Citizen 884 Ector

Finding a crew was easy enough once he made his way to the Posian Islands. He had heavy enough pockets of coin to persuade the least superstitious captain that a trip like this would bring not only coin enough from his purse, but also renown and acknowledgement from their peers. A motley crew of well worn sailors was assembled quickly, made up of ruffians and sailors wind whipped enough that Ector could smell the salt on their scales and fur from across the ship. The hard part was not obtaining a crew, even for the young Dome-born rex.

The hard part was making it to the edge of the world.

Ector had spent the majority of the trip learning tidbits of sailor lore and absorbing what he could off the Posian culture… when he wasn't resigned to his cabin, scribbling away in his notebook with a frantic hand. He had developed a cramp, surging in his wrist from scratching notes on various things. His notes covered topics across his expertise. Medicinal practices of the isles, sailors tales of illnesses, the alchemical properties of the powder they used to combat the pirates who pestered their shores, and most of all, the Fog.

The Fog had perplexed Ectorius for his whole life. A mysterious darkness with the power to choke away all life… how could it not consume his mind? The glory of its incomprehension was something that possessed the mind of a scientist and philosopher. The ancients themselves did not give answers on the nature of the fog which chokes away all. So it only made sense that Ectorius, now thirty years of age, would make his final study that of the Fog. To now know the unknowable.

The wine-dark waves shuddered below the hull, shaking the ship as the voyage began to near its climax. The dark shield of black clouds had at first appeared to be but a storm bank brewing on the horizon, but the way it slithered along the waves seemed different. The deep blood black of the clouds, now saturated with their closeness to it, was like nothing Ector had ever seen or sensed. His apertures seethed with magic, exhaling as if it was growing harder to hold it in. He had noted that the magic seemed to fight the wind which drew them closer, instead surging away, as if repulsed by the Fog. The waves grew choppier and harsher, the ocean itself horrified by that darkness with hungered evermore.

“Keep course.” Ector growled, raising his lip at the anxious look on the face of the pilot, claws gripped white knuckled onto the spokes of the wheel. The captain ambled over, a frown etched onto his scaled face like chiseled marble.

“We make course for death, my lord.” Ector was not used to be called a lord. His station went by a different name back home. “The waters grow rougher by the naut and we make little progress towards survival of the rate we approach Black. I advise we turn-”

“You will advise nothing, Captain. We will be onwards and that's that. I pay you handsomely for this voyage. Remember that.”

“Lord Epaphos,” again with the lord. Just call him by his name alone, “No amount of coin may be worth the lives of my crew. Surely you don't see this worth your own?”

Ector grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his snout. “You don't get it! It's not about the coin! It's about the discovery! You will be assisting in the changing of the world! Can you imagine the prestige in returning with the ability to mold our lives? If this fog can take, by virtue of all laws of alchemy, so can it give. Why wait for the slow retreat if Black when we can take it by the horns and tame it to our will?” He had attracted the attention of the rest of the crew on deck. They listened with craned necks.

“With all due respect,” the captain spat with no respect on his tone, “the value of discovery is not equal to my life-”

“Then you are a coward and a fool.” Ector snarled, claws scraping against the wooden railing.

The feeling of an armored hand hitting his face made his ears ring. The thick hide made a firm smack against his cheek, sending the shorter man reeling for a moment before his eyes narrowed onto the captain. The ship was silent save the roaring winds and the crashing waves.

“A coward hits a man who speaks of progress.” Ector slowly spoke, hissing deep in his throat as magic poured from his apertures like the fog itself creeping along the water. “You will continue this voyage.” He spoke with the weight of a man with command over the world. Every ounce of noble blood channeled into power and command. Even the captain shrank into himself.

“A pox on you, Epaphos.” Finally used his family nomen. “A pox on you and your kin.” He spat, spittle landing on Ectorius’ foot. He resisted the urge to shake it off as if he'd stepped in street muck.

“Good thing I'm a physician then.” He rolled his eyes, turning away with a whip of his tail.

The waves began to churn more and more. The rest of the journey was terse and anxious. The crew stepped away from the path of the doctor as he strode down the ship towards the bow as they sliced through cold waves. The sea spray whipped up into his dark fur, making him squint against the cold.

Finally, they arrived. The vast wall of black encompassed everything like a veil over a mourning world. The waves churned like a hurricane, whirling and racking them against the ship.

But Ector barely cared. He stared into discovery. He reached out a hand, brushing it through strands of black, letting his fingers tingle as if he were caressing a jellyfish. Looking at it was… like looking at an absence of magic. It was the opposite of beautiful. He couldn't believe the sight.

Suddenly returning to his scientific senses, he grabbed the magically reinforced glass bottle, uncorking it before focusing his magic on the bottle. He encased it with fortifying magic, doing his best to shield it. Ector leaned forward, and with a gulp of courage, he swept his arm out to try to capture the Fog.

Right as the waves surged.

The ship swayed fiercely, the crew scraping at the deck and roaring in surprise. Ector was thrown forward, arm engulfed in the Fog.

While the ship's crew scrambled for footing, battening hatches against the black-clouded storm, men slung overboard from the jostling waves, Ector screamed.

The fog slithered up his arm, steaming and sizzling as flesh gave way to magic unknown. He felt his flesh slough off, green glowing blood that otherwise would have lit the dark cloud shrouded and darkened. He screamed, wrenching his arm back and throwing himself onto the deck, scrambling to his paws.

“Change sail! Fall back and change course! Get us the feck outta here!” The captain's roar barely broke the through the din, and the remaining sailors fought against the growing storm. Ector had been warned that the weather at the fog could turn on a dracm, but this was… well, he barely had the mind to give it the name insanity when the pain coursed through him as it did.

He grasped at his foreleg only to scream in pain again. The chemical burn has stripped away flesh all the way to his shoulder. Scrambling on three paws, the injured arm held tight to his chest, he clambored below deck to his chambers. His medical mind did its best to break through the panic rising like bile in his throat.

He grabbed a barrel of reserve fresh water, uncapped it, and dunked his whole are into it. The alchemist roared as every nerve was set aflame, but grit his long teeth and began rubbing a burn salve on as much of the wound as he could tolerate before stripping off his toga and using it to wrap the wound after applying rendered fat to keep it from sticking to the flesh. He was well trained to treat a burn, but as it was his own arm, his vision's blurring and panicked breaths were not something he knew how to deal with.

Ector grasped around the cabin until he found a bottle of rum. Not usually his taste, but strong enough to numb, he threw it back with a gasp, and sunk onto his cot as the ship was thrown side to side.

Eventually, he heard the ruckus slow, and the crew cheer before a few members of the ship's numbers screamed or gasped or growled their curses for their lost men.

A knock came at the door to his borrowed cabin. The captain let himself in, a grimace on his snout. He was battered and drenched in water, scratches along his body from hitting the deck and rope burns on his forelimbs from hauling the sails down. But alive.

“Was it worth it?” It was not snarled out. It was whispered. A question posed in disbelief. “I told you it would-”

“Shhh.” Ector hissed through his teeth, quiet and pensive. “You speak so briskly to a man who has seen the final wonder of this world.”

“Are you mad? We lost ten men to the swells and another two to the blasted fog! And we would have-”

“In modern science and alchemy, there is the rule of equivalency. As above, so below. If, then. If one thing is, then the opposite must be true. If you exert force on one thing, then that force is equally returned. If we eat food then that life force is equally given unto us.”

“Get on with it.”

“If great tragedy can occur, so too can great joy. If this fog has the ability to cause such great pain and turmoil, if it can destroy so brilliantly… then the inverse must be true. It can create and bring life. If its properties as altered, then I can create the greatest wonder this world has ever seen.”

There hung a heavy silence between the two men. Neither wanted to break the weight of epiphany nor disbelief. But the captain knew he must.

“You're a madman Epaphos.”

“And madness is the leid I must bear for discovery, captain.” He looked down at the wrapped arm. It twinged with pain. “It was worth it.”

~ LynxFang