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The dice had not been in their favor.
The team hadn’t gotten the chance to rest before they had charged into what they had thought was an empty fortress, in search of treasure, ancient tomes, magic artifacts. It was abandoned, why not just stop by and have a quick look around? Vex and Vax had scouted ahead, saw nothing but an old, unkept fortress brimming with undergrowth as nature reclaimed it, and urged the team to follow along. It looked like an oasis in the strange desert they had been. They could get a refil of cold water at least before getting back to town.
Exhausted, but spurred on with the potential of treasure, Grog, Pike, Keyleth, Scanlan, and Percy followed along behind the twins. Percy ran his tongue around his mouth, spat out whatever sand he could muster out. As if Scanlan’s annoying habit of playing the accordion when he was nervous or bored wasn’t enough, it was going to take hours to get all of the sand out of his equipment. Specks still ground around in his mouth despite his best efforts, the sensation set his hair on edge. He’d given up cleaning his glasses long ago in this god forsaken desert.
With a roll of his eyes, he followed behind the team, hiking up a small hill close by. The heat was nearly enough to make him take off his coat. Nearly. Putting his glasses up on his head, Percy looked down his scope, searching the horizon line. Everything was slightly blurry, but nothing interesting to report.
Then several things happened at once. In a burst of sand, rocks, scales, and fangs. Percy would have nightmares about it for the next few weeks.
When the human turned, it looked as if the very hands of an earth god had risen to crush his friends in it’s grip. Many long, writhing fingers that crushed and curled around it’s prey.
He was the last to be captured.
Percy had just pulled out just fired off two shots, both connecting with the giant finger that had it’s fangs in Pike’s armor, digging into the plates. When he smashed his glasses back down onto his nose, he realized they weren’t fingers, they were snakes. Or what looked like snakes. Snakes with arms. Angry snakes that held weapons.
The naga thrashed as the two shots connected, not letting go, its scales much stronger than Percy had ever seen before. Dread turned his veins icy. There were just so many down there, at least twenty, all coiling and thrashing, he would never get another good shot.
A soft brush of sand nearby was all the warning the gunslinger had before two naga seized his arms. He didn’t even have time to react, or try to break their hold before they dragged him down the rubble. Percy’s heart sank. The dust was beginning to settle to reveal a gruesome scene. All of Vox Machina was bleeding, pinned, or completely limp in the naga’s hold.
The two brought him before what had to be their leader. Not the largest or the most dangerous looking one. The leader’s scales were the dullest. There was an air of importance around them. One of strategy and cunning, and currently looked pleased. Proud.
When the leader noticed them approaching, something immediately changed in their body language, stiffer, taller, intense. A long forked tongue lingered out, past gleaming teeth and inhaled a rasp that made Percy’s skin erupt in gooseflesh. She was smelling, tasting the air around him. Alarm and unease grew in Percy’s stomach as it coiled over, all of focus on him. A deadly flash of black and grey and aqua.
He resisted the urge to shrink under their gaze. Most rational thought left him as the part of his mind that knew he was very much prey screamed at him to run. The naga leader was beautiful and terrifying. As tense seconds passed, he swallowed, wondering what he had done to gain such a personal attention.
Before he could find the courage to speak, another naga came into view with his pack, and he bit the inside of his cheek to contain a protest as they pulled out his weapons. Screaming hadn’t done his friends any good, it certainly wouldn’t help here.
“Whoa, whoa hold on! Pike! Stop struggling you’re making it worse!” Scanlan pleaded, sounding deadly serious for once.
Percy winced as the gnome cleric finally started give up wrestling for control. The naga holding her looked pissed off. They were somehow powerful enough to crumple her armor that was no doubt digging into her shoulders and torso. Metal bent and folded like crumpled paper. Percy could only imagine the agony, the broken ribs, marveled that she could stay conscious. His hands shook as he looked out at the rest of the group.
Vax’s shoulder had a crescent moon shape of bleeding teeth marks along one shoulder that looked broken, bones sticking out, his eyes lolled to the back of his head. Vex looked furious, on her knees, snarling at the one holding her brother. Her bow was nowhere to be found. Grog was unconscious, covered in scratches. Scanlan looked dirty and messed up but maintaining calm, holding onto the front of his shirt to avoid choking on their hold. Keyleth was also out, her head bruised and bleeding.
The sound of claws on wood and metal snapped his attention back to the leader, who was carefully holding Bad News. They talked in a series of low tones while others conversed with the leader, pointing at Percy.
After a moment of consideration, the leader spoke to him in their strange language.
Another naga, this one with bands of gold that looked embedded into it’s neck and around it’s eyes, spoke in surprisingly fluent Common. “I represent the Voice of the Magistratus, did you build this?”
Percy leaned back, a little straighter, and decided not to hesitate. “Yes. That is my creation.”
The Magistratus ran it’s palms over it appreciatively, wisely not fiddling with any of it’s workings or pointing it anywhere but the ground. After some consideration, they passed it to a comrade, who put it away.
Panic rose in Percy’s throat as what influence he may have had over their interest rapidly faded. “If- I mean if you were curious to learn more I could show you how to make one yourselves, if you just let my friends go, or, or, the venom, if at least give them the antidote to the venom that's-”
A crack, a punch, like the heaviest stagecoach whip, connected with Percy’s gut and sent him to his knees. He gagged and dry heaved, struggling to pull air into his lungs. His head spun with nausea, vaguely heard his friends screaming his name.
“No! Leave him alone! You fucking monsters.” Vex screamed.
“Vexahlia. shut the fuck up.” Percy barked at her, angry and terrified out of his mind that she would pull at the loose threads of whatever communication he was so haphazardly weaving.
The Voice of the Magistratus leaned in close to his bowed head. “We are not animals. Do not compare us to your pets and the beasts you kick aside. We are the yuan-ti and you will show us that respect.”
Noted. Percy thought, fighting to remain calm. It was an honest mistake, he knew that, but there was no need in taunting them further. Not with the balance so hopelessly tipped out of his favor. Stupid, he should have spoken softer, waited for permission. Introduced himself. He was so used to Vax dealing the negotiations and intimidation he had forgotten how the order of societal power worked.
The individual grains of sand he had been staring at dropped away as the two guards hauled him back to his feet. He nearly fell over as they released him, moving aside as the Magistratus came forward. Percy quickly dropped his gaze, staring at nothing, anything other than the ruler. While human cultures typically sought eye contact as a way of trust, many other non human ones knew it as a challenge, aggression.
“What is your title?” the Voice said, now on a different side of the leader, in their shadow. Percy noticed that none of the yuan-ti ever rose themselves higher than the leader.
Finally, familiar territory, “My name is Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rollo lll, heir to the castle Whitestone, human and inventor for Vox Machina.” The titles rolled off his tongue. Introductions had to be made before the rules of communication could be established.
The translator elegantly worked around the consonants of his name, and the Magistratus tilted their head. With a huge amount of effort, he unclenched his fists, relaxed his shoulders, and lifted his chin, still gazing down. He was all too familiar with the weight of responsibility as the last one standing. A weight that he was sick of bearing.
“What do your friends call you?”
He cleared his throat, noticing the odd tone the translator had used, as if surprised by the question.
“My friends call me ‘Percy.’” He said. Truth was his best opening strategy in this game until proven otherwise. Cooperation, believably, the steps needed before negotiation could even begin. “I too speak for my team when I say that we did not know of any civilization here.”
The Magistratus hummed at the translated words. He did not push any further, they had to have time to absorb his words and decide their own response. If he tried to make too many moves too fast they would take his turn away entirely and the game would be over before it even began.
“Why are you here?”
“My team and I were hired to track down a monster that has been terrorizing the people of Yestreen. We ended up traveling the south, found out it was a mutant nothic and disposed of it. We planned to rest at the capitol just north of here, on the way. When we came to this area our group thought it was abandoned and looked for any leftover resources.”
The translator looked unconvinced at best, hand resting on a wicked curved sword. The Magistratus listened patiently, scratching at the back of it’s jaw. Bangles of all colors and metals filled the silence. The taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit down harder on his cheek.
“Who hired you? Where are they now?”
“We were contracted by the owner of Daze Inn in the capitol. Torrence is the one you would ask for. If you were to mention Vox Machina she would immediately vouch for us.”
After a pause, the Magistratus gestured another over, this one nearly human sized, with the same gold markings as the translator. It spoke in a confirming tone, then quickly slithered through the main gates, faster than any horse.
“You had better hope for the safety of the group that you have told the truth. We will correspond with Torrence about the nothic. If they vouch for your group we might consider… options.”
Percy nodded, it was better than he could dare hope for. He glanced over at his friends, the conscious ones regarded him with a mix of awe and worry. The situation was still dire. Percy knew that they didn’t have that much time. It would take hours, if not days to get word back from their messenger and what would even happen then?
The Magistratus began giving orders, and the other yuan-ti were efficient to obey. Pike seemed awake and in even more agony as the adrenaline began to wear off. Vex and Vax looked ready to try for round two. Keyleth and Grog were still out of commission, and Scanlan was yelling nasty, unhelpful things at their captors.
“Do you trust the word of Torrence?” he asked, impulsively.
The guards regarded him like a dog that needed to be kicked down. The Magistratus turned back to him, bangles jangling as they crossed their arms behind their back, looking thoughtful as the Voice translated.
“No,” the Voice said.
Percy’s heart plunged straight into his stomach. Shit.
“The Magistratus trusts that the odds of two humans making up the same exact story miles apart are very slim. Even then, if you are Vox Machina, your group is to stand trial for the harm you have done.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vax exclaimed, fighting the two that were currently binding his hands.
The day had come. Percy knew without a shadow of a doubt that Vox Machina wasn’t a heroic group. Not with the mistakes they made. Not with the fights they had run into so recklessly. The large encampment of dwarven prisoners they had abandoned in the Underdark. The ones that burned to death in their cells as a manor they escaped flooded with lava. Hostages they had taken for information with promises of freedom that were never given.
“What if!” Percy said, with the beginnings of an idea. A wispy, flickering idea he seized with both hands. “What if you didn’t need to trust Torrence?”
If a yuan-ti could raise their eyebrows, all of them did at the translation.
The idea flickered again, igniting, “what if we could make our own deal?”
The Magistratus tiled their head. Everything around them stilled.
Percy made a show of thinking, taking his time. He put his hands in his pockets, patching holes in his false confidence. At ease. He’d watched his father negotiate trade deals with other kingdoms this way.
“Oddly enough, we may have run into some friends of yours back under Yestreen. A coven of night hags that were rumored to be going hungry. The nothic unfortunately ate most of their food and will most likely be finding new hunting grounds in this area.”
One of the yuan-ti, this one wielding a meteor hammer and sported two chains from nostril to jaw, snarled something in their language.
The Voice smirked,“what makes you think we need your help? Vox Machina was nothing compared to us.”
Percy nodded and smiled, licking blood from cracked lips, “none of us reside in the ethereal plane though, do we?”
Unsure looks were cast around the group. Vox machina exchanged whispered conversation through their earrings but Percy didn’t have the capacity to actually listen to them. He couldn’t afford to get distracted now. He had to cinch the deal. The yuan-ti were getting nervous and he needed to make the final blow before they gathered resolve.
“Besides, to kill any of us while in your custody would be to declare war on Emon.”
The Magistratus’s eye’s widened, looking curious. Percy was impressed that they so easily held ground and control. He noticed that now nearly all of them were turning to their Magistratus for guidance rather than looking at each other. This powerful yuan-ti had earned their leadership.
Despite the spikes of pain that racked his body, Percy bowed, gloved hands out in a display of respect, of surrender. “If you were to give my friends healing potions, I would be more than happy to share all relevant information pertaining to night hags and their weaknesses.”
Wrap it up. He thought. Bring it all back together. It was rude to take the stage for too long. He was making a dangerous amount of moves. “If I’m not mistaken, we both want to save loved ones. Let’s make our own deal, avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”
The Voice hissed and spoke without translating for the Magistratus first. “Or we could make your friends suffer more until you give us what we want.”
Dammit. Percy thought, irritated that someone had called his play so soon. This was the time he had to commit to this plan whole-heartedly. “What do you have to gain-”
The Magistratus grabbed their translator’s shoulder, spoke to them in a low tone so others couldn’t hear. The leader didn’t seem to take their side, or seek to punish them publicly, but instead said something that satisfied the Voice. They visibly relaxed, bowed in apology, and resumed their duties translating.
With a graceful lift of their head, becoming a few feet taller than everyone else, they spoke to their subjects, who responded in short answers, most of them repeating, as if making an input to a decision. Once every one of them had responded, the Magistratus lowered themselves back down to their usual height, focused on their new prisoner.
This time the Voice spoke with more control. “We have decided that if Torrence vouches for Vox Machina, then we will let you continue to the capitol. Until then, you will be interrogated about the night hags. If everything you have said is proven true, and you cooperate, no further harm will be needed.”
“My friends and I will walk away intact?” He said, having been burned one too many times due to wording choices.
They considered this, then agreed. “Yes. Intact and with no further harm.”
Percy could’ve sagged in relief. An invisible knot in his chest had been cut. He couldn’t believe this had any hope of actually working and yet, here they were.
Pointing, long, sharp, steel tipped claws, the Magistratus ordered one of them to give Pike what looked like a healing potion. He didn’t know if it was the right one, or enough, but the relieved look on Scanlan’s face was enough. He filed it in the ever growing worry about later box. He couldn’t let himself worry about Keyleth, or Grog, or the twins yet. He knew they would probably crucify him later. Vex especially would yell at him, maybe pin him to a wall and demand what the hell was that. But as long as his friends were around to berate him, it would be enough. It was something he could look forward to.
The guards roughly seized his arms, moving to push him in a different direction when they halted. Percy limply followed along, trying to give Vex his best, don’t you dare start shit look.
The strong hands suddenly left him and he looked up and nearly yelped.
“You have a lovely voice,” a soft, rasping voice said, inches away.
He flinched, skipping back, and instinctively looked up at the Magistratus, whose face hovered inches above his own. He could make out each individual scale. Their eyes were pale, a thin blue film over the slitted pupils. Hot breath ghosted over his face.
Percy froze, unable to do anything other than watch as their tail slowly coiled up his leg, anchoring him in place. A warning. A needless show of power. He had already surrendered.
Off balance, in more ways than one, “Um, thank you, that’s, that’s kind of you to say,” he glanced to his friends who were already being hauled away. He already missed them. There was no chenga, no last minute moves-
“I have noticed,” the leader blinked slowly, as if it took effort. Percy realized they were talking directly to him in Common. The Voice had swiftly left with the rest of the group. It couldn’t be a good sign. “That I have so little to be rewarded in this deal.”
He swallowed thickly, they had a point. All Percy had done was make vague threats of future disaster. “What, what did you have in mind?”
The Magistratus’ tail curled all the way up to his thigh, staring, not saying anything. They were so close with their predatory gaze and the horrid, familiar ache of hopelessness crawled into his brain. God, he was so tired. He felt himself succumb to their silence.
“There’s no machine I can’t fix. I dabble a lot in chemistry and alchemy. I know several languages and I’m an excellent fighter. Perhaps some extermination work?”
The tail curled around his leg was incredibly distressing, like a knife to the throat. It would take so little effort to snap the bones to so many pieces. Percy gathered all resolve he had left to brace himself, not jerk away as the Magistratus’ knuckles lifted his chin.
“I believe we can find something you can do to make yourself useful.”
“Sounds fair.” He said. It did not sound fair, not in the slightest. But what the hell, he couldn’t argue.
An eerie smile, all teeth, sealed whatever new deal. “In the meantime, I will see to your interrogation myself.” The tail around his leg squeezed, hard, then released him, slithering away.
Percy stood there, waiting for some sort of command and was rewarded with a rough push in the opposite direction from Vox Machina. As the guards approached, Percy quickly shuffled back in line behind the leader, who was still issuing orders. This was their only option. The leader had thrown him a fragile lifeline and he refused to break it. There was no way of knowing the trust he could put into Torrence, or even if the yuan-ti would keep their word.
With one arm around his aching stomach, he walked forward deeper towards the mouth of a cave, watching as the Magistratus winding left lazy looping patterns in the sand. Whatever lie ahead was a small sacrifice for what he was getting in return.
It was the most beautiful dungeons he had ever been to.
As he followed deeper into the tunnel, he noticed mosaics on the walls. Art didn’t hold the same fascination to him as machinery, but he did have enough knowledge to notice that the landscapes of vastly different regions looked real due to the various carved textures. The colorful grass, trees, and creatures seemed to move naturally as he walked by, perfectly sculpted to reflect the dim light of the glowstones.
Percy knew just by looking that the artwork would continue to move no matter what direction he walked. It was the same for the art above him, which mapped out in uncanny detail what he suspected the actual night sky above would resemble.
Even more fascinating, was traveling in an area that was very much not built with humans in mind. All tunnels looped around in gentle curves, inclines and declines that often made it difficult for him to traverse. Giant coils of stone, too perfect to be made by nature, jutted up into darkness and down into an even thicker darkness. Every surface had some textures so as to grip onto.
He wondered how they didn’t get lost in the tunnels, if there was some sort of system to it all. He opened his mouth to ask about it, then thought the better of it. While being able to move his arms and legs at will was possibly a gesture of mercy, Percy knew it was more because he wasn’t much of a threat to the yuan-ti around him.
At one point, a yuan-ti twisted themselves around, like wringing a dish towel, it’s spine popping then in a fluid motion leaped at the ceiling. They disappeared into the sand above with barely a sound. Percy suspected it was a tunnel that lead up to the surface. That had to have been how the group had been ambushed. He could only imagine the vast network of these.
Keeping track of the direction they were going was impossible so Percy instead watched the Magistratus. There had to be some weakness he could exploit if the need arose. They seemed to listen to every concern and question to it’s completion, making sure to mull them over, providing answers that seemed to satisfy their subordinates.
After maybe twenty minutes of walking downhill, most of the others had split off into other tunnels or into the floor until it was only the Magistratus and one other guard. To avoid another rough shove, Percy strode into what had to be an interrogation room. He mentally prepared himself for a cell, devices of torture, the rank smell of old blood and decay.
The door closed behind them both and he squinted in the new light. He felt more than saw the Magistratus move past him with confidence. He should fight. He should put up some sort of resistance before being subjected to whatever fresh hell awaited him.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
The room was dark, smelled faintly of smoke and incense. Instead of candles, there were three glass orbs filled with spinning smoke and flame. A large column filled with yuan-ti sized grooves lead up to something of a loft, where Percy noticed an exorbitant amount of scrolls and tools. Plants of all shapes and colors, mostly nightvines, creeped all around the cavern walls and into a large pool. Steam rose gently from the surface. An underground hot spring.
Large, soft rugs covered the floor, well worn with age. All around the room were trinkets and carved artifacts and scrolls that, upon a closer look, contained not writing but purposeful, tiny holes in sequences. Percy wondered if it was how they communicated through paper while also being in the dark, since one would simply need to feel the paper to gather information.
He looked up and noticed… pipes? Not meant for water, he could tell that much, but for what-
“Do not touch anything unless I give permission.”
“Of course.” He said softly, dazed. He stuck his hands back into his pockets. Just in case.
It was certainly tempting. All along one shelf were delicately carved statues of all sorts of beings, some he didn’t recognize. One counter contained a collection of jewelry and he wished Vex were here to salivate over the sparkling gems and gold.
“Where did you get these? If I may ask.” He said, admiring a particularly interesting contraption. This one didn’t stop spinning. Weights and counterweights kept them in a loop to show a depiction of a yuan-ti juggling. Welcoming a distraction with open arms, Percy dropped enhancing lenses down over his main ones to enhance his view. With his lenses, he could make out almost microscopic details of the yuan-ti’s eyes, the threads of color in their irises. The chipped scales. Stars on the toys it juggled.
“I made them.”
He really shouldn’t have been surprised. “It’s some of the best craftsmanship I’ve ever seen.”
“Mhhhm. It’s a good tool for distraction. Hard to think about much else when crafting.”
The Magistratus didn’t turn around from whatever they were searching for on an incredibly high shelf. By the sound jangling sounds, Percy guessed they were removing their jewelry.
He stood there, taking the time to study them openly. They were incredibly long, rippling with muscle, nearly twenty feet in length, and seemed completely at ease. In the dim light, he could make out swirling patterns of gold with rosey hues, almost like bronze, hidden beneath the same film that seemed to coat their eyes. Was it tattoos perhaps?
There was a glint of a knife in their giant hands and bile rose in his throat when he remembered what he was here for. “Found what you were looking for?”
They swiveled around, a small curved blade in hand and Percy had the quick thought that he was going to be gutted right then and there. That was not the case. With a knowing eye, they whittled their claws down.
“Mhhm, yes,” with a toothy grin, they said. “I don’t plan on spending my time with so many ribbons of human meat.”
“No.” He said, quietly, “would definitely stain the pillows.”
Once finished, they rose up nearly twelve feet, and set the knife down on a self that held a number of elegant looking knives. Percy had the wild, desperate idea that perhaps if he could stall long enough they could forget about the interrogation. They could both just talk about materials and projects and how to get blood out of fabric.
“Your Common is actually quite good.” He commented, trying to look as polite as possible. “The grammar for this language is a complete mess.”
“Common is the language of trade. Every one of us is required to learn it, but, without use most of my people forget it.” They gave him a side eye, “for obvious reasons I make sure to keep fluency, but for the sake of my people I always have a translator. Humans make mistakes when they think I can’t understand them.”
He swallowed, looking to a figurine of a human brandishing a sword, “yes, humans do tend to make lots of-mistakes!”
They curled behind him, faster than what seemed possible, to come to a stop next to his shoulder. Startled, Percy flinched away, going for a gun that wasn’t there anymore, and quickly tried to cover the movements with a cough, adjusting his jacket.
The Magistratus backed away, a soft inhale of surprise, “are you afraid?”
“Obviously.” He snapped, “I am just a prisoner after all. I know what’s coming next. ” Careful! A voice warned in his head. The edge to his tone had been too sarcastic, too flippant. If he kept that up he wouldn’t need Vex to unravel everything.
Instead of the tail whip to the gut treatment, there was something of a laugh and a “Mhhhm, what do you think is coming next? Torture,” they waved their arms around dramatically, “long speeches, ‘die human scum! Stab stab!’” they said with her own sarcasm.
He blinked, “yes…?”
They laughed in a soft, sibilant hiss. “I’ve read your stories. Everyone and anything can be cruel according to humans.”
“Are the stories true, then? Do you bring all your prisoners to your private quarters for interrogation?”
That seemed to stop them. The yuan-ti watched them for an uncomfortably long time, thinking. Their expressions where so different. Percy couldn’t guage their mood accurately. Everything about this conversation was off putting. So wholly unexpected.
“Let me have your hands.” They said, reaching out.
In the dim light, he hoped they couldn’t see the suspicion. It was highly unlikely they would break his fingers, he wouldn’t be much use then. Perhaps it was to twist or grind them in another painful show of power. He could do that. Setting a neutral face, he offered his hands.
He was pulled a step closer, gently, and they worked the strings of his gloves loose. More beautiful bronzy colored markings were around the crown of their head, branching into thinner rivets, like lichtenberg figures. Now close enough, he could now see that yuan-ti did indeed have whites to their eyes, but only when looking in a far direction. It was a little too human.
“Tell me,” they said, sotto voce, “when you interrogate others violently, do they always give true and helpful answers?”
“No.” He said, truthfully and helpfully. “Sometimes.”
Their hands were nearly twice the size of his, which was saying something. People tended to give him looks of veiled disgust or pity when they saw the numerous calluses, healed over burns, bloody knuckles, and the pock-marks when the pepper box misfired. There was no point to having Pike waste a spell on them when he would inevitably injure them again later. Overtime, it was much easier to wear gloves and just never take them off.
“Yours are like mine.” They said.
Yuan-ti, he noticed, had three fingers and a thumb, and one extra digit on each finger. Percy figured his nails must seem laughable compared to their claws. More bands of embedded metal wound around their also scarred and gnarly fingers. The palms softer than the scales on the back of her hand. By the look of them, he had expected a sandpaper texture, like sharks, but instead they felt sleek, cool, like interwoven chain mail.
They ran a finger lazily over the scars on his wrist and something in his neck twinged, despite, or possibly because of it, the gentle touch burned like traces of acid.
“I’m willing to guess,” they said, slow blinking again, “that I don’t need to be violent,” their gentle grip turned firm, grounding, “with you to get the answers I want? Hmmmm?”
Unnerved, Percy shook his head.
With a satisfied nod, proven correct about something, they released him and pointed to a washbasin bigger than a human bathtub. “Now clean your hands, I can smell the color of bear you pet.”
No need to be told twice, Percy stiffly walked past, welcoming another distraction. He knew there was no way they could’ve missed his unease, how he fumbled the soap. As he set to work, watching as the water discolored, an ugly brownish red, he tried not to think of his friends. He scrubbed the back of his hands, was Pike even alive?
He took the soap and cleaned between his fingers. Would Vex forgive him? Did it even matter? If he had been paying more attention, maybe they wouldn’t be in this mess. If he had screamed a warning, maybe the tables would have turned. He set to work on his fingernails, his scarred wrists.
What could possibly have happened to Grog that took him out so quickly? In the meantime, while he was here in a cushy room, what was happening to them? Percy imagined his friends, alone, possibly in separate cells, in pain, screaming-
“That’s enough.” They said, taking the soap. They were so close he swore he could hear a heartbeat. He hadn’t realized how he had rubbed his hands raw, the water much too hot. He quickly rinsed them off.
With a careful brush of knuckles, scales on fabric, they drew his attention. “I do not enjoy violence. Your friends are safe. I trust my companions to be… professional. I keep my bargains.”
Not quite knowing what to say, Percy nodded, following them deeper into the room.
“Now, before we begin I want you to remove your coat.” They settled on a cushion the size of a dining table. They were massive and sinuous and ready to lash out if he stepped out of line, as Percy stepped forward he noticed that a soft warmth emanated from the stone below. Thermal vents?
Focus.
His coat. He somehow hadn’t thought this far. His coat was a gift from his brother, his armor. Even Vox Machina had rarely seen him without it.
The milky, unblinking stare unnerved him. He wanted to throw something, snatch the fiery globe and hurl it, rip up the scrolls- anything to rid him of that gaze. People in dire situations didn’t hold hands, or talk about pillows, or, or, or-
Focus.
He tried, he really did, but his shaking made it impossible. He swore under his breath, clenching his fist and flexing them, before unsuccessfully trying again. A strong hand gripped his wrist and he yelped.
“May I?”
“No!” He panicked, “no, let me, I will do what you ask, just- just give me a moment, I will do what you ask, I mean no disrespect- just please-”
“I am patient. As you wish.”
With slow, graceful movements, they went to lay back on the cushions, still within reach, watching, but made no move to force him.
Focus.
He let out a breath he didn’t realize his was holding. Think. He had to get it together. Had to stay awake. Had to keep himself under control. He would not court their patience. Percy took in a shaking breath in through his nose, coughing as his chest spasmed, fighting him, then he released it through his mouth. After a few more breaths, he pressed his hands into his eyes.
Better now, he set back to the task of taking off his coat. There were a few rips around the shoulders where their claws had dug into him. His stomach ached, legs and arms and shoulders protesting at the rough treatment from the yuan-ti. Damn the coat, he nearly ripped the buttons loose as he finally shrugged it off, laying it down on the counter next to the bangles.
“Good…” they soothed, “wouldn’t want any surprises.”
At their gesture, he sat down on the cushions. After some insistence, and more patience he finally settled down in a comfortable position. They curled behind him, pressing into his back and pushed they head under his hand. Percy’s eyes widened at the sight of a ninety degree range of jaw motion of a yawn and a long, wet tongue- not to mention the row of needle teeth. The sheer will it took not to snatch his hand away.
“I require help with a task while you answer questions.”
“You have me here.” He said simply, suspicious.
They grabbed his sleeve and guided his hand to their face, right under the cheek. His fingers found a patch of flaky skin he hadn’t noticed before. Once Percy realized what they wanted he felt like a complete idiot. They were shedding. Of course that was the film over their eyes and back. That was a task that couldn’t be too hard. Right?
Seeing his realization, they grinned, uncanny with too big eyes and too broad smile. With a twist of their head the skin peeled off with a crackling sound. The work was immensely satisfying, when the film came off their eyes he watched the pupils contracted at the dim light. Bright and eerily intelligent, watching him. They looked pleased.
“You are perfect for this.” They groaned as he peeled along their face. “Oh, you can set them anywhere, it will be cleaned up later.”
It made sense, yuan-ti didn’t quite seem to have the range of motion in their shoulders as humans. Hinge or pivot joints instead of ball and socket. This was a task meant for two. The dead skin began to come off in larger pieces as they were pulled off. At the sound of a particularly deep growl, Percy hesitated.
“Mhhhm. You’re doing so well.” Their eyes were relaxed and he realized it wasn’t a groan of pain. “I knew you would be very useful.”
He continued working.
“Tell me about these night hags.”
That was it. That was the entire interrogation. Percy described their most recent adventure. The conversations with the locals. How the nothic had mutated to almost four times it’s normal size. A cursed wizard who devoted her life to digging up secrets, creeping around in the dark caves. Her gaze, a giant green eye that had extracted awful secrets from his friends. How it took hours of work from Pike to heal Scanlan’s rotted hand.
Before they finally cornered it, it had cackled about an army of night hags that would get them all in the end. Hungry hungry hungry night hags. Sly creatures that once lived in the Feywild now banished to Hades. Evil creatures that were immune to most magic, turned their victims feebleminded and then gorged themselves on the nightmares.
Percy explained their weaknesses, how a magic circle can ward them away for a night. To not be fooled when they change into a familiar female humanoid shape. The coven of possibly thirty or more that might soon be making their way to this area, within a fortnight he reckoned.
“Mhhhm and how does one kill them?”
“Weapons that are silvered,” he said.
The Magistratus hummed again, stretching. “I will plan with the others in the morning. Thanks to you we will be more prepared.”
In response he gave a noncommittal hum. He gripped a whole handful of the beginning of a long peel and they moaned, shuddering as he pulled in the direction of the scales. The new scales underneath shone like gems. He cleared his throat, determined to ignore it.
“Is this difficult to do alone?” He said, unable to stand the silence.
“It issss…” Their eyes rolled back, claws digging into the cushions as he peeled down the spine.
“Not, not that I’m complaining or questioning you in the slightest, simply out of curiosity I assure you-”
“Speak your mind.” They yawned again, wiggling their disconnected bottom jaw.
Choosing his words carefully, he said, “wouldn’t it be better to have someone more… experienced do this?”
“This is very much an intimate gesture, one that I cannot give to anyone who I am not paired with. To do so would give favor or lead to… complicated expectations.” The yuan-ti seemed to sense his question before he could ask. “You on the other hand, are my prisoner, for a small amount of time, and there is no power transferred. Nothing but our deal.”
“Ah.” He said. "I suppose that makes sense."
The Magistratus winked at him. “It is something of a secret of mine.”
“Your secret is safe with my indifference.” He thought.
It was their turn to hum. As the time stretched on, they curled more and more around him, under his legs and rested their great head on their arms in his lap. He refused to touch his captor any more than absolutely necessary and continued the task all the way down to their tail. How long had he been awake? What time was it now? Once he was completely done he pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. Hopefully soon he would be escorted to a cell where he could at least curl up.
As faint ticking of trinkets and water from the pool gently lapped at the edges, an easy quiet settled in the cavern. Neither of them seemed to want to move, though for different reasons. The Magistratus seemed to relish the peace while Percy wanted to sit and be forgotten.
Inevitably, they shifted, elbow rubbing into his stomach and his breath hitched in pain.
Alarm crossed their features, they turned on him instantly, “what was that?” They rose from his lap, searching his face.
Their faces were level, but he couldn’t meet their gaze, “nothing! Just, uh, humans tend to need sleep and-”
A single claw hooked onto his cravat, cutting him off, and he choked.
Their voice was melodic and had the slightest of edge, an executioner in a good mood. “I believe you, you do need sleep, but you are hiding a lie with a truth, are you not?”
He swallowed, muttered softly. “Yes.”
“Then try again, this time no hiding, or there will be consequences.”
“Just bruises on my stomach. Nothing to be concerned about your majesty.”
Remembrance sparked across their face, they cursed a name, likely the Voice who had struck him, then winded away, searching through a drawer of vials. All the little bottles clinked together like marbles as they talked in her native language.
Percy awkwardly got to his feet, curious. The tactician of his mind wondered what other vials were in the drawer and maybe, just maybe, if he could lean against the drawer and maybe if he could sneak his hand inside-
The drawer slammed shut and after a quick shake of the bottle, the Magistratus turned, uncorked it, offering to their prisoner.
“A healing potion?”
“Meant for humans. Or at least two legged creatures.”
He hesitated. At least four of his friends were in desperate need of that. Every spare potion they had was used on the battle the nothic. He opened his mouth to ask that it be given to Pike, then backtracked. How could he ask without showing disrespect? Or to even ensure it made it to them? Was it even truly a healing potion? What if it was a sleeping draught? Or poison?
“Mmhhmmm. I can hear you thinking human. Remember what I said about speaking your mind.”
“Is there any way this could be given to one of my friends? They have more use for this than I do- but I don’t want to seem rude-”
They tilted their head again. “Is it always this hard to get you to take care of yourself?”
His mouth snapped shut. Just two days ago Keyleth had complained of the same issue. It wasn't his fault they insisted on caring. He was more than capable of handling himself, thank you very much, he didn't need anyone to-
“Drink the potion before I shove it down your throat," they said.
Before he could hesitate again, Percy drank all of the contents of the vial in one big swallow, accustomed to the slimy texture, the heat that coursed through his veins, soothing. Magic flowed under his skin, repairing broken blood vessels, a splash of soap in dark oil, eating it away.
After a moment they moved closer, “did it work?”
He backed away, nearly shattering the vial in his grip, “it did, thank you, your generosity is really-”
“Show me.”
Heat rushed to his face. Why couldn’t it be completely dark for this moment? “That’s not necessary, really, I-”
Teeth bared, they said, almost kindly, “how would I believe you? You hide behind truth and obviously do not care for yourself.”
“Why do you care?” He snapped.
They didn’t seem at all slighted by his insolence, the grin only widened. “I have to make sure you stay intact , now don’t I?”
Effectively cornered, Percy racked his brain for any reason, any logical straws he could grasp at to prevent this. He knew where it was going. The whole night had been building up to this. The personal attention, the special treatment, the possessive, protective behavior, the healing potion-
There was no escaping it. Moving only their tail, the Magistratus corked one of the bottles of fire and it died, starved for oxygen. Their eyes burned in the dark.
After closing his eyes for a brief moment, he unbuttoned his shirt, worked the knot from his throat. He focused on the twirling diadem on the counter, estimated the calculations for the dimensions of the individual rings. A model of the constellation Carina. Surely that wouldn’t be too hard to make back at his workshop. Or at any workshop. Once this was all over he could build one, maybe sell it for a large amount of gold and-
A scaled hand came into his field of view and the threat of being touched was enough to tilt his head. They were inches away, towering, immaculate. Her gaze as intent and passionate as murder.
Before he could protest, or beg, or snarl any last words, they grabbed him by the neck and steered him to the cushions. He scrambled, pinned, panicked. Feral instincts whirred to life in his head.
Delicately, gently, they plucked the glasses from his face. “You are a very beautiful creature,” they whispered.
He squirmed, the compliment making him more uncomfortable than the grip that threatened to strangle him. They seemed to revel in it, ran their claws through his hair. “It’s so soft.” They breathed, fluffing it, fascinated. More heavy shifting coils kept his legs down.
Overwhelmed with helplessness, Percy fought to keep still. Stoic, unbothered. Surly someone else would find enjoyment out of this, some sort of disregard for their words. It wouldn’t last forever, he only had to entertain until word was brought back from Torrence.
If they didn’t uphold their word he trusted his friends with his life, they would find him. They would free him. When it came to the well being of one of their own Vox Machina’s ruthlessness knew no bounds.
He only had to endure.
Muscular coils bore down, pressing, he couldn’t push them off. He didn’t even bother to try solely because the Magistratus might enjoy that. He dug his nails into the cushions around him, going limp, lifeless. All of his years in the bloody hands of the Briarwoods had taught him that the only power he had was in not giving them the satisfaction. His own personal victory. A fire that burned brighter in his chest the more he watched his enemies fall short of getting exactly what they wanted from him. Whether that was a fight or surrender.
If only they hadn’t given him the potion, it would be so much easier to distract himself with the pain, to have a logical reason to feel so horrid inside.
Something else. That was what all he was expected to provide. It was their fault for not taking advantage or clear wording. Percy on the other hand, had thought clearly enough to use words like, “walk,” and “intact.” It guaranteed the reasonable bare minimum of his safety.
The Magistratus buried their fingers in his hair, baring his throat. A forked tongue licked over the shell of his ear and he shuddered. He could feel a wide smile against his neck.
“Mhhm. So good.”
Sucking air between clenched teeth, Percy squeezed his eyes shut, determined to drown everything out. He wanted to scrub his skin off with a file. A thumb stroked over the pulse point. The vibration of their hum could be felt deep in his bones. Sharp lines of white hot fire raked down his chest.
It wouldn't last forever. It wouldn’t last forever. Whatever happened, he had been through worse. No one could break him again. No one could break something that was already broken.
“You taste so good.” They said, “salty,” another lick, slow and burning. “I can feel your blood.”
He just had to focus, think of something else. Back in his workshop, the new arrow he would craft for Vex-
More coils moved between his legs.
“So warm,” they purred.
Drunk on their power over him, they gripped his arms, forcing them behind his back. He didn’t quite remember how or why, would work very hard to not remember at all, when the base of their tail cinched around his wrists, fleshy cuffs. He swallowed a cry of pain as they squeezed. Hard. Crushing.
“Look at me.” They said, fingers tracing over his hip bone.
Rot in hell. He thought, keeping his eyes shut, braced for a slap.
“I want you to look at me.” They said again.
Percy could feel his hands already numb. It would take enormous amounts of luck to get out of this without nerve damage.
He looked up.
They were stunning and dangerous and looking very pleased. Teeth glistened in the flickering light, proud of the fact that he was so pinned without even lifting a finger.
“You are a valuable human. Cunning, strong, capable.” They pressed strong hands into the space right above his belt.
He squirmed, a soft “no,” dying in his throat. He screamed at himself. He has asked for this. Had bargained for it. He just had to endure. Just had to survive.
“And very pleasing to look at. I will enjoy feeling you fall apart under me.”
The grip turned crushing and he groaned in pain, mouth open in a silent scream. The fingers tracing over the ridges of his scars was bringing back darker memories. Memories of loss and blood and hunger.
A large hand covered his mouth, muffling him, suffocating. Despite the growing horror he felt a stab of gratitude. No one would hear him. The long tongue worked over his neck, sucking bruises into the bundle of nerves. He vaguely wondered why they bothered with the healing potion until he realized that it wasn’t any sort of kindness, it was just wanted to create their own marks.
He wasn’t really there when his wrist snapped. He remembered hearing his muffled screams as broken bones ground together. The conscious part of him was no longer anchored to his body, vaguely watching him, a completely different entity observing as he spasmed and thrashed.
The Magistratus hummed in enjoyment, wrapping around him tighter.
It hurt to thrash. It hurt to remain still. There was nothing he could do to stop it. To stop any of this. Something inside him snapped, a string that connected his mind to his body. Tears slid down his cheeks, welling around the grip on his face. After a moment, they stopped, running a thumb over his eyelids and hissed, reeling back.
He watched, outside of his body, not really looking with his eyes, as they released him. He was vaguely aware of an angry voice, demanding answers. He couldn’t move his arms. Couldn’t move his body. Head too thick with a fog. When the mind is too overwhelmed and seeking escape.
Something lifted him by the shoulders and he groaned, bloodless arms hanging limp. They snarled at the sight of his hands, purple and one of them swollen beyond recognition.
There was cold silence. There was nothing inside him. Just the ghost that hovered nearby.
“It’s broken, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer, just cradled his arm against his bare chest. The sensation saliva drying on his skin made him want to peel his entire outer being off, leaving nothing but ligaments and bones.
The ghost noticed the yuan-ti moving away, searching through the drawer of vials again. They hissed again, spitting curses. This was probably the beginnings of what he had been hoping for. The anger and dissatisfaction at a ruined night of their fun. This was the reward for making deals with desperate humans. He numbly waited for them to lose control, to lash out and strike him for not answering questions like a good little prisoner.
Completely wrung out, exhaustion set deep behind his eyes. He couldn’t imagine himself caring when they hurt him further.
Instead, they cradled his face, as if he was made of glass, “I’m so sorry.”
That awakened something in him. Confusion, anger, he wanted to slap them. The tactician in his brain couldn’t categorize the Magistrata and it infuriated him. They weren’t an ally since they held his friends hostage. They weren’t an enemy when a way out was offered. Evil beings didn’t regret what they had done. Evil beings didn’t heal their prisoners. Evil beings didn’t say sorry.
“It was an accident, I-” They looked lost. “I’m so sorry, I don’t have anymore healing potions. There’s only ones for our race, it’s not safe-”
“Just keep going.” He said.
“What?”
“This, this doesn’t change anything. You wanted to watch me fall apart, didn’t you?” They were evil, had to be evil, had to be playing some other foreign game with this act. “So just pick up where you left off. Finish the deal. Until then, I’m still just your prisoner.”
“There is no more deal.” They said.
What a fucking fool he had been. He had been so blinded by his own selfishness that now the deal was off. He had lost control of his tongue and now his friends would pay a deadly price.
They shook their head, voice low, hollow, “you’re not intact. I broke my promise. It doesn’t matter now what anyone says, you and your friends are free to walk away.”
He sat there, dumbfounded, unable to process as they moved around the room, unreadable. Their demeanor had flipped on a coin and he was thrown in the loop.
The Magistrata gathered his things, put the coat over his shoulders. “Come, I will escort you to your friends.”
*******
The walk was tense and silent. He numbly followed her through the maze of tunnels, hand still throbbing. There were hardly any yuan-ti around, perhaps most of them asleep. A lone tunnel winded up an incline to a door, posted with two guards.
The Magistrata pressed a key into his good hand. “My messangers have brought word back. Torrence has vouched for Vox Machina and so we will doubt any ill will from your companions. This will open the door to the surface.”
Key in hand, he moved toward the door.
“And Percy.”
He stopped, not looking behind him, afraid he would break down so close to his friends.
“I don’t have to tell you to avoid ever coming back here. My people and I will resort to more… permanent consequences.”
He nodded. Not trusting himself to speak.
As he approached the door, the guards made no move to stop him. They pulled the heavy iron door just wide enough to slide through then closed it behind him with an ominous thud of metal on stone.
“Someone’s coming!” Someone whispered, a familiar voice.
“Oh my god it’s Percy!”
Percy squinted in the soft green glow of Keyleth’s magic. His friend’s faces, pestering him with questions, sent waves of relief crashing down on him. Pike was cradled in Grog’s arms, still unconscious. Other than that, the rest of them seemed alive, still kicking.
“Did you get into a fight?” Scanlan said, studying him.
“Yeah, you should’ve seen the other one.” The puppeted Percy said.
“Darling, what happened?” Vex’s worried face cast harsh shadows in the green glow.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He said, brushing Vex off. “Let’s get out of this god forsaken hole shall we?”
There had to have been something in his tone, his demeanor, because they didn’t pry further, at least for now. Across the room, he unlocked the door to the outside and breathed in a deep lungful of early morning desert air.
*********
In the end, it was decided that Keyleth would shape into a great eagle and take Scanlan and Pike ahead into town to find a healer. She could get Pike to safety by the time afternoon rolled around. It took so much convincing on Grog’s part, the giant was reluctant to let his friend go. After several promises of seeing Pike in just a few hours and several casks of ale, he gingerly helped her onto Keyleth’s feathery back, Scanlan holding her tight.
Percy had found his glasses in his coat pocket, whether that was his doing or the Magistratas’ he couldn't remember. He had been detached. Someone else was puppeteering his sore limbs as they walked on foot across the desert. He wiped off some smudges from the lenses and donned them just in time to see Keyleth set off in a powerful downward thrust of her wings.
There was some talk around him about using the flying carpet, but no one had the heart to leave Grog behind. Pretty much all of their magic users had been sent ahead, so that ruled out any dimension dooring or tree portals. Percy didn’t let himself think about how many hours it was going to take to find Daze Inn.
“I’m going to rip her godamn spine out.” Vex said next to him.
“It would take a lot of ripping, lots of spine in a yuan-ti.” He said.
As they walked, a pained look crossed her dusty face.
“What’s wrong?” He asked. Did she need medical attention? Was there some monster behind him? Did she stub her toe?
She lifted his arm, wincing at his broken wrist. She was dirty, her clothes torn, sweaty dark hair stuck to her face and Percy couldn’t remember a time when she was more breathtaking. After a few muttered words of healing, she growled in frustration, trying again.
“I’m fine. I’ve had worse.” He said, easing out of her grip.
“You shouldn’t have.”
“Shouldn’t have what?”
“You shouldn’t,” she shook her head, “You shouldn’t have had worse. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”
“Neither did you for that matter,” he countered.
“First thing after I rest.” She said, determined.
“And eat.”
“You’re not my mother.”
“You’re not my mother either.” He said, feeling his shoulder relax a little for the first time in hours. The back and forth was soothing.
Vex shoved her hair away from her face. “I knew I should’ve bought more potions. Why do I always have to bargain? ‘Oh a thousand gold for a greater healing? No that’s way too expensive! Oh, a hundred gold per storm arrow? Don’t mind if I do!’”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Vax jumped into the conversation, skipping ahead of them and walking backwards. Sometimes Percy forgot Vax’s entire foot had once been burned off by lava. How many days had it taken Pike to restore it back to normal? Oh poor Pike. Percy’s gut twisted.
“I say we go to town, get our contracts and money, rest up, heal Pike, buy the entire tavern a round, and then when we are ready, we come back and kick all of their skinny arses-”
Vax wasn’t the type to just lose a round one. He was more of a “how about a two out of three?” type of half elf, and normally Percy admired it. This time however, Percy suppressed a full body shudder at the thought of going back. There was only so much burning desire for revenge his body could hold at one time.
“So, uh, Percy?” A low voice said behind him. “Did you show the queen your boomy stick and everything?”
The twins exchanged guilty looks. Percy quickly put together that since Grog was unconscious most of the time, perhaps that was what they had told Grog the Magistratus wanted. The truth would no doubt send him into a rage and who knew who would get hurt in the aftermath?
He sighed. “Yes Grog, they wanted to know how I made the pepperbox. It was boring really,” Percy went into intricate detail of the inner workings of his inventions until the giant’s eyes glazed over. But there was something funny to his expression, something Percy couldn’t quite make out.
“You didn’t do your uh, sleep thingy, do you need me to carry you?”
Percy almost said ‘yes’ and yet, his De Rollo pride wouldn’t allow it. He patted Grog’s beefy arm. “Maybe next time.”
“What you’re gonna miss out on the opportunity to piggy back a smelly barbarian?” Vax said with mock incredulousness. “You’re missing out!”
In an impressive display of nimbleness, especially with the giant ring of barely scabbed over bite wounds on his shoulder, the half elf leapt up and climbed onto Grog’s back, legs on his shoulders and pointed forward heroically. “Onward! For Ale!”
The rousing cry frenzied the giant into taking off, down the hill, kicking up plumes of dust. Percy knew that later he would muster up an emotion called “happiness” for them later. Right now he was too tired. Wrung out.
Vex watched him out of the corner of her eye. He knew she was dying to ask. He knew that she knew that he knew she was dying for answers. Why he came out with red eyes and bruises all up his neck and a broken wrist and no shirt to be found.
“Oh! Speaking of the pepper box,” Vex said, “your pack has everything that I remember in it. Bad News and everything. It’s in the bag of holding but I don’t imagine you want to chase down Grog for it just yet.”
He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Mhhh, no, I’ll steal it back from him when he’s distracted. Thank you, I was wondering if I would have to make a whole new set again.”
“God I can’t wait to take a nap.” She said.
Sleep and Percy didn’t really get along anymore. It was like being forced to live with an ex after a bad breakup. Perhaps this time they could work something out.
Pike was better.
Clang.
Almost two days after making it into Daze Inn Percy had woken up on the floor of his room. He vaguely remembered lying in bed and looking down at his pack on the nightstand and not being able to tell if that was him or not. Currently, his only strategy was to NOT think about it. To stay busy and preoccupied and there was always something to do.
Pike had seemed so much smaller without her plate armor. Fragile. The healers said her condition was stable, it was just a matter of waiting for her to wake up.
Clang.
Sweat dripped down by his ears and Percy wiped it away with the back of his now working hand. Normally, Vex would wait until Percy had at least woken up before going into his room, but the night before she had quietly stole in and healed him. He remembered bleary noticing that she was half asleep, had done it without even really thinking.
Clang.
Smoothing out and repairing the armor was a complete nightmare and he welcomed the challenge with open arms. Confident in his skills, he knew how to repair it without compromising it’s integrity. He knew the shape of the plates by heart. He would return it to Pike looking polished and brand new, and with leather strips on the edges to help it from grating together as she moved.
As the hours went by, the plates, which resembled so much wadded up paper, now just needed polishing. It would have to cool completely.
As he straightened and pulled off the goggles, he jumped at a shadowy presence behind him.
“Dammit Vax!” He said, tossing scrap metal in his direction.
The half elf naturally dodged it, smirking. “Not my fault you go completely deaf in here.”
After removing his heavy gloves, Percy rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, I am not going to play wingman for you for some local-”
“It’s not that.” Vax said.
Percy blinked several times. “Shocking.”
Something fell in Vax’s demeanor. More serious, he fiddled with his knives. Oh no. Percy thought.
“What’s wrong? Is it Pike?”
“What? No! No, she’s still sleeping as far as I’m aware of. Grog won’t leave her side. Not even after Scanlan offered to take him to a brothel.”
Percy’s eyebrows climbed up. “Oh dear.”
“I, well, I wanted to say- um,” Vax blew air out of his cheeks, a bundle of fluid, nervous energy. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Here we go. “Vax, you nearly sustained the same amount of damage as I did.”
Vax held up his hands, which would have been a placating gesture if not for the knives, but that was a ranger for you. “Whitey, you and I both know that it’s different.”
Percy rolled his eyes. “Why do you use that insufferable name?”
“Why do you use big words when you’re deflecting?”
“Why don’t you mind your own business?”
Vax poked his forehead, with a finger rather than a knife, “Sorry Percy, you’re part of the family now whether you like it or not, so you are my business.”
He crossed his arms, leaning back, incredulous. “Oh am I now?”
Mischief danced over his sharp features, a hunter near his catch, going in for the killing blow.
“I’m afraid you are whitey, and if you don’t start talking now I will have to get Scanlan involved. Tell him you’ve always had a thing for silk thongs and he would be more -”
“No! That’s enough, thank you, I don’t want to know.”
He grinned, then remembered the circumstances and their smiles faded. Percy knew there would be no hard feelings if he decided to get up and walk away. Vox Machina was accustomed to his dodginess. His adverstion to talking about anything deep.
“What if,” Vax said, leaning in to conspiratorially whisper, “we go back and ruin their day? Stink bombs everywhere. Surely you can rig up some contraption, I can plant bombs, a quick in and out operation.” His grin broadened, “We could make it back in time for your regular seven o'clock brooding.”
Percy half-heartedly flicked more pieces of metal at his face. “No, I would rather not.” He looked down at the shop floor, the black scuff marks. “I would rather not think about it anymore.” It took an incredible amount of bravery, of trust, but he let his expression reveal his true thoughts. “I… I would rather not care about it anymore. I, I don’t know if that makes any sort of sense.”
Vax shifted so that he somehow managed to sit on the back of the chair, legs stretched out past the seat. He cleaned nonexistent dirt away from the blade. The black cloak he wore played tricks on Percy’s mind, creating shadows that weren’t really there.
“I don’t understand it, to be completely honest.” Vex said. “But if you ever change your mind, I will hold her down while you shoot, or spit in their eye, or whatever- really- any of us would do that, you know that right? You could just say the word?”
A small smile played across Percy’s face. He did know, had known it for years now, but hearing it did make him feel a bit better.
“Thank you, I- well. Thank you.” There was no real way to explain how much that had meant to him.
“How about this, if I beat you to the eatery you have to buy us both meat pies.”
Percy rolled his eyes again, “we could just buy them Vax, we don’t have to-” he straightened, smiling wide and looking at the door behind them. “Vex’alhia! We were just talking about you!”
Vax fell for it and twisted around just in time for Percy to kick the chair out and take off running.
“Oh you bastard!” Vax yelled, dashing to catch up.
Throughout his life Percy had formed habits. Bad habits to tame the other Even Worse habits. If he couldn’t get rid of his demons he could at least try to manage them. Could at least pick and choose what poison.
Tonight his poison of choice, his bad habit was smoking.
His hands still shook too much to work on his new clockwork gimcrack. A shame really, there wasn’t much else to really do while Vox Machina partied away their newly acquired funds. He gave it nearly a week before their break was over. Not that they didn’t deserve a hell of a break.
It was a nice sunset view on the balcony of Daze Inn. There was lights and laughter and Scanlan leading a dance on the plaza below. It looked like everyone and their dead father had joined.
With a deep inhale, he drew in the hot, burning smoke, going a little dizzy. He’d tricked his mind into calming down every time he went out to smoke. Smoking meant safe. Smoking meant there was rest. Smoking meant he wasn’t on night watch or fighting for his life.
He exhaled, hating the burn in his nose. This was the cheap stuff that would make him wake up coughing again, but that was what he deserved. Smoking meant he wasn’t sitting there alone with thoughts that terrified him. Percy gripped the railing and it creaked with dry rot. No, he was smoking. If he was smoking there was no need for his heart to race, for tears to well up in his eyes. It was an excuse to leave the party downstairs.
Vex and Keyleth were singing their hearts out down below, red faced and incredibly off key. He smiled. Pike had challenged a tifling to shots, clearly winning. Vax sat at the fountain with some lovely looking individual, he couldn’t make out who, showing off knife twirling skills.
Wait, something was missing. Where was-
A big, hulking giant ducked his head under the balcony door, ale in hand. “Do ya need some alone time?”
The gunslinger prepared himself to mentally tune out whatever dim, but gold-hearted speech he had planned. He really wasn’t in the mood for comfort, yet arguing with Grog was like having a shouting match with a hill of blue rocks. Rocks that could yell back.
“No Grog, you’re welcome to sit here.”
He sat, lifted his great cup of ale in toast and Percy raised his cigarette in solidarity. They both partook in their respective poisons in comfortable silence.
So, he and Grog sat. They both sat, people watching.
And somehow, it restored something inside him.