Crawling Chaos 1

With a dull slam, Orison's physical self hit a hard surface but he barely felt it. Sub-mind assessing, he had two broken fingers, a cracked rib with torn ligaments in his right shoulder and elbow. The icing on the cake was a hairline fracture on his pelvis with some nasty bruises and scrapes lining the right side of his body from face to thigh.

None of this registered as attention worthy while he struggled in a internal supernatural tug-of-war with the malevolent black silk purse. It became all too relevant once his sub-mind picked up on the presence of some gibbering terror inducing creature of darkness that clawed its way out of a deep, shadowy corner of the dead end ally he had appeared on. Whether drawn by the boundary crossing or the purse, Orison now faced a life or death struggle both within and without.

Out of desperation, he furiously thought at the mustard seed bracelet, "If you can't do something to help out, the h**ker handbag over there's going to eat our cabbage patch. I might barely have a tie going on but there's a boogeyman coming to eat my face off and I'm going to have to make hard choices on what I mind being chewed on a little... I think 'face' is going to win this round."

Though he wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, Orison could have sworn he heard an old man muttering on the nature of impermanence and desire being the root of all suffering. Imagination or not, the mustard seed bracelet took a vague shape that gave the faint impression of a sitting person before releasing nearly invisible wafts of incense smoke. As the smoke touched eternium 'fire', the purse writhed like a salted slug.

The sudden dramatic drop in the force that the purse exerted trying to rend strips out of his space and who knows what else, freed enough of Orison's intent to meet the external threat. Said threat was taking its time to pull free of the shadows, looming over the young mage's fallen form for all the fiendish shadow man was worth. Despite Orison's exposure to far more bizarre spectacles, the creature in front of him held some small bit of 'endings' within it that picked at the instinctual fear inside of him. This creature wouldn't just kill him, it would make it so that he never would 'be' again.

In a bid to buy more time and test the waters, Orison pulled out Titania. No sooner had the fairy girl crossed into the world than tiny surging nubs of black crystal started coating the condensed eternium spark Orison had moved to hold the formation spot. Oddly enough, there was none of the strengthening that usually happened when he took in crystallizing spirit essence, just a steady buildup of crystal nubs. Considering there was nothing bad about unlimited fuel, he just tossed a few on the eternium 'fire' and set his sub-mind to continue doing it for as long as it took to chow down the purse.

With a quick thought of gratitude to the bracelet, Orison focused on the outside world where his Titania summons was flitting around the boogeyman's head. The first thing he noticed was how slow the creature moved. The second was how slow it made everything around it move. It was like a wave of molasses coated the space it was standing in.

Still, the young mage's beautiful flying menace was doing a superb job of keeping it distracted as Orison painfully inched away. Slapping himself with some healing, Orison almost made it to the edge of the 'molasses field' when he saw his summons shrivel up and with one slow swipe of the 'boogeyman', scatter in a spray of dull gray powder. At first he thought it had been the darkness creature but his sub-mind informed him it had been from the continuous channeling of vitality absent spirit essence Titania had been performing.

Looking through what meager resources he had left to draw from, Orison noticed a slowly deteriorating halberd within his space. With what force he could gather, Orison pulled it out and shoved the business end up at the boogeyman's face. At first, there was just a stillness until a faint braying of hounds could be heard. With the shuffling speed of a arthritic grandparent, the boogeyman turned to flee back into the darkness it crawled from but the weapon lodged in its face didn't move so neither could it. Seconds later, a rush of wind played against Orison's face before the boogeyman howled out in a chilling rendition of a soul crying out from the depths of perdition.

As two invisible forces dragged and worried at the creature's various parts, a barely audible baritone voice said, "Swear an oath to release me in a year and a day. If you do this and allow me to inhabit your barrow for that time, I will be your vassal lord, proud son of heaven."

Realizing just how out of his depths the situation he found himself in was, Orison only made one small stab at a counter offer, "I can accept those terms if you make an oath to not put your wants before my needs during your service."

The baritone voice said, "I oath to serve with loyalty and duty equal to the sincerity of my liege for the length of a year and a day... Swear and deliver quickly or naught will be left to serve."

Slightly confused, Orison said, "I accept your oath and, uh, offer you the sanctuary of my barrow?"

Within his space, Orison saw a deteriorating box marked favors and another similarly rotting box labeled trophies explode in a splash of colorful handkerchiefs and bloody animal bits that rapidly turned to dust and deeply green spirit essence. Dust and essence both gathered on the barren underside of his five color soil before forming into a miniature of an armored man on a horse with a single hound. Orison panicked in the outer world as he initially thought that the boogeyman was crawling towards him but was in fact being dragged.

The young mage reached forward to grab the rusty halberd before it and the boogeyman became dust as well. The powerful rush of spirit essence through him made him feel joyful for all of half a second before he realized that his arm turned gray and he couldn't feel it. Additionally, his entire space, nearly to the very edges, was suddenly nothing more than a solid block of black crystal.

In a near panic, the young mage assessed himself. There were only two open areas in all of his space up to its fringes. The first was a sphere around his bathtub plane and the second was a space created by the burning eternium under a weakly writhing black purse. With glacier slowness, a third was opening at the center of his formation where the First Family spark was drawing in the black crystal.

The situation was a little dire but it didn't take long for Orison to work out some initial solutions. He would have been a little hesitant to do so before but since there was all the black crystal insulation, Orison stripped the models off the condensed crystal spark. His strengthened formation could barely hold it in check but it was enough.

The radiation was significantly brighter but came through as shadowy twilight near the plane. With the sudden influx of vital enrichment from processing and claiming the spark as his own, his soul and body were restored to a new peak. A new peak for his approximately mid-teen body, at least.

The young mage addressed his internal entities, "Mustard, you're the best. I can see that whatever it is you did, it took a lot out of you. Sorry for that. You just take a vacation on your little bed of spirit grass there and take it easy for awhile.

"Sow's ear, sorry, silk purse... keep wiggling. It's letting me rotisserie roast you easier. I can't wait to see how you liven up my space when it finally finishes chewing on you."

Orison's attempt at levity to dispel the giddy nervousness facing terrible fates both inside and out had caused was interrupted by baritone laughter heavily laden with self ridicule. "It seems my lord is far more destitute than I could have imagined."

Offended, Orison shot back, "As the remnant of the one most responsible for my destitution and current recipient of what welfare I have remaining to offer, I hope that wasn't an actual complaint."

Herne replied, "You jest, my lord. I only speak plainly. If not in true strength, I most assuredly lost to superior guile. I've not fallen so low as to whine and lick wounds with my hounds. Still, if I am to serve with any usefulness, there is little with which to do so.

"I am little more than shade of shade. For recovery, I need a vessel. It needn't be of any but the basest of kinds. I will make do with what my lord can provide."

Orison said, "I think I can do that but until that condensed eternium's radiation can reach the spirit grass, there's not a lot I can support long term."

The miniature armored figure nodded and said, "My lord's barrow is in a fragile state indeed. Worry not. As long as I have my lord's permission to draw sustenance from the shade rock, my needs will not be in excess of what my lord can provide. I am of the line twixt life and death, not too unlike my lord's familiars and the sweet grass above in one form. Sacrifice a small portion of thine barrow's meat and bone to me, my lord, and I shall nurture it as well."

Hoping he understood the meaning within the fey creature's antiquated speech, Orison drew the essence needed to tie off the Oberon model over Herne and Enbarr's over his horse. Seeing the weakening of the free essence in the five color soil, Orison hesitated before tying the golem model over Herne's single hound. While Orison watched in fascination as the deep green and gray dust clouds of Herne and accompanying animal companions sunk into the forms he had made available, a noise in the outside world brought his attention away.

At the entrance to the alley Orison was in, a man was thrown against a wall as he was surrounded by three street toughs. The leader of the three picked the man up and dusted his jacket off before gut checking the man so hard, the guy threw up. Orison was about to jump in and help when he remembered his promise to be more low key in future worlds. He reasoned that by the way things were playing out, the three scruffy guys were just going to knock some of the man's stuffing out as a warning so it wasn't a do or die.

Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, Orison went to walk past, leaving them to their workout when the one in charge said, "Stick around, kid. We might have a job for you in a second. We'll even give you a dollar for it. How's that sound?"

Considering that he had no money and the way the man had said his offer, a dollar might not be as bad as it sounded so Orison said, "Depends what the job is."

The man in charge said, "We're going to finish working over this nosy prick but we don't want him dying on our turf. Just drag him over to someone's doorstep, easy peasy."

Orison shrugged and nodded. Since they were talkers, it took awhile but they each took a turn letting off a little steam on the guy. During their beat down, the young mage found out that Neil, the man spitting up bloody saliva, was a private detective that had been trying to contact one of Smiley's girls. Smiley didn't particularly care why and had warned Neil to stay away once but the detective had taken a job by the girl's mother, trying to convince her to return home.

Neil had managed to deliver his message on the second try but had been caught in the act. That lead to the situation unfolding in front of Orison where Smiley got his right hand, Club Foot, along with Slim and Horse Face, to 'beat the man to a hair of the pearly gates'. Mission accomplished almost literally, Club Foot turned the beating into a mugging before tossing a silver dollar to Orison.

Noticing that Niel had taken everything in a kind of fatalistic stride until Club Foot had fished a broken pocket watch out, the young mage said, "That piece of tin isn't worth anything but a grudge. You're already taking everything else. Leave him a reason not to think about you when he's drinking one night with a gun and a single bullet left to his name. He'll be more likely to use it on himself instead of you."

Club Foot shuddered and broke out in goosebumps as he locked eyes with Orison, the nasty comment he was going to make dying on his tongue. Wordlessly, the street tough tossed the broken pocket watch onto Neil's chest before walking away. Disappearing into the distance, a last few words of false bravado and promises of fun evening activities bounced between the three thugs.

Orison turned to the abused man who was struggling to tuck the pocket watch back away. After helping the man get the silver and gold watch into the pocket of a threadbare suit vest, the young mage hoisted the man up once he'd ran a touch of healing into Neil's back and legs covertly. It was at that moment Orison realized he was still fairly injured himself.

Stumbling through the darker edges of sidewalk, Orison steadily healed himself as he dragged the man onward. With the nearest clinic being several blocks away and the detective's own apartment being even further, the young mage was ecstatic when he caught the faint hint of medicinal herbs coming from another alley. A dingy sign for an eastern apothecary shop was barely visible from the angle it was placed. Across from it was a little hole in the wall restaurant that let off the far stronger smell of steamed pork dumplings.

Ignoring Neil's weak protests, Orison hobbled them up to the apothecary's door. After knocking a few times with no answer, Orison set Neil down and turned to walk away faintly calling out comically for the police. When the door opened showing an entirely unamused middle-aged Asian man, Orison returned.

Putting away the smile, Orison turned serious as he said, "This man's current problems are the result of resolving past ones. We're not bring any trouble other than what you see. I'm here as a customer, not a troublemaker but if I have to haul his busted a** halfway across this city to get him help, I'm going to be in a very bad mood."

Grudgingly, the older man opened his door wider urging them to hurry in. "I hope you won't make me regret letting you in. I have many medicines but none for regret... How will you be paying?"

Orison said, "If you're open to barter you'll get better value but ultimately, that will be up to which set of stock you let me have access to."

Seeing that the man was going to play dumb, Orison added, "There's the somewhat expired herbs and ointments behind the counter, the fresher mundane selection to the back left and a few other hidden holes throughout this place that have increasingly rare and valuable ingredients. That's what I mean. Not that I'm prying."

With an inevitable round of song and dance, Orison finally packed away some ingredients he'd play with later. For the detective, he used some old minty ointment and some mundane first-aid techniques peppered with a little covert applications of supernatural healing. With the magically and spiritually 'dead' air of this world, the young mage realized he'd have to be frugal or he'd find himself tapping into spiritual reserves that were already being heavily stressed with internal endeavors.

In the background, the older Asian man was making a very successful attempt to keep amusement off his face but his eyes fairly watered with suppressed laughter thinking that Orison was bamboozling the poor detective. Although the man had engaged in his fair share of snake oil salesmanship, that didn't change the fact that he was a skilled eastern medical practitioner. The amusement in the man's eyes changed to awe filled suspicion when subtle signs of too fast recovery were showing on Neil.

Noticing the change in the shopkeeper's demeanor, Orison realized he'd already screwed up but it was hard to control precise healing that didn't spill over into secondary effects. And if honest, he felt a touch guilty at watching the detective get so harshly beaten without lifting a finger. That guilt had him looking back at the shopkeeper with a finger on his lips.

With an inward sigh, Orison said, "Just take it easy here for a bit, Neil. We might have glued you back together but until that glue dries, you could fall back apart if you move around too much... Me and the nice shopkeeper are going to settle the final bill and I'll see about getting some dinner from the place across the street."

Half delirious from relieved pain, Neil said, "I was worried there but you're a good kid."

Knowing full well that the 'bill' had more than amply been paid with exotic fabrics earlier, the man was a bit nervous when Orison asked him to the back to settle things. It didn't escape the young mage's notice that the man had covertly reached for a few odds and ends as they made their way to the office.

Seeing that the man was wound up and ready to resort to any number of desperation moves, Orison said, "Before you waste valuable ingredients, I'm open to some questions if you don't mind me asking a few general ones. Nothing of a personal nature, I promise."

Once the man saw Orison take a seat in the plain chair on the opposite side of his work desk, The man made his way to the other side and had a seat himself. "The restaurant will be closing soon. Let me send my niece to pick us up something."

Knocking on the wall behind him a few times, a slit opened and the man fired off a string of words that Orison caught the emotional gist of if not the actual meaning.

Orison nodded once the man was done and said, "I don't blame you for taking some extra precautions but I'm actually hungry and I'm sure the detective on your couch is too. Please tell me you really ordered some food and maybe some tea as well."