Author: mkcrl120
Disclaimer: All the characters mentioned in this story belong to Joss Whedon or Mutant Enemy or some other people. I own nothing and wrote this just to get it out of my system.
Summary: Set two weeks after the events in Explaining Africa 3
Authors Notes: I have no clue about Africa. Which is probably always a good place to start writing a story. So if details I've used for place names, and tribal names and whatever are wrong then just (correctly) assume I have no idea what I'm doing.
Rating: 15 by English standards (mainly for language)
Chapter 13c:
The apartment
Roger blinked, trying to comprehend what he'd just seen. "Shote..?" He mumbled quietly to himself, barely aware of Amy pulling herself off the floor.
"Roger..?" Amy asked, nodding her head in the direction of the partially damaged doorframe. "Roger, what happened..?"
"Shote." He replied, still trying to regain control of his worldview.
"What happened to Shote..? Is he alright..?" She asked, Roger spotted her eyes flicking around the room. "Did the demon..?"
"What is Shote would be a better question." Roger informed her before heading over towards the weaponry.
He could hear Amy's voice from somewhere behind him. "What is- what does that mean..?"
He glanced over the weaponry, quickly cataloguing them in his mind. 'I mean whose side am I supposed to be on.' Came the unwanted thought, as he skimmed over the various weapons spread out in front of him. 'The crossbow wasn't bad against a vampire.' He reasoned as he picked it up, trying to ignore the thoughts that were betraying his friend.
'Yes, Shote. My friend.' He stuck to that thought as he glanced in the direction of where the demon had exited the building. 'Shote who has been my friend for a long time, even after no-one wanted to know me.'
Placing the crossbow back down and picking up his shotgun, after checking it was loaded he quickly palmed a few extras shells and put them in his coat pocket.
"Roger!" Came the sound of Amy next to him, seemingly demanding an answer.
'No time. We've got to help Shote.' Roger thought as he turned towards the door, then paused and looked back at the table.
As Amy returned within his visual range she gave him one of those looks. "Shote's out there facing the demon alone." He informed her, hoping that'd be enough.
Quickly passing her, he grabbed one of the stakes and placed it into his pocket with the extra ammunition. "Just in case." He stated, then turned and headed towards the door.
Behind him he could hear Amy grabbing something off the table, before her footsteps quickly caught up with them.
Roger got to the door first, lifting his right arm to catch Amy before she went rushing past him. He felt her collide with his right shoulder and attempt to roll past him, straining his arm he attempted to stop her getting past.
It was at this point that both of them spotted Shote crouching down on one knee, the demon a good ten feet or so away from him and quickly getting to it's feet.
He heard Amy gasp as the beast charged towards Shote. "Watch out!" She screamed, Roger gripped tighter as she put more effort into her attempts to get past him.
Roger watched unable to tear his eyes away as Shote ignored the warning, instead seemingly focusing only on his opponent.
He then felt Amy relax a little as she spotted what he'd done earlier.
Shote's hands were surrounded by what seemed to be small dancing flashes of yellow lightning. As the creature got closer, the area surrounding Shote seemed to get yellower, until eventually he seemed to be surrounded by small protective dome.
"What is he..?" Amy whispered quietly, watching the events unfold.
The cave
"The box..?" Xander asked. "The same box that I'm in now..?"
"The box is used to communicate with the Scythe." Brouhm explained.
Xander paused to collect his thoughts. "So I'm inside the Scythe and not the box..?"
"You aren't technically inside the box." Brouhm informed him. "Or the Scythe."
Xander's confusion must have been evident on his face, because Brouhm quickly continued.
"The box is used as a conduit for communication with the Scythe."
"So... Slayers," Xander attempted to figure out what he'd been told. "And for some reason I'm included in that group somehow... but anyway, Slayers enter the box's portal and speak to yourself."
"No."
'What..?' Xander instinctively thought to himself, he was about to ask that very question when he remembered an earlier part of this conversation. "Right, what Buffy did... Slayers are supposed to talk to the others, only I get stuck with you."
"No."
"There were only two options." Xander argued.
"There was only one option... one form of communication that the box was designed for." Brouhm corrected him. "And neither of those two options were it."
"So while I am a special circumstance, I'm no more special than Buffy was." Xander reasoned, pretty pleased with his conclusion.
"Slightly more." Brouhm admitted. "I understand the special circumstances explaining why Buffy's visit was different, even if I don't understand how what occured actually did so. You however..." He drifted off.
"Touched by a Slayer... but not sexually." Xander parroted from memory. "Though I was... but it's irrelevant." He waved it off with his hand before moving on. "Don't. Like the rest of this conversation it'll just confuse me more. So what were Slayers entering the portal supposed to do..?"
"What we designed the box for." Brouhm stated confidently. "To set them on the right path. To ensure they fought against the darkness."
Xander nodded. "Yeah Buffy doesn't like being told what to do... probably what pissed her off."
"She did not rec-" Brouhm began.
"Okay." Xander quickly interrupted. "You're confusing me, and Buffy was fuming when she left here... how exactly is a talk supposed to persuade any Slayer..? You can't reasonably believe that even if it's the 'Slayer-friendly and familiar with them for countless years' Merkak doing the talking, that they'll actually listen and start doing the right thing."
"We don't talk to them." Brouhm answered. "Have you ever heard of the phrase 'show, don't tell'..?"
Unknown location
Over the next two days, Tu'ron had been slowly persuaded to go with the strangers.
Faith fumed, wishing she had access to a Watcher, or anyone who could tell her anything about possible demon infections. 'Even if I can't speak to one of the ones I trust, I'd at least like an independant third party to give me the lowdown on this shit.'
Instead most of the information seemed to be presented from Brouhm, the stranger who'd informed them he was a Seer and was filling Tu'ron's head with dreams of being an immortal warrior.
'He also said he was married to Merkak, who I've seen about twice since yesterday.' Faith internally debated, wishing for the hundredth time that Tu'ron wasn't falling for this so readily.
'Not really her fault though.' Faith reasoned, 'The groups got most of the camp under the same spell. Including all those that Tu'ron looks to for guidance.'
Part of Faith wondered if Tu'ron was doing it to impress Dig'na, it was obvious that the young warrior was making no efforts to hide the fact that he wanted the demon-tamers to grant him one of their gifts also.
D'gan and Ga'nav had shown nothing but pride since it'd been announced that they'd chosen Tu'ron to recieve their offerings. Once it'd been explained that this was no normal gift, but instead a combination more complicated that anything they'd attempted before... well since then excitement had filled all of the camp. 'And Tu'ron went with the flow.' Faith thought sadly to herself.
She was confused by one thing though. None of the strangers ever mentioned aloud that Tu'ron had the ability to sense vampires. 'And none of our group mentioned it to them.' Faith thought thankfully. 'So they're either know and they're lying to us or it's us that have no fucking idea as to why they think Tu'ron is special enough to perform some sort of experimental magic enhancements on.'
She was knocked out of her thoughts by Bee'ka's arrival. "How's Fy'vaar..?" She felt Tu'ron ask her best friend.
"He's got potential." Bee'ka replied, resulting in both of them stifling mischievous giggles. Faith idly noted the faint crackling sound seemingly in the background, something that was present when any female Braka laughed.
"I can't wait for you to come back." Bee'ka smiled at her reassuringly. Faith felt her cheeks move as Tu'ron returned the gesture. "We'll be able to wrestle and train against each other like we did when we were young."
"We weren't supposed to do it back then." Tu'ron responded automatically, unable to restrain the grin as they reminisced about their shared youth. "Your father was really worried you'd accidentally hurt me."
"I knew what I was doing." Bee'ka responded with a wink. "Well, nearly." She confessed at Tu'ron's challenging look. "Anyway this time, you might stand a chance."
'Unless she fucking dies.' Faith wanted to scream. 'Dies attempting something that she doesn't fully get.'
"Imagine having the strength of a Braka." Tu'ron drifted off, "Bet I could face one of the Others on my own if I was that powerful."
"I don't need to imagine." Bee'ka countered.
"Still never faced one alone though have you." Tu'ron stated with a wink of her own.
"We don't fight like that anymore." Bee'ka answered, "So chances are you wouldn't have to either."
Tu'ron smiled. "It's doubtful I'd be as strong as a Braka anyway, let alone be able to compete with one of the Others."
"It's not their strength that's the issue." Bee'ka informed her. "It's that they can take a lot of damage without worry, and that there's only one way to kill them."
"A formidable creature." Tu'ron agreed. "Though Brouhm has told me stories of creatures far beyond even their capabilities."
"People always have stories like that." Bee'ka agreed. "Who knows if they are true, though I would love to adventure out far enough to find out."
"Did you see the creature they brought with them..?" Tu'ron asks. "Brouhm told me that it cannot die at all."
"What even if you cut off it's head..?" Bee'ka queried. "Even if it were true, it's been in shackles the whole time it's been here... most useless guard duty ever." She grumbled.
"Maybe we'll get to travel with the demon-tamers..?" Tu'ron mused aloud. "If they offer me a place with them, I'll ask if you can come to." She promised.
Their conversation was cut short as D'gan came over to them.
'Oh shit.' Faith thought to herself, quickly reading his expression.
"Tu'ron." He stated formally. "They're ready. It's time."
"I'm ready." Tu'ron responded, equally formally before turning to her friend. "I'll see you in a few days."
"I'll be waiting." Bee'ka smiled reassuringly at her friend.
'Fucking arrogance of youth.' Faith thought, instantly dismissing the traitorous knowledge that she'd been far worse at a similar age.
Brouhm was the first of the others to walk up to Tu'ron, this time he was accompanied by his wife.
Merkak was carrying some sort of weapon tightly wrapped in some rags. Tu'ron barely glanced in it's direction.
The other strangers stood talking to Ga'nav, Tu'ron kept sneaking glances in that direction, having had very little to do with the actual demon-tamers except when they accompanied D'gan or Ga'nav and visited her or Brouhm. Behind the group of strangers stood the shackled creature, surrounded as always by five guards from their camp. Following instructions at least two of which had to be Braka.
Then they began to lead out of the camp. It was bright under the afternoon sun, so neither Tu'ron nor Faith were particularly afraid of being attacked by the others. Tu'ron was slightly apprehensive, as were other members of their group.
As far as Faith could work out the reasoning went as follows, surely just because the Others were known for attacking at night, there was nothing stopping them from changing their behaviour and doing so during the day. And they were known for changing tactics when it suited them, so they definitely had the intelligence to do so.
Tu'ron's eyesight kept bouncing from strangers to creature and back, occasionally flicking back to the inner subgroup she was walking with. Only occasionally did her eyes flick outside the large group they were travelling in, every time she did so Faith internally chanted the word 'daylight', hoping that one day someone would finally get a clue.
Besides Faith desperately wanted to checkout the weapon. 'Come on girl, always know your immediate threats.' Faith wanted to shout, though truthfully she knew it was irrelevant as she had no idea of the magic users capabilities, and might not have been able to counter them even if she were in her own body.
As they walked Brouhm attracted her attention with a question. One that Faith eagerly wanted Tu'ron to respond positively too.
"Would you like to see the Weapon..?" He asked.
Faith noted Merkak glance in his direction and move closer to reassure the teen.
"The one that will make me immortal..?" Tu'ron queried in return, the enthusiasm obvious in her tone.
Brouhm smiled and merely gestured to Merkak, who quickly unwrapped the rags giving Tu'ron her first real glimpse.
Underneath the cover was a steel hand axe attached to a small wooden handle. Faith eyed it suspiciously. 'Only the handle base is made of wood.' She corrected herself. The top half of the handle was some form of silver-coloured metal. The end of the wooden handle ended in a metallic nob, that Faith could only assume was ornamental.
As Tu'ron examined it more closely, Faith spotted that it was covered in symbols that neither herself nor Tu'ron found familiar.
Symbols placed into the design of the metallic part of the handle, some carved into the wooden. Other unrecognisable characters had been drawn onto the blade itself.
"What does it mean..?" Tu'ron asked, eyes never straying from the weapon.
Merkak responded before Brouhm could. "It's what's needed to turn a weapon into something more."
"But what does it say..?" Tu'ron questioned again, reaching her hand out to touch the blade.
"It doesn't matter." Brouhm responded casually as he caught her wrist. "Don't touch, it's not finished."
Merkak glared at her husband before going into more detail. "Each enchanted weapon created needs to have magic that complements the blade itself. For a Soul Weapon like this is going to be... well, it's far more complicated."
'Typical.' Faith sighed internally, though she now realised that although Merkak had uncovered the blade she never touched it directly. Something it became obvious that Tu'ron hadn't picked up on. 'Careful.' She silently warned.
"Without the inscriptions it wouldn't look like much." Tu'ron admitted in a tired tone.
"Didn't you hear..?" Brouhm stated, "It's not finished yet."
Tu'ron looked confused, the axe was obviously complete. "What's missing..?" She innocently asked, apparently not noticing Merkak smile sadly before turning away.
Faith noticed the subtle movement however, and knowing something was being left unsaid it only further encouraged her curiousity and general distrust over the whole event. 'What aren't they telling us..?'
"Among other things... me." Brouhm answered, Faith noted he stood a little taller as he did so.
"You..?" Tu'ron queried.
"An immortal warrior will need an immortal weapon at her side." Brouhm replied. "She needs to put me in the blade."
Faith spotted Merkak reining in a sob before joining the conversation. "I'll also need some of yourself, and some of the demon." She added, not going into detail.
"Myself..?"
"Shall we..?" Brouhm asked his wife.
Merkak closed her eyes tight, waited a few seconds then opened them. Faith recognised the look of steel in the eyes that met hers.
Brouhm pulled out a knife, causing Tu'ron to jump a little.
'Least you've got some sense left.' Faith thought, as Brouhm asked his wife a question.
"Where do we start..?"
"We'll start with yourself." Merkak replied.
Brouhm took the knife and cut himself across the palm. Faith was impressed that he barely flinched as he did so.
Merkak gestured to a particular set of symbols on the metallic part of the handle, and Brouhm carefully swiped his bloody hand across them. Then she gestured to a particular character on the ornamental part of the handle, he pressed his thumb into the bloody palm and lightly placed it over the single symbol.
Once done Merkak lightly dabbed at the weapon with the cloth, then revealed it once more for all to see.
Both Faith and Tu'ron looked on as the blood had somehow remained within the indentions. Merkak continued with the process speaking a few words that Tu'ron didn't recognise and the blood began to become absorbed into the hand axe.
As the blood was absorbed, the hand axe began to subtlely change. The symbols on the metal part of the handle disappeared with the blood, and the handle itself grew longer. Upon closer inspection a small hole was created in the ornamental handle, and the character that had received the bloody thumbprint metamorphosised into a different unrecognisable character.
Once complete the silver head itself began to change colour slightly. Just a small amount at first, but there was definitely a hint of red in there.
"Now it knows whose soul will reside within it." Merkak informed them with just a hint of sadness.
Brouhm walked over to the creature and cut off a small strip of it's skin. Tu'ron and Faith were amazed that it didn't bleed, though from it's reaction it obviously felt the pain.
Tu'ron fought back instincts to run as the creature attempted to throw off it's chains, the more it moved the brighter the light show surrounding it flashed. Eventually it calmed down, and they could continue with their journey.
By this point Brouhm had returned to them, casually handing Tu'ron the knife as they walked behind the others. Faith automatically felt a little better.
Merkak instructed Tu'ron to lightly cut both her thumb and forefinger. Tu'ron did as she asked, biting back her own outburst of pain as she did so.
Merkak pointed to the symbols drawn on each side of the blade's edge. Tu'ron lightly dragged her digits down the characters she was instructed to. This time as the excess blood flowed off the blade, the symbols themselves seemed to darken slightly.
Brouhm carefully draped the thin piece of skin across the butt of the axe. Merkak pointed out three different lines that she wanted Tu'ron to swipe her blood along. Tu'ron did so, as the symbols hidden beneath the skin seemed to light up. Then she requested Tu'ron to place a bloody thumbprint on one of the other characters on the handles ornamental end.
Once done, Merkak examined where the skin fell along the blade, asking Tu'ron to press it into place at various positions. Eventually satisfied with how it looked she began to chant more unknown words.
Again the axe changed shape, this time the blade itself got thinner as it attempted to absorb the creatures skin. Eventually the blade itself seemed barely thicker than the handle. This gave the impression that the butt end of the axe had wrapped itself tightly around the handle, seemingly grasping it so that they could never be separated. This image of the blade gripping the handle was further exagerated as a hole seemed to spread to separate blade from handle. The two now only connected by two thick red metal shafts.
Somehow though it seemed to be one flowing piece of metal, colour changing from strong red at the handle down to silver at the edges. The symbols around the blade edge now gave the impression of pure blackness.
"It's beautiful." Tu'ron gasped as she looked on in amazement, never before having seen such an intricate design in one single piece of blade.
'That's the fucking Scythe.' Faith thought, as she examined it closely. 'Well nearly.' She corrected herself as she tried to get an exact mental image of the last time she'd seen the Slayer's weapon before it'd been safely placed into one of the Council's vaults. She was pretty sure she could remember some differences.
"This was to show the Weapon who it's bearer was." Merkak explained, "And to link you to the creature and grant you it's immortality."
"I'm immortal..?" Tu'ron asked. "I don't feel any different."
"Not yet." Brouhm responded with a grin. "So far it's just an enchanted weapon... we've yet to make it a true Soul Weapon."
"How do yo-" Tu'ron began.
"It requires a sacrifice." Brouhm informed her. "That'd be my job." He stated, unknowingly putting Faith at ease as he did so. He took back the knife and gave a smile to Merkak and then walked off to discuss progress with the other demon-tamers.
Faith spotted them all mainly concentrating on the unnamed creature.
"What are these symbols for..?" Tu'ron asked, pointing at a variety of other remaining characters.
"Some are for the creature, to ensure your immortality. It was one of the few things we couldn't give you directly." Merkak explained.
Tu'ron nodded in agreement remembering what Brouhm and the others had explained to her, but Faith still questioned their decisions. 'I don't see how this is any less risky than going with the full demon crap and hoping for the best.'
"And some will be used to gather all parts of Brouhm's soul." Merkak continued.
"The last thumb part." Tu'ron asked, pointing to the remaining character on the ornamental part of the handle. "That's for the creature too..?"
"No." Merkak responded, before looking around to check the location of the others. "That's for me." She informed the younger woman quietly, gesturing for her to whisper.
"You..?" Tu'ron questioned. "I didn't know yo-"
"Neither did Brouhm." She answered quickly. Pulling out her own knife she quickly nicked her thumb and two of her fingers and swiftly placed them onto the appropriate symbols. The thumbprint joined the others on the remaining symbol, her fingers swiping alongside the length of the blade. One tracing from heel to handle, the other from toe to butt.
Whispering a few words, Tu'ron looked on as the blade changed shape once more.
The tip raised and curved back, effectively increasing the blade's length and giving it a far more lethal cutting edge. Also along the top a small tip protruded.
The heel separated into two distinct points connected by an extremely sharp inward curve.
Overall the blade looked lighter, it had a handle that seemed designed to allow it's bearer to wield it in a impressive number of ways, this was made more obvious by the fact that the blade now seemed to be all edges.
"I've never seen anything like it." Tu'ron stated as Merkak returned it to it's covers.
"Neither have I." Merkak admitted, "But that's normally the way with enchanted blades, you start to shape and forge them and the magic finishes the job." She paused glancing at the covers, seemingly seeing right through them. "I've never seen anything like that though."
There were some small differences, the handle seemed shorted somehow. And it still seemed to be missing something. But Faith was almost certain of one thing. 'They've just built the Slayer's Scythe... where the fuck am I..?'
End chapter 13c