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Tales Of Morveria: Loyalty 4, Sacrifice

A Lighthearted Adventure into Darkness.

By Mantrid Brizon

(Written 11/13/2022)

Sweat beads on his brow as he trudges through the soft sand, weighted down by the large and imposing beast man draped over his shoulders. Amael, a young human of seventeen-years-old, carries on through sheer determination and adrenaline. The hot sun beams down onto the duo, warming Vashai's black and gray fur to the point of burning Amael's skin. His arms and face glisten from the moisture as he huffs and puffs, taking step after painful step to reach his destination.

“Amael..." Vashai croaks, hanging limply over the human's back.

“Don't worry, Vashai! I won't let you die!"

“Amael... It [is] no use... Save yours-"

“Shut up! Just shut up, alright?! ... S-save your strength. We're almost there, buddy. We're almost there..."

In the distance he can see the primitive hut, made of a short wall of asymmetrical stones fitted together and with a sloping, circular roof of sticks and old thatch. It's a strange structure for the deserts of Horabii, where the duo found themselves after two years of sporadic travel. They'd left the lush temperate region Vetosk after pairing together, when Vashai sought revenge for the murder of his first master, a man who'd raised him from infancy, giving him human speech and trained him on how to survive the human's civilization.

Amael was homeless at the time, a malnourished and starving fifteen-year-old boy with no one and nothing to his name. He thieved for his daily bread and slept wherever he could, until fate conspired to bring the two together. A kind heart and a helping hand was all the boy had to give to the Zesharii, a hybrid of wolf, bear and horse-kin. He had lived alone and was wary of strangers, but he saw in the youth a soul that was nearly identical to his first master. He was quickly proven correct, and proudly wears his collar and brass tag, which bears Amael's name.

For two years they've traveled, seeking the beautiful and serene land of Zhanai, the tropical region on the eastern coast of the Great Sea of Sinii. After all this time together, depending on each other, growing closer, there's no way it can end like this. Amael simply won't allow it! He marches toward the hut in the middle of the sandy desert, his strength increasing with each step as hope grows closer and closer. He soon finds himself at the door, a flap made of the hide of an antelope stretched over a frame of old sticks and draped over the square opening.

“Mama Zeliit!" He shouts, setting Vashai's bulk onto the ground and throwing the flap out of the way. “Mama Zeliit! We need your help!"

“What's wrong, Amael?!"

The startled woman turns away from a small brass cauldron, where she cooks a sweet-smelling brew. The aging woman brings her wrinkling hands to her face and gasps, her hazel eyes wide at the sight. The short hut covers a dugout pit, where the soil helps keep the interior cool. Amael squats down and enters, his arms wrapped around a now unconscious and limp Vashai, who he drags into her home. He plops the beast man onto his back near her feet and reaches into a satchel, his hand slowing to a crawl one he lifts the flap of the hanging pouch.

“What happened?!"

“We were leaving for the next city, as we'd said we would, when a band of Yad'ovai appeared!" He begins.

“Oh, no..." Mama Zeliit hangs her head.

“Those damned venomous Sabaarii attacked without warning and shot their toxic darts at us. I fired a shot with my pistol and Vashai threw a poison gas bomb to cover our escape, but after making it only a short distance he began to stumble. I found these in his back."

Amael pinches two slender darts between his fingers and thumb, being careful not to touch the tips. The aging healer, who lives alone in her secluded hut, glances at the darts and begins shaking her head. She brings a hand to her face and covers her eyes, her long, salt and pepper dreadlocks swaying. Amael's face sinks as he stares at the dark-skinned woman, whose hand moves from her eyes only to cover her mouth. She appears deep in thought, but as her hand uncovers her lips and falls to the side, he can see the awful truth. She already knows Vashai's fate; her gloomy expression is proof of that.

“No..." He chokes out.

“I'm sorry, Amael... There's nothing I can do."

“NO!!!"

“Listen to me..."

She speaks softly as she rests her hands over his, the pale, black-haired man now tanned from months in the hot, sunny climate. She stares into his deep blue eyes and gives his hands a squeeze.

“The Yad'ovai dip those darts in their own venom. They are one of the only two-legged creatures in all of Morveria with such a toxic bite, and once their venom has reached the heart there is little I can do."

“Little or nothing?" He asks with tears in his eyes.

Mama Zeliit moves away from him and sighs, walking slowly around the unconscious beast man. She scans the Zesharii slowly, from head to toe. Dropping to a knee, she raises his large hand, examining his nearly two-inch-long, razor-sharp claws. Normally as white as polished bones, they've already begun to turn black. She leans over to examine his face, touching his big, black canine nose to feel it radiating heat. She opens his eyes and sees how his emerald orbs no longer adjust to the light, and lifting his lips reveals purple splotches tainting what should be bright pink gums.

“I'm sorry..."

“Please. I'll do anything... I... I can't go on without him."

“Can't you?" She turns to him. “You came from Vetosk. You've made it this far, and at an age far younger than many adventurers."

“That was only because he gave me the strength! Yes, he's superstitious, somewhat cowardly, and he goes out of his way for females even at my expense, but I only found courage when I knew he was standing there! This pistol?!" He pauses to draw his cheap, single-shot weapon. “This is hardly a toy, and yet it gives me no courage, nor does it make me feel safe... I only sleep well at night because I know he's listening, because I know that when I call his name he will help, despite his flaws... He's my rock... He's... He's my best friend."

“That's very touching." Mama Zeliit flashes a warm smile as she rises to her feet. “If you truly feel that way, then there might be something that could work, but it will be risky..."

“Name it and it will be done!"

She softly chuckles, touched by the human's eagerness. He didn't even hesitate.

“Alright... I need four ingredients. First, I must have six heads of the Infernium flower, and their cores must remain intact. Then I'll need two (COOL NAME) mushroom caps, which can be found in the Cave of the Defiled. They are small, blue mushroom caps with gray stripes. Be careful when touching them, as they are highly toxic in their natural state. Third, I'll need a sample of the Yad'ovai's venom, and fourth... I need your blood."

“Done!"

Mama Zeliit turns to him, shock in her eyes. Did he even listen to her instructions? She asks him to repeat what she needs, just to be sure he was truly listening, only to discover, to her surprise, that he understood everything. He truly cares for the beast man.

“You've been helpful to me and my people these two months you've been here; I will do all I can for Vashai, but time is of the essence. If you aren't back by dawn, he will already be attracting vultures..." She warns.

“You will have your ingredients before the twin moons reach their zenith." He replies before stepping out from her hut.

Mama Zeliit busies herself trying to keep Vashai alive, brewing a potion to increase his strength. Meanwhile, Amael races for the rocky wastes a short distance from her home. After running nearly half a mile, he can make out the field of Inferniums. The fist-sized spikey balls are reminiscent to the humble thistle but glossy black in color and with cores that glow crimson at night. The spikes are not very stiff, but together make the heads difficult to handle without causing oneself pain.

He draws his old, cheap dagger, a weapon used more for utility than self-defense, and cuts the ash-colored stems of six heads. Stuffing them into his satchel, the pouch is already nearly full. He prays to The One that he'll be able to collect the remaining ingredients. For a moment, he contemplates going back to drop off what he already has, but the Cave of the Defiled, a place where the desert tribe's more unsavory characters are left after death, is not far from the rocky field. He wipes the sweat from his brow and takes a drink from his canteen, which he'd forgotten to refill after the last time.

“Oh, come on!" He growls. “This is a test, isn't it?" He looks to the sky. “Are you trying to see if I'll falter?! ... Please..." He chokes on his words, trying to maintain his composure. “Please don't let Vashai die."

The rage within him builds, giving him the strength to press on. Amael returns his wooden canteen to his belt and marches on. His feet already ache from the exertion, his back sore from carrying Vashai for who knows how many miles. He hadn't noticed it until now, though it's no surprise. Vashai is still more than a head taller than him, despite how much he's grown these past two years, and he must be nearly one-hundred-pounds heavier as well. For a moment, the young man grins with pride over being able to bring him to Mama Zeliit's hut. He's already achieved a feat of strength; what's a few more miles?

With his strength bolstered by his confidence, Amael continues to sprint through the desert, looking for the Cave of the Defiled. He'd never been there, but in the two month's that he and his best friend had lived with Mama Zeliit's people, he'd heard all about it. With any luck, it won't be difficult to find. He finds the two standing rocks and stops, his head on a swivel as he scours the land for signs of the cave. He expects to see a mouth somewhere, beige or reddish-gold stone rising from the sand, but instead he finds nothing.

“Huh?! Am I in the wrong place?!" He thinks aloud, walking in circles. “Where in Adonai's name is this stupid ca-AAHHH!!!"

Slipping into a hole, Amael yelps in fear as he tries to slow his descent! His ragged boots and old, black trousers scrape along the stony slope, a nearly forty-five-degree angle heading into a black abyss. A putrid stench overwhelms him almost immediately upon slipping inside, and only a beam of light reaching the bottom gives him any hope for surviving. He sees the bottom coming quickly, roughly two-hundred-feet below. Bracing himself, he lands on his heels and the momentum sends him vaulting forward.

He lands on his arms with a thud and then a roll, just beyond the veil of darkness. Pushing himself up, he groans and coughs, his right arm and chest pained by the fall. He crawls back into the sunlight and searches for anything that he can use to light his path. Something catches his attention.

“What's this?"

Pulling at a white stick, he grabs a femur with a piece of trousers is still attached!

“Ew... Wait!"

Setting the leg bone on the floor, he wraps the trousers tightly around one joint. He then rolls the fabric into the sand before taking a resin he keeps in a small jar on another pouch and smears it in. He, like the rest of Mama Zeliit's tribe, use the resin to coat their lips in the dry air, but it also burns very slowly when alight. Using his trusty flint and steel, he strikes the end of his new torch. The granules of sand react with the resin and softly crackle and pop, creating a slightly brighter flame.

Amael's eyes widen when he sees what resides in the darkness in front of him. Scores upon scores of bodies! Most of them are skeletonized, but many still have bits of dusty looking flesh clinging to their bones. They are quite literally becoming the very sand that covers the floor. All of them have ratty garments of some kind, which radiates the putrid stench of decay.

“Ugh! ... The things I do for my friends." He grumbles to himself.

Walking deeper into the cave, Amael is rather shocked to discover that it appears to be a manmade chamber of sandstone blocks. Looking back, he can see how smooth the slope is, and further investigation reveals steps peeking out from behind centuries of sand. He brushes it off with a hand to discover carved steps along the north wall and going back to the surface.

“Huh! What is this place?!" He marvels at the structure. “Did it once serve some other purpose? Why would they use it to bury their unwanted dead? What do you think, Vash-..."

Amael stops mid-sentence, his heart weighing heavy. Remembering his mission, he forgets the fascinating chamber, now little more than a tomb, and begins searching for the (COOL NAME) mushrooms. Stepping carefully over the skeletons, he finds a body that looks fresher than the others, though that isn't saying much. The corpse of what he assumes was a man wears clothes vastly different from the others, who were clearly members of Mama Zeliit's tribe. He kneels and examines the stranger's body.

It wears a ratty brown jacket made of leather, a discolored off-white shirt that was likely undyed, tan trousers made of cotton from Chumar or perhaps (REGION), simple brown shoes that have no business being on a true adventurer's feet, and a strange, brown hat covering much of the skull. Was that brim used to block out the sun? An empty cotton satchel hangs from their shoulder, near the body's left side, and attached to the satchel is an old leather whip.

“Why do I feel like I've seen you somewhere before? Hmm..."

A good look at the body reveals that the man broke both legs in the fall down the shaft, suffering compound fractures. Amael is very lucky, indeed. Just as he begins to rise, a glint catches his eye. Taking a closer look, he's shocked to find a relatively new firearm in an old holster tucked underneath the corpse! Carefully drawing it from the holster, he discovers a fully loaded pepperbox revolver! The six barrels were well-protected in the holster, though the leather has tarnished the finish. To his astonishment, every barrel is loaded.

“Well, don't mind if I do! Thanks, mister." He says to the body, collecting the pistol and a few accoutrements in a small pouch near the holster. “Now, where are those mushrooms..."

He wanders through the massive chamber and finds corridors leading every which way. Taking his chances, he enters the hall that has a slight breeze running through it. The sandstone hall eventually opens to a large chamber that is clearly unfinished. Sandstone blocks sit at one end, where the structure and cave meet. As he explores, it becomes glaringly obvious that Mama Zeliit's tribe had nothing to do with the construction of the strange chamber, and merely found it a convenient place to put the bodies of their least favorite deceased.

Waving the torch slowly from one side to the other, Amael finds what he's looking for. Littering the damp floor and growing between ancient bones are mushroom caps! He drops to a knee and prepares to pick them up with his bare hands, only to stop and remember what Mama Zeliit had said. Looking around for something to cover his hands, he finds a body nearby wearing an ancient flax gown. The young woman must've died many hundreds of years ago, as this chamber has only a musty odor and not the putrescence of death and decay.

“Don't take this the wrong way, ma'am..." He remarks, grabbing the dress near the bosom.

He yanks the dress, shattering the skeleton and sending bones flying everywhere. They clank and clatter as they roll over the floor and bump other bones and the skull rolls into the darkness.

“Thank you! Now, let's get those... Huh?!"

To Amael's horror, he finds two different mushroom caps growing from between the bones! They are nearly identical in shape and size, except one is gray with dark blue swirls from center to rim and the other is blue with gray stripes from center to rim.

“Oh, damn! Which one was it again?! Uhm... Hmm... Maybe? No... This one? ... ..."

He moves his hand back and forth over the mushroom caps, the old flax dress covering his fingers.

“I don't have time for this, and Vashai doesn't either!" He finally proclaims.

Amael grabs both sets of mushrooms, collecting four caps of each type. After plucking them from between the ribcage of the skeleton, he tears the dress in half, being careful not to touch the spot where they'd contacted the mushrooms. He then wraps two bundles, one for each type of mushroom before stowing them into his bag, which is not yet full. He makes his way back to the chamber entrance just as his torch begins to die. He tosses it carelessly to the ground and begins racing up the sandy steps.

“What's that smell?" He suddenly stops, sniffing the air.

Slowly turning back, Amael is horrified to see that his torch has set the clothes of several bodies on fire! It spreads like a forest fire during a drought, moving from one corner to the other and choking him in smoke. For a moment, he can see the entire chamber, his eyes widening at the story told to him in the carvings on the walls. For as fascinating as it is, he knows that he cannot stay; the smoke begins to strangle him. He dashes up the steps as fast as he can before falling forward and crawling on hands and knees.

Reaching the top, he lands on the ground with a thud, only to stare at the sky, panting and gasping for air. He rolls over to push himself up.

“Ahh!"

A large black scorpion sits near his right hand. With a quick kick, he dispatches the stinging creature and begins the race back to Mama Zeliit's hut. He can feel the exhaustion slowly overwhelming him, the thirst now almost as painful as his aching feet and weakened back. He doesn't let it stop him. He can't. Vashai isn't just his pet; he's his best friend. If he were to die, what would Amael have left? Would there even be a reason to travel to Zhanai? Would he even have the strength to face another day?

The more he contemplates life without his friend, the more he realizes just how much he means to him. All their adventures throughout these past two years, such amusing and lovely memories; they would all be gone in an instant. It gives him the strength to carry on, and soon Mama Zeliit is gasping in shock when Amael barges into her hut for the second time.

“What are you doing here?! You have ingredients to fetch!"

“Here... I've... Found... What... You... Needed..." He says between labored breaths, resting his hands on his knees.

Mama Zeliit takes the bundles he retrieves from his satchel and sets them aside before carefully checking each Infernium for damage. Thankfully, their crimson cores are intact. The old healer collects three clay jars, a small one with a purple stripe painted around the center, and two larger jars. These two jars have three vertical stripes prominently displayed.

“Here..." She passes him the smaller, purple-painted jar. “Drink this. It will rejuvenate you."

“Alright." He nods, sniffing the contents of the jar.

“Let me refill your canteen." She continues, opening one of the other jars and pouring it into his wooden canteen. “If you don't take care of yourself, you won't make it back to help your friend."

“You make a good point." He admits.

His eyes widen after the first taste of the strange potion.

“Wow! This is delicious!" He proclaims. “What's in this?!"

“You don't want to know..." She says with a stern tone and an expressionless face.

“Oh..."

With a little grimace, he swiftly chugs the remainder of the potion. The effect is almost immediate. He feels an electrical charge coursing through his veins, strengthening every muscle. The pain and thirst subside, and his exhaustion is now but a memory. He feels like he could run around the whole of Morveria! With his canteen full, Mama Zeliit barely has time to fasten the cap before he's racing out of her hut.

“Where will you find the venom?!" She calls out to him.

“Don't worry about that! Just keep him alive!" He shouts back.

He has only one place he can go to find the Yad'ovai. The scene of the attack! They may no longer be there, but those wretched venomous Sabaarii will surely leave their tracks in the sand! He runs for miles and miles, keeping his direction with the few landmarks the sandy deserts of Horabii provide. He stops in his tracks when he finds a bit of blood in the sand, near a little valley where they'd begun their journey. Amael's conscience weighs even heavier than his heart. It was his idea to leave.

“Why must we go?!" Vashai asked.

“Because we're supposed to be heading for Zhanai, remember? Beaches, palm trees, and scantily clad females."

“Oh... But, it [is] nice here."

“It's a desert..." Amael said with blank and perhaps even condescending eyes.

Vashai looked back toward Mama Zeliit's people. The tribe is not exclusive to the humans, as most aren't. In such arid regions, many of the beast folk cannot comfortably survive. In fact, most humans cannot, either, but some adapt very well. Among the tribe are Korutan of the sheep-kin. The Korutan, the hoofed beast folk, have been alongside humans since the dawn of written record and even before that; they are so entwined that the Korutan of every kin see their collars and tags as points of pride. They enjoy their place as allies to the intellectually superior humans, who more often than not treat their hoofed counterparts with warmth and affection.

The towering Zesharii looked back at the tribe, his emerald eyes focused on a particular someone. Leaning past him, Amael saw the vivacious female of the sheep-kin. Her specific breed was closer to a goat, but generations of mixed breeding often make it hard to discern heritage. Her slightly curled horns were adorned in beads representing her status as the servant of the tribe's leader, while white beads mixed in shown her to be unpaired. She looked to the duo as she walked by, only to smile quite shyly and wave at Vashai. Amael rolled his eyes and looked to his friend.

“You hate the desert."

“Not that much!" Vashai smirked, flashing his menacing fangs.

“Think with the mind in your skull..." The human grumbled.

“Both [of] my minds [are] nearly [the] same size." Vashai quipped, making a crude gesture about the size of his manhood.

“Yes, I know! You're part horse! A female in every town learns that!" Amael barked. “We agreed to travel to Zhanai! We've been traveling for more than two years to get there! Are you really going to abandon me to the desert for... What's her name, anyway?"

“Uhh..." Vashai scratched the side of his head as he tried to remember.

Amael shook his head in amusement as much as disgust.

“And for her, whoever she is, you'd abandon me? How many times have I saved your life? How many times have you saved mine?!" He continued.

“Fine... I [have] already mate[d] with her, anyway..." Vashai pouted.

Amael sighs and shakes his head as if to discard the memory.

“If I'd have waited just one more day, he would've forgotten about her... This is my fault. I was too pushy... But I'll fix this! Do you hear me?! You can't stop me! Not when his life is at stake!" He shouts to the sky in anger.

Amael searches the scene of the attack and quickly finds more evidence of Sabaarii of the sand-kin. Their footprints and the drag marks left by their long, tapering tails are a match, though he cannot be certain if they're Yad'ovai or regular Sabaarii. He can only assume they are the tracks left by their attackers. With the rejuvenation potion still flowing throughout his body, he trudges along in pursuit of his assailants. How he will attain their venom, he has no idea, but he knows one thing for certain; he'd rather die trying than carry on without Vashai.

After more than an hour of walking, Amael notices the landscape beginning to change. The sand becomes less sandy and the ground becomes rockier; he walks past a mud pit that seems to have been used recently. He stops when he feels the hot wind on his face. It wicks away the sweat, but it also pulls the water from his body. He takes a drink from his canteen only to have a horrifying realization. He's downwind! The Sabaarii of every breed, like all beast folk, have senses far superior to humans; they could literally smell him coming!

He turns toward the muck and stares at it. Could that be used to mask his scent?! Stepping closer and taking a knee, he recoils at the stench coming from the fetid pool. That mud isn't mud at all, but some sort of compost dump. What sorts of things do they throw in there?! He shudders at the thought, and so he ignores it. Thinking of his best friend dying, rotting away until he's nothing but a skeleton like those in the chamber he'd accidentally set ablaze, he finds the strength to dip himself into the muck.

“This better be a good idea..." He grumbles as he fights the urge to gag, spreading the brownish-beige goo all over himself. “By The One, this is revolting! Ugh... The things I do for him."

With the putrid slime covering his body from head to toe, he continues to follow the trail for several more miles. He can hear it in the distance before he sees it; a village is just up ahead. He crawls close to the ground, being careful not to wipe off the stinky coating. He peeks over a sandy ridge to find a series of primitive huts, made of simple mud bricks and with roofs of sun-baked wooden beams. A few dwellings are nothing more than the bones of large animals stuck into the ground and covered with animal hide that's been sewn together.

It's a small village, and the number that attacked he and Vashai is likely most of the healthy males. The creatures wander about, living their lives as if the previous events had never occurred. It's odd, watching the creatures so closely. They look rather peaceful. Their vibrant colors mask their aggression, though like the other breeds of Sabaarii, the Yad'ovai females are far more vibrant than the males. This makes it easier to tell them apart, as their breed are unique among the Sabaarii, beyond their potent venom.

Standing about as tall as most humans, the Yad'ovai are covered in very fine scales which routinely shed, just like the other Sabaarii of the sand-kin. They're built for hot and arid environments, and though they can handle living in temperate regions, it can prove exceedingly difficult in winter or during rainy seasons; the arctic region of Ledan would kill them quickly. They all have wide hoods, like the little cobras who slither about on their bellies. Both genders are noticeably weaker than other beast folk, as both males and females share a slender and lithe body style.

Males often appear vaguely feminine as a result, making the genders difficult to discern for those unaware of their subtle differences. Females have smaller shoulders, slimmer waists, broader hips and much more vibrant colors, but they also have no visible breasts, in stark contrast to all other Sabaarii. Instead, they have “milking ducts," as they're mammals who mate as humans and other beast folk; they give live births. The milking ducts are situated where two breasts would be, concealed beneath shifting scale plates. At a glance, the hump of the plates could appear breast-like, albeit with a very modest bust.

Amael watches the Yad'ovai and waits, trembling with fear. Nothing scares him more than going up against the whole tribe; his puny pocket pistol and his new weapon might slay a quarter of them, but they fight as one. He would meet his maker shortly afterward, and Vashai would follow hours later. Still, he needs their venom, and he simply cannot leave until he has it. A male exits a hut situated at the far edge of the village, and Amael decides that it's time to do the deed.

Crawling on all fours, he makes his way toward the hut, which is a bone and hide structure. He tries to lift the hide but it's aged and treated and has become very dense, like plywood. Unable to lift it enough to slither through, he uses his bare hands to dig in the soft and damp soil, creating a little trench just big enough for his head. He dares not move toward the entrance, lest anyone sees him. As he crawls closer to peek inside, he wonders if the putrid muck will itself reveal his presence.

“Ugh! What [is] that stink?!" A warrior grumbles in Ancient Hitrosii, validating his fears.

“Who [did] not discard [their] trash?!" Another asks.

Poking his head inside of the hut, he sees an assortment of jars and his heart races. He backs away from the hole and digs faster, kicking dirt between his legs like a dog. Once there's enough room, he wriggles through the opening and opens the jars only to find them filled with food and water. Not one jar contains the Yad'ovai's venom. Defeated, he moves to the next hut, being careful to avoid the warriors who now search for the source of the foul smell. He's nearly seen by a warrior and is forced to duck into the nearest hut without checking it, diving head-first into the mud brick house.

To his relief, the hut is empty. He finds more jars and searches, but these too are filled with food, water, and medicinal ointments, all of which he recognizes. Just as he's about to leave, he notices a small clay jar lying by itself on a shelf near the entrance. He opens it and finds a strange liquid inside, and not much of it. He sees a drawing on the jar resembling fangs. It's painted in charcoal. He quickly realizes that this must be their venom. (((Examining the jar, he notices a symbol unlike anything he's ever seen. The interwoven swirls are crudely painted and yet remarkably intricate.)))

A voice speaks, remarking about the smell as they pass by. He knows he hasn't long before they track him down. He considers wiping the coating off his skin, something that would certainly make him more comfortable as well, but then they would smell a human in their midst. That won't do! When he has the opportunity, he races across the street, from one hut and into the next. He closes his eyes and prays that he will not walk straight into a family sitting down for a meal or resting in the heat.

A voice gasps and Amael's heart sinks. Who is that?! He opens his eyes and looks about the hut to find that he is not alone. This hut is much larger than the others, similar in width but twice as deep, with an oval shape. A female Sabaarii sits near a support beam. She's a vibrant and beautiful thing, white with red swirls on her body and with a curvaceous figure, an ample bust and no hood! She is of the sand-kin but not Yad'ovai! What is she doing here?! As his eyes adjust to the darkness, Amael notices something else about the female.

She's bound to the pole, nude, and with her arms behind her back. A leather strip ties around her snout, holding it closed like a dog's muzzle. How did he not notice that before? Looking back, Amael finds a primitive door-flap and closes it, then scurries toward the creature.

“Shh! I [will] not hurt you." He whispers in her tongue.

She recoils, first petrified of him and then disgusted by the stink. She wriggles as he leans closer, her bust reacting to her motions and distracting him.

“I [am] here for... Boobs..." He chokes out.

“HMM?!" Her eyes widen in horror as she looks down at her chest.

“Sorry! I [did] not mean to say boobs! I not hurt you. I need help. I need venom." He assures her.

He grabs onto her muzzle and prepares to untie it only to pause.

“You need help? [Will] you scream?"

“Mm-hm!" She nods, her eyes filled with excitement.

“Yes, you need help, or yes you [will] scream?"

“Mm! Mm-hmf-mmff!“

“... Alright." He prepares himself, unsure of what she'll do.

Amael pulls off her muzzle and she instantly takes a breath. Was the strap really that tight? He wonders if she is about to shriek for the warriors, but after taking a few deep breaths, she turns to him. Her lips curl around the corners of her long, broad, reptilesque snout and in her native tongue she says,

“I thank you, stranger. I [did] not wish to be sacrificed, and my prayers [have been] answered. You [are] my angel."

His cheeks flush at the compliment and he stammers, responding in Ancient Hitrosii.

“Th-thank you, but I [am] only [a] male."

“Why [are] you covered in trash?" She asks as he unties her wrists.

“I said, I [am] here to steal venom. I need it to save my friend."

“Very brave." She says as she pushes herself to her feet.

“Thank you!"

“But also very, very stupid."

“..."

“I hope you [do] not lead me into death. Perhaps I should go?"

“Wait!" He grabs her wrist. “Please. I need their venom..."

Seeing the urgency in his eyes, the girl's expression changes. She softens and her red, hair-like feathers that crown her head fold back. She reaches up and caresses his cheek, the caked-on filth chipping away.

“Oops! Sorry." She flushes, her white cheeks taking a pinkish hue.

“It [is] fine."

“You [are] very handsome... F-for [a] human!" She blurts out and then glances away with her ruby eyes.

Amael gulps, feeling a familiar sensation washing over him. Now isn't the time to admire her; it could prove fatal... He can do that later!

“What [is] your name?"

“Mazra." She smiles a little wider.

“I [am] Amael."

“Ooh... That [is a] strong, virile name." She coos, resting a hand on his thigh, right next to his crotch. “I like it..." She adds, her hand slithering closer to his groin.

“Okay! We should find [the] venom now!" He bashfully recoils, turning toward the door-flap.

“I help?!"

He pauses and looks back, seeing the look in her eyes. She's desperate to follow him.

“I know where it [is] stored." She assures him.

“Will they smell you?" He asks.

“No. I smell like Sabaarii."

Taking her at her word, Amael allows Mazra to lead him. She peeks out of the hut with her big ruby eyes and looks to and fro. When the coast is clear, she dashes away with startling speed and the human struggles to catch up. She makes her way to the edge of the village and walks around it, stopping behind certain huts while they avoid the patrols. She turns to him and grimaces as they listen to the males commenting about the smell, the source of which they are actively searching for.

Thankfully, Amael has traveled through so much of the village that the source of the odor is difficult for them to pinpoint, but that will only buy them so much time. Following Mazra through the town, he begins to wonder just how she came to be there. Why would a supposed sacrifice know more than the hut where she was imprisoned? She was also very open to him, making advances within minutes. The swiftness of beast folk pairing is well-known, but even as her savior she was being rather hasty. A knot of suspicion forms in the pit of his stomach.

“How [do] you know where we [are] go[ing]?" He asks her in a voice so low it's all but inaudible to human ears.

“I had [a] tribe... We search[ed] for [a] new home to avoid war. We began to die, and soon only several remain[ed]. That [is] when we encounter[ed the] Yad'ovai... They capture[d] us all alive. They bring us here. We offer[ed] ourselves. We wish[ed] to join their tribe... They sacrifice[d] us one by one to their evil goddess, and as [the] most beautiful female of my people, I [was] saved for last... I meet [the] shaman, who tells me my fate. They bring me out to see her. That [is] how I know where we [are] go[ing]. [The] shaman stores their venom."

Her expression is as heavy as her tone as she whispers her story. He cannot help but believe her as he feels a familiar tugging on his heartstrings. The very same kindness that brought him and Vashai together and kept them so close these past few years urges him to aid and even protect Mazra. He reaches out and rests a hand on her shoulder, stopping her and drawing her attention. She looks back and flushes at the look in his eyes.

“W-what?"

“I [am] sorry. I understand." He whispers, giving her shoulder an assuring squeeze.

“I-I..." She doesn't appear to know what to say.

“I want you to know, I [am] here for you, Mazra."

Her cheeks flush a bright pink as she peers over her shoulder to watch his hand. Her chest heaves as she begins to pant ever so slightly. Looking away from him, she closes her eyes takes a breath as her body subtly curls. Gazing back at him once more, she grabs his hand to remove it from her body.

“You [are] very sweet, but we [will] mate later."

“Huh?!" His eyes widen in confusion.

“Come. I help you, we escape, and then we mate." She assures him, leaning in and giving him a little kiss on the lips.

“..."

As she pulls away, Amael's face is nearly as pink as hers. Mazra motions with her dainty fingers, her razor-sharp claws attempting to draw him closer before she moves around the hut. Amael stands there like a statue only to take a step, feel a familiar pressure, look down and glare.

“Now is not the time!" He thinks to his body.

After making the necessary adjustments, he races to catch up and nearly runs into Mazra's back. She stands beside another primitive hut of bone and animal hide, peeking around the corner. Amael cannot dig into the soil, as they both hear the soft chanting of the shaman inside. She says a prayer to an ancient and sinister goddess, beseeching her for rain in exchange for “our most beautiful prize."

“Please, give us rain! Our wells are nearly dry! Stop holding out on us! Yes, I kept [the] beautiful one from you, but only because my son need[s a] mate... B-but I [did] not allow him to touch her! I [did] not allow anyone to touch her! She [is] still pure for you, oh goddess! If we sacrifice her, please, give us rain! Pretty, pretty please?! With Ilium rose petals on top?!?!"

Amael and Mazra look to each other. Mazra's eyes are filled with hate and her scowl reveals her mouth full of sharp teeth. She cracks her knuckles as she contemplates what she would do to the shaman if given the chance, but the shaman hears it!

“Who [is] outside?! I [am] praying to our goddess! May I not have [a] moment of privacy?! ... Ugh... What [is] that foul smell?!?! Well?! [Are] you going to answer me?!"

Racing inside, the shaman gasps as her would-be sacrifice pounces with startling speed! Mazra leaps into the hut, tackles the shaman to the ground and grabs her snout before she can scream. The Yad'ovai wriggles beneath the much stronger Sabaarii of the sand-kin, her slender body unable to fend of the younger, healthy female on top of her. Mazra motions with her head to the bottles and Amael is quick to grab several. He stuffs a few into his satchel and turns to Mazra.

She grunts and winces, baring her teeth as the shaman claws her arms and sides and cuts her scaly hide. The warriors will soon smell the blood. Amael's heart sinks as the rage consumes Mazra.

“Venom." She growls, no longer whispering.

Amael grabs the shaman's arms and pins them beneath his knees, her hood also pressed underneath his shins. He takes a bottle of venom and presents it to Mazra.

“Hold her."

He takes hold of the shaman's snout as she whimpers, her eyes growing wide. The white and red Sabaarii pops the clay top off the bottle and flashes a truly wicked smile before pouring the venom into one the shaman's nostrils! She coughs and wriggles even harder, whimpering into her closed snout. This does not stop Mazra. She pours the entire bottle down the shaman's nose, and in less than a minute she stops moving. Her eyes stare lifeless at the duo, who stare back.

Amael feels sick to his stomach. He's gone his entire life without killing anyone; he'd beaten up some thugs, scared of dozens more, endured more than his fair share of harmless opponents, such as the necromancer, and on one occasion bonked a raging blacksmith in the head with a shovel. Vashai is the only killer amongst them, and even then, not recently. He'd avenged his first master, the man who raised him as though he were his father, but he hasn't taken a life since. He turns his head and dry-heaves, perplexing Mazra.

“You [are] very innocent. It [is] adorable." She coos, her eyes sparkling as she clasps her hands together beneath her chin.

He has no words. He doesn't know what to say to her. All he wants to do is escape. Just then, the warriors' cries bring them back into the moment. They are certain they've pinpointed the source of the foul smell.

“What [is] our shaman doing? That stink [is] awful!" One remarks.

“Hey, do you smell blood?!" Another asks.

“She had better convince our goddess to give us rain." A third growls.

“Do you think rain comes from [the] clouds?" One poses.

“HAHAHA!!! Idiot..."

“It was [a] thought..." The genius murmurs.

“That [is] your problem. Always thinking!"

“Everyone knows rain comes from sacrifices!"

“Yeah, now shut up and help us find [the] smell!"

Taking another bottle of venom, Amael hands it to Mazra with the silent understanding that one of them needs to get it back to Mama Zeliit. However, in the heat of the moment he fails to tell her where she is or what to do. Drawing his firearms, he prepares himself for his first real fight.

“The things I do for my friends..." He grumbles.

“[Am] I your friend?"

“Huh? Yeah, sure."

“Yay!" Mazra grins from cheek to cheek.

“Did you hear that?! Was that [the] beautiful one?!" A warrior asks the others.

“RUN!" Amael shouts.

Charging outside, Mazra tackles a male to the ground, startling everyone. Amael dashes outside and takes aim at the nearest warrior. Bang! He fires his little single-shot pistol and the male jumps back. Did he hit him? Who knows and who cares! It's time to go! He and Mazra race through the village, or more accurately, Mazra leaves him behind as she sprints about 20 mph faster than him.

“Attack!"

Amael looks back at the warriors gathering to charge at him. He aims his pepperbox pistol past his side and begins firing. One, two, three, four, five, six, click. A few of them fall to the ground, though he doesn't know if he's hit them or if they're reacting to the noise.

“Ahh! [The] human commands fire! Run away!"

Amael catches up to Mazra, who waits for him at the edge of the village. She'd found his tracks and looks between the horizon and the village, wondering whether to move on without him or wait. At the mere sight of the human, however, her eyes light up and the widest of smiles spreads across her face.

“Mazra! I [am] glad you-... [Is] that blood?!"

Mazra smiles with a bloody maw, crimson gleaming on her sharp, cone-shaped teeth and dripping down her chin.

“Hmm?! Oh. Hehe! Yes." She flushes, batting her eyelashes as she bows her head with embarrassment. “I bit [a] warrior when we fled."

“Oh... Well, I [am] glad you wait[ed]."

“Same." She coos, leaning closer to him.

“... We should go."

“Right. Escape now, mate later!" She giggles and winks, her face smeared with blood.

“..."

Amael and Mazra jog through the desert, following his obvious tracks. They slow to a walk when Mazra becomes tired, revealing one of the few strengths of the humans, besides their intellect.

“Tired already?!"

“I [do] not know, hhff, how you humans, hhff-hhff, [can] walk all day!"

“It [is] easy."

“For you! Hhff! My legs, hhff, and feet are tired!" She whimpers.

“We will go slow." He says with a warm smile, taking hold of her hand.

Mazra flushes as she looks at his hand. The rigorous movement has since made most of the caked-on filth chip away, revealing him to her. She often glances at him, eager to glimpse the handsome and exotic foreigner who'd saved her life. All her primal instincts tell her to do one thing, and so she follows the human in the hopes of joining his tribe and of consummating their bond. Amael walks blissfully unaware of her stares, reloading his two firearms and keeping them at the ready. Thankfully, the Yad'ovai are surprisingly cowardly. Perhaps if he had a good, multi-shot pistol during their initial ambush none of this would have happened?

As the sun sets, they finally see Mama Zeliit's hut in the distance. With another boost of energy, Amael races for the hut with an exhausted Mazra following close behind. She slumps over, looking like she might keel over at any second. Mama Zeliit is at first startled by the Sabaarii's sudden appearance, but one look at how she follows Amael sets her mind at ease. They turn over all the venom, several jars worth.

“I only needed half of one!" She laughs.

“Oh... Well, consider the rest a payment."

“Who on Morveria would I sell poison to?!"

Amael shrugs.

“Oh, well... I'm sure some frustrated wife might want it!"

“..."

“I'm joking! Haha! ... Maybe..." Mama Zeliit laughs.

With all the ingredients gathered, it's time for the final phase. Mama Zeliit makes a potion with the ingredients and shocks Amael by revealing that the mushroom caps she'd requested are for him! In order to save Vashai, she must give him a blood transfusion, mixing weakened venom with Infernium flower cores and Amael's blood to strengthen Vashai's body. The potion she makes out of the blue and grey mushroom caps will put Amael to sleep so that he feels no pain during the process. His heart races as he prepares to drink the horrific looking concoction, a smelly, bubbling ashen slime with pale green swirls.

Mazra sits beside him and tries to comfort him. Her hands are on his shoulder and arm while her long and thick but tapering tail curls around him, wrapping behind his back and hooking the side across from her. She rests her chin on his shoulder, nuzzling him softly with the tip of her snout. He looks back and they lock eyes. She cannot help but smile.

“You save[d] me."

“Yes. You deserve[d] to live."

Her smile widens.

“You [are] very strong. You will survive."

“I hope..." He sighs.

“You will survive..." She confidently insists. “You will awake healthy, and your friend, too... And then we mate!" She chirps.

“... Okay." Amael prepares himself.

“TRULY?!" Mazra's face lights up.

“I meant... Never mind... One, two... THREE!"

With a hasty gulp, he guzzles the clay bowl filled with the rancid concoction, which looks about as appetizing as the pool of filth.

“Wow... That tasted so much better than it smelled!" He exclaims.

“I told you." Mama Zeliit sighs.

“So how long until it works?"

“Oh, you'll know." Mama Zeliit flashes a little grin.

“Because I don't feel... Any... ... Dif-..."

Losing consciousness in an instant, Amael flops back against Mazra. She catches him in her arms and supports him with her strong tail, flushing as his head lay on her ample chest. Mama Zeliit instructs her to move the human, and with her bestial strength, Mazra carries him to a short wooden platform. Mama Zeliit strips Amael of his clothes and sets them aside.

“We'll leave these here. That reminds me, I will give you a gown as soon as we have a moment." Mama Zeliit remarks.

“Mmm..." Mazra happily hums.

“Alright. Time to begin. I will need your help to-... MAZRA!!!"

“Hmm?!" The beast woman is caught red-handed, closely examining Amael's parts.

“Focus... I will need your help to save them. This [is a] dangerous. You must do everything I say."

“I will!" Mazra promises.

“Good."

Mama Zeliit turns her back to the beast woman to find her tools. As she searches, Mazra looks between the unconscious males, each on a wood and wicker platform less than knee-height. She turns to Vashai, the towering beast man covered in only a sheet from the waist down. Mama Zeliit finds a leather bundle containing her instruments, a large jar and a reed tube.

“Alright..." She remarks to herself in her native language. “Now I just need to remember how to do this and we're good to go! It was only twenty years ago when I first did this. How hard can it be?! Hmm... Did I use this jar, or that one?"

“EEK!"

Mama Zelii jumps and whirls around.

“What?! What [is] wrong?!" She asks Mazra in Ancient Hitrosii.

“Too big!" Mazra squeals, a shocked look on her face as she drops the sheet that cover's Vashai's pelvic region. “Much better." She coos, looking at Amael instead.

“... Focus..." Mama Zeliit covers her eyes with a hand.

“I [am] focus[ed]!" She insists.

Opening his eyes, Amael finds himself lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, nude but covered in a sheet.

“Different..." He finishes his sentence. “Ow, my head..."

“AMAEL!!!"

Before the human can rise, he's besieged by the Sabaarii female. She all but lay on top of him, grabbing his upper arms and holding him close as she coos, nuzzling his face whilst smooshing her chest against his. She's already so affectionate and latches onto him as if she's known him for years. He knows that as a female without a tribe, she is latching on to the only hope that she has for safety and security. She probably would have been a very loyal member of the Yad'ovai tribe had they not intended to sacrifice her. Little things like murder aren't very endearing, after all! Mazra's affection may not be genuine, the way he would prefer it to be, but it still feels nice.

“How is Vashai?"

“I will survive." Vashai replies.

Turning his head, Amael flashes a toothy grin at the sight of the beast man, his left arm bandaged as he lay on the wood and wicker platform. The beast man's head turns, and they share a look. He knows that he owes his life to the human; his gratitude and undying loyalty is beyond the scope of language to describe. All he can do is fight back a tear and nod his head.

“I'm glad to see you."

“Me, too." Vashai whimpers.

“Are you crying?!" Amael asks in shock.

“N-no! Shut up..." Vashai looks away.

“Fine. Be that way. I only almost died trying to save you." Amael shakes his head.

“Actually, you did die." Mama Zeliit remarks.

“HUH?!"

“Your heart stopped beating. I had to take two jars of blood to keep Vashai alive long enough for him to adapt to the toxins in his body. Mazra did everything I told her and kept your heart pumping by pressing on your chest. Once I gave you another rejuvenating potion and stabilized you, Vashai responded to the treatment. It was very close." Mama Zeliit explains.

“I watch[ed] you! I make sure you [were] healthy!" She chirps in her native tongue, nuzzling the human's face.

“Yes, she spent all this time just... Staring at you."

“Mhm." Mazra coos, her eyes narrowing in a familiar, feminine gaze.

“I see..." Amael's cheeks flush.

“I'd say this operation was a success. My memory must be better than I thought. I didn't make one mistake!" Mama Zeliit boasts.

“..."

For the next three days the two men slowly recover. Mazra dotes on Amael, even insisting she take over for Mama Zeliit. This doesn't go unnoticed and Vashai often teases the bashful and embarrassed Amael by making kissy faces and more crude gestures behind Mazra's back. The fact that Mazra speaks Ancient Hitrosii and Vashai speaks the human's language only increases the rift between them, but Amael bridges the gap. She is clearly willing to be cordial to the Zesharii for the sake of the human, and Vashai finds her attraction to his master endearing, though he'd never dare to say it.

Once they've regained their strength, Mama Zeliit politely asks them to, “get the hell out of my hut," but this leaves Mazra at a crossroads. Mama Zeliit has a tribe, though she lives quite far from them. Only her status and knowledge keep her safe in seclusion and prevent any attacks by the Yad'ovai. However, she feels a bond with Amael, the male who saved her and gave her hope, the male whose heart beats because she ensured it would. It is as though there's an invisible chain linking them together, running from her heart and into the palm of his hand.

She stands between Mama Zeliit and the two males, her humble dress, a gift from the woman, blowing in the desert wind. As Amael looks back and wishes her goodbye, a melancholy look in his eye, she takes two steps toward him. He pauses and turns to face her, his expression changing. Is that excitement or curiosity?! She takes another step and a little smile graces the human's face.

“Why [do] you walk away? [Do] you not wish to join my people?" Mama Zeliit asks her.

“[Is] it not her choice?" Amael remarks.

“She belong[s] here. This [is] her home. This [is] her land." Mama Zeliit replies.

“I always heard, 'home [is] where [the] heart reside[s]." Amael retorts.

“That [is] stupid! Here [is] safe!" Mama Zeliit growls.

“What [should] I choose?!" Mazra nibbles on her claws, running them between her sharp teeth.

“Stay with me and I will take you to my people. There [are] beast folk there. You will be safe. You will find [a] home and [a] mate." Mama Zeliit coos.

“What [are] you saying?" Vashai asks, looking between the humans.

“Don't worry about it." Mama Zeliit casually dismisses him.

“Tell her I [do] not want another pet. Amael [is] enough. HAH!"

“Shut up!" Amael growls at the Zesharii.

“It was only [a] joke..." Vashai's ears fold back as he gives him a sad and innocent look.

“I [can] not promise you anything, Mazra. We [are] travel[ing] to Zhanai, to make [a] good life. It will be [a] long and dangerous journey, but I will do my best to protect you. You will see many new sight[s] and explore new lands. I will not promise that we will mate. I [am] not certain I [am] ready. I have my reasons, but I will never deceive you. I will admit that I enjoy your presence and I care for you. I [am] also indebted to you. Should you join us, I will never abandon or neglect you. We will never part ways, unless you desire it."

Amael speaks very matter-of-factly, but his eyes are soft and reassuring. The tone in his voice pulls her closer and to Mama Zeliit's shock, despite not offering her anything but uncertainty and danger, Mazra approaches the human and his Zesharii companion. Reaching out for her, he offers his hand. She takes it.

“[Are] you certain?"

“Mhm!" She nods.

“You [do] not need to leave. It [is] safe for you, here." He adds.

“I walk with you, Amael." She assures him, squeezing his hand. “[Do] no[t] talk me out of this."

Amael smiles and turns to Mama Zeliit, who throws up her hands in frustration before returning to her hut. He turns to the horizon, a bandage on his right arm to match the one of Vashai's left, and glances at the beast man. Vashai looks at the female Sabaarii and smirks.

“[Is] she your trophy?" He teases.

“Shut up and start walking." Amael smirks.

“Alright but allow me breaks. I [can]not walk [the] distance you [are] able." Vashai remarks as they walk toward the sunrise.

“Learn to keep up." Amael teases.

“Would you refuse to rest if she ask[ed]?!"

“No." Amael casually replies.

“... No[t] fair..."

“Who ever said life was fair, buddy?"