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As a general rule, Decimius doesn’t really do specific jobs as a doctor, but the recent persistent rumors all around the clan say that there’s an unknown plague spreading at the southern border of the quarantine zone. To his knowledge, there hasn’t been a new strain in the pools for decades. Strange mutations, a strain splitting off from an existing chain, or even the revival of a long-lost strain; are all well documented. A completely new viral strain, however, could be the news of the century. He doesn’t pay much attention to the rumors at first though, too caught up in his research as he is to pay heed to such gossip. But when the first dragons start to disappear, so does his disinterest. And by the time the news has finally reached the court, he is already packing his research tools to go and investigate this phenomenon before the order can land on his desk.
These simple gossips of limited imagination are nothing but hollow words, whether they are based in truth or as far removed from it to be worth anything but the ramblings of a fool, Decimius muses as he closes the door of his laboratory behind him. Add the recent disappearances to that, however, and it becomes just enough of a breeding pool of stories about ghosts and demons for those bold enough to go investigate. A chuckle rumbles up from his throat; or dumb enough, depending on who you ask.
Upon reaching the edge of the lair, the night is already looming overhead. As is usual in this place, the moon stays mostly hidden behind the oppressive clouds but the glow of the pools paints the sky in shades of bloody crimson where the mountains touch the horizon. Decimius immediately feels at home.
There’s peace found in blood and blood is found in all. Those were words Bhaal herself had once uttered to him in his younger years. Warm, she’d said, and cold. It is what links us all but divides us at the same time. For most of his life, he hadn’t understood her vision, he merely abided by her rules as he tried to understand her words through his experiments. For this, he has earned a certain level of respect, but that is a sentiment he feels largely indifferent to. Here at the edge of it all, detached from the clan, yet still covered by its bloody presence, he finally begins to understand.
And so it comes as a great shock when the soothing ruby glow around him suddenly vanishes.
It’s one thing to see a change in something as fundamental as the sky, to know it is happening right before your eyes, and another thing entirely to feel the change in his soul.
With a bemused smile, he spends a moment to savor the feeling. Cold, almost frightening. As the world has suddenly shifted right before his eyes, Decimius takes another step just to make sure he can, eyes scanning the surroundings. While he’s focusing on his senses, he spreads his wings out behind him, letting the weight of the air settle on the leathery membrane before he takes off again. Beneath him, the land stretches out in a silent hush. Too silent, Decimius notes, realizing he doesn’t even hear birds or insects. He slows down to take a better look, muscles bulging underneath the strain as they struggle to keep him in the air at this speed. The landscape around him doesn’t look familiar, unlike anything he knows. It contrasts against the Ruby Pools in an artificial, almost alien way. “How strange,” He rumbles under his breath, letting his eyes roam around for any sign of life. In the distance, a gleaming structure dominates the landscape, towering to the point of almost blocking out the sky. All around it, what appears like crystalline trees create an unnatural-looking shadowless forest. Instead of shadows, an eerie light twists and curls around the crystal skeleton of the trees, like a pulsing blanket of sickly pale lightning.
“It’s energy!” Decimius suddenly exclaims before he realizes something must be generating it. A shiver of excitement runs along his spine and he quickly reaches inside the folds of his leather armor to retrieve parchment so he can scribble down his findings while he pushes on.
As he breaks the far edge of what only vaguely resembles a treeline, the sound of movement grabs his attention. Decimius almost thinks he’s imagining it at first; the silence grating on his nerves, making him think he’s hearing a noise.
But there’s a subtle shift in the air, a wave of energy pulsing through the land that stirs a deep unease in his blood. It swells with a ponderous drum and ebbs away again like an unsteady heartbeat.
Venturing closer into the crystal forest, Decimius notices darker shadows looming between the brighter spots. He begins circling one, drawing nearer in a methodical pattern so he can observe it from every angle. “How strange,” He mumbles to himself, jotting down another note on his parchment. Before he can get a closer look, another wave of energy pulses through the landscape. Unlike the previous ones, this one smashes down on him with the force of a tidal wave, dragging him down to the ground when his wings can no longer stand up beneath the pressure.
With a loud thump, Decimius crashes down between the twisting crystalline structures. “What the hell…” He curses, curling his lip in a painful sneer. He tries to take a shaky step, pushing himself up to his feet so he can continue to investigate this growing mystery. “Where’s my notes?” Did they land somewhere else? He scrambles forward when he catches a glimpse of his stuff beneath some of the lower purple crystals but when he looks closer, it’s a pale sheet of quartz. Decimius can’t quite explain it, but he has the sudden feeling he’s in danger. A prickle of static runs along his scales, raising his fear even more. Sensing something, he turns around only to find nothing.
“This place is getting on my nerves,” He reasons, finding a bit of comfort in the way his voice cuts through the silence, if only for a moment. Deciding to continue without his notes for now, he lets his eyes roam around for any other strange things. Once he figures out where and what is at the center of this, he can set up a more elaborate research plan. After walking for a while, he starts to notice a heaviness to his steps, as if his bones are heavier than before. He glances around but there’s nothing but crystal trees on all sides; sharp and imposing. Briefly, he wonders how close he is to the tower. It can’t be that far. Another hour maybe? Wait, how long has he been walking already?
Worse, he can’t even check the distance without cutting his skin on the sharp, low-hanging branches every time he tries to stand on his hind legs or stretch his wings. The waves of energy seem to be getting stronger though so he has to be closing the distance. He knows he’s getting close, he can feel his heartbeat picking up with excitement the closer he gets. Sunlight has slipped behind the mountains without his notice, drenching the crystal forest in purple shadows. Squinting into the distance, Decimius tries to look for a way forward. Something is wrong. His vision is turning red and his scales creak with every step. Acid bubbles up in his throat, vile and burning while he tries to take a step back to get away from whatever is affecting him.
A blood-curdling cry echoes through the forest before Decimius has a chance to turn around. No… He curses, the pounding of his heart echoing in the tremble of his wings as he desperately tries to move them. With a violent shake of his head, he coughs up something wet, the taste of blood flooding his tongue. Never before had he felt such fear, not even when Bhaal herself destroyed one of the most powerful artifacts he had ever laid eyes on with a mere flex of her claws. He amends that thought. He can’t just back down.
A familiar whisper drips into his mind with glee. “You could use me…” The words ghost across his scales, feeling as real as the sudden weight of the cloak draped across his shoulders. “Until you’ve found what you’re looking for.” Once, there was a time when he had the strength to fight back, now he doesn’t even have the energy to pretend. Decimius sighs, swallowing down something vile but the words he whispers back are almost cheerful. “Fine, name your price,”
There’s amusement in the cloak’s voice, like a teacher humoring a child’s ignorant question. “Just a small price to pay, really. Only a few years.”
“Years?! The guardian almost chokes in another fit of coughing. With a lot more effort than he’d like to admit, he turns to look at the crimson fabric clinging to his mantle. The urge to yank the cursed thing off is strong, but he will never make it through this wretched stretch of land if he does.
“I did tell you there was a cost,”
“There always is,” Decimius agrees reluctantly. Before he can regret this, the cloak flares out, stretching with a speed the Guardian can’t even follow. It wraps around him like a snug blanket, covering him from head to tail. “Hhm, yes. Delicious,” It rasps out, and Decimius swears he can hear it laugh somewhere in the back of his mind as he feels the drain on his spirit. Learning to deal with his cursed items turned out to be both easy and a lot more complicated than he first expected. It’s not a sense of control or power, but more of a bartering deal with a steep learning curve. You either get the better part of the deal or you draw the short straw. One wrong move and they would devour him or devour his enemies. It’s a power he swore he would never let himself get used to. If only it didn’t feel so good.
“So good,” Its voice grins, satisfied, and he pushes it from his thoughts.
“And how do I make this work?” Decimius asks.
“You should know I don't ‘work’ for you. You are not controlling me. I take, I devour. As long as you keep feeding me, I will devour whatever tries to harm you.”
With that unsettling thought sinking into his mind, he takes an experimental step forward; one that doesn’t feel like his bones are being squeezed. He finds it easy to move. Too easy.
Decimius doesn’t want to think about that, or the cost so he focuses on his goal instead. Whatever is transforming the land is also actively hostile to its inhabitants. A faint cry echoes across the silent forest, pulling his attention back to his surroundings. He leaps forward toward the sound, wings scraping and pulling at the purple spikes no matter how carefully he maneuvers through the crystalline maize despite his bulk. He’s just about to turn and go the other direction when a sharp crack followed by a wail makes him freeze in his steps. It takes him a moment or two to focus on the sound, but then he notices something. There’s a pair of glowing eyes staring from the distance, blinking rapidly while the head doesn’t move. Dread bubbles up in his stomach and he’s about to step back when the eyes snap towards his.
It forces another cry from its throat. “Help me…”
Wide-eyed, Decimius takes in the sight before him. Gleaming crystal covers the pearlcatcher’s body; the ribcage splayed open into shards of purple, the spinal processes jutting out from its back like crystalline daggers. No. It can’t be. Cursed objects aren’t powerful enough to do something like that?!
Something like fascination stirs in him to see those bright, swirling energies come together and fuse into a mineral lattice of flesh and crystal.
Somehow the dragon is still alive, blood sluggishly dripping down its frozen body in shimmering rivulets. Too much blood. Even if he finds the source of the curse, there’s no guarantee he’ll be able to stop, let alone reverse its effects. Decimius swallows thickly before answering: “I’m sorry,” He mumbles in apology before turning away. If only it didn’t make him feel like a monster.
Vision turning red, he feels blood dripping on his face and he swipes a claw at it. He looks down at his claws, blood gleaming on the golden tips. There’s no pain, but the scent of blood sends a shiver of panic through his mind anyway.
“Everything has a cost,” The cloak simply explains, “But it is only a small price.”
“Only,” Decimius repeats but before he can add more, another hostile wave of energy pulses through the land, and this time, he can feel the willpower behind that attack, making him pick up the pace. All of a sudden, he finds himself in front of a flat, gleaming surface: nearly slamming headfirst into the large structure, the talons of his paws skidding over the crystal floor.
Urged on by fear, he twists around with a sharp snap of his wings, pushing himself away from whatever is trying to incase him in crystal just like that other dragon but a brief flash of understanding makes him stop. It’s not moving. He feels the pressure of that giant wall pressing in on him from all directions but it doesn’t hurt thanks to his cursed cloak. A memory from earlier drifts to the surface and he realizes it must be the tower he saw in the distance when he was flying towards the forest. Excitement surges up in his veins while he searches for a way in. The crystal wall seems solid all the way around, however. He ponders about the problem, regretting he didn’t take some of his more serious tools along with him.
The laugh that echoes through his mind is feral. “Watch.” And it sounds more like an order than a suggestion. One that rubs his scales the wrong way.
Decimius feels his cloak gathering, wrapping itself around his right foreleg as it pulls up towards the wall and through until his entire leg sticks into the glassy wall. The drain on his life feels heavier, and faster, but he’s not paying attention. His eyes are fixated on the solid wall before him, something that shouldn’t be as easy to break, but it parts as easily as dipping his hand in a bowl of water. Dragging him the rest of the way through, the cloak merely laughs, letting Decimius take control of his own body again once they are through.
Sudden nausea fills his stomach when the inside of the tower lurches into view. Blood pours from his limbs but Decimius doesn’t seem to notice or care. It pools from between his scales, dripping down from his talons until it splatters into violent crimson on the glistening floor. He looks around, eyes widening with realization when he notices the air around him is visibly moving, and it isn’t his cloak doing it.
The world explodes forward, energy blasting toward him in burgundy hues while Decimius doesn’t even have time to flinch. His cloak covers him from head to talon, a black and crimson rippling form, and with a flick of fabric, the energy falls into it in a shining storm of purple. Dark fills his vision but he pushes on until he’s at the center of the tower.
A massive pillar stretches to the ceiling like an inverted crystal tree, sharp and imposing. Decimius watches in awe as a low, ponderous beat resounds through what must be the heart of the crystal forest. When he places a paw against the crystal, a stunning blast of intent erupts from it, engulfing him entirely.
Decimius has struggled with the will of a cursed object before, even so, he’s almost overwhelmed on every front. The aura threatens to consume his own while the memories and intentions are trying to drown his identity. Its willpower, voracious and hostile in intent, is crushing down on him like a giant hammer. It tosses him into a whirlpool of emotions, but they aren’t as furious as he first thought. There’s also longing, and pain. He had wandered to find its home, only to be carved out and used by some stranger. His home is far away, and now the drain of the surrounding land keeps him awake when all he wants to do is return home and rest.
No. He breaks the contact, shaking the memories from his thoughts. Not him, the heart.
Decimius pulls an ornate dagger from his belt, pushing all of his will and intent into the conduit. He wants to…It wants to leave and he’s going to help it. With all his strength, he pushes the dagger into the crystal wall, pulling on the cloak’s energy as he does so. Furious tides of light and dark begin to swirl around him, tearing at his cloak with desperate intensity. He grits his teeth, pushing the dagger deeper together with his will.
His grip on the knife tightens as blood starts to gush from the pale crystal like a gaping wound, spilling all over his scaled palm in shockingly warm rivulets. With a sound like breaking glass, the crystal barrier shatters. The dagger drops to the floor with a metallic clang, forgotten at the sight of his treasure. He curls his claws around the bloody object, tearing it from its crystal coffin with ease.
Decimius leans close, cradling the ruby heart into his talons with glee in his dark eyes. “Your memories are my burden,” He whispers, far too gently and gleeful. “I will carry you until you go back home.”