Work Text:
It’s early, so soon after dawn that it’s still dark outside when Iskall wakes up to the sound of a pounding knock on their door.
They roll out of bed, kicking around until they find house-shoes to protect their bare feet and fumble to bring their cybernetic eye to life.
The knocking continues, urgent and rattling Iskall’s sleep-addled mind.
“I’m coming,” they shout, and finally drag the door open.
Beef is standing there, eyes wide and cloak swinging around him, the fluffy white cowl nearly swallowing him up even at his size.
“Iskall.” Beef speaks before Iskall can greet him. “Need your help. Something’s wrong with Etho.”
There’s an alarm in Beef’s eyes that brings Iskall pause. Beef is even-keeled and knows well of all things Etho: therefore, if Beef says something is wrong, Iskall believes him, and that sends Iskall in a rush to throw on a jacket and find their boots.
“Wrong how?” Iskall demands as they frantically lace up their boots. Their eye finishes booting and their HUD appears, and Iskall quickly flashes the Players tab to see who is awake and who is still asleep. Etho is awake, though few other Players are at this hour.
“He got back late from a Vault run.” Beef explains, glancing out in the direction of Etho’s place. “I heard him coming in, went to say hi, and he’s —” Beef pauses long enough that Iskall finishes tying their boots and looks up.
“Not himself.” Beef finishes lamely.
“Are they hurt?” Iskall checks as they yank their jacket on.
“I don’t know. They’re dirty, bit of blood, but might not be theirs.”
Beef leads the way and Iskall hurries after. When they make it to Etho’s house, Beef gently pushes open the front door.
“Etho?” He calls. “It’s me. Iskall’s with me.”
Beef steps in slowly, cautiously, and Iskall copies his mannerisms as they look around.
Iskall makes it to the bedroom door and knocks before beginning to open it. They hear a shuffle from inside and say in a calm voice, “Etho, it’s Iskall.”
Iskall freezes when their eyes settle on Etho.
Etho is pressed into the corner, the quilts from his bed strewn across the floor. He’s hugging his knees and craning his neck around to stare at Iskall. The red glint of his prosthetic eye is sharper than usual, and he’s maskless, expression utterly wild like a cornered animal, fur sticking out every which way.
Iskall’s instincts shout danger!
In a mere moment, Etho jumps to their feet, still crouched low and baring fangs at Iskall. There’s dirt and blood staining him, fox ears flat against his skull, and Iskall realizes both of Etho’s eyes are red.
An idol hangs around Etho’s neck, with matching red eyes.
Etho lunges at Iskall with a fierce snarl, and Iskall slams the door closed without hesitation.
Beef comes flying into review as Etho scrapes and claws against the wood, shrieking and gekkering just inches away from Iskall’s face.
“You see what I mean?” Beef says weakly.
“Yes.” Iskall responds as they swallow. “Okay. I know what to do.”
Beef blinks. “You — what?”
“Go out to the pens, get a pig, lead it back.” Iskall instructs. “I’m gonna call Stress. I know of this, but she might’ve dealt with it personally, and I wouldn’t mind an extra set of hands.”
“I — okay.” Beef responds, puzzled, tilting his head. “What’s … what’s wrong?”
“It’s called the Gift of Idona.” Iskall explains. The furious sounds from Etho are slowly quieting. “Go get a pig, please. I’ll explain once we get Etho calmed down.”
<Iskall85> Stress
<Iskall85> Stress sorry to wake you but could use your help
<Iskall85 is calling StressMonster…>
<StressMonster> im up im up im up
<StressMonster> whats it
<Iskall85> Sorry again
<Iskall85> Etho’s place. Theyre a bloodhunter
<StressMonster> Etho is?
<StressMonster> I’m coming
Iskall sits with their back to the door and talks non-stop to Etho in the ten minutes it takes Beef to return and Stress to arrive. Not that Etho responds, but Iskall imagines it might be helping. It’s soothing Iskall’s nerves, at the very least.
“Honestly, you’ve managed to gather a lot more favor than I realized, if this is the outcome.” Iskall says. “I’m glad you’ve been enjoying yourself here, I know you can get really into the grind. It’s really a fun change-up compared to Hermitcraft, although if you get too used to modded play, going back to vanilla can be confusing.”
Iskall hears the door.
“Iskall?” They hear Stress call, and she appears around the corner. Iskall rises from the floor. “Beef’s coming up the walk too. How’s Etho?”
“Doesn’t seem to be panicking.” Iskall allows with a glance back at the closed door. “Beef, bring the pig in.”
Beef keeps waving a carrot in front of the hog’s face, drawing it inside. “Iskall, is this for what I think it is…”
“Probably.” They admit, take the pig’s lead. “Etho’s not in any danger, though.” Stress puts a knife in Iskall’s open palm before they have to ask. “Let’s get this done, and when Etho’s lucid, I’ll explain it to you both.”
Iskall kills the pig with one slice across the neck, and Stress pulls the bedroom door open.
Etho is rucked up against the foot of the bed, wary, but as the pig’s blood begins to pool, he goes tense all over and scrambles toward it like a man possessed. Iskall returns the knife to Stress as Etho puts his teeth to the pig’s slit throat and begins to drink.
Beef is still and quiet, unable to take his eyes off Etho, who focuses on the lifeblood with such complete attention that the others may as well not be there.
“This is the Gift of Idona, the Malevolent.” Iskall says.
“Etho has her idol.” Beef responds.
“Yes. Apparently they have a lot of her favor, for this to happen so quickly.” Iskall tells him.
“Is it … permanent?”
“No.” Stress pats Beef’s arm. “It’s not. It won’t be able to follow Etho to Hermitcraft, though it might linger awhile as long as they’re on this server. First few days it can be hard, but we’ll get everythin’ stabilized.”
Beef looks less than certain, but Stress keeps a firm grip on him, even as he ultimately sits down near Etho, across the corpse of the pig. Stress keeps a hand on Beef’s shoulder while Iskall goes to find a fresh set of clothes for Etho, and a damp towel to clean him with.
Etho’s head hurts. Their jaw aches, not just in the way it often does when they have a migraine, but as if Etho has spent a full night grinding their teeth in their sleep. He shakily wipes his face, but he can tell he’s still messy, and where’s his mask? They huddle with their knees pulled to their chest, the world strangely blurry, trying to orient.
They blankly look at their hands, their short, trimmed claws, the thumb-hooks of their shirt pulled up and on. Their hands are …. their hands are bloody. Their orbital pulses with pain and their scar burns from eyebrow to chin, especially where it tears through their lip, and their mouth only tastes of dull iron.
There’s a familiar, deep voice speaking to him. Etho blinks, reaching up to rub his eyes, only to smear more blood on his pale skin.
“Beef?” Etho asks in a hoarse voice as the other comes into focus.
A relieved smile breaks across Beef’s face. “Hey, kit. Deep breaths, okay?”
Etho dutifully takes in a long inhale, exhale. “Are you … are you hurt?” Etho asks slowly. There’s a lot of blood, but Etho’s not in any pain besides the ache in their skull. Why is there so much blood?
“I’m fine, Etho. Promise. Iskall and Stress are here too, okay? No one’s hurt.”
“Am I hurt?”
“No.” That’s Iskall, and Etho turns his head to find Iskall to his right. “You were out in a vault yesterday, right? Do you remember?”
Etho scratches his head, wishing he could banish the fuzziness, and suddenly looks back at Beef, registering the space between the two of them.
There’s a dead pig laying between Etho and Beef, and Etho is soaked in its blood, from his chin to his hands. The idol around his neck hums a pleased tune, eyes dimly glowing.
“Oh my Gods.” Etho manages in a strangled voice.
“Etho,” Beef begins, but Stress’ voice cuts through. She rises from Beef’s side only to step across the dead animal without looking down, and takes Etho’s bloody hands between their own. Etho is nauseous, stomach roiling, and flinches away from Stress before she firmly holds his hand.
“Etho, my love,” Stress begins. “This is something I’ve seen before. It’s a gift of favor from the Vault God Idona, and it’s not permanent. You haven’t hurt anybody, and no one’s gonna get hurt. I can promise you that.”
Etho belatedly recalls Beef’s direction to breathe, and takes in another deep breath. “Okay.” He tells Stress, at a loss for any other response. “No one’s hurt?”
“Nobody’s hurt.” She confirms. “Can we get you cleaned up, and we can talk more?”
Etho swallows, tail twitching, and he can feel wet, sticky blood seeping into his white fur. “Sure.”
They make a trail of bloody footprints across Etho’s house, and Beef helps Etho strip off their filthy clothes before turning on the shower. Beef strips down in turn and joins Etho under the water, carefully scrubbing Etho’s hair while they watch the swirling red streams as they make their way into the drain.
They don’t talk, but there’s no one else on this server that Etho would give this kind of vulnerability to. No one else whose hands know Etho’s skin, bare and bloody, gentle as they brush old scars and comb through mats in his fur.
When the water no longer runs hot, Beef turns it off and wraps Etho in a towel. Etho catches sight of themself in the mirror and is surprised by seeing two red eyes, as opposed to one.
“Your teeth might be a bit longer.” Beef says into the silence. “But you’re the same otherwise.”
Etho’s mouth still tastes of blood as Beef helps them dress.
The sun is up, and Iskall is cooking in Etho’s kitchen. The pig’s corpse is gone, though not all of the bloodstains are off the floor yet. Etho curls up in a chair, accepting a hot mug and the handful of pills that are his morning meds from Beef, downing them in one gulp.
There is blood under Stress’ fingernails when she comes back in. She brings a chair to Etho’s side and offers him her hand, which she takes. She softly kisses the back of his hand and asks,
“How do you feel?”
“Okay. Little bit of a headache, but otherwise myself.” Etho reports.
Stress nods. “Good. You tell us if that changes, alright?”
Iskall brings breakfast to the table, though both Etho and Beef pick at it while they look expectantly at their friends for explanation.
“Idona makes bloodhunters of her favored worshippers, sometimes.” Iskall states. “Makes them stronger, quicker, and better at what they do.”
“But it’s a temporary effect, and it’s not Player blood that Idona wants.” Stress adds. “Desperate, newborn bloodhunters sometimes try and jump folks, but Idona bids hunters to chase mobs and all.”
“How long does it last?” Beef asks.
“Couple weeks at most. Five days at least.” Stress responds. “It’s an estimate, but it’ll fade if you hop servers, too. Idona’s power won’t follow you to Hermitcraft, or to a singleplayer world, unless that world is tied to the Vault worldspawn.”
“If I had ever expected this to happen, I would’ve warned you.” Iskall tells Etho. “I am sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault.” Etho won’t have Iskall blaming themself for what is ultimately chance, the roll of a die. “I’m okay. It’s just … unexpected.”
“You’re gonna keep feeling the need to hunt until it fades.” Stress warns. “But as long as you periodically feed, you shouldn’t have any problems.”
“Kinda feels like something she should’ve put in a disclaimer about.” Etho mutters. “Fine print under the whole wearing an idol process.”
Iskall sighs. “Like all deities … fickle and vague. Idona especially.”
“I see that now.”
Beef touches Etho’s arm, and Etho flips his palm over so they can hold hands.
“We can take a jump back to Hermitcraft, if you want.” Beef offers. “Just get it all out of the way.”
Etho ponders that for a moment. But with fresh blood racing through them, they do feel strong, burning with a new energy, and in their soul there is a pull for more.
“No, it’s okay.” Etho responds, and smiles, all sharp edges. Bloodhunter. It can’t hurt to try it out. “I’d like to see how this works, actually.”