Merciless Medic
Walking Pokemon Dictionary
Location: Keimara Village, Eastern Mountains
Time: Morning, Day 1
Interactions: Korro, Anyone nearby
Mentions: N/A
SilverFlight Lioness075 Goonfire Kibaa ShadyLady Arai Monday
Time: Morning, Day 1
Interactions: Korro, Anyone nearby
Mentions: N/A
SilverFlight Lioness075 Goonfire Kibaa ShadyLady Arai Monday
Survive.
The one word that the wandering demon chanted in his anxiety-riddled mind - sometimes under his breath in grave utterances - and a word he felt oddly bound to, just as this incessant bracelet was bound to him. The beautiful evergreen of the dancing leaves and firs above him served to mock his pitiful existence, the brown trees standing tall and imposing as they watched his shameful march towards the one place his people told tall tales of.
Keimara, it held the temple that held the one god his kin feared. They were willing to travel long distances to avoid hurting the people who were under her protection - who lived on her lands.
It was a paradise to humans, one that spat in the faces of the malevolent spirits and their ascended demonic cousins. Just hearing the echoes of those children faintly cheering, smelling the food that graced over the forest at this late hour…
It sickened him to his core.
It was rare - even for his own kin - to have any amount of ‘happy-fun’ times like that. They were robbed of that right before they ascended and gained human form, tested, given a job - a purpose - and sent to work with what the humans would call a cult.
That was Xe’lik’s only family.
And now? He wasn’t sure what they thought of him, but he was sure they’d kill him. All of their collective disappointment was more crushing than the thought of them tearing him to shreds. Maybe that pain wouldn’t be as torturous as hiking up the forested mountainous trail, his skin screaming at him in agony from the overexertion in his hike, begging to stop and rest as they spat blood against the dirtied white bandages that hid his main source of suffering.
That god bitch was going to pay for what she did to him! Suppressing his magic like that without giving him the courtesy to wipe the soil off his skin before it was too late!
He panicked and shook his head, willing away those traitorous thoughts. He couldn’t think that! What if she heard his thoughts? What if she killed him for thinking such things?
But he was a demon, it was to be expected. Granted, he didn’t know how deep her cruelty went. He knew she was a kind and benevolent being to those who followed her and obviously weren’t demonic in nature. Was it as shallow as a puddle and she was just indifferent, or did it extend deeper than a thirsty well aiming for the underground rivers that flowed under his home, aiming to poison him and the other demons?
He wanted to curse her, sever his tongue with his teeth for ever allowing her to guilt trip him into this mess, scream and cry at the top of his lungs his displeasure for even the grass at the bottom of these mountains to hear.
But he knew no one would care.
As lonely as that sentiment was - oh, how it made his resolve crumble - it oddly steeled him enough to continue the painful walk until he was at the entrance to Keimara.
The food smelled delicious. But the people…
There were so many people. So many different smells. So loud...
He covered his ears, whining at the sheer volume that cascaded like rushing water on rocks into his eardrums. He had to persevere. He had to follow his end of the bargain, or else he wouldn’t be himself again, and he’d likely die by the hands of his own ilk or others.
Besides, he did feel bad, but most of that remorse was drowned out by his seething, suffering hatred
With gritted teeth, the light grey eyes stared with defiance towards the temple that hung as some righteous guardian for these humans, his white hair looking like grey rivulets from the sweat and dirt that clung to him. His face and the rest of his body under his white, tattered shawl was covered in bandages, a red cord decorating his arms in tight, knotted loops. Underneath his shawl, he wore the signature robes of his people: white with a light green trim to denote what section he belonged to back home (not that it mattered anymore), a white cotton shirt, black baggy pants, and black stone shoes that were oddly more comfortable than those made of flimsier material. Parts of his bandages and even through his shawl were dotting with the dark crimson spots of blood. His waist held a utility belt, his body armed to the teeth with knives, a buckler, a light crossbow, and then his larger backpack that stored his essentials for survival and travel.
“A hope-kindling beacon of joy and welcome”, my ass. He thought to himself. He felt more like a fish out of water here than he ever did. His eyes darted around worriedly, his mere presence giving concerned looks towards his direction. These people smelled so strangely. Pheromones were hard to pick up on from those who didn’t exude it as plainly as his kin, but in huge abundances he can pick up on their emotional states. Joy and concern were the two biggest ones. Though, the vendors didn’t really pay him any mind, until he came up to one selling what looked like speared kebabs on a stick.
He wondered if these people knew he was here for a quest.
“Ya buyin’?” The portly man said as Xe’lik drew near.
The demon realized he had no currency. “I’m a part of the quest, sent by the God Queen.” He managed to croak out. His voice was a little low, but upon hearing this, the man squinted at him, as if assessing if what he was speaking was the truth.
“We already had a group of the God Queen’s chosen head to the temple.”
Xe’lik’s eyes widened, his voice hoarse as he attempted to yell, panic edging into his voice. “What? So I missed it??” He looked around for any sign of… Well, anything. There was a burnt building that was essentially rubble and ash, but other than that, there was nothing out of place. Well, seemingly, as he’s never been here before. He turned to the vendor again and pleaded this time. “I swear, I’m a part of the God Queen’s chosen, I’m just late. It hurts to walk, sir. May you please just spare me one of these? I’ll be on my way.” Was he playing up his pain? Yes, it was his own fault for overexerting himself the way he did.
The gaze in the man’s eyes softened. If he truly was the God Queen’s chosen, then it wouldn’t hurt to help him to something before he made his way up those steps. Plucking the kebab, he gave it to the demon. Xe’lik didn’t know if that was scorn laced with pity, or actual sympathy, but he wasn’t going to say no to food. Bowing in thanks with his new edible treasure latched safely in his vice grip, Xe’lik limped towards the temple, the stars smattered against the night sky and their incessant twinkling gaze looking like they were laughing at his pitiful limp. Their mockery had him wishing he could just run, but because of how quickly he tried to arrive in Keimara on time - to see it was all useless - he couldn't without achieving rest.
After an agonizing bit of scaling the steps with numbing legs, having to take multiple breaks to keep his resolve from crashing and burning along with his wobbly walking limbs, he managed to make it up to the temple. But he had spent a long time walking and hiking up the mountain to reach Keimara, barely having any time to stop and rest. He couldn’t be late, but here he was, practically missing out on everything that had happened. While he didn’t have something against just not missing out, he wanted to see who he was going to be grouped with.
That was when he made it to the temple doors, the glow that emanated from the door that was supposed to feel welcoming felt more like a bastion of light meant to ward him away. Still, he trudged on. However, due to not taking care of himself through most of his traveling, he collapsed to his knees, letting out a groan, before his vision went dark and he collapsed in the middle of the open doorway.
When he awoke, it was morning, and he was laid in a bed under soft blankets, his body curled up underneath. After a good night’s rest, his patchy skin didn’t hurt as bad and he was able to move around a lot easier without pain. His backpack was set next to his bed, as were his weapons. Having had a good night’s rest and having something to eat last night, he was able to regain some of his energy. The room he was in was blurry, but he was sure the large thing nearest to him was a statue of sorts. The colors blurred together and he found it difficult to see the architectural beauty of the temple.
Food was brought over to him still, and he looked at the breakfast with some indifference. He didn’t feel hungry, but it would be a waste not to at least eat something. He needed it if he was going to be using the bits of magic he could at least control. A deft hand darted out to grab his food from the platter that sat on him, eating the dumplings. On his mid-bite of his second dumpling, he heard a loud, deep metallic ringing sound that pulled a pained whine from him. He covered his ears, hoping the metal banging stopped. He didn’t even hear the warning.
He looked over his covers to see some people were sleeping in beds near him, and one of them had gotten up. Thinking he should too, he quickly stuffed the rest of the dumplings in his mouth, then gently removed the plate from atop him and slid out of bed. His bandages had been rebandaged and cleaned, and so were his clothes. He hadn’t even noticed. He then squinted.
He had apparently been treated to essentially a spit bath and he had no idea. He must have been out like a rock.
Xe’lik put on his clothes and then his tattered white shawl over them, then grabbed his weapons and tightened the belts holding them around different parts of his body. Because of his poor vision, he couldn’t see if there was anybody else here, but he was able to hear and smell them. What they smelled like was of no importance to him at the moment, as he warily made his way to the stone landing.
There was another being here, next to him. He sniffed, and there was the unmistakable scent of a furred animal, cold mountains, and something else to him he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Looking out over the city, the buildings mushed together into an unrecognizable color puddle that looked beautiful. He desperately wanted to paint it.
That’s when he heard the words of whoever was standing before them - or maybe it was further away, he was having a hard time telling. Again, his amazing hearing a bane of his existence as the booming voice sounded much closer than he actually was. God-touched humans sounded like a demon thing to say though.
Problem was, he couldn’t tell what kind of enemy they were facing. He looked around at anyone he could see, unsure of what this wolf guy was saying to the others. Did they have beef earlier? Either way, it didn’t concern him. “Uhm… Hello…” He said awfully timidly, then promptly straightened himself, relishing in being able to move semi-freely and not wanting to look like an absolute coward. A goofy cool guy was fine, but not a spineless coward. “Name’s Xe’lik. Was wondering if anybody can tell me what they see. I can’t see further than twenty feet… The whoever-it-is looks huge though.” He admitted rather sheepishly, his grey eyes looking away and trying to squint at the larger figure far ahead of them. He was just barely able to make out how tall he was because he certainly didn't remember walking past anything that was such a different color to the trees.
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