Captios is an Idiot

Captios races down from the turret as the last of the plant army flees across the bridge. As he reaches the bottom, he hears Alexa shout something to him, but he doesn't hear what she says. Clemens. Must get to Clemens. Expeditious retreat cast. Not to flee but to rush to the other tower. Get there as fast as possible. Captios rushes over the collapsed tower, fearing the worst. "Clemens! Clemens!" he shouts as tries to dig for his friend.
The carnage after a massive battle seeps into every sense. The sickly sweet smell of burnt plants the plume in oily waves into the morning sky. The ting of iron from the lifeless soldiers as their bodies mix green to red. The sound of unsettled rubble from the tower that has yet to settle from the impact of a massive creature. The tower is made of wood thick as steel and vines like fiber optic cables dancing out lifeless lights. They are coated in a sap-like ichor of clear blood that quickly sticks to Captios as he tries to dig out wood like broken bones.
Then there is the fatigue and the anxiety mixing into a dread cocktail pumping through the veins. The danger that what is left could fall on Captios as a chunk comes tumbling down nearby, making landfall several feet away. It draws the eye as well as the ear. Two red eyes. A head as large as a polar bear with a wolf's design. White fur like snow Captios has seen only in books. The creature pads out silently around the rubble and remains eyes on the wizard like a predator. "State your name and your intention," it says. Of course it speaks, with a deep wood elvish accent in common.
Captios gets up and takes a defensive stance against this strange wolf. Thoughts rage through his head as his mind calculates what he is seeing. Not a plant, not a dragon. A dire wolf? How did it get here? Not an enemy, it wouldn't have waited to strike if it was truly an enemy. "Clemens, I need to find Clemens! If you're here to help us then help me find him. If you're here to prevent me from finding my friend, then I won't hesitate." Captios tries to draw himself tall, but he is still smaller than the wolf on all fours. His voice cracks from anxiety and desperation. He drew up the battle plans, he left Clemens alone in the south. What was he thinking? He was expecting to push the plants north. He didn't prepare right, he didn't know the limits of the turrets. Now he needs to save Clemens. It's the only thing on Captios' mind, after failing his friend a second time. The finger tips of Captios' right hand ignite into tiny flames. He waits with baited breath for the wolf's next move. He will find and save Clemens no matter what.
The spark of a rose of fire causes the wolf to react. The baited breath isn't left to wait long as the massive beast pounces forward. A streak of fire singes burns deep into his white fur in the air, adding one more scent to the symphony of wreckage.
The animal is heavy, colliding like a boulder onto Captios and pinning him down to the ground. A single paw is as big as his chest, and both of them pin down torso and arm alike as the maw comes next. With that kind of force it could crack his skull like a walnut, but it snaps inches from his nose. A deep growl as his eyes glow as red as an enraged tiefling. "You speak so casual, nameless 'friend', to Lord von Wulfengeist. Count your sins and know that you are a threat." Saliva drips from the beast's mouth, teeth sharp like white ivory knives. "Leave with your head or without it, but you WILL leave and NEVER," his breath smells of danger and death, "return."
Misty step. A puff of mist, and the wolf's paws hit the ground where Captios lay a moment ago. The young mage reappears, in between the wolf and the downed tower. "Lord von Wulfengeist was my teacher and Clemens' father. You must be associated with his clan then." Captios puts his hands down and shows his palms in an act of honesty. He read it in a book somewhere that it helps to display a sense of friendliness. "How did you get here? And is Clemens, I mean, my friend, Lord von Wulfengeist ok? I need to make sure he's ok." Captios' legs visibly are shaking now. This wolf could bite him in half and he wouldn't even have time to blink. Be careful, de-escalate the situation. Candles 101. "I can't leave unless you tell me he's ok. I can't leave him behind to die."
Candles 101 would be not to go without backup. Something the wolf did. Wolves hunt in packs. Seeing that binding his arms was not sufficient, that merely the wizard's VOICE poses a threat, it is the next thing that is neutralized. So quiet, like ghosts, until its the scent of the other wolf that is so close to where Captios is.
SNK.
Ivory teeth from another wolf wrap around the young Candle's neck, biting in. Unfortunately for Captios, the need to use his voice to cast magic also requires him to do essential functions like breathe. It is a fact that becomes harder and harder as his throat is crushed, blood flooding into it as the blue eyed wolf carries her prey towards the red-eyed one. Vision starts to go blurry, as does hearing. Though the voice of the wolf saying "Without it is," is heard.
A tragic hero now lays on the ground. Captios had so much potential, and yet, his flaws kept him from ever achieving his goals. He will never bring his mother's killer to justice. He will never be a great wizard. He will never go down in the history books that he memorized. Hopefully he did some good in the world while he was alive. Looking back it is hard to see what Pangur saw in him. Maybe the cat makes mistakes too.
Death is a chapter in the stepping stone story of one's journey. One book that closes and another stands ready to be bound with fresh leather and sewn paper. It feels downright weightless here. No sense of up or down. No smells or things to see. Something to hear.
"Its ironic," says the voice of Gig in this transitionary void, "that Balto was the one that put her Fangs to your neck."
Sound takes form to a shape. White hair, horns, rich red garbs. "Holding your ground against those two? Hot. Fucking. Damn. That takes some balls, kid."
"Are you Gig?" Captios looks bewildered for a second til reality hits him in the face. "Am I dead?" He recalls the feeling of the wolf biting his neck. Although he doesn't feel it now. He reaches to his neck to where the bite would have been, but there is nothing there. Yup, he's dead. Goddammit. "So is the brick thing real? The whole, end up in a wall if you don't have a faith?"
Cue Gigtar. Know whats more annoying than a Devil in an inky black abyss as your only company? One that thinks he has musical talent, "All in all you're just another Faithless in the Wall." He strums.
"Yeah man, you are dead as shit. Welcome to your afterlife!" the clawed hand of a Devil stretches out into nothingness. "More accurate to say that its the waiting period before you make your way to Fugue," he corrects, and then sweeps his hand out to the abyss of black again, "And then Welcome to your afterlife!"
"Breathe it in, while your mind still remembers what 'scent' is," Gig takes a deep breath of the not-there air. The concept of 'not' remembering something, a key point of the young man's key mind, becoming a real possibility.
Fuck, I'm really gonna become a brick. In a wall. Forever. Captios looks at Gig, his eyes steadying on the devil. "How does this work?"
Strummmmm. "How does what work, Captios," Gig asks, unhappy with the sound coming out of his musical instrument. He takes a moment to tune it. Strum.
"Let's say I want to make a deal with you. How does that work? I've got things to do in the real world and I can't die just yet. I mean, this quietness is nice, but not forever." Captios looks at Gig's still untuned guitar. "You want that to be a G, right now it's an F sharp. Yes, I took one music theory class at the Academy. Turns out I'm not so good with musical magic..." His voice trails off thinking about the Academy. "Can I get a chair while we do this? My legs don't exactly hurt, but I've been standing for too long."
"Its your eternity," Gig says as he tunes his guitar to an F-sharp. Strum. Much better. As it so happens, a chair of pure darkness forms out of the void of ink and tar.
"A /deal/," the Devil asks in mock surprise, "well heavens above and hells below, why didn't I think of that?" He begins to stroke his non existent beard in thought, "That's why you are the smart one. Dead. Socially inept. But smart." The short white haired creature with eyes of burning coals progresses through a set of basic chords. "Negotiations often start with a matter of what you have to offer and what that gets you in return. One strikes a deal and there you go. A transfer of goods and services."
The music stops, "But, Captios, you smart little bean, the only thing you have left is your soul. You are too clever to trade that." That creeping along his face is like a serial killer walking towards the last victim's house with a knife. A slow draw into a smirk.
Captios takes a seat in the chair. It's literally wet with ink and tar. Dammit Gig. Whatever, act unfazed. Captios leans back in the chair. They had debates in the Academy. He won most of them. Could he now deal with a devil? Probably not, be what was the alternative?
"I only have my soul if we end this discussion here and now. But you and I both know I'm more useful than that. I'm more useful to you up there." Captios points upwards, but in reality, he has no idea which way is back home. "What could I do for you up there that you can't do yourself?"
"Pass," Gig says nonchalantly, "It'll be more amusing to watch you become a brick in the wall."
Strum.
"So according to you, this conversation has ended? I'll be but a moment, still need to work this melody out before I harass Syn with a deal to fix Ford." Strum. "Oh Syn Syn Syn look at this mess you are in in in. Fordwentanddied wentanddied wentand die die dieeeed."
"No, I'm not saying the conversation has ended. Apologies Gig. So what do you want from me?" Captios looks at Gig now. Let's see what the devil wants. "What will it take to get me back on the mortal plane?"
"Your soul," Gig says plainly, "I think having some free will and thought is a lot better than none at all, don't you? Still an improvement to your," he pulls out an hourglass with the sands of time slipping away, "impending mason-like imprisonment. I'm sure you want more, but let me be plain."
He leans forward, close enough to smell the brimstone, "Tough shit. Remember how you died, kid. Read the room. Pay the price." He leans back, "Or don't. Give up and roll over."
What choice do I have? "Ok let's do this." Captios puts out his hand. "Beats being stuck in a wall."
Gig extends out his hand as well, gripping onto Captios'. A firm shake. The whole thing is entirely underwhelming. No fonts of magic exploding around. No intense pain of the decision made with a devil. It feels more like taking one of the exams at the academy. Its neat, tidy, almost like paperwork.
"Your soul is mine. Its a deal," he says, though his grip doesn't leave until Captios says the same. Binding contract. Ink is still wet. Signature on the line with a 'Its a deal' to finish it out.
Captios hesitates for a second. "It's a deal."
A firm shake. A single shake. It is almost expected that Gig might shake for a full hour or do one of those 'pull you in towards him' shakes. One shake. "One thing you are right about, Captios, is that you are more valuable in Arhor'ha than Avernis." That would be hell, literally. "So I'm going to put your soul back in your body. Bugs and wildlife haven't gotten to it yet, but you'll still need to heal up. 'Near Death' experience, they say! A daring escape." Gig laughs out loud at that concept. "But you won't be able to speak of our little 'deal'. If you try," he places his hand on Captios' chest, the feeling of his heart being pulled out being there without the actual organ being removed, "well, there will be more than one Sol-lus around."
The soul rending experience has Gig putting Captios back to his physical body with a message, "Deliver Ford's core to me."
The forest is so quiet when he comes to. Many of his belongings are missing, but a healing potion is still oddly present.
Shadow Thief and Clemens. Add Clemens to the list of people that will answer for what they've done. Captios notes in his head as he downs the potion next to him. Just enough in there to allow him to stand. No sign of the wolves. No sign of Clemens. Fuck Clemens. Captios looks to the east, where the rest of his compatriots are. His legs tremble and his mouth thirsts for water. Slowly he begins the long journey back to the community.