#I've been informed that Nephy in fact does NOT have a scratch

[yoinkschief]

run.

BEFORE YOU READ !

Just some context from what the Campaign is and how we got to this point:

Nephyrus was hired by NASA (yes NASA, not some fantasy acronymn thingamajig) along with Marmite (played by my bestie @shran :3) and Li (played by the DM) to go along the vast planets and basically win over their inhabitants to speak well of NASA and whatnot

During his trip, on his way to the inn he'd paid for after landing on their first planet, he's attacked and the following ensues:

The door of the inn slammed shut, framed paintings and furniture rattling as Nephyrus felt the sting of fearful tears fighting to fall as he gasped for air. His hands grasped at his neck as if to prove the hand was gone from his throat, trying to convince himself he could breathe. With shaky hands, he undid the buttons of his uniform and corset, looking at the small slit with a small head of blood trailing a line down his center.

"Fuck…" Nephyrus shuddered, head pooling into his hands as he anxiously ran them into his hair.

He took a minute to watch the blood soak into the hem of his pants as he curled in on himself, working on steadying his breath with every passing moment. With soft mutterings and hums he manages to soften the harsh beating of his heart against his ribs, forcing it to stay in his chest before he sits up right once more with a single, shivering breath.

"Okay…" Nephyrus whispered to himself, eyes darting to the door that was just slammed shut, like he was waiting for someone to walk back in.

Once he was sure no one would, he reached a hesitant hand up to the knife stabbed above his head -where his heart once was- and pulled it free from the wall. The letter that was pinned to the wall from it, fell onto his head and slid into his lap. The picture of a paw print pierced by an arrow taunting him, a vague clue of who the masked tiefling who just threatened his life, a clue he didn't even understand.

He licked and gnawed on his lip, just staring at the piece of paper in his lap, torn and frayed at the edges. He could still feel his pulse in his throat, begging to run free and away from this mess he's gotten himself into with this.

"... Tch… "keep acting like that",,, what does that even mean…" Nephyrus set his jaw awkwardly to try and settle the tension on his head, thoughts running through heaps and hurdles of what this could mean, what this could be about, why this would be happening, any and everything.

He had a sneaking suspicion, this gnawing, grating, idea in the back of his mind as to what this could be about, this theory he was so desperately pleading to be false. The last thing he needed while on a separate planet was a chain keeping him attached to his old one, much less the part he wanted to break off from.

With a more forceful and precise hand, trying to get the hard part over and done with. He couldn't place why it was hard, the subconscious horror if he was right? The thought of if he's wrong and it's something he didn't prepare for? Something else entirely? Why was it so nerve wracking, why were his hands shaking again as he held the paper up, not even an inch above his lap. The paper was taught between his two hands, trembling in his tight grip as it threatened to rip and tear with his anxiety.

Another heavy breath and he fumbled his fingers around the folds, finally managing to open the message.

"Good tidings Abbodon,-"

Well, he knows the guy's name now: Abbodon. Not sure where that'll get him here, though. Fuck- it's a name, and that's good, it's a lead.

"We met again under familiar circumstances. The target is Nephyrus Wendell-"

Nephyrus' set his jaw again.

"Currently working for N.A.S.A. with a pale red complexion and buffalo horns. How it's done is none of my concern.

Regrettably,"

No.. no no no don't let it be that, anything but that.

"The Ballard Family Head.

160,000GP"

Fuck.

Fuck.

"Fuck!" Nephyrus stood, granted on shaky legs as he slid his back up the wall, staring at the red numbers on the  paper.

"160,000"

He did it.

He really, really did it.

He managed to actually put a price on his life. And it was surprisingly high,,, at least in Nephyrus’ opinion. Which,, should say a lot about considering his personal relationship to the head of the Ballard Family. His very personal relationship.

Eugh.

The paper suffered his disgust, a pointed scowl as his hand crumpled the corner of the paper in his sickened grasp of the ink spitting in his face. It made him sick, thinking that such a man could do this to him. Not so much that it was unbelievable, instead of just how believable it was. Wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened to him. Although, this time it felt more serious, a lot more threatening and made Nephyrus’ feet burn, like he was a sitting duck.

He glared at the door, he couldn’t even recall the height of the man who attacked him, vaguely his voice. He felt the burn from his feet rocket up his body with shame. What was the point of getting into N.A.S.A. if he couldn’t even manage to fight against someone trying to attack him? If he couldn’t help himself, how was he supposed to help the company he works for? How was supposed to gather the good will of the people here if he practically stood there and let him choke him out against the wall like that?

He shook his head, pushing the hair back from obscuring his view of all possible entrances and exits of the room. He shouldn’t plague himself with those thoughts right now, what he needed to do was figure out a game plan, obviously he can’t stay in this Inn- not even for tonight. Then he would actually be a sitting duck. But he can’t go off the grid either because he’s still working on the N.A.S.A. mission with Marmite and…

Shit.

“SHIT- what am I supposed to tell Marmite and.. And Li…” Nephyrus held his hand to his mouth, brows knitting together in worry as he pushed his shaken body off the wall to lightly pace around the room.

He glanced back down to the note before stuffing it into his pocket.

“I can’t tell them… they’d freak out… they’d get caught up… can’t let them get hurt- Li’s got a son, Li gets hurt I’ll never forgive myself… And Marmite, fuck, I can’t let him go into that tournament alone though- I promised him I’d go with him… Shit… Damn it…” Nephyrus’ tail swatted side to side as he paced around the large room, big even for what he was used to in more expensive rooms - that’s what you get when the entire town is a head taller than you, suppose. 

Looking at his faint reflection in the window, and the red line that seemed to scream out at him in the translucent reflection, he glanced back down to the line down his abdomen. Such a thin and shallow cut, and yet it managed to shake him so much- he’s dealt with worse bar fights than this. But those were happenstance, something that was just a normal thing to happen when people get drunk in the same room together and have differing opinions. This was personal. Way, way too personal.

“Abbodon…” Nephyrus wiped off the thin trail of blood, not bothering to put any bandages on the shallow cut, instead just buttoning back up his shirt which now had a hole in it. He clicked his tongue in annoyance at that before leaning against the dresser in the room. He could barely see himself in the mirror, it being higher than normal and settling at about chest height, but in the reflection he could see the duffel bag worth of stuff he’d brought into the inn and suddenly he was panicking again.

He raced to the bag, sliding along the floor on his knees to quickly unzip the bag to ruffle through its contents. If there was anything he knew about that “Head of the Ballard Family”, he’d want what was in this bag. That is, if he somehow managed to find out what was in it - but seeing as he found out what planet he was going on he didn’t think it to be that big of a stretch anymore.

Gracious above, you go to a whole other planet and your past will catch up to you. That oughta teach him to never run from his problems. Can’t really say he blamed himself though, this was a very infuriating and intimidating problem.

Finally he clutched onto the plain wooden box, small scratches and notches taken out of the once sharp corners and edges of it, the desperate Tiefling failing the simple lock on it before finally managing it open with baited breath, chest tight and body rigid before he found the photos messily scattered about the small interior of the box.

A shaky breath left his lips in heavy relief as he subconsciously curled around the box, tail curving in a semi circle on the floor around where he sat on his knees. He took a moment to go through the photos, trying not to shake any harder than he already was as the memories of the photos poured into mind like a waterfall that wanted to empty out of his tear ducts. They were safe. She was safe.

He neatly sorted the pictures of his mother into the box once more, ordering them through long ago before he was even born to shortly before she vanished from his life, from most frayed and yellowed to pristine and nearly shining with how glossy and white they remained over the years he’d kept them safe in the box.

He can’t risk losing her again. Not like this, not to him for a second time.

He can’t risk Marmite and Li getting involved with this, Li’s son deserves to grow up with a loving and caring father and Marmite deserves to see the galaxy.

He can’t risk their safety.

He steeled his gaze onto the box, sharp eyes flicking to the duffle bag of his essentials and the backpack he had with adventuring gear that would let him… well, get off the grid for a while. At least until he could fix this problem.

Could he though? The way he said those words.

“You must be in big trouble…”

He must have some big fucking balls to be talking like that, or the body count to back it up at least. Made Nephyrus’ throat tight and heart stutter.

Definitely not getting Marmite and Li wrapped up in this. Living together with them or not for the next time knows how long, he should be able to at least address this issue before the tournament. Or so help him, he does not want to drag a second into the ring with him like that, not when other people could get hurt because of his own incompetence.

“Sorry, friends.” Nephyrus muttered to himself, giving the box before him on the floor a loving kiss. “Didn’t expect this to happen. Not like this, anyway.”

Stuffing the box carefully back into the bag, he zipped it up - not before pulling out a quill and some paper, writing a vague message that some unexpected contingency came up so he had to report back to his ship for the rest of the week, but won’t ask for a refund for the room - more so that it was just not going to be in use anymore.

He thought about where to put it when the memory of his own personalized note was brought back to his head - not that it ever really left, but pulled his attention enough to turn his gaze to the knife on the floor where he sat. He felt sick looking at it, the very thought of that knife being pressed against him - the fact he did nothing to prevent it. He’s better than that - he SHOULD be better than that, anyway.

Nephyrus slung the duffel over his head onto his shoulder, dropping down next to the knife to pick it up. On it were the faint remnants of their interaction: a thin sliver of his own blood, already dried on the end of the blade. He scratched a piece of it off with his claw before he grimaced at the fact it could’ve killed him. He wasn’t sure why he was so upset at the fact he was basically spared, maybe it was the weighty feeling of something looming over his head at all times, the fact that his very assassin warned him instead of deciding to take his life right there, like some sick, dangerous game.

Nephyrus was no sitting duck.

A single paper left on the pillow of the bed, window cracked open for a quiet exit and dent in the wall were the only things left in the room, the only things tying him to being there. The last remnants of him sitting still and waiting for some predator to take him life meek prey.

He wouldn’t let that happen again.

@lanternbanter

WHAT THE FUC K!!!!