Fenris wouldn't have to utilize his demonic heritage just to win a battle was a source of relief; besides his blood being a constant source of grief, having to power up to that level for training purposes was something he disliked. His base power should be all he needed, hence his refusal to stoop to the level of utterly obliterating the rock formation from afar. Give him a challenge up-close and personal, any day. Seeing no way in but down, Fenris began making his way into the bandit base, knocking a few skulls together as the cannon fodder rushed him. These were the weakest of the bunch, he could tell, and he didn't even need his senses to figure that out: their attacks were slow and easily dodged, each one taken down with little more than some light taps that left them unconscious where they fell. Fifty feet in, Fenris entered a large junction of natural passageways that was occupied by a mob of bandits, ranging in power from mere flies to those who might actually be able to take more than one punch from him. Tilting his head to the side, the demon felt all seven of his neck vertebrae crackle nicely, repeating the motion in the opposite direction before lifting his hands and indicating for them to come get some.
The bandits all hesitated; clearly, the survivors from yesterday had all spread word of him. A wolven grin spread across his face at the thought, and when no challenger came forth, the demon sighed, shrugged, and then rushed forward. He was upon them in an instant, his higher power hampered by the fact that his body was still recovering from the day before. True, he took a few hits, but they were all far overshadowed by the fact that he was clearly winning. Even in the middle of the gaggle of bodies, Fenris sent enemies flying with each attack; a right hook here, some roundhouse kicks there, even a couple of ki blasts just for flavor. Rather abruptly, everything stopped when no more foes were present. Blinking twice as he adjusted out of his confusion, Fenris sighed and kicked a bandit that had landed on his shoe, and then took one tunnel at random, which happened to dead-end in a chamber that led nowhere else. A few more bandits attempted to jump him there, stronger and more organized than their unconscious (dead?) brethren. Ducking, Fenris lashed out with a straight kick that crushed one bandit's pelvis, thwarting one other's attack as the body was launched backward. Tanking the hit to his chest, the demon punched another into the back wall of the space and then broke the last one's neck with a hard chop.
The particular cavern Fenris had just cleared was colder than he'd expected, he suddenly realized, and the slightest examination revealed why: It must have been the bandits' larder. Large clay jugs were sat against the far wall, a large dark spot surrounding several suggesting that they held liquid of some sort. Probably their water supply. Salted and cured meats hung on racks lining the walls on either side, desert spices and roots tied in long bundles that had been woven in-between the large haunches. Bowls had been filled with nuts or fresh fruits, and one crate even revealed hardtack, of all things. Fenris's stomach growled again, and he didn't even bother trying to resist getting a snack in, using a knife to cut off a piece of meat and munching on it, then taking two more for the road as he got back to clearing out the bandit base.
It was actually rather impressive that there were so many in this particular group, and that didn't even begin to broach the question of how they'd found this place. Hell, Fenris could probably turn this place into a hideout of his own after all of this. While he'd never stop wandering, the thought of having a place to return to was something that he'd never had outside of the individual fight clubs and pitfighting rings that he traveled between, and so the entire prospect was highly appealing. Though it'd be hard to keep tabs while he was on the road... Well, he'd figure that out later. Right now, he needed to remain focused on obliterating the sorry bunch of thieves and thugs from existence. No matter their atypically pathetic fighting abilities, there just might be a few that actually made this whole trip worthwhile.
One turn led Fenris down, the air temperature cooling rapidly as he descended presumably into the earth. There were still torches here, the walls becoming smooth in a manner that suggested that they'd been carved, but the purpose as to why eluded him. Why would they need to expand? He knew that he had seen not even a tenth of this hideout so far, and even with the numbers he'd faced so far there was no real justification for more space. When he exited the tunnel, however, Fenris realized just how wrong he'd been.
He'd found the bandits' treasure trove, even though it was really just a collection of chests that didn't quite overflow with gold. There were still several items worth selling here, though, but it would be impossible to get them all out in one go. Maybe he could lash them together somehow...
A flare of power and burning impact against his back knocked him forward onto his forearms with a muffled “whuff”, growling as he stood up to find the one who was presumably Big Boss Bandit blocking the exit with one arm extended his way. Fenris shucked his jacket off and checked it, relieved to see that, while the garment had been singed a little, it didn't have a huge hole in the back like he'd feared. That would have ruined his day entirely.
“So, what's your gimmick?” he threw out while getting one arm through a sleeve. In response, the bandit just fired off another ki blast that Fenris easily smacked aside, continuing to put his jacket on as though nothing significant had happened. Silence stretched for a few seconds as Fenris waited patiently.
“Hmph. No gimmick. I'm just here to end your life, vagabond scum,” the bandit replied in a surprisingly feminine voice. Looking closer, Fen could see.. Yup, those were breasts under that tunic. The woman reached up and pulled aside the scarf that had covered her face. She was actually rather pretty, reminiscent of a desert wildflower. If not for the fact that he could feel her killing intent centered directly on him, Fenris might have been able to feel some attraction to her. The socially-stunted pitfighter just shrugged and grunted.
“Says the one whose minions would have killed me without cause,” he retorted, then phased into and out of existence, re-appearing directly behind the woman and putting her into a headlock. She managed a surprised gurgle before his arm had completely encircled her neck, recovering quickly to throw a few elbows at his midsection. Growling, Fenris twisted at the waist and threw the female over a shoulder, hearing something break in her body as she landed. The way her eyes widened in pain and mouth moved without sound suggested that it had been her neck. All she could do was stare at him in horror, almost as though she was trying to appeal to him for help. He couldn't have done anything to heal her if he had been inclined to do so. Those eyes, though, stirred something in his chest that he had never felt before. Pressing his lips into a thin line, however, Fenris made up his mind and sat down next to her until her eyes had closed. A closer inspection revealed that she was not dead, but had only lost consciousness.
The demon disliked that he had hurt someone else without even meaning to. Demon or not, he had striven to be accepted by others his whole life. Failed though that effort was, he had liked to think that he had had a better control over his own power. Unsure if he was more distraught over having been unable to manage himself, or if he actually felt bad because of what had happened to the female bandit, Fenris stayed put for several minutes while trying to figure that dilemma out. Eventually though, he realized that he had to get moving, and pushed the conundrum from his mind as he stood. There was enough rope in the treasure room to allow him to lash several chests together in a long chain, which he filled with whatever items he believed to be the most valuable and then tied shut tightly.
Before leaving the chamber, though, he stopped and looked back at the recumbent form laid out, and the internal battle began anew. Social awkwardness and dark heritage aside, he truly did wonder if he had been in the wrong, reacting the way he did. There were far... not necessarily humane, but certainly less risky ways of incapacitating an enemy. On that tangent, was he not on a mission to train himself and reach his full potential? Could he afford to get caught up in such internal debates along the way? An ache had started to work its way behind his forehead and into the sinus cavity, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose to attempt to relieve the pressure. His lack of socialization had reared its head at a truly inconvenient time: He could be, well, not rich, but certainly less poor, he had a store of food just waiting for him back in the larder when he had finished clearing the whole place out, and he was becoming stronger. Having those three things working out at the same time was a huge accomplishment no matter what, and he gave no second thought to those bandits he had killed along the way. They had attacked him and earned their fates.
So why did he feel that the woman had not been deserving?
Sighing, he looked at the unconscious form once again, then to the tunnel leading back up into the hideout, where he could leave for a city, sell off his haul, and maybe get a good meal for once. And then he knew what he had to do. Groaning, he dropped the chest he'd been holding onto, which in turn caused the rest to clatter noisily to the rocky floor, and then ascended again. The rest of the bandit hideout was deserted, though whether it was because he'd killed off all the inhabitants or any remaining members had fled was unknown. Ultimately, it was also irrelevant. Fenris took his time looking around the rest of the place, getting lost along the way more than once. Eventually, though, he found what he was looking for when he came across a small space, little more than a cubby, really, lined with herbs and even a tin of DynoCaps. There was a small pouch inside, similar to one that he'd seen before during his time on the road though it had been several years. Timorous but hopeful, Fenris untied the thong holding it closed and opened it to peer inside; a single small green bean was at the bottom, looking for all the world like it belonged in a stew instead of a bandit's medicine cabinet. Why bandits had such powerful medicine for that matter was beyond him. Then again, it was probably another piece of booty just like most of the items he'd come across so far.
The origins of the senzu was irrelevant, however, and he had a far more pressing matter anyways. Fenris got turned around for a full ten minutes before he managed to find the artificial passageway back down to the treasure room. The bandit woman was still in exactly the same position that he'd left her in. How was she going to use it, he suddenly realized. Her neck was broken and she was unconscious, thus her ability to actually eat the bean was hindered. Fenris supposed he could chew it and then feed her the paste, but she'd still have to swallow it on her own, and he'd seen more than enough broken neck survivors to know that the odds of her regaining consciousness for any reason were practically nil. Any attempt on his part to wake her up would likely just result in further damage, regardless. But shouldn't he still try to do something, at least? The question ate at him until he knelt down and placed an ear against her chest to see if his effort had thus far been in vain. Her heartbeat was weak, but there. Being very careful to not move the woman, Fenris gently patted her cheek.
“Wake up.” She didn't respond, so he tried again.
“Hey, c'mon. Wake up.” Her breathing deepened for a moment, and then slowed until she sighed a final time. The resulting hole in his heart was something entirely new to Fenris. He had killed before, when necessary and without remorse. The question that ate at him, however, was whether or not she had had to die. Granted, had he controlled himself better and thus allowed her to survive, she probably would have gone on to kill and pillage further. But if that was the case, why did he feel like he had done wrong? The demon spent several minutes trying to come to terms with himself over this debate before practicality won out again and he gathered up his spoils, the chests rattling loudly as he dragged them out. Finding the way out was easy, a pause allowed to gather his duffel before he exited entirely and blasted high into the air, gathering ki for a powerful beam that completely leveled the entire structure into dust. He made certain to go deep enough that there was only fused glass by the time he'd finished pouring energy into the effort.
Still turning his actions over in his mind, Fenris turned west and blasted off swiftly into the dusk.
The merchant he ended up dealing with was a slimy sort, always rubbing his palms together and smiling as though he was figuring out ways to swindle the stupid outlander. Which, in hindsight, he probably was. Fenris realized after walking away that he could have easily just up and left to deal with someone more sensible, not to mention polite, chalking part of it down to his unfortunate heritage and the ever-present, unthinking bias inherent in humanity. He'd barely gotten anything near what the items had to be worth, resale value be damned! He had killed people getting his treasure, couldn't they see that?! On top of it, he hadn't even bothered to keep the one thing that had truly been a treasure, being the senzu bean. Returning to his small, wrecked campsite was no comfort, and neither had he come any closer to resolving the questions that roiled within himself. In truth, it was starting to piss him off. Just why was he spending so much time and effort over a no-name bandit that had gotten in his way? What did it matter that another measly, racist human life had been extinguished?! There were droves of them on this planet! It was their homeworld!
His fury rose and rose until it had built into a truly beautiful example of apoplexy, his face dark and his breathing rapid, fists clenching and unclenching until his nails had cut his palms red. Snarling, Fenris launched himself away from his current home and out into the desert again, roaring as he began unleashing energy blasts at random in a childish attempt to vent his anger. The night sky glowed unusually bright for some time, past even the witching hour, but come dawn all that could be found of Fenris was an exhausted form that hadn't even bothered to crawl under his blanket.
WC: 3, 515
Reward requested: Zeni, please
The desert was a place of deadly extremes, a scorching hellscape during the day, and yet almost freezing at night. Fenris almost swore he saw frost when his eyes first creaked open a day after fighting for his life against a posse of bandits intent on taking everything he had. A groan issued from his throat when he tried to move, every muscle protesting the sudden and rude awakening. He hurt all the way to his bones, which made going back to sleep all the more appealing a prospect. The demon couldn't afford that, though, knowing that the longer he stayed still the more he'd be sore. Besides, if the earth-shaking growl that issued from his stomach was any indicator, he needed to eat. Getting to his feet was agony, first because he had to do away with his blanket (threadbare though it was) and secondly because he actually had to move. Gritting his teeth, Fenris forced himself to work through the pain and eventually managed to stand upright, wincing as fire lanced through his limbs with each motion. Things got easier as he shuffled around the camp to get his blood flowing, though he knelt to use his canteen instead of bending at the waist, holding no illusions that he was incapable of managing that right now. His duffel bag only held a few small snacks that he had been able to afford before leaving Satan City, but the ravenous pit in his belly demanded satisfaction no matter what, and so the food was consumed quickly and without hesitation. The warrior felt a small pang of regret when he eyed the empty wrappers afterward, but only because the edge had barely been taken off of his hunger. Shrugging, Fenris balled the plastic sheets up together and stuffed them away, returning to his feet with a pained groan and gathering his things.
The eastern horizon had started to brighten by this time, though sunrise was still a ways off, so Fenris decided to get on with his day and packed up everything quickly. A ragged group of tracks led north, still sitting in the sands from where the motley collection of highwaymen had beat feet after realizing that they were outmatched. His limbs still protesting any movement, he began following them as the sky grew more and more blue. The reasoning was simple: the more he used his limbs, the less sore he'd be in the end. Flying was truly all well and good, but not necessarily the best action in this case. The more loose and limber he was, the more easily he'd be able to handle anything that was stumbled upon out in the wastes.
Without a watch to keep track of time, the only thing Fenris could use was the sun, and by the time it had started to peek up over the line separating sky from earth, the air was warming. Within an hour the sands had heated up. Another sixty minutes after that and they plagued his feet with a burning assault every step, the years of toughening himself up from walking barefoot meaningless under such conditions. There was nothing for it, however, and so he suffered in silence, pulling his jacket up around his head and shoulders to prevent his skin from getting burnt. By mid-morning, he had decided to relent, both because of practicality and because his body had exercised enough by that point. Sand swirled beneath him as he lifted gently off the dunes, gaining some altitude before bursting forward along the path. The air was hot as a furnace against his face as he traveled, but Fenris reveled in it all the same, pushing his speed to the limit and carving a long path northward. When the sun reached high noon, he slowed and found shade in an unexpected oasis, his movements still stiff as he sat and ate one of his few remaining meals. The tracks he'd been following had detoured through here, regardless, so he felt less bad about stopping. Besides, it actually felt good to stop and rest a moment. Restored, the demon took to the air again and flew until the sun began to hang low in the afternoon sky. The bandits had hardly stopped to convalesce during their flight, and he could see why: their destination had been a large series of plateaus and rocky formations, all naturally perfect for a hideout. Several torches were visible, lighting multiple entrances up and making the choice of any one in particular difficult. Knowing that he had likely been spotted from a distance, despite his speed, Fenris decided it would be better to just get things on with and blurred to an opening, nonchalantly kicking a guard in the process and sending him caroming off the tunnel walls like a ping-pong ball. It was almost funny, but the demon's own experiences had taught him not to laugh at suffering, so he just set his duffel down inside the entrance and stretched his ki sense out.
There were quite a few people in this particular little hideout, to his surprise, but none who could quite match his power. That Fenris wouldn't have to utilize his demonic heritage just to win a battle was a source of relief; besides his blood being a constant source of grief, having to power up to that level for training purposes was something he disliked. His base power should be all he needed, hence his refusal to stoop to the level of utterly obliterating the rock formation from afar. Give him a challenge up-close and personal, any day. Seeing no way in but down, Fenris began making his way into the bandit base, knocking a few skulls together as the cannon fodder rushed him. These were the weakest of the bunch, he could tell, and he didn't even need his senses to figure that out: their attacks were slow and easily dodged, each one taken down with little more than some light taps that left them unconscious where they fell. Fifty feet in, Fenris entered a large junction of natural passageways that was occupied by a mob of bandits, ranging in power from mere flies to those who might actually be able to take more than one punch from him. Tilting his head to the side, the demon felt all seven of his neck vertebrae crackle nicely, repeating the motion in the opposite direction before lifting his hands and indicating for them to come get some.
The bandits all hesitated; clearly, the survivors from yesterday had all spread word of him. A wolven grin spread across his face at the thought, and when no challenger came forth, the demon sighed, shrugged, and then rushed forward. He was upon them in an instant, his higher power hampered by the fact that his body was still recovering from the day before. True, he took a few hits, but they were all far overshadowed by the fact that he was clearly winning. Even in the middle of the gaggle of bodies, Fenris sent enemies flying with each attack; a right hook here, some roundhouse kicks there, even a couple of ki blasts just for flavor. Rather abruptly, everything stopped when no more foes were present. Blinking twice as he adjusted out of his confusion, Fenris sighed and kicked a bandit that had landed on his shoe, and then took one tunnel at random, which happened to dead-end in a chamber that led nowhere else. A few more bandits attempted to jump him there, stronger and more organized than their unconscious (dead?) brethren. Ducking, Fenris lashed out with a straight kick that crushed one bandit's pelvis, thwarting one other's attack as the body was launched backward. Tanking the hit to his chest, the demon punched another into the back wall of the space and then broke the last one's neck with a hard chop.
The particular cavern Fenris had just cleared was colder than he'd expected, he suddenly realized, and the slightest examination revealed why: It must have been the bandits' larder. Large clay jugs were sat against the far wall, a large dark spot surrounding several suggesting that they held liquid of some sort. Probably their water supply. Salted and cured meats hung on racks lining the walls on either side, desert spices and roots tied in long bundles that had been woven in-between the large haunches. Bowls had been filled with nuts or fresh fruits, and one crate even revealed hardtack, of all things. Fenris's stomach growled again, and he didn't even bother trying to resist getting a snack in, using a knife to cut off a piece of meat and munching on it, then taking two more for the road as he got back to clearing out the bandit base.
It was actually rather impressive that there were so many in this particular group, and that didn't even begin to broach the question of how they'd found this place. Hell, Fenris could probably turn this place into a hideout of his own after all of this. While he'd never stop wandering, the thought of having a place to return to was something that he'd never had outside of the individual fight clubs and pitfighting rings that he traveled between, and so the entire prospect was highly appealing. Though it'd be hard to keep tabs while he was on the road... Well, he'd figure that out later. Right now, he needed to remain focused on obliterating the sorry bunch of thieves and thugs from existence. No matter their atypically pathetic fighting abilities, there just might be a few that actually made this whole trip worthwhile.
One turn led Fenris down, the air temperature cooling rapidly as he descended presumably into the earth. There were still torches here, the walls becoming smooth in a manner that suggested that they'd been carved, but the purpose as to why eluded him. Why would they need to expand? He knew that he had seen not even a tenth of this hideout so far, and even with the numbers he'd faced so far there was no real justification for more space. When he exited the tunnel, however, Fenris realized just how wrong he'd been.
He'd found the bandits' treasure trove, even though it was really just a collection of chests that didn't quite overflow with gold. There were still several items worth selling here, though, but it would be impossible to get them all out in one go. Maybe he could lash them together somehow...
A flare of power and burning impact against his back knocked him forward onto his forearms with a muffled “whuff”, growling as he stood up to find the one who was presumably Big Boss Bandit blocking the exit with one arm extended his way. Fenris shucked his jacket off and checked it, relieved to see that, while the garment had been singed a little, it didn't have a huge hole in the back like he'd feared. That would have ruined his day entirely.
“So, what's your gimmick?” he threw out while getting one arm through a sleeve. In response, the bandit just fired off another ki blast that Fenris easily smacked aside, continuing to put his jacket on as though nothing significant had happened. Silence stretched for a few seconds as Fenris waited patiently.
“Hmph. No gimmick. I'm just here to end your life, vagabond scum,” the bandit replied in a surprisingly feminine voice. Looking closer, Fen could see.. Yup, those were breasts under that tunic. The woman reached up and pulled aside the scarf that had covered her face. She was actually rather pretty, reminiscent of a desert wildflower. If not for the fact that he could feel her killing intent centered directly on him, Fenris might have been able to feel some attraction to her. The socially-stunted pitfighter just shrugged and grunted.
“Says the one whose minions would have killed me without cause,” he retorted, then phased into and out of existence, re-appearing directly behind the woman and putting her into a headlock. She managed a surprised gurgle before his arm had completely encircled her neck, recovering quickly to throw a few elbows at his midsection. Growling, Fenris twisted at the waist and threw the female over a shoulder, hearing something break in her body as she landed. The way her eyes widened in pain and mouth moved without sound suggested that it had been her neck. All she could do was stare at him in horror, almost as though she was trying to appeal to him for help. He couldn't have done anything to heal her if he had been inclined to do so. Those eyes, though, stirred something in his chest that he had never felt before. Pressing his lips into a thin line, however, Fenris made up his mind and sat down next to her until her eyes had closed. A closer inspection revealed that she was not dead, but had only lost consciousness.
The demon disliked that he had hurt someone else without even meaning to. Demon or not, he had striven to be accepted by others his whole life. Failed though that effort was, he had liked to think that he had had a better control over his own power. Unsure if he was more distraught over having been unable to manage himself, or if he actually felt bad because of what had happened to the female bandit, Fenris stayed put for several minutes while trying to figure that dilemma out. Eventually though, he realized that he had to get moving, and pushed the conundrum from his mind as he stood. There was enough rope in the treasure room to allow him to lash several chests together in a long chain, which he filled with whatever items he believed to be the most valuable and then tied shut tightly.
Before leaving the chamber, though, he stopped and looked back at the recumbent form laid out, and the internal battle began anew. Social awkwardness and dark heritage aside, he truly did wonder if he had been in the wrong, reacting the way he did. There were far... not necessarily humane, but certainly less risky ways of incapacitating an enemy. On that tangent, was he not on a mission to train himself and reach his full potential? Could he afford to get caught up in such internal debates along the way? An ache had started to work its way behind his forehead and into the sinus cavity, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose to attempt to relieve the pressure. His lack of socialization had reared its head at a truly inconvenient time: He could be, well, not rich, but certainly less poor, he had a store of food just waiting for him back in the larder when he had finished clearing the whole place out, and he was becoming stronger. Having those three things working out at the same time was a huge accomplishment no matter what, and he gave no second thought to those bandits he had killed along the way. They had attacked him and earned their fates.
So why did he feel that the woman had not been deserving?
Sighing, he looked at the unconscious form once again, then to the tunnel leading back up into the hideout, where he could leave for a city, sell off his haul, and maybe get a good meal for once. And then he knew what he had to do. Groaning, he dropped the chest he'd been holding onto, which in turn caused the rest to clatter noisily to the rocky floor, and then ascended again. The rest of the bandit hideout was deserted, though whether it was because he'd killed off all the inhabitants or any remaining members had fled was unknown. Ultimately, it was also irrelevant. Fenris took his time looking around the rest of the place, getting lost along the way more than once. Eventually, though, he found what he was looking for when he came across a small space, little more than a cubby, really, lined with herbs and even a tin of DynoCaps. There was a small pouch inside, similar to one that he'd seen before during his time on the road though it had been several years. Timorous but hopeful, Fenris untied the thong holding it closed and opened it to peer inside; a single small green bean was at the bottom, looking for all the world like it belonged in a stew instead of a bandit's medicine cabinet. Why bandits had such powerful medicine for that matter was beyond him. Then again, it was probably another piece of booty just like most of the items he'd come across so far.
The origins of the senzu was irrelevant, however, and he had a far more pressing matter anyways. Fenris got turned around for a full ten minutes before he managed to find the artificial passageway back down to the treasure room. The bandit woman was still in exactly the same position that he'd left her in. How was she going to use it, he suddenly realized. Her neck was broken and she was unconscious, thus her ability to actually eat the bean was hindered. Fenris supposed he could chew it and then feed her the paste, but she'd still have to swallow it on her own, and he'd seen more than enough broken neck survivors to know that the odds of her regaining consciousness for any reason were practically nil. Any attempt on his part to wake her up would likely just result in further damage, regardless. But shouldn't he still try to do something, at least? The question ate at him until he knelt down and placed an ear against her chest to see if his effort had thus far been in vain. Her heartbeat was weak, but there. Being very careful to not move the woman, Fenris gently patted her cheek.
“Wake up.” She didn't respond, so he tried again.
“Hey, c'mon. Wake up.” Her breathing deepened for a moment, and then slowed until she sighed a final time. The resulting hole in his heart was something entirely new to Fenris. He had killed before, when necessary and without remorse. The question that ate at him, however, was whether or not she had had to die. Granted, had he controlled himself better and thus allowed her to survive, she probably would have gone on to kill and pillage further. But if that was the case, why did he feel like he had done wrong? The demon spent several minutes trying to come to terms with himself over this debate before practicality won out again and he gathered up his spoils, the chests rattling loudly as he dragged them out. Finding the way out was easy, a pause allowed to gather his duffel before he exited entirely and blasted high into the air, gathering ki for a powerful beam that completely leveled the entire structure into dust. He made certain to go deep enough that there was only fused glass by the time he'd finished pouring energy into the effort.
Still turning his actions over in his mind, Fenris turned west and blasted off swiftly into the dusk.
The merchant he ended up dealing with was a slimy sort, always rubbing his palms together and smiling as though he was figuring out ways to swindle the stupid outlander. Which, in hindsight, he probably was. Fenris realized after walking away that he could have easily just up and left to deal with someone more sensible, not to mention polite, chalking part of it down to his unfortunate heritage and the ever-present, unthinking bias inherent in humanity. He'd barely gotten anything near what the items had to be worth, resale value be damned! He had killed people getting his treasure, couldn't they see that?! On top of it, he hadn't even bothered to keep the one thing that had truly been a treasure, being the senzu bean. Returning to his small, wrecked campsite was no comfort, and neither had he come any closer to resolving the questions that roiled within himself. In truth, it was starting to piss him off. Just why was he spending so much time and effort over a no-name bandit that had gotten in his way? What did it matter that another measly, racist human life had been extinguished?! There were droves of them on this planet! It was their homeworld!
His fury rose and rose until it had built into a truly beautiful example of apoplexy, his face dark and his breathing rapid, fists clenching and unclenching until his nails had cut his palms red. Snarling, Fenris launched himself away from his current home and out into the desert again, roaring as he began unleashing energy blasts at random in a childish attempt to vent his anger. The night sky glowed unusually bright for some time, past even the witching hour, but come dawn all that could be found of Fenris was an exhausted form that hadn't even bothered to crawl under his blanket.
WC: 3, 515
Reward requested: Zeni, please
