Vikor Gerhim was expecting to have a simple day. He had awoken early, gone for a morning run, showered, eaten, and set about his workshop with the purpose of finishing his newest magitek murder machine. He had even put a good couple of hours into his efforts and had worked up a heavy sweat due to the humid, festering heat of the Limsian, jungle air. But his entire, planned routine was shattered when the door to his wooden barn exploded into splinters.
The Garlean hyur fell off his ladder and crashed down onto a workbench. Tools and bolts rolled onto the floor with him as he hit the dirt floor next. Seizing a hammer, he tried to get to his feet when a steel toed-boot connected with his ribs and he gasped in pain as the very audible sound of bone cracking reached his ears. The Garlean wheezed as the intruder used their foot to roll him onto his back and then pressed their heel down on Vikor’s throat, leaving only a tiny gap for air to reach his lungs.
“Hello, Vikor.” came an amused growl as the intruder looked down at him and cocked his head to one side. Vikor blinked as Askier’s face split into a smile; like a cat toying with a mouse. “Been, what, two years now? My how time flies, doesn’t it?”
Victor glared up at the Garlean miqo’te in surprise and alarm. Askier Mergrey looked like a walking ruin. Both of the miqo’te’s ears had been replaced with magitek triangles that moved and twitched in unnatural ways, The red coat he wore was in ratted tatters and hung open, revealing a torso covered in hundreds of scars. The sleeves of the coat were ripped away and both of Askier’s arms were now magtiek limbs with hooked fingers. Behind the male twirled a long, metal tail made of hissing blades. His black trousers were covered in dust and his boots were in a terrible need of a polish. But it was the gleam in Askier’s eyes that unsettled Vikor the most.
“I thought you died!” Viktor wheezed, both hands wrapped around Askier’s boot. The miqo’te chuckled.
“People have thought that before. And they’ve been wrong.” Askier clicked his tongue and then began speaking in his native tongue; the Garlean language flowing thick and aggressive from his lips.
<”So,”> Askier ran his tongue over his lips and Victor saw that several of his teeth had been replaced with metal fangs. <”This where you been. Not nice leaving an old army buddy to suffer and die. What would Adin think of you?”>
<”Still better than you, deserter.”> Vikor spat back. Askier laughed.
<”Very likely. Very likely indeed. I-”>
<”What do you want?” Vikor interrupted and Askier raised and eyebrow.
<”What do I want? You know, it’s funny how that answer has changed over the years. First it was to gain power. Then survive. Then revenge. Then live a life with my family but...”> he gave a sinister snicker and the very unnatural sound made Vikor’s stomach turn. Askier’s lips pulled back and metal, pointed teeth gleamed in the light. <“But, but the Universe said ‘Fuck you Askier. You get only suffering and misery.’ And for over forty years, that’s what I’ve bee getting. Only suffering. But now...I’m thinking about fucking the Universe back. See, I realized something. My bitch of a mother and freak of a brother were right. People like Adin, they were fools. Grasping at straws and trying to control this hell. All the universe has done is make me miserable save one exception. So I’mma do what I should have always done and listened to the little Estinoch voice that’s been rambling in my skull since the day I was born, the-”>
Vickor had managed to seize a screwdriver from the floor and used that moment to drive it into Askier’s thigh, the end striking the femur. Askier howled and collapsed against the desk.
Vikor sprang to his feet and swung a fist at Askier’s jaw. The blow landed and the Garlean miqo’te flew backwards onto the ground. The hyur turned and went for a toolbox, pulling a firearm from the tin as he turned. Askier scrambled behind a large, metal toolbox and grunted.
<”Vikor, you ruined my monologue, you little shit!”> Askier reached into his coat with both hands and pulled out a fragmentation grenade in each. <”I just came for the cerelium I know you have in here.”>
<”Go to hell, Mergrey!> Vikor shouted back, watching the tool box for any sign of the miqo’te. Behind his cover, Askier pulled the pins to his grenades and lobbed them over the toolbox before he quickly hobbled for one of the barn’s square windows. Vikor saw the grenades and swore as he did the same. Both made their exits and were a dozen feet from the building when it exploded, the pressure inside the building literally blowing the roof into the air.
Askier went tumbling into the jungle, mud and insects coating his attire as he rolled. A large tree stopped his somersault and he ended on his head, feet and knees in a mess besides his skull. He gazed with his golden eyes at the smoking ruin of Vikor’s workshop and sniffed.
The sweet, sweet aroma of destruction filled his nose and it made the miqo’te smile as he rolled over and got to his feet. He watched the blaze with a smile.
“Well.” Askier said. “That was a bust.” he turned and began to limp through the muck and the mire towards the road. It took almost two hours of trudging and marching through the mosquito infested hell of the jungle to reach a trodden, dirt path.
Of course his mount was gone. He’d gotten a bit turned around and Vikor was either dead or plotting revenge but Askier didn’t care. He’d stop caring about most things in life. All that mattered now was doing whatever it required for his mind to shake the numb void of misery it had become trapped in and feel alive again. And lately, outside of wanton violence, very little woke his soul.
He began to walk along the road but it wasn't long before a wagon rolled up. Askier, without missing a beat, waved the driver down and flashed him a innocent grin.
“Well hello there! Would you give me a rid into town? Went and lost my way.” Behind his back, Askier rubbed his clawed fingers together. “Would be ever so kind.”
Tagging old rp peeps XD: @theduplicitousdame @vanitysruin @afreesworn @cfs-melkire @whispersofawindwitch
