Myrkai was worried about Bia’Keres. He only dimly remembered being carried to the surface amidst the collapse of the rough earthen crack. That had been more than a week ago. Since then, Bia’Keres had applied herself to strengthen him with her powers. Her nearly constant care had eventually turned the tables on his bizarre malady and the coughing fits and suffering cleared up. After that, his recovery was extremely fast and he even felt better than ever. He could only imagine what effects bathing in troll blood could offer, but since it didn’t kill him, it had apparently made him stronger. All of that was in the past now.

While he was sick, Bia’Keres has been attentive enough, although she spoke only as necessary. Since then, she simply sat in meditation before the collapsed crack into the earth. The place they came out was actually rather nice. I seemed to be a low place in the hills west of Ak’Har. A grove of trees and bushes created a secluded hollow that hid them well from the outside world. There had even been a supply of nuts, berries, and small woodland creatures to feed them. Along with rainwater and Bia’s magic, it had been the perfect place for them to recuperate and prepare before moving on.

Bia’Keres hadn’t moved except to eat sparingly and drink water in the last 48 hours. Myrkai wasn’t an expert on the workings of the mind, but he was familiar enough with survivors guilt and denial to guess at what was eating her. Afterall, it seemed pretty clear that Ker’Haros was dead. The resources of the little grove were quickly waning. They couldn’t stay here any longer.

“Bia’Keres,” he said. She responded by looking at him. “We need to get going. This place won’t support us much longer and we’ve been low on water for a while.”

An entire week had passed for Bia’Keres, but she lived in a single moment to the echo of her master’s voice urging her to climb while the earth buried him. Oddly enough, her distracted mind found it easier to manifest her powers, since it was remarkably uncluttered with emotions or thoughts. Her master had ordered her to aid Myrkai as she could, so she bolstered his health, maintaining the effect for hours on end until she had to sleep. She also repaired damage to his body wherever she could. In the end, Myrkai survived, and her last orders from her master were completed. All she had to do now was wait for the next order.

Waiting gave her more time to remember, and she replayed the events of the past from the moment she greeted her master to the instant he disappear behind a flood loose earth. She counted every failure. By her reckoning, she had hindered him nearly as much as she had helped. Now, he was beyond her reach, but for the first time, she began to truly believe in him. He had seen them out of an impossible situation to safety, through his own power, and this despite her outright rebellion.

“Bia’Keres,” Myrkai said.

Was he still here? Bia’Keres thought.

“We need to get going,” Myrkai cajoled. “This place won’t support us much longer and we’ve been low on water for a while.”

Bia’Keres frowned. This was where her master was last. “I will wait,” she answered.

Myrkai frowned. “Bia,” he said, using the name her master favored. “He’s probably dead.”

Bia’Keres felt the hot glow of anger licking at the edges of her sanity. “No. He’s fine. He’s just a little behind.”

“Bia-“

“Don’t call me that!”

Myrkai swallowed and Bia’Keres realized she was on her feet with her hands raised aggressively. “Bia’Keres, it’s been more than a week. It’s been almost two weeks. What has he been eating? What has he been drinking? Even if he survived the cave-in, how could he be alive now?”

Bia’Keres snapped and went for his throat with her fingers spread like claws, but Myrkai was a trained warrior and more than skilled enough to teach her a few things. He caught her attack and put her on the ground so fast she couldn’t track the movement in between.

“Fine,” spit Myrkai. His cat ancestry truly showed in his anger. “Wallow in your insanity. You saved my life in spite of everything else you’ve done, so I tried. May fortune favor you and the God of fools, drunkards, and madmen watch over you.”

Bia’Keres could only lay stunned, waiting for the wind to creep back into her lungs as Myrkai disappeared, traveling at a fast four legged lope like only the Bast could do. When she finally sat up, she was alone, again. Completely alone at the grave of her master. Again. She sat up and began to meditate again, but it was all broken. Her mind was a chaos of images and her tears ran freely and dripped downward to water the ground.

Many hours later, Bia’Keres limped away leaning on a new staff cut from the grove. She was healthy in her body, but broken with guilt and recrimination in her soul. At her back was a carefully prepared wooden marker that read:

Ker’Haros

Chosen of Death

Rest in Peace

Myrkai headed north toward Denshol. He wasn't certain of his current freedom if he stayed near Ak'Har and certainly his distinctive race and coloration would see him recognized immediately if he tried to stay anywhere in the city's environs. Despite his thrice damned brilliantly white fur, he managed to evade the gazes of the common folk over the next two weeks as he headed towards Denshol. The training of his youth stood him in good stead, although these lands were so rich and plentiful that one could almost fall over and find something edible to eat.

He focused while he traveled to stay out of sight and avoid the stray gleams of sunlight that would light up his fur like a mirror in the sun, even in its current filthy state. That wasn't the case when he stopped to rest, however. He stopped after full dark when his vision could no longer see far enough to prevent ambush and dug into a thick bower of bushes and branches. Once he was comfortable, he found himself gazing at the few stars he could see through the interwoven branches and leaves and thinking back across the last months of his life.

Certainly, being captured as a slave had been an eye opening experience. Among the Bast there were slaves, but the Helots were considered less than sentient and basically on the same level as animals. Some treated their Helots like a favorite dog. Others treated their Helots like farm animals, including taking one to butcher on occasion. In fact, Myrkai could remember on several occasions at his family's parties when Helot was on the menu.

Captured, beaten, starved, and ordered, Myrkai's thoughts on the subject of slavery had undergone a total reversal. If not for his unique coloration and possible value when put on display, he was sure that his experience could have been worse. Certainly he was mistreated, but he was never whipped or beaten to excess for fear that his body would become permanently marred. If he was disfigured any value he would have once he was obedient would be lost. So, he passed from hand to hand until Anger got a hold of him. Anger saw his potential not as a beautiful and exotic pet, but as a fearsome predator. Anger attached the enchanted leash to the slave collar and Myrkai fell under a magical compulsion to never harm his master and obey his orders. Certainly, all slave collars restricted the slave from harming his captors, but there were loopholes and Myrkai had managed to find most of them. Notably, collars, except for the prohibitively expensive ones, couldn't prevent a slave from harming its masters while also preventing the slave from running. Naturally, slavers chose the first option and trusted in security for the second. After all, a creature that can't fight back isn't terribly difficult to keep track of, usually. Myrkai exploited that loophole as well.

Anger's leash was designed to be indestructible against normal weapons and force the slave to respond to commands. It was a handy shortcut to properly training one and could even help along the process. Myrkai was just as surprised as Anger when Ker'Haros effortlessly sliced through the leash and felt the magical backlash destroy the collar's enchantment. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

Despite his outward rebellion, the fire to resist was guttering in Myrkai's heart. After months of slavery never getting to sleep enough or eat enough, shivering at night because his body had no energy to make warmth and struggling throughout the day to make himself the most miserable and uncooperative slave without getting himself summarily executed, Myrkai had begun to consider that maybe the life of a cooperative slave wouldn't be that bad. Especially, in the few weeks since Anger put that leash on him, his will to resist had been slowly fading away. Even when he wanted to resist an order or subvert it in some way, the magic of leash wouldn't allow it. Even if he wanted to rebel, the difference between a leashed and tame Myrkai and a leashed and rebellious Myrkai was pretty much academic. Then, suddenly he was no longer a slave.

Myrkai sighed to himself and admitted that all this self reflection, aside from keeping him awake, was just a delay of the inevitable. In the short couple of days since he swore his oath to Ker'Haros, he had fought in a more desperate battle than ever before in his life, escaped slavery and the city of Ak'Har and slipped to the brink of death and back. Several divine messages had gone by without a chance to read them and these things were bound to have had some effect on his status. Despite the pain of his time as a slave, it was easily dealt with, but his exile from home was an ever present agony that he continuously ignored. His status screen tended to point it out with unfeeling rationality, so he typically avoided using it.

"Enough delays" Myrkai whispered to himself, "Status."

STATUS Name Myrkai Caste Exile Race Albino Shadowed Bast Class Fighter Rank Warrior Morality Oathsworn State Healthy Reputation 60 Strength Above Average Toughness Above Excellent Smarts Average Wisdom Above Average Presence Above Average Agility Excellent Myrkai is known as the Dead Warrior, exiled from his home, and treated as dead by all who knew him among the Bast. Although his skills are impressive, his coloration drove his kin from him and has dictated the course of his life ever since his birth. After his exile he fell into slavery and was briefly a Gladiator in Ak'Har. He was freed by Ker'Haros and became oathsworn to the Chosen of Death. He is now twice an exile as he is unwelcome in Ak'Har.

His eyes widened slightly as he looked at the changes. First, and most expected, his rank had risen from common fighter to warrior, something he wasn't even sure was possible outside of a caste. Second, his toughness had changed, increasing from above average to above excellent, meaning he likely exceeded the natural limit from his race. That could only be due to the troll blood he was drenched in. His reputation had risen sharply, as well, which could only be the result of his arena battles and association with Ker'Haros. None of that drew his attention as much as when it mentioned "Chosen of Death". He understood the strength of his oath, and it was no surprise that he remained oathsworn after the death of his liege, but he had never imagined that Ker'Haros was a Chosen. Suddenly, that exotic power started to make sense. Likewise, it explained what Bia'Keres was doing there. Myrkai didn't speak any of the ancient tongue, it was a dead language afterall, but the names Ker'Haros and Bia'Keres had obvious similarities. She was probably his assigned servant, however that worked for the Chosen of Death. Myrkai couldn't help a low chuckle. The Dead Warrior had claimed the Chosen of Death as his liege. This must be fate or the humor of the Gods.

Having faced his status and not suffered Myrkai continued with the other simple magics. "Skills" he stated.

Kaisukren You are a five stripe practitioner of Kaisukren with an expert knowledge of armed and unarmed combat including strikes, throws, feints, and pounces. Ilshef You struggled twice as hard to master the use of light armor in the hopes of equaling your peers and evading their blows. You are a master of the art of Ilshef and specifically favor a fully body armor of leather. In full armor tailored to you, you can evade or blunt most hits and take advantage of your skill in stealth. Shadowed You have all the skills of the Shadowed cast. You can track, ambush, move in stealth, and live off the land extremely well.

Those were the same as they had been for years, and he felt no need to look at them more closely, dismissing the message after a cursory glance. "Titles" he said.

Dead Warrior You were called the Dead Warrior and claimed the title as your name. In your extremity, you fight with no fear and no reaction to pain, allowing you to achieve previously unreachable levels of martial skill and suppress negative emotions so that they do not distract you. First of Death's Chosen You were first in this world to recognize the Chosen of Death and swore yourself to his service. Your soul is tied to his and he can reach you through this bond. It also grants you some small access to the Chosen of Death's power. As the Chosen of Death grows in power, the amount you can draw grows.

Myrkai skipped the entry for Dead Warrior, as he was well aware of its affects. Instead, he read and reread First of Death's Chosen. He shook his head as he read it, confused. Clearly, Bia'Keres had been there from the first, yet he was the first to recognize the Chosen of Death? The divine messages never lied, although they could be unclear. Obviously, since the Chosen had perished, there was no opportunity to see what effects this title would have. He did wonder if he would see Ker'Haros again in the afterlife, but that was an experiment he would have to put off indefinitely. Finally, the messages Myrkai disliked the most. After a moment of inner conflict, he whispered the word, "Traits."

Albino Your fur is pure white and your eyes are pink. You lack all normal pigment and are susceptible to sun exposure. Your coloration is inherently unsuited to stealth and makes it very hard to successfully avoid notice. Bast As a full grown Bast, you are armed with two and a half inch serrated claws on all your limbs, three inch canine teeth, and the ability to run roughly 50% faster on all fours than two feet. You also have heightened senses of hearing and smell compared to other humanoids. Troll Blooded At once bathing in and ingesting large amounts of troll blood has had a permanent effect on your body. You have some of the resilience of a troll and can regenerate rapidly from damage.

He was rewarded for his trouble by the addition of a new trait. He was certain this trait was announced by divine message during his delirium, so this was the first time he had the chance to read it clearly. Certainly, it was no bad thing, although bathing in troll blood was probably just as likely to kill a creature or do nothing at all. He was grateful that he got something out of the ordeal. After focusing briefly on Troll Blooded, he closed the message and strove to ignore the ever present reminders of his past.

Instead, he found himself thinking about his oath. He was still Oathsworn to Ker'Haros, despite the fact that his liege had died, and so he should strive to fulfill his oath. Ker'Haros hadn't had time to give any last will and sadly, he had known his liege for a time that could practically be measured in hours, rather than days. Still, some characteristics of his personality jumped unbidden to Myrkai's mind. Ker'Haros had seen the etiquette shown by Bia'Keres and Myrkai as tiresome for one. He never forced or even wanted his servants to stand or properly wait upon him. Finally, his last order had been for Bia'Keres to escape and care for Myrkai, or so she had muttered on several occasions while tending him. Clearly, she was taking Ker'Haros death hard and the very underpinnings of her reality seemed to have been shaken for some reason.

Myrkai growled in exasperation. He didn't even like the woman. She reeked of madness and clearly she was a hair's breadth from turning psychotic at any moment, but those are all the more reason why he should be taking care of her, rather than ignoring his duties to his liege and his fellow servant and haring off to Denshol. Strangely, his past exile didn't occupy any more of his thoughts that night as he resolved to return the way he came to save Bia'Keres from herself.