Death is not an Option

Avii watched as thick globs of venom dripped from the tip of the arachnid’s stinger, knowing well that the opaque liquid was a paralytic meant to seize his muscles in an agonizing spasm. Luckily, the creature had speared itself through him with enough force to bypass shield and armour alike. If he had been a thicker man, not malnourished to the point of being nothing but a walking skeleton, his life may have ended in that moment. Yet he still lived and, so long as he drew breath, he would have to fight.

Panic lay into his mind as the horror began to retract its stinger, having delivered enough toxin to be a fatal dose. But, as it did, Avii clenched his gut. Muscles ached against the pain of the tainted dagger, crying through every nerve of his body to take it out, but he couldn’t let it draw back through the wound. While his weakened form had worked out for him to start, even just a drop of the venom as it drew back through his core could immobilize his body.

“No, you don’t—” He grumbled, reaching a hand down and taking hold of the stinger. “I’ve got you.”

The spider shrieked, agitated by the turn of events as it began to back away from the combat. Doing so, it swung Avii around, slamming his body to the ground as it dragged him towards the darkness like a frail corpse. Realizing he was damned no matter what he did, he made a snap decision and turned his gaze towards the only one who had been petitioning for his continued existence.

“Knight!” Avii cried, his voice cracking as fresh vocal cords tore at the sound of a voice that had long been forced into silence. “Knight Ostave!”

In the dim glow of false moonlight, framed by flashes of magical explosions and the flicker of arcane flame, Ostave turned his head to catch a glimpse of Avii. The man watched as the mule was pulled away, and for a moment, a flash of concern was there. But when it came time to decide between the slave being drawn back into the web or the fate of his own comrades, Ostave turned his head away. Watching as he readied his sword and continued to defend the sigil stone, Avii felt the glimmer of hope he had dared to believe in disappear. At the end of the day, he was an expendable tool, and the belief that someone would come to his aid had been nothing more than a waste of his breath.

The light grew distant as the clicking of limbs became louder. He could see them now, hundreds of arachnids climbing their way from branch to branch as they drew closer to the meal they so desired. But Avii's fate had already been decided as his body was dragged against the ground, cutting and scraping on petrified earth as the spider fled. When the arachnid finally raised its abdomen, hoisting him into the air by the stinger, he knew its acidic spinnerets were prepared to bind him. But he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Reaching down with his free hand, he realized that he had been focusing so much on keeping hold of the stinger that he had forgotten what he held in his other grasp. With a glance, Avii eyed the charged arcanzcore that had been powering the Lieutenant’s MULE, its faint green glow now the only light left in the inky black of the forest. As thoughts assaulted his mind like lashes against his flesh, he felt the first of the acidic web grace the exterior of his jumpsuit. A sizzle echoed through the night, mixing with the sounds of scattering bones as the spider moved deeper into its feeding ground.

Avii's time was now. He would only have one shot, and to miss it would spell certain death. So, fighting the urge to cry out as the acid first touched flesh like a searing iron, he prepared. Using one hand to hold the stinger in place, he used the other to run his thumb atop the arcanzcore. With any luck, the Estarian variant had been copied close enough to those of his youth to have the detonation rune transcribed. Originally meant for miners to blast holes through reinforced barriers found in Shafts Five and deeper, Avii remembered his teenage years being filled with daily safety meetings about proper handling. Even after thirty years of torture, he still recalled the trigger rune and how to set the fuse.

The green glow of the arcanzcore quickly shifted to yellow before beginning its transition to orange. It had worked, and when it reached red, the device would detonate.

“Three…” He muttered, blood spilling from the side of his mouth. “Two…one…”

Avii released the primed core, tossing it towards the front of the spider. He couldn’t see from his position whether or not it had indeed overshot the head of the creature as intended, but all it would take was another two seconds and he would know.

A red flash illuminated a forest coated with webs and beasts bound in acidic silk, left to liquify. The arachnid would have no time to screech as it popped like fresh berries underfoot. Glowing green ichor coated the nearby trees, painting webs with droplets of gore and igniting the space with colour. But Avii wouldn't be allowed to enjoy the return of light to this abyssal forest as he was flung through the air and began to plummet.

Approaching the ground fast, he tensed. He would not be so lucky as to land in a position where the tainted dagger could be forced through with a single impact. Instead, what awaited him was the feeling of his head smashing to stone as he gripped the stinger still stuck to him with both hands. Unable to protect himself without the stinger pushing back into his core and delivering the last dregs of venom, he collided with the earth, feeling his face break against the ground and his body folding over his arched core. But, as the blood pooled beneath him and his weak grip trembled, the stinger remained fixed.

Without so much as a pained whimper, Avii forced himself to the side. Laying his back flat to the ground, he felt the remaining wet fragment of the arachnid taking up the space between him and the stone. All it took was two breaths before he was again ready to continue, and, with a forceful yank, he ripped the stinger from him. Spider flesh crawled through the wound, tugging at his guts as he pulled carapace and all through the opening. With the wet slap of stinger and attached flesh to the ground, it was done, and as Avii lay there a moment longer, looking up at the gore-glittered webs that replaced the starry night of his youth, he breathed raspy breaths.

Avii was in a bad position. With the griffon strike not yet mended, his face battered, beaten, and now broken in, and finally a hole in his gut, he was amazed to be alive. But the fact of the matter was exactly that. He was still alive. So, with a grunt, he rolled onto his side and lifted himself from the ground.

“Avii—” Harbinger’s silky voice spoke.

“No,” He replied to the voice in his head, spilling blood past his lips. “Enough.”

“Avii, survivors detected. Close to you. Save them.”

“S-screw them,” He coughed, wincing at the pain of his moving lips. “And screw you, Harbinger.”

Reaching a hand up, Avii grabbed at his crooked nose and, with a crack, snapped it back into place. He exhaled fresh blood from the cleared passage all the while clenching his jaw as he ground at the dirt between his teeth.

“Now, Avii, when have I wronged you? It is I keeping you alive—”

“I didn’t ask for that, Harbinger,” Avii grumbled, feeling at the rest of his body. “You should have let me die ages ago. You know this.”

“Negative. You have a purpose, Avii. Now. Survivors detected. Close to you. Save them.”

“No.”

And, with that, Avii turned to leave. To march into the woods in a direction he hoped would lead him away from the spiders and his captors. Not towards freedom, because that was never guaranteed, but towards something else—anything else. That was until his muscles froze.

Still conscious, he knew it wasn’t the spider’s venom, but something else. Something he had been forced to live with since that day. Something that had dwelled in that orb he touched.

“Harbinger, I said no.” He spoke through a locked jaw as he struggled against the control of Harbinger.

“Avii, survivors detected. Close to you. Save them. Or I will.”

Harbinger, the consciousness that had joined him that day, did well to warn him when danger was near. It kept him alive even when he wanted to die. More than that, it would occasionally force him to do things for it. He could deny it, of course. Fight against it even. But Harbinger always won. And when Harbinger controlled his body, it only caused more pain and torment than if he had simply followed orders.

“Godsdamn it, Harbinger.” He struggled against its pull until, finally, he relaxed his body. “Fine.”

“Good choice, Avii. One thousand feet. To your left. Survivors detected. Save them.”

Inhaling deeply as he flexed his exhausted muscles, Avii reached up and ripped the sleeves from his jumpsuit. With little hesitation, he wadded the first up and shoved it into the wound in his gut. Grunting, he used the fabric to pack both ends of the puncture before taking the other sleeve and using it to tightly bind the makeshift gauze. Then, with a touch at his shoulder, he rubbed rough fingers to the griffon wounds before drawing his hand back and examining the blood. Equal parts relieved and displeased that the wounds appeared to have already clotted over, he moved on to arming himself.

This time he reached past his shoulder, taking hold of the item that had saved his life thrice that evening. The round, wooden shield that had been keeping him alive despite shrapnel, griffons, and spiders appeared worse for wear. Multiple holes had been made through the barrier, while other pieces of metal and stone stuck from the exterior wood. Regardless, it was still a shield, and it would serve its purpose. So, after slipping it into his left hand, he bent down and retrieved the stinger from the ground. Wrapping the entrails over his wrist, he reversed the grip on the weapon, holding the edge out from his body.

With a few swings of his makeshift dagger and an inspection of his shield, he began to run back towards the danger he had left. Back towards the survivors he cared not to save. Back towards combat.