Chapter 11: Cool Kids, Cold Case – Part 5: Family
Machaira tugged at her vest, making sure it was straight and snug over her body before slipping on her jacket. She paused to listen for anyone who might be home before exiting the bathroom, steam billowing out ahead of her. Even though Sklonda gave her permission to do laundry and shower at Strongtower, Machaira couldn't shake a sense of wariness, aka tactical paranoia, that came with undressing in a building with other people in it. Even taking her jacket off felt dangerous somehow. She also hadn't quite resolved the issue of washing her three sets of clothes so to have clean clothes to wear when she came out of the shower and washing her fur-covered towels from after the shower. Currently, clean clothes took her priority.
The tabaxi started on the dishes in the sink. Sklonda worked hard and never complained. She was tolerant of her son's adventuring party, welcoming to Machaira, and an excellent mother to Riz. The rogue wasn't comfortable taking the Gukgak's hospitality without doing something in return, even though she knew that was what Sklonda had intended. So she'd taken to doing little chores around the apartment if she was there when Sklonda wasn't home. The goblin didn't want Machaira to help, but the scout knew she liked not having chores waiting for her when she walked through the door. Machaira was drying her hands when the patter of tiny feet announced Riz's return from A.V. club a moment before his key rattled in the lock.
"Oh, hey, Machaira," the inquisitor welcomed her easily.
"Hi, Riz," she greeted over her shoulder. The first few times Machaira texted to ask if she could come over for this purpose had been exquisitely awkward. But by now her presence had become accepted, just another part of their daily lives. Riz made his usual swipe at her tail, and Machaira took her standard retaliatory kick. Both missed as they always did, and Riz hopped up onto the human-sized chair and spread out his assortment of loose sheets of notes from that day. Machaira immediately gathered his notes against the goblin's protest, stacked them neatly, and set them on the chair next to her.
"Do you have to do that now?" Riz asked. "I was just about to finish my essay on assassination."
"I have to wait until you take your notes out so I can sweep up the dirt and glitter that always falls off them," she countered, spraying and wiping down the table. "Why are your notes always dirty? And where is the glitter coming from? I know you don't use glitter, but it's on all of your stuff."
"You don't have to clean at all," Riz argued as Machaira handed him back his notes. "My mom keeps telling you that."
"And I always say, 'okay,' but guess what, I'm still going to do it," Machaira informed him. "So there." Riz snickered at her flawless logic, and Machaira took a playful swipe at him. Riz ducked even though she was nowhere near hitting him, and the two returned to their work.
"As long as you're cleaning, how about you clean up my room?" Riz half asked and half teased. Machaira carefully put down her rag and turned on Riz, leveling a predatory stare.
"You remember our deal?" She asked, lowering her voice. "I'll clean your room, but you have to pick up the clothes and vomit first."
"There's no vomit in my room," Riz defended.
"Frequently, there is," she rebuked. "Even if you forget about it, I can still smell it."
"I vomit when I get excited," Riz protested. "It's not intentional."
"That is totally unrelated to the problem at hand," Machaira bluntly shot down. "Which is that I will not clean up your vomit. Also, having vomit in your room at all is a problem." Riz flushed a darker green and chuckled a little. Machaira's mouth pulled into a grin. "Seriously, Riz, you have to get this whole vomit thing under control before we find Penny. You'd hate to vomit all over her on your first date."
"Penny is my babysitter!" Riz refuted much too loudly. "She's just a friend."
"Then why is her picture in your room?" Machaira teased, flicking her tail at Riz's chair around the table.
"She's on the board of missing girls," Riz objected. "There's other girls on there, too, and I've never even met them."
"Mm, I meant the one next to your bed," she nearly purred.
"I don't have a lot of space in my room," Riz objected, face a dark pine-needle color.
"'Oh, Penny, I'm so glad you're alright – blech!'" Machaira mimed the goblin vomiting on the Halfling. "Don't worry, Penny, it's a good vomit." Riz glared at her.
"You're the worst," he declared empirically. The other rogue smirked at him.
"Look at it this way," she tried in a more conciliatory tone. "If you do vomit on her, you can offer to help clean her up and cop a feel." Machaira grinned evilly and winked at the speechless goblin before turning back to the kitchen even though she had finished the dishes. She was not so naïve that she didn't expect retaliation for that one, and she'd rather bait Riz into doing it now then let him wait to do it later. Still, she didn't expect him to pull her tail as fast or hard as he did.
A burst of pain flared up her spine, and Machaira whirled on Riz, teeth bared in a hiss. She darted around the table at the goblin, who fled under the furniture in turn. Machaira lashed out, but Riz made a nimble escape at the last second and slipped free, toes brushing against her fingers as she seized thin air. Machaira chuffed and growled as she chased her quarry about the apartment, laughter bubbling up from both of them as they played. Let tanks bash each other over the head four dozen times and magic users talk at each other from across the room: rogue fights were always the best. Machaira and Riz zipped about the apartment, weaving under, over, and around furniture without disturbing a thing. As an inquisitive goblin, Riz could predict her movements fairly well and had a slight edge on escaping an attempted attack, but the tabaxi scout had an advantage in speed and grappling.
In the end, it came down to luck. Eventually, Riz was a hair to slow in dodging, and Machaira flashed out a hand, cuffing him about the shins. Riz tripped, and Machaira rolled him over in midair and pinned him, clawed hands on his arms and a knee on his stomach.
"Oof," Riz gasped.
"R-r-r-r-rrhhff," Machaira chuffed, smiling down at the goblin. Though she had caught him, they both knew their chase had taken much, much too long to be considered a real victory for her. But Machaira knew better than to admit that, and Riz knew better than to comment on it. So the scout freed her captive and shook out her mane while Riz laughed good-naturedly and went to clean up anything in his room she would deem untouchable.
"You know, you don't have to clean my room," Riz called through the doorway. "I'm small, but I'm not a baby."
"I shouldn't clean your room," Machaira agreed, walking away from the plaster partition in the living room that provided Riz his privacy. "But you forget, and then your mom has to clean it, and she really shouldn't have to do that."
"I can clean it by myself," Riz objected.
"Are you going to?" Machaira asked, tugging her socks down her feet a bit so that her claws wouldn't poke holes in them.
"Well, I was going to do the clothes thing now – "
"And vomit," she added, pulling out a spray bottle of glass cleaner from under the sink.
"And then finish my essay on the uses of Drow Poison." Riz finished.
"Will you remember to finish cleaning your room?" Machaira asked, pausing as she reached for a fresh rag. Silence. "I'll take care of it." She chuckled. Machaira very carefully approached a framed picture of a male goblin on the wall by the door, presumably Riz's dad. When Sklonda first saw that Machaira had polished this picture, she'd come up to the tabaxi, thanked her, and given her a squeeze on the shoulder. Apparently Machaira's parental issues ran deeper than she thought because she now took every chance to polish the pictures in the apartment, a delicate job that always made her much more nervous than it should have.
She had just finished the picture frames and bathroom mirror when Riz booted her out to use the facilities. Machaira went into his room to see that Riz had indeed picked up his clothes and there was no vomit to be found. She was very pleased to see that the other rogue had organized the crap on his desk as well. Machaira wiped down the goblin's window and made his bed without complaint. She'd started this as a way to manipulate Riz into doing the chore himself. The first time Machaira had taken Sklonda's offer to use their shower, she'd overheard the mother and son arguing about cleaning Riz's room. At the time, she hadn't known if this was a serious disagreement and had hidden in the bathroom for an extra twenty minutes to avoid getting caught between them. The quaking terror that had seized her at the idea of a family dispute had been a depressing reminder of how badly she needed Jawbone's psychotherapy.
After realizing that they had this squabble multiple times a week and nothing ever became of it, Machaira came up with her own plan. Riz was a responsible young man who cared about his friends; he just never considered cleaning his room important. Neither goblin felt that the scout owed them these little chores she did, apparently not realizing how massive their favor was for her. Riz couldn't stop Machaira from cleaning his room and feared her snarling temper if she found anything truly disgusting in there. Thus, they made their deal, and Riz felt guilty if she ever had more than four minutes of work in his room. So he steadily began to do more of it himself, saving both her and Sklonda the trouble and allowing Machaira to avoid scary family quarrels between the Gukgaks. Machaira closed the door to Riz's room behind her and went back into the bathroom for her fur shampoo and toothbrush. She packed both into her rucksack, struggling to pull the strings closed around her laundry.
"My mom won't be home until tomorrow morning, but she said you could stay here tonight," Riz told Machaira as she placed her bag by the door.
"I appreciate that, but I need to get my clothes home," Machaira declined, replacing the glass cleaner under the sink.
"Or you could keep them here," Riz suggested quietly. Machaira stood slowly and placed her hands on the counter, palms down. "I know you're sleeping on the couch for now, but we could get something set up – "
"Riz, I appreciate that," she interrupted gently. "More than I can say. But you know that I can't stay here."
"My mom would be okay with it," Riz argued. "She's been talking about – "
"Riz," Machaira cut him off again. "Your mom is a good person with a big heart. But raising a kid costs a lot of time and gold, and I'm not putting that strain on her. I know my way of life might seem harsh, but it's normal for me. And we'd be at each other's throats if I lived here full time." Riz pulled his mouth into a thin line.
"Neither of us want you to walk out that door and never come back," Riz told her quietly. "I like having a sister." He stared at the table, blushing just a little, and Machaira glanced at the photo of the goblin on the wall. She walked around the table to Riz and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry, big sis Machaira isn't going anywhere anytime soon." An impossible promise to guarantee, she knew, but one she hoped she could keep anyway. The tabaxi smiled down at Riz and ruffled his hair through that dumb floppy jockey hat he insisted was cool. Riz shook her off and mock glared at her. Machaira cuffed him lightly over the back of the head and ruffled his cap again just to prove that she could. The two rogues settled into comfortable silence, Riz working on his homework and Machaira polishing her weapons.
"It's not enough," Riz said after a few minutes.
"You only need three pages," Machaira reminded him absently, dutifully scrubbing at a tiny speck of grit on the edge of a dagger. "Drow poison is boring, but we can use it for basically anything. Talk up all the ideas that aren't assassination, and he'll give you a good grade."
"I wasn't talking about the essay," Riz countered. "I'm taking about the case, about Penny. It's been five weeks, and nothing's changed. We should be doing something." Machaira set her dagger on the table and looked over at Riz.
"What exactly should we do?" She asked.
"I don't know," Riz admitted. "I keep going over my board, but… I think I've lost my edge. I feel like there's something right in front of us that I'm missing, but I don't know what it is." Machaira sighed slowly. Sklonda would not want her to encourage this, but Machaira knew where her loyalties lay.
"Then talk me through the case," she told him. "What's the missing piece?"
"The girls," Riz answered immediately. "We know everything except where the girls are and why they were kidnapped in the first place. Mom thinks that they're in Highcourt, which makes sense, but we don't know why Daybreak wanted them at all."
"Okay, now is that a question worth answering?" Machaira asked. "Does it matter why Daybreak kidnapped them if we know for a fact that he was behind the kidnappings?" The goblin had to think about that one.
"Yes," he decided. "The kidnappings don't fit in with the rest of the case. Everything else sorta flows together. It makes a weird kind of sense. But we don't know why Daybreak told Johnny to trap girls in palimpsests or what he wanted with these six girls in particular."
"Okay, so where would you start looking for answers?" Machaira inquired.
"I don't know," Riz admitted. "We found pretty much everything at Daybreak's place. We think the palimpsests are in Highcourt. But until we know why he took them, we don't know where in Highcourt the palimpsests are or if this could happen again." Riz heaved a frustrated sigh. Machaira chewed her lip. He was right. The palimpsests didn't fit in with the rest of this. But she didn't know what the solution was. Riz was their detective. Her abilities as a rogue extended about as far as 'stab it'.
"Well, if you don't know what we're supposed to be looking into, then maybe there isn't anything for us to be doing," Machaira stumbled over the sentence a bit. Riz stared at her like she was crazy. "Look, the hardest part of hunting isn't actually killing your prey: it's having the patience to stalk it properly. And sometimes you have to abandon a hunt because it's just not going to be possible to take down your target at that point in time. I know you might not want to hear this, but we're playing a waiting game."
"I feel like we've had this conversation before," Riz cut in.
"We have," Machaira confirmed. "And nothing has changed. We've exhausted all current sources of intel. Unless you can think of something new, I really don't see what we can do besides let your mom do her job and wait." Riz frowned, unhappy with her input.
"Maybe you're right," he grumbled. "But I'm not going to stop trying to figure this out. I can't give up."
"If you find a new lead, we'll be there to help you," Machaira told him. "I promise."
I shouldn't have promised Riz shit, Machaira thought to herself the next night. They were all crouched behind some boxes in a docking area on the shore of the river. Riz had found a very loose connection between a local gang and Johnny Spells. The tiefling greaser had bought crystals and turned them into palimpsests for the Harvestmen, but he had bought the crystals one at a time and always the same make and model. Lots of people bought this variety of crystals, but only one other buyer purchased them individually. That buyer happened to be Saraih Sootfang, the flind leader of a gang of gnolls that had seen an upswing in activity since Johnny Spells bit the dust.
Riz and the others were excited to get back on the case. Adaine and Gorgug wished that the case had stayed out of their hands, but even they seemed eager to help find the girls. They were all restless for a challenge, and the other freshmen just weren't in their league. But Machaira was the only outlander in the party, and she knew firsthand how savage a gnoll warband could be. And yes, generalizing any race was a dangerous mindset to fall into, but patterns within cultures came about for a reason. And gnolls all shared a vital common experience.
Riz had wanted to sneak around by himself and scout out the old warehouse Saraih's gang was camped out in, a plan Machaira had firmly shot down. She insisted on accompanying the goblin in surveying the warehouse. Where Riz saw only two guards, Machaira recognized them as undead witherlings. Where Riz saw vaguely demonic iconography on Saraih's armor, Machaira knew the symbols denoted her as a cleric to Yeenoghu. As they made their way back to the others, Machaira rubbed at her bracelet. Why did it have to be gnolls? Her friends did not share her misgivings. With two guards and six gnolls inside, excluding Saraih, the gnolls had only a slight number advantage. Since Johnny Spells and his tieflings had been able to bully them into submission, Fabian reasoned that they would be easier to fight.
The plan was simple: Fig lies her way in, the rogues jump out of hiding when everyone has their backs turned, the rest of them rush the front door during the confusion, and they leave Saraih mostly in one piece to question her about the crystals. Machaira wanted to argue against it. She didn't want to start a fight with most of the party separated and surrounded. If she was honest, the tabaxi wanted to kill Saraih with the rest of her gang and search their bodies for clues once her friends were safe. But Machaira knew Riz and Adaine were smarter than she was, and the scout was worried that her idea had little behind it but bad history and bloodlust. So, she kept her silence and let the planners do their thing, only commenting that the guards were undead and probably couldn't be charmed or reasoned with.
The guards dropped from the combined fire of the seven of them, and Fig moved in with a confidence no one else could have possibly managed. As Machaira slunk through a second-story window, she expected something to go wrong. She did not expect Saraih to order Fig's ritual murder before their bard could get a word in edgewise, nor did she expect the hidden shoosuva and gnoll barbarian. Gorgug took on the shoosuva, but that left the rest of them to deal with the gnolls, who were adamant about killing Kristen first. Their healer had her work cut out for her trying to run from gnolls and keep the party in fighting shape. Adaine incapacitated a warlock for Riz to finish off, but Fabian really carried the battle, riding around the warehouse on the Hangman and dropping three gnolls before being dismounted by the gnoll barbarian. The enemy barbarian staggered as Adaine, Fig, Riz, and Fabian hit it at once, kept alive through sheer tenacity and a steady supply of healing magic from Saraih.
"You're not my dad!" Gorgug bellowed as he beheaded the shoosuva, hoodie hanging off his chest in tatters. The remaining gnolls howled in rage. Saraih rushed Gorgug and swung her flail into his chest. Blood spurted from the wound, and the flail flared with sickly red energy.
"Share in the blessing of Yeenoghu," the flind cried. "Become one with us!" Gorgug staggered back, hands clasped to his wound. He looked up, eyes red with barbarian rage, and yelled. Saraih grinned as the half-orc ran past her toward Fabian.
"What are you doing?" Fabian shouted. Gorgug swung his ax into Fabian, blade cleaving deep into the fighter's ribs. A second cleaved his shoulder. Fabian cried out, stumbling back and barely evading the next reckless attack. "Gorgug, it's me, Fabian Aramais Seacaster! Son of Bill Seacaster? Your friend?" Gorgug roared, and the half-elf fled, sprinting through the warehouse with the half-orc in hot pursuit. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Saraih's flail has a Detect Thoughts spell attached to it," Adaine yelled, eyes glowing blue with a Detect Magic spell. "Somehow she used it to bewitch Gorgug."
"How do you drive someone crazy with a Detect Thoughts spell?" Riz demanded, running between Gorgug and Fabian to get the berserker's attention before scrambling up a chain to a mostly destroyed platform.
"I don't know," Adaine responded, yelping when an arrow stuck in the ground right next to her. Fig struck a power chord, knocking the archer off her feet. "That's why I said somehow." Machaira finished off a gnoll Riz and Fig had left barely alive, meeting the hate-filled gaze as its last breath became a blood-choked gurgle. She had a pretty good idea what Saraih had done. Gorgug tried to follow Riz, but the chain snapped under his greater weight. The half-orc pounded on the wall, shaking Riz's platform. The goblin tried to shoot a gnoll from his position but was forced to lie flat as it returned fire on the exposed rogue. Only three gnolls remained, but three of their party were effectively out of combat. Fig and Kristen were almost out of spell slots, and the gnoll archer and barbarian were still going strong.
"Join in our hunt, elf," Saraih yelled, charging Adaine. "Hear the voice of Yeenoghu!" Machaira immediately changed course and flung herself at Adaine. The other girl was knocked back onto her butt, staring up at the tabaxi with wide eyes. The scout dodged out of the way of the worst of the blow, but Saraih's flail still tore a chunk of flesh from her back. The tabaxi yowled at the burst of pain, staggering forward a step. She could still see Adaine in front of her and the warehouse around her, but new thoughts that were not her own filled Machaira's head.
Feel our hunger, Saraih's voice urged her. Be filled with the presence of our lord. The cleric's thoughts were brushed aside as a greater presence rose beneath her own, a swirling vortex of hunger and rage and fear, preying on Machaira's darkest desires and most intimate terrors. All gnolls were born with a direct connection to their creator, the demon lord Yeenoghu. Gnolls were responsible for some of the worst slaughters in history because their thoughts were never their own. The entire race served one master and his chaotic need for carnage. But Yeenoghu was not so closed-minded as to reject beings not of his own creation. In opening her mind to her enemies, Saraih exposed them to the voice of her patron; and he was eager to take Machaira into his ranks.
The demon sympathized with Machaira's love of the hunt, with her feeling of abuse and isolation, with her need to be strong and fierce. He cried out at her weary acceptance of always being a mere beast to other humanoids, at her shame for the deformities that would forever make her undesirable, whether to Adaine or anyone else. Yeenoghu wanted to accept her, wanted to free her from her struggles and her pain. They were not so different. She could hunt with his pack and never be alone again, never truly experience confusion or inferiority. All living creatures would fear her presence. His hunger was her hunger; he ate when she ate; he killed when she killed. All who served Yeenoghu would share in her experience, and she would not know true pain or loneliness again.
Machaira curled her lip and growled, standing straight despite the screaming pain in her back. She was a servant of Bast. She already hunted for her goddess. She had suffered and bled and cried for herself and others her whole life without profit, and she would continue to do so. Machaira knew Yeenoghu offered mindless slaughter as a distraction from her problems, but Bast had shown her the power of sacrifice, loving for the sake of something's goodness and not its benefits. Let gnolls and other monsters surrender their identities for freedom from responsibility. Machaira chose to nurture the world with her blood. If that meant she spent her life as a living definition of her name, then so be it. Her life and death would mean something, given so that others could have what she did not. The Cat of Ra had shown her the path of true strength, and it lay in giving, not taking.
Machaira snarled as she ripped free from Saraih's spell, and the gnoll shrieked with fury. Pain, exhaustion, and fear hit her like a woolly mammoth as the presence of Yeenoghu left her. Her bracelet burned against her wrist. Adaine sat on the ground before her, gaping mouth flapping a bit as she stared at Machaira. The scout would have to apologize for shoving and scaring her later, for she had business to take care of now. The tabaxi's saber was but a flicker of light as she severed the chain of Saraih's flail. The cleric howled and jumped her, rolling Machaira to the ground. The tabaxi growled and rolled with her as the half-breeds clawed and grappled.
Saraih had significantly better armor. The flind was imbued with the power of a demon lord, did not fear injury, and was at least twice her size. But Machaira had a rogue's training in dealing the maximum possible damage with a single blow, had much more experience with unarmed combat, and had six people to fight for. Saraih pinned her down, and Machaira's claws scraped harmlessly against her armor. The flind bit down on her shoulder, crushing the rogue's scapula. Machaira yowled and heaved, rolling them fifteen feet across the floor until she could bring her own fangs to bear, stabbing deep into the gnoll's shoulder, spearing through muscle to the bone beneath. Saraih growled and struck her across the head. Blood filled Machaira's vision for a moment as she slipped out from under the larger woman, flipping their position to pin the cleric prone.
With this advantage, the scout's claws found their mark, scraping down Saraih's skull through her left eye. The cleric howled and bit Machaira's left arm, breaking bone once more. The rogue snarled contemptuously and lunged for Saraih's head. Her saber teeth pierced the flind's muzzle, but Saraih managed to grasp Machaira's lower jaw between her own. Two pairs of yellow eyes locked as Tabaxi and Gnoll bit down. Pain exploded along Machaira's lower jaw, but she kept her grip and twisted, severing muscle and bone to tear Saraih's muzzle off her skull. The two women yelled as one, but Machaira kept Saraih pinned. Blood flowed from her mangled jaw in odd places, dripping onto the savaged visage of the gang leader.
A pained scream distracted her. Riz and Fig had broken Saraih's hold on Gorgug, though not before the half-orc had torn Riz's platform to the ground and trapped the rogue and bard beneath it. Their berserker had come down from his rage and tried to free them when the gnoll barbarian smashed her maul into his back, forcing Gorgug to one knee. Another reckless attack almost dropped him.
Machaira gave Saraih a parting slash across the head and dashed at the gnoll's exposed back as it loomed over her friends. In that moment, she didn't care that they came here for information or that she had zero chance of taking down a barbarian in rage. She didn't need this gangster to hurt; she just wanted her to drop. Machaira drew her saber and slashed through the gnoll's side, blade carving into flesh. She moved to stand between the barbarian and her friends, barely standing after her fight with Saraih. Machaira tried to hiss, but it came out like a reedy whisper. Her mane struggled to fluff against the weight of wet blood that matted it.
The gnoll glared and started to raise her maul but broke off with a grunt halfway through the motion. She looked down at the line Machaira had carved in her side: certainly a painful cut but not nearly enough to drop her. The barbarian stared down at the four adventurers and loosed a war cry. She began to choke, sputtering for air. Foam built on her lips. A familiar smell drifted from her side that Machaira hadn't smelled in years, a scent that belonged nowhere in Elmville. The maul clattered to the floor as the barbarian sank to her knees, tongue lolling from her mouth in her struggle for air. The irregular tattoo of her heart became a rapid, panicked tempo before it stuttered out and died. Machaira looked down at her saber. The blade didn't look any different, but the first few images on her scabbard were just beginning to lose a faint green glow. Before Machaira could put the pieces together, pain exploded through her torso. Machaira heard herself scream, and her vison went black.
"Kristen, I'm out of spell slots; can you heal her?" Some distant part of Machaira recognized the voice. That same part of her also recognized that she was hurt but stabilized. Machaira wished that part of her brain would stop recognizing things so she could sleep. Her side throbbed. That made it hard to sleep as well. Someone chanted a spell. Machaira whined, a thin, tired noise of protest as she tried to curl inward, away from the sound. Pain lanced up her side, and she yelped quietly, shifting to her previous, less painful position. Fortunately, something seemed to be supporting her head and upper body.
"Not me," someone else yelled directly above her. "Heal Machaira! I was, like, barely hit that fight." The tabaxi tried to duck away from the noise, but fire ran up lines in her jaw. The scout flinched and hissed weakly. Moving was hard. Shaky hands started petting around her head. Why couldn't everyone just let her sleep?
"To be fair, Fig pointed at both of you," a third voice said. More chanting. Something tickled about her jaw, and the pain in her head faded, though the ache in her side remained. "Alright, I that's my last spell slot. I need to sit down."
"If that was your last spell slot, why did you heal her jaw and not the wound that's killing her!" The voice above Machaira nearly screamed with frustration. Adaine's voice. She recognized it now. She wished Adaine was a little quieter, but at least her mouth didn't hurt anymore. Her lower abdomen still hurt a lot, more than it had a few seconds ago.
"Well, I, okay, I'm not sure the yelling is necessary," Kristen slurred from somewhere nearby. "I wouldn't want to wake up looking like that." Machaira turned her head to the side, trying to get comfortable. Smells began to register. Her friends were around her, there were a bunch of dead gnolls nearby, and someone had lost a lot of blood. Her fur felt sticky. It was also much too cold in here. Her nose bumped into an arm. Adaine. She smelled mad. And scared, really scared. Machaira very cautiously nuzzled the arm, unsure if Adaine had the patience to cuddle right now. But maybe it would make Adaine feel better, and it would definitely make her feel better. The pain in her side was very distracting.
"Shh, hey, hey, it's okay, I'm here, it's okay," Adaine babbled above her. The shaky hands were all over her head now, too unsteady and quick to be soothing. Machaira shook her head before sagging against Adaine. That took a lot of work. She wanted to go back to sleep. "I think she's waking up. Machaira, can you hear me? Come on, Machaira, stay with me here." The tabaxi growled weakly in complaint but cracked her eyes open anyway. At least it was nighttime, so it wasn't too bright. Her head was in Adaine's lap, which was good. Her friends were all around her, which was also good. The head of a three-foot arrow poked out of her left side, which was less good.
"Mmm, did we win?" Machaira asked, voice slurring. Memories of the fight started to trickle back, but her mind felt fuzzy. She was cold and tired and Adaine was warm. The wizard was obsessively touching her head fur, hands moving all over her skull. It was more stressful than soothing, but she appreciated the attention.
"Yeah, uh, we did," Fig told her, biting her lip. "You, uh, did really good."
"So good," Fabian gushed. There was no pride in their voices, only nervous fear. Machaira grunted.
"How long was I out?" She managed.
"Not long," Riz said quietly.
"How, um, how do you feel?" Gorgug asked, rubbing his bicep.
" 'Bout as well as I can with an arrow going through my guts," she replied gruffly. Adaine's hands stilled on her temples. They all looked at each other. "I'm lucid now." She promised a bit hastily. Yes, she knew where she was and what was happening, but the rogue still wanted to go back to sleep very badly. Unfortunately, as her mind became clearer, the pain in her side became more pronounced. Machaira hissed and reached across to tap her bracelet before she forgot.
"Oh, okay, good," Fig took a deep breath, lit a clove, and sucked on it until the front quarter of the clove crumbled away. "Okay, so bad news first. Kristen and I are, uh, out of spell slots. We, um, can't heal you."
"I should hope so," Machaira muttered. "Otherwise it'd be weird that you left me like this for so long." Fig fear-giggled at her teasing and sucked down the next quarter of clove.
"Okay, Machaira, I swear, this is going to be okay," Adaine gasped out, thin chest fluttering as panic crept in. The tabaxi reached up to pat her cheek. Her arm was wobbly, and she missed the first two tries, but eventually Machaira managed to cup the wizard's face. Adaine looked down at her, and Machaira smiled at her. She didn't want Adaine to start panicking, and she really liked being able to touch her.
" 'Course it's going to be okay," she murmured. "I've been hurt worse. Just… give me a minute? And don't let me go to sleep. I really, really want to go to sleep, but I also shouldn't, okay?" Machaira did her best to pour affection into her gaze. Even in her addled state, it wasn't hard. Adaine met her eyes and nodded, making a visible effort to control herself. Machaira swiped her thumb back and forth, slowly stroking Adaine's cheek. The high elf framed her head between her hands, taking a deep breath. The wizard's heart rate slowed to a less insane tempo. Right then, Machaira couldn't think anywhere else she'd rather be.
That thought lasted maybe two seconds before intense, searing agony shot through her intestines. Machaira screeched, muscles spasming. Her vision swam. When the pain dialed back from torturous to horrible, she collapsed to the ground, chest heaving from the strain, which in turn sent waves of pain rippling through her body. Machaira blinked back tears to see that her head was still in Adaine's lap, but her hand was over her chest. Blood dripped from five shallow puncture marks on the right side of Adaine's face. Machaira recoiled, bile rising in her throat.
"I, I, I am so sorry, I, I don't – ahh-cck!" She winced. Her efforts to shy away from her mistake worsened the pain through her side. She felt sick. Gods, what was wrong with her? Beast, Machaira, butcher, primitive –
"No, no, you're fine," Adaine protested, trying to pull Machaira back onto her lap. The tabaxi flinched away, trembling, and cried out as the pain magnified again. Adaine pulled against Machaira's best attempts to retreat, forcing the shivering rogue into her stomach. "It wasn't your fault, Machaira. I don't blame you. You're okay; you didn't hurt me that badly. I'm fine, see?" Adaine wiped at her face a few times, revealing that the marks were tiny scrapes in her skin. Machaira still felt awful though. Machaira, brutish beast, her mother's voice hissed. "It's not your fault." Adaine insisted firmly. The elf glared over at Kristen. "What on earth were you thinking?"
"She said not to let her fall asleep," the human protested, several feet further away from Machaira than she was earlier.
"Don't poke her arrow wound!" Fabian yelled. "Christ, Kristen, that was so unnecessary."
"Okay, okay," the cleric muttered. "I'm sorry. On the bright side, she's completely awake now."
"… true," Machaira grunted, still shaking. She couldn't seem to stop. Adaine stared down at her, expression full of confused sympathy. She kept her arms firmly wrapped around Machaira's shoulders as if she expected the scout to run away. The drying blood on her face made Machaira's stomach heave, which did not help the ripples of pain from her wound. "What about Saraih?" The rogue asked, desperate for a distraction.
"Oh shit, right, fuck, that bitch," Fig yelped, hastily putting her flask away and running off to Machaira's left. Kristen and Riz followed her. Fabian shuffled his feet for a moment and muttered something unintelligible before going to join them. Machaira could hear voices coming from somewhere over there, but she couldn't figure out what they were saying. She decided that could wait and focused on not looking at Adaine. A drop of blood hit her cheek, and Machaira shuddered.
"I'm not mad," Adaine assured her, tightening her hold. "I just want you to be okay." The smell of her blood burned in Machaira's nose. "You're not a monster just because you have sharp teeth and claws." Adaine told her. The high elf interlocked their fingers and squeezed her hand tightly, forcing her claws out. "I shoot fire sometimes. I'd lash out if someone poked at a hole in my abdomen, but that doesn't make me a dragon. I'm okay," she added more calmly. "I'm okay. I'm just scared for you." Adaine took a deep breath and loosened her grip on Machaira's hand. The tabaxi tightened her own grip instinctively. She didn't want to let go. Adaine smiled and giggled, running her fingertips over Machaira's scars. The rogue shivered harder but turned her head to give Adaine better access. Gorgug awkwardly cleared his throat and stuck his hands in the ruined pockets of his hoodie.
The next few minutes were a bit of a haze. Pain rolled through her body in waves. Every breath hurt. She was very, very cold from blood loss. Machaira wanted to go to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes Adaine would vigorously scratch her cheek or chin. The wizard wouldn't stop touching her, either ruffling or stroking her head fur. Not that Machaira was complaining. That was by far the best thing happening right then. But at some point she must have dozed for a little bit because when she came to the others were all whispering in a huddle a few feet away. Machaira thought the sharp scent of Adaine's anxiety might have woken her up. The high elf still held Machaira, but she'd stopped petting her, which was unfortunate. Machaira forced herself to focus in on the conversation.
"What are we going to do?" Fig was saying. "We can't heal her. We have to go to a hospital."
"I know how to set a broken leg," Kristen offered. "But camp didn't cover arrow wounds."
"Guys, if we go to the hospital, we could all go to prison," Riz hissed. "Saraih didn't know anything. Those crystals were just to run first level spells, and we killed all of them. I have the first aid kit. I can – "
"Do we take the arrow out or leave it in?" Kristen whispered. A minute of silence followed the question.
"Fuck," Fig muttered.
"Even if you sew her up, that thing tore all the way through her," Fabian reminded Riz.
"Yeah, no, she could bleed out internally," Kristen sided with the fighter. "I think she's getting worse."
"We can't afford the hospital," Riz snapped. "And if the cops find out that she was involved in more murders, she could be deported. You want her to go back to her parents?"
"That's better than dying," Gorgug rebutted.
"You think Machaira would agree with that?" Fabian challenged.
"Oh, fuck," Fig repeated.
"Okay, somebody take out their crystal and look up whether we leave the arrow in or – "
"Nnnnyaa – urrgghh," Machaira grunted as she grabbed the arrow by the head and pulled it most of the way through her body.
"Oh my god," Adaine yelled, starting. Machaira grunted and fully removed the shaft.
"Didn't… didn't puncture the liver, vital organs, or an artery," she panted. "And gnoll weapons are always dirty. Better to pull it out." She looked over at the others. "Not the first time I've been shot without a cleric on hand."
"Do you know what to do?" Riz asked, running over to squat next to her. "Can you tell us how to treat you?"
"Depends," she ground out.
"On what?" Kristen asked. Machaira held up the arrow head. It took a moment to focus on it.
"That," she answered without enthusiasm. "It's barbed and serrated. Lovely."
"Okay, what does that mean?" Adaine demanded.
"Means it's not a clean hole going through," she responded, holding her hands on either puncture wound. She looked up at her friends. Everyone was at least a little hurt, but no one else was seriously injured. Kristen had gotten to them in time. Thank gods for group healing spells. "If this was a clean hole, I could talk you through it. We'd be out of here in, like, five minutes. But I'm probably all messed up inside. If it was one of you, I'd say we go to a hospital."
"Great, let's go," Kristen said.
"But if we do that, you guys might go to jail," Machaira finished. "So not happening."
"Guys, remember what we talked about," Riz muttered under his breath, looking pointedly about the group.
"Cat ears," she reminded the goblin, flicking the tattered scrap that passed for her right ear at him. Her party winced. "I might have lost a most of them, but I'm not deaf. If they do decide to deport me, I'll start killing cops 'til I break free or someone guns me down, but I'm not going back. Fortunately, I just have to survive until Fig and Kristen have taken a nice, long nap and get their spells back. Only problem is that Cure Wounds doesn't stop infection. You can heal the actual puncture tomorrow morning, but if you seal infected tissue inside me, I'm gonna hurt a lot later on. So, we have one good option, one bad option, and one really bad option."
"Yes," Fabian clapped. "A good option, finally, let's hear it."
"Disinfect the wound and wrap me up in some bandages," Machaira began. Riz and Fabian began unpacking the first aid kit with relieved grins.
"Done," Riz chirped.
"So done," Fabian emphasized, approaching Machaira with a length of gauze.
"And leave me in a secluded corner of the warehouse until morning," she finished. The boys froze. "We don't know how badly I'm hurt. You move me too much, I might not make it to morning. Leaving me here means the cops won't find out about this before someone comes back to heal me. It's relatively low risk."
"No." Adaine's voice brokered no argument.
"That's the good option?" Gorgug questioned.
"We're not leaving you in a warehouse full of corpses," Riz laughed hysterically.
"Yeah, no, what are the other options," Fig inquired, unscrewing a flask.
"The bad option is you splash some booze in my hole, phrasing, wrap me up, and we go home praying that I don't get infected or die from torn body parts moving around inside me." Machaira grunted.
"That doesn't sound safe," Kristen offered.
"That's the one where I'm most likely to die," she grunted. "Kinda why I said the bad option."
"So what's option three?" Gorgug asked. Machaira pursed her lips. Her hands were shaking over her wound.
"We treat it here," she groaned. "We can't treat it properly without a real doctor and medical supplies, but we can seal it up enough that it'll be safe to move me someplace else until morning. Best chance of survival this way."
"Why the fuck didn't you lead with that?" Fabian demanded, rooting through the first aid kit again. "What do we need? Gauze, iodine – "
"A big metal stick," she grunted. "Something that can fit inside the hole." Fabian dropped the bottle of iodine. "Phrasing." She added as an afterthought. Fig stress-snickered and took a big swig from her flask.
"What do you need the big stick for?" Kristen asked. Machaira reached out with her left hand, fumbling for the arrow. Adaine pressed the arrow into her hand. Machaira clutched the shaft tightly. Her fingers had trouble wrapping around it.
"Thanks," she muttered up at Adaine, quirking a smile. The wizard bit her lip and didn't return the smile. Machaira pretended that that didn't make her uneasy and held up the arrow head to her face, jaws parted to draw air over the roof of her mouth, tasting which organs left residue on the arrow. "This type of arrow is designed to mangle flesh on its way through. Most of this is from my intestines, but the scrap on the left barb is from my kidney." Gorgug turned, walked three steps away, and threw up. "But that black gunk on the tip didn't come from my body. It was already on the arrow, which means that no matter how we treat the entry and exit marks, my internal injuries can still bleed out or get infected by morning. You can take me to a hospital, or you leave me here, or we do nothing and cross our fingers."
"You said we could stabilize you until tomorrow," Adaine reminded her in a small voice. Machaira tried to toss the arrow aside but barely succeeded in dropping it.
"Yeah, you said we needed a big metal stick," Fabian backtracked. "Is this to, eh, um, plug, the, uh, ah, hole?"
"Not quite," Machaira told him. She turned to their tiefling. "Did you use your magic guitar pick yet?"
"No, but I can't use it to play a Song of Rest," she reminded Machaira.
"You can use it to cast Burning Hands, though," the rogue reminded her. Fig almost lost her grip on her flask.
"Oh gods," Adaine breathed.
"I don't like where this is going," Kristen added.
"Get some scrap wood together, and start a fire so we can cauterize this." Machaira calmly spelled it out.
"I thought you said you could still die from the internal injuries," Riz pointed out quietly.
"We're not cauterizing the outside," she clarified. Adaine's hands trembled.
"No," the elf breathed. "That will really kill you."
"Not before Kristen regenerates some spell slots," the tabaxi grunted. "Without a hospital or trained doctors, we can't treat this properly. All we can do is seal it closed until tomorrow. It's up to you guys what we do, but I'd rather you leave me here than try to move me right now."
"We can't leave you here," Gorgug protested.
"We can't take her to the hospital," Riz insisted. "My mom might not be able to stop them from sending her away and throwing the rest of us in prison. Some of the other cops were suspicious when they couldn't find records for her."
"Okay, nobody's gonna go to jail," Fabian shot back.
"But they might send her away," Kristen repeated him.
"We won't let them take Machaira away," Fig insisted, waving a finger at the cleric. "We can fight back."
"Are we gonna kill all the cops?" Gorgug wailed.
"No," Riz almost cried.
"Well, no, okay, not that," Fabian agreed.
"We are not letting anyone send Machaira back to her parents." Adaine stated. "If it comes to that, I'm sorry, Riz, but I will start killing cops."
"We can't, uh, ah, fight the entire police force," Fabian rebutted. "Okay, that's, ah, just a fact. Even if we somehow did win, ah, what then? We all, just, go into hiding? No, okay, let's not get carried away here."
"Then we have to treat her now and wait until morning for Kristen to actually heal her," Riz concluded. They stood in silence, staring at each other, each waiting for someone else to say the stupid thing that triggered the idea to solve their problem.
"You don't have to do anything," Machaira panted. "There isn't an easy way out of this."
"Okay, ah, no, you, mm, you stop, stop with that," Fabian stuttered, vigorously waving a finger at her. "That's not, er, not happening. Christ, we're not leaving you half dead in a crime scene alone at night!"
"Other people have, and I didn't give them permission," Machaira growled, head drooping forward a bit. She shook herself with another growl. It took a second for the room to stop spinning. Adaine cupped her cheeks.
"Tell me what to do," she ordered Machaira quietly. "You said we need a fire and a big metal stick?"
"I, uh, think I saw a…" Fabian trailed away. "Christ, I can't believe we're doing this. But, I, um, think I saw a metal spear shaft. Will that, is that, ah, okay?"
"If it fits," the scout grunted. Unfortunately, no one seemed keen to pick up the slack on shaft and hole related jokes. She knew she wasn't the only one here with a dirty mind.
"Oh god, right, yes, I'll go, uh, find it, then," Fabian stuttered and walked away.
"So, I'm on fire duty, right?" Fig asked.
"The one fun job," Machaira murmured. "Just try not to burn down the whole building, okay?"
"Right," Fig muttered, walking away as well. Gorgug went to go join her.
"Kristen, I need you to find a wooden stick for me to bite down on," Machaira told the human. "Not metal, or I'll crack my teeth when I bite it. Let's not use your staff because I don't want to break it. Maybe, like, an ax handle or something that I can fit my mouth around."
"Gotcha," Kristen gulped before standing up, tottering a bit as the exhausted cleric tried to find her balance before walking off into the warehouse.
"What about the rest of us?" Riz asked.
"I'm going to need all of you soon," Machaira murmured. "After we cauterize the wound, I want you to sew the holes shut. But for the moment, we need to get the injury clean."
"I've got the iodine," Riz confirmed. He dribbled some onto a cotton ball. "So, I, uh, just…" He touched it to her side, and Machaira snarled at the burn. Riz jumped back.
"Sorry," she grunted. "Go ahead. I'm just, um, just, ignore that."
"Right," Riz couldn't quite meet Machaira's gaze as he reapplied the iodine. Machaira stiffened and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Is there anything I can do?" Adaine asked.
"Stay with me," Machaira forced out between her teeth. "Stay here and talk to me so I don't start freaking out."
"Okay," Adaine breathed. Thin elven fingers pulled Machaira's head down and tilted her to look up into the wizard's fearful blue eyes. Adaine bit her lip, staring down at Machaira. The tabaxi hated seeing her so worried. She'd have to find a really nice way to apologize, preferably someplace warmer. "I, uh, can't think of anything." Adaine admitted. Machaira's side spasmed as Riz touched it, and the scout clenched her jaws on a hiss, tendons straining in her neck. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the way Adaine looked at her for that. Primitive, ugly, beast.
"What happened to the gnolls?" Machaira ground out.
"All dead," Adaine admitted. "I managed to cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter on Saraih, so we could take her alive. You, uh, definitely took some of the fight out of her." Machaira closed her eyes. Brutish, beast, Machaira, primitive. Adaine began stroking her muzzle and cheeks. "I know what you're thinking. Stop it. You did great. That was seriously badass. Saraih was so freaking strong, I have no idea how Johnny's greasers won the gang war. Even after you beat the shit out of her, she just wouldn't stay down."
"She kicked my ass," Machaira muttered.
"Debatable." Adaine told her in a tone that invited no debate. Machaira's breath resounded with the beginnings of a purr, rolling out over the warehouse like the warnings of a distant storm. Adaine pulled her a touch closer. Machaira nuzzled her. The elf was warm, and she wanted to stay close to her.
"Is she still alive?" Machaira asked quietly.
"Um… no. She wouldn't answer any of our questions. She, uh, broke free and tried to kill us. Fabian, Fabian stabbed her through the heart. Afterward, Riz found the crystals. Saraih wasn't using them as palimpsests. I just… I just don't get it. She had lost. Why would she attack us when she had nothing to gain?" Machaira kept her eyes closed. She could feel Riz poking around the wound, trying his best not to hurt her further.
"Did you know gnolls are mentally connected to their creator, Yeenoghu?" The rogue swept on without waiting for a response. "The demon provides them with a sense of unity and encourages them to kill without thinking. Fighting is simple so long as you never stop to think about the why of it. Through Yeenoghu, the gnolls are given an identity, a larger group to be a part of. Mindless slaughter frees them from the reality of consequence, doubt, and responsibility. So long as they cling to those ideas, they never have to afraid, no matter how bad the situation becomes."
"Sounds like you've thought about this a lot." Machaira cringed at Adaine's tone. The wizard was contemplating. The closer Adaine looked at Machaira, the more her friend would see how fucked up she was.
"I've had a few run ins with gnoll war bands," she responded quietly. "Their way of life is… easy. It's not difficult to kill when you don't think about anything and you have a fanatical mob supporting you. I never joined the gnolls, even hunted them a few times. But fighting them always made me think about myself, all the mistakes I've made. It's like seeing all the worst parts of me put together, everything I don't want to be."
"They're like a dark reflection, like what you could have been if you'd taken the easy way out or something?" Adaine asked. Machaira didn't say anything. The high elf sighed. "You're not like them, Machaira, and you know that. You're not a mindless monster, so stop thinking that you are one." Adaine kept petting her face. Machaira peeked up to see the diviner frowning down at her, annoyance written all over her face. The tabaxi closer her eyes, shoulders tensing. Adaine sighed again and scratched gently along her throat.
"You're a good friend," Machaira murmured, a touch of guilt creeping into her voice.
"Then do me a favor and stop getting hurt," the other girl instructed.
"Mmm, less blood, more cuddles," the scout made the mental leap in a murmur.
"Yes, absolutely," Adaine agreed firmly. "And next time, we go to Basrar's." Machaira tried to chuckle but yelped as Riz accidently stuck the iodine bandage into her side.
"Sorry," she hissed to Riz. The goblin muttered something apologetic in turn and went back to dabbing at her injury. "I'd like that." She told Adaine softly. The wizard smiled, and for another brief moment everything felt okay.
"Fabian and I have your big sticks," Kristen piped up, proffering a great ax. Adaine giggled (finally!), and Machaira looked over to see Fabian approaching with a spear, the handle of which was coated in iron.
"Is, uh, this good enough?" the fighter asked hesitantly. Machaira squinted at the weapon. It was really more of a javelin than a spear, but semantics aside it should fit. She nodded.
"Here, let me clean it off," Riz said, taking the javelin from Fabian and wiping it down with a fresh iodine rag.
"Okay, I, um, I got the fire going," Fig said, shuffling about with Gorgug on Machaira's left. "So, do we, um… gods, this is insane." Fig took another pull from her flask. "I probably shouldn't be drinking right now."
"It'll be over soon," Machaira promised her. She turned to Fabian. "One last job for you before this is over. I need you to cauterize the wound." They knew this part was coming. Fabian still bleached. The others looked around with a mix of horror, relief, and guilt at being passed up for this terrible job.
"Why me?" Fabian demanded. "I mean, uh, Adaine has a, ah, cool head. And Gorgug is, um, very, very strong. Er, Fig is, ah, really, um, good with, you know, fire – "
"Whoever does this has to be able to push against the full force of my body," Machaira explained. "Every instinct is going to try and force you out, and I'm a decent bit stronger than most of the party. You're also going to have to push it in slow and steady to avoid doing any extra damage. Whoever cauterizes this has to be willing to hurt me a lot. I trust you to do what needs to be done even when it's hard. But if you don't want to do this, I won't force you. Okay, well, I can't force you, but I won't blame you for not doing this." Fabian blinked and stared at her for a long minute before looking at the spear in his hands.
"Fuck," he breathed. "No, of course, I'll… Christ." He took a deep breath. "No, I'll, I'll do it. Do I, uh, I guess I shouldn't use the pointy end." Machaira huffed and shook her head. Fabian stumbled over to the fire.
"Anything else we can do?" Adaine asked in a small voice.
"Yes," she grunted. "Hold me down. This is going to hurt like balls. If I move too much, it'll do more harm than good. There's also a chance I might accidently maul Fabian. Gorgug, I'm going to need you to hold my legs." The half-orc whimpered a little and got down on his knees, taking a gentle hold of Machaira's ankles. "No, sweetheart, you need to kneel on my calf and hold me down by the hips. Never do this with Zelda unless she asks you." Machaira added as an afterthought. Kristen smirked, but the expression was strained.
"Do I have to?" Gorgug whispered.
"No, you can all stop right now, go home, and come back for me in the morning," Machaira told him. "That's still an option. But if we do this, you have to keep me still, no matter what I say or do, okay? I'll be in a lot of pain, and you have to keep me there so I don't get hurt worse." The poor barbarian was sweating sheets but followed her instructions anyway. Machaira flexed her legs, testing for weaknesses. "Put your shins across my ankles and push down harder with your hands. You can't let me move at all." Gorgug gulped, nodded, and adjusted his hold. "Right, everyone else, grab my arms."
"Oh gods," Adaine breathed. She slowly slipped out from under Machaira. The tabaxi mewled despite herself as she was laid flat. Adaine and Fig hesitantly took one arm. Kristen and Riz took the other. Machaira unsheathed her claws and rotated her wrists around.
"You guys need to hold on tighter, a little further up my arm, and push down on me more," she advised. "Make sure someone has a hand over my wrists. I could probably still claw you." Fig drained her flask. Kristen gulped. Machaira could feel Adaine trembling as she strained to press harder against both Machaira and her every instinct. Machaira blinked slowly at the wizard and tried to keep her expression soft. If she was honest, being held down made her fur bristle, but she wasn't nearly as sensitive about it as she used to be. Fabian walked back holding the spear backwards, hand just behind the blade. The handle glowed a bright orange/white.
"Um, ah, is this really necessary," he asked breathlessly. The spear trembled in his hands.
"Fabian, look at me," she commanded softly. Silver eyes met gold as Fabian did as she asked. "It's alright. I know this is scary, but you're going to be okay."
"I know I'm going to be okay!" Fabian exploded. "You're the one who's about to get her guts burned. And I have to…" He trailed off into unintelligible stutters. "Aren't you scared?"
"A little," the tabaxi admitted quietly. She was having trouble staying awake. "But why should I be afraid? I'm surrounded by my family." Fabian stopped breathing for a moment then sucked in a long, deep breath and released it slowly. He looked up at the rest of the party. They stared at each other for a good minute. Something passed between them that Machaira was no longer coherent enough to recognize. Fabian stared down at her, eyes hardening with resolve.
"Yes," he said. "You are." Fabian nodded at the others, who tightened their holds on her. Kristen started and jumped up to grab the ax. The cleric offered Machaira the handle. The rogue might have been embarrassed if she hadn't been so tired as she gripped the wood securely between her carnassials. She laid her head back on the concrete and closed her eyes. A couple puffs as Fabian readied himself, and the pain in her body intensified tenfold. Machaira tried to hold in a scream, eyes screwed shut and body shaking.
The process was… invasive. Horribly painful, humiliating, and maddeningly slow would have accurately described the procedure, but the feeling of being forcibly filled was terrifying in its own right. She'd asked for this; she trusted her friends; she knew this was for her own good. But the memory of every time she'd been raped or abused seethed in the failing shreds of her brain. Searing agony spread from her abdomen in spasms as Fabian slowly forced the spear through her clenched muscles, carefully weaving it among the mass of shredded organs the gnoll arrow had left behind. Machaira lost track of time. The pain spread up her torso like cracks in glass until it ran across her entire body, stabbing into any logical defense she tried to offer against the tidal wave of instinct telling her to run, to fight back. Her claws flexed, extending until they trembled. A thin whine built in the back of her throat, building with the deliberate, inevitable penetration of her wound until she was screeching in blind terror as agony consumed her body, blocking out all other stimuli.
Her friends didn't let Machaira move a centimeter. Machaira couldn't see them, had lost all sense of sound and smell save for her screams and the burning of her own flesh. But when the pain almost became too much to bear, when her struggles had begun to grow weak as exhaustion took over, the spear started to recede, a process every bit as slow and painful as the entry. A tiny voice in the back of her head whispered that the end was in sight. Machaira panted around the ax handle, facial fur wet with tears that still ran down her cheeks, froth building in the back of her throat and threatening to choke her.
Finally, the spear was removed from her body, and Machaira sagged against the floor. Someone helped her spit out the partially crushed ax handle. Her vision swam. Fiery pain rippled across her body in waves, but she was still really cold. Even after her friends let go of her, Machaira didn't get up. The scout felt as if all the energy in her body had been drained away, which wasn't that far from the truth. She trembled, still trying to force back the lingering sensation of powerlessness and violation she'd just experienced. But when she finally focused on Fabian, kneeling next to her with the bloody spear in hand, the tabaxi smiled at him.
"Thank you," she murmured, eyelids heavy. "I know that must have been hard. You were really brave, Fabian. All of you were. M'sorry you had – " The fighter dropped the javelin, bent down, scooped her up, and embraced her, angling his body across her upper torso to avoid her fresh burns. Machaira hugged him back without hesitation, the faintest starts of a purr interrupted by her labored panting.
"How are you…" Fabian trailed away. "I could have killed you. That was the worst thing I've ever experienced, hands down, and I wasn't even the one…" Machaira stroked his hair and nuzzled the side of his head.
"I'm okay," she breathed. "We're gonna be okay, even if none of this was okay. I trust you guys. You're a good friend, Fabian. 'M lucky to have you." Fabian took a deep breath and rubbed furiously at his eyes.
"You're a good friend too, Machaira," Fabian said thickly. He pulled away, letting the rogue sink back toward the floor. Someone else caught her, instantly identified by touch. Machaira snuggled into Adaine's arms, allowing the wizard to maneuver her in whatever way the high elf thought would aggravate her wound the least. She reached up and brushed a tear off Adaine's cheek. It was hard because she could no longer feel her fingers.
" 'M sorry I hurt your face," Machaira droned. "You're still really pretty." Adaine smiled, blushed, and laughed. The tabaxi took that as a sign to relax, going limp on Adaine's lap. Fabian said something about calling a car. Adaine cast Press the Digitation to conceal their involvement and then kept her hands busy with cleaning bits of gunk out of Machaira's mane and wiping at the damp stains on her face, an experience the rogue considered ample compensation for her less than stellar night.
Completely spent from recent events, the tabaxi was hardly aware of what was around her. Riz sewed up her wounds, eliciting a few exhausted hisses. After a few minutes someone said they needed to go wait for the cars a few blocks away, and Machaira stood, growling uncomfortably as nausea and stabbing pains rolled over her body. She only managed a few stumbling steps by herself before Gorgug picked her up and carried her like a baby. Machaira's initial growl faded into a weak purr as the half-orc's unthreatening smell rolled over her.
"You're a sweet barbarian," she whispered sleepily. The rest of the night passed in a haze of pain and tiredness. Riz made her swallow something that took the edge off the burning in her stomach. At some point Adaine was mad and arguing, and Machaira chuffed at her to try and comfort her. Then the party split up, and Fig was guiding Machaira into a car, smoothing out her jacket for the majority of the ride. The tiefling then helped her out of the car and up a flight of stairs.
"Come one, you got this," Fig told her, arm under the scout's shoulders as she dragged them both up another bend in the stairwell. "You're a bad ass bitch; you got this."
"… thought you were the bad ass bitch?" Machaira gasped around the overwhelming need to cry and vomit.
"Well, I'm the primary bad ass bitch," the bard clarified. "But you're pretty high up there." By the time she was done with stairs, Machaira didn't even know where she was. She stumbled into a room, leaning heavily on Fig. Riz's voice floated around her from somewhere, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. Some part of her fevered brain identified a coffee table on top of a rug, and she slunk underneath it and passed out at once. When Machaira woke up, she had no idea how long she'd been asleep, but she felt disgusting. The tabaxi tried to stretch and had to clench her jaws on a shriek of pain. Memories of last night came crashing back over her.
"Hey," Riz said somewhere above her. Machaira inched her way out from under the table to see Riz sitting on the couch with bags under his eyes. At some point he had showered and made coffee, but he still looked tired and scared. "Glad to see you awake. I was worried about you. We all were." Machaira blinked at him, grunted, and dragged herself out from under the table.
"Sorry for worrying you," she mumbled. "I'll be more careful."
"None of last night was your fault. You could have slept in my bed, by the way, or at least taken the couch."
"Instinct, Riz," she growled lowly. "I like being under things. Small spaces make good hiding spots." The goblin nodded. The scout wanted to roll onto her back and go back to sleep, but she forced herself to stand, cross the room, and sit at the table instead, head propped on a shaky arm. It was taking all her energy not to cry at the burning in her gut.
"So, um, you, uh, weren't exactly all there after Fabian, you know…" Riz trailed off, standing up and shuffling his feet. "How much do you remember?" Machaira huffed, tail tip flicking on the floor.
"Not much after the cauterizing," the tabaxi managed. "Just flashes of scent, couple snippets of conversation, few impressions of someone hovering over me. Usually takes me a few days to properly remember that kinda shit, though." Riz nodded again, fiddling with his hat.
"Right, so, um, Adaine fixed your jacket." Machaira patted her side and immediately hissed. Gods, she was stupid. But she did confirm that the only material possession she liked was good as new again. She would have to do something really special for her friend to make up for last night's shitty turn of events. "She also cast Identify on your scabbard. Turns out its magical. You can instantly coat your saber in poison three times a day, but there's a minute cooldown between uses. I, uh, thought you might want to know."
"Venom." She grunted. Riz frowned at her. "I recognized the scent when I cut that barbarian. It's not poison; it's wyvern venom. Haven't smelled it in years, but there's no mistaking it." The tear drop-shaped burn on her neck itched. Machaira gave it a scratch. She knew from hard experience that was a high-tier toxin. While she was happy to protect her friends, the scabbard's nature left her uneasy. The enchantment was very much aimed at her predatory background, but the scout was reluctant to use poisons unless she was feeling particularly spiteful. She didn't like having temptation so readily available. For a few minutes, she and Riz held an uncomfortable silence. Well, Machaira wasn't sure if the silence was uncomfortable, but she certainly was.
"I'm sorry," Riz quietly broke the tension. "I was so focused on the case, I almost got everyone killed. Gorgug wants to go see Jawbone tomorrow. Fabian texted me to see if you're alright, but he won't talk to me otherwise. Both them blame themselves for not taking care of the situation before you got hurt. Adaine wanted to stay with you tonight, and she was almost screaming when the rest of us said that she should go home so that no one would get suspicious. Fig got absolutely hammered after she helped carry you home. Kristen came over at, like, four a.m. because she had night terrors. Besides the, you know, thing with you, I asked her to inspect some shrine the gnolls had set up. She could hear the last thoughts of people sacrificed there to Yeenoghu. And you… how the fuck were you so calm?" Machaira looked over at Riz without taking her head off her hand, face smushed into her fist. She extended her left arm to invite Riz into a truly gross hug that the other rogue immediately accepted. The tabaxi grunted when he touched her, shivers of pain sparking from the contact, but kept her hold anyway.
"Blood loss helps," she sassed. Riz quirked a grin. "I've been ripped apart and stitched back together enough times that it's lost some of the shock value. The world is a fucked-up place. Most of everything in it sucks ass. Best you can do is focus on what's important and try to make that better. Our party, our friends, they matter to me, and not much else does. And you matter to us. This might have started as your case, but it's ours now. So we're going to come along on whatever dumb-ass idea you come up with. And there's going to be times when shit hits the fan, and everything is fucked, and nothing is okay. So we freak out and move on with our lives. We signed up to be adventurers: that comes with shit like last night. But we're all going to be okay, and we don't blame you for this. I certainly don't."
"Thanks," the inquisitor mumbled.
"The Ball never bounces alone," Machaira cheeked. Riz snorted and pulled away. The door rattled, and Sklonda walked in, shoulders sagging after a long night shift.
"Oh, good morning, Machaira," she greeted. "You kids look awful. I hope you haven't been up all night."
"Nah, just had a bit of a rough night," Machaira mumbled, trying to look sleepy instead of agonized.
"Oh, anything serious?" Sklonda asked, turning to Riz. As she went to close the door, Fig and Kristen crashed into the room, bass and staff at the ready. The tiefling staggered a bit, squinting against the lights. She was lucky her devilish heritage softened the effects of a hangover.
"We're so sorry we overslept," Kristen rushed, guilty expression aglow with bardic inspiration. "Let's get you – heeeeeeeey, Mrs. Gukgak. How, how, hooooowww are you doing?" Both girls tried to smile innocently. The detective frowned.
"Oh fuck it," Fig muttered, immediately playing a Song of Rest. Kristen cast three spells in rapid succession. Machaira moaned in relief as the terrible burning faded, taking the nausea with it.
"Thank you so very, very much," the tabaxi groaned with feeling, leaning back and rubbing her stomach.
"What is going on?" Sklonda demanded. Fig opened her mouth, no doubt to spin a lie on the spot, but Machaira beat her to it.
"I got shot," she told the detective calmly. "Some gnolls tried to throw down with us. Kristen and Fig had already used their spell slots, so Fabian and Riz had to stitch me up." The scout reached under her jacket with a claw, hissing as she ripped the bloody thread from her right side and held it up to the older goblin. "Riz had a first aid kit on hand and convinced me to spend the night here." She met Sklonda's gaze calmly. Everything she said was true, so she didn't think Sklonda's 'mom senses' would pick up on anything. Fortunately, she was right.
"In the future, I'd feel better if you went to the hospital," the detective admonished. "But I understand why you didn't. Riz, that was smart thinking with the first aid kit. Good job getting her to come back here, too. I know that wasn't your first choice." Sklonda directed the last statement at Machaira, stroking her filthy mane. It wasn't as nice as when Adaine did it, but Machaira enjoyed the gesture all the same. The goblin woman kissed her son on the head and smiled Kristen and Fig. "I'm proud of how well you kids look after each other. You girls want to join us for break – I have to go to the store." Sklonda broke off with a sigh.
"Actually, I was going to go to lunch later with my dad, Gorthalax," Fig told her. "Why don't you all come join us?"
"I got to get some sleep before I go shopping," Sklonda turned her down gently as she made her way to the closet. "But that sounds like a good idea. Machaira, you've got to be dying to get that blood out of your fur. Why don't you take a shower and wash your clothes here before lunch, maybe have a cup of coffee? I got a t-shirt and some sweatpants for you to change into." The detective handed Machaira some baggy sweatpants, a large t-shirt, and a pair of socks. "I obviously don't have any underwear for you, so you might want to stay here until your clothes come out of the wash." The rogue knew Sklonda wanted to keep her out of the forest and around other humanoids as much as possible, but she appreciated the gesture. While the clothes were a little large for her, the thick shirt had long sleeves to cover her scars and she'd at least be comfortable.
"I'll have to make a hole for my tail," she told Sklonda. "But otherwise it's great. Thank you, so much. I can see where Riz gets his, well, everything from." Riz flushed a darker green, and Sklonda smiled. "But first I have to call the others and let them know that I'm okay."
"You should start with Adaine," Fig suggested, smiling wickedly. "She was really upset last night."
"I'll call Adaine last because she'll want to talk the most," Machaira corrected, far too tired to try and guess what mischief the bard was up to. Sklonda left to go to bed, and the girls settled around the coffee pot with Riz. Fig spiked her mug and then spiked Kristen's before asking the cleric if she wanted any. The cleric drank her altered coffee too quickly, blinking hugely and coughing roughly as it went down. Machaira took out her crystal and tapped Gorgug's contact, tension melting from her body. Yesterday's horror already felt distant. For now, life was good.