yutzen

Deep within a dark and sodden cavern, upon a greenstone plateau worn and carved by thin streams of water that seemingly bled from cracks in the walls, two stout fellows forded a small brook right at the lip of its waterfall.

One was far bigger, his hulking, badger-like form bearing stripes of black against the lightest of cyans, and covered in ramshackle plates of improvised armor over a vest and trousers that water couldn’t soak. He’d planted himself right in the middle of the stream, and stretched one vast claw to help the other one cross… And he would very much need it, for he was a far shorter figure, thick and standing on almost stubby legs. Clearly a mole, visible even under the cover of actual armor and a helmet that hid his eyes from view; nothing could hide the enormous claws he grabbed the Toskar’s hand with, to pull himself across with one quick leap.

“You never really pack light, do ya, Vi?”. The Toskar was already climbing his way out of the stream with a smirk, wading through unexpectedly warm waters.
“I could never truly afford to, I’m afraid. Roaming on my own as long as I have, you must be ready for anything, and the habit hardly wears off.” There was just a bit of trepidation in the Ferigozi’s voice, and he lost it only once he was firmly on the other side, where he turned around.
The shard-badger’s smirk only grew as he reached and grabbed “Vi”’s claw, pulling himself up as if the mole were anchored to the rock. “Does that include being ready to cross running water? Doesn’t look like it.”
It took a few moments for him to actually reply, letting the Toskar take the lead once more. “…admittedly that’s never been my forte, Askal. Quite the opposite at times, in fact.”
Askal – or Askalim, rather – slowed his pace to let the mole catch up, so that he could face him with a raised eyebrow as they resumed their march. “What, fording rivers? I’ve seen you handle worse lands than these, you’re telling me a bit of water makes it that much harder?”

But Vi – actual name Velardi – didn’t return his look at first. “Whether you believe it or not. For one, I’ve always felt I work better with more metal rather than less, that should be obvious. I’m sure you understand, you’ve seen me work after all. But the other matter is rather more…” He trailed off for a moment, and turned his helmeted face towards Askalim, eyes hidden deep in its dark slits. “Well, suppose you’ll be the first to hear it, I’ve been dodging certain bounties enough. I… never did learn to swim.”

A snort, and a wider smirk from the badger, one that showed the tip of a large fang. “Not something they taught over at the Kingdom, or not something you bothered to learn? I don’t see you learning it ever if you keep packing half your body weight in steel everywhere you go, Vi!” He allowed himself a low, yet hearty chuckle, before laying one claw on the mole’s shoulder. “But I’m not judging, not anymore, and not on that. It took leaving the Empire for me to realize we were right behind Ishiss when it comes to swimming lessons, imagine that! And with the Kingdom being where it is? I ain’t surprised. Zee always told me not to touch the rivers over there.”

“She did well in telling you that much, Askal. ‘Don’t trust gathered water’, as we said back there, for quite a few reasons. Why, even a clean, untouched, uninhabited stream might scald your tongue off if you don’t watch yourself…” Vel allowed himself a tiny, sardonic smile, and a little chuckle on top. “If you’ve ever wondered about why the Kingdom is so thickly strewn with wells, now you know. Better to draw it out on our terms… Anyhow, I suppose it’s simply a little bit difficult to convince myself these waters won’t attempt to kill me.” To that, he briefly glanced backwards at the stream they’d just crossed, almost warily…

Right before Askalim pulled him away and back onto their track – in topic and path alike – his own little smile gone in a flash. “All the more reason to pack lighter so you don’t sink like lead, Vi, which I don’t see you doing.” He pointed one claw at the empty bag slung over his ironclad shoulder as he continued. “While emptying out your bag is a step in the right direction, carrying over half your weight in steel is a bunch of steps back from that.” The badger made his point with a quick finger-flick to Velardi’s breastplate, ringing the metal so he’d look down and remind himself of its bulk… and, perhaps, its unremarkable construction; as far as plate armor went, it was thick and solid but middlingly made, if not outright mediocre. “And don’t tell me it’s out of sentimental value, I know you bent this thing out of old rails in one evening.”

Something about the Ferigozi’s expression as soon as Askalim said that, however, made his smile drop. A lowered brow, a displeased twitch, and a lower voice. “It’s less than ideal, I am aware, but it’s something, and it’s what works for me, Askal. I’m not…” The mole trailed off, with little trace of his usually placid expression, as his sight seemingly wandered elsewhere. Anywhere other than Askalim, seemingly trying to find the words. Even sniffing, reflexively, as if he could track the right phrase by smell…

...before setting off quickly as fast as his thick, stubby legs could carry him. Seems he did sniff something out.

The shard-badger caught up quickly enough, on long and heavy steps that brought him right besides Vel. Before saying anything, he made a point of staring into his eyes with slight annoyance, which was quickly dismissed with a sigh. “Alright, Vi, but we will be picking that one back up afterwards. So, what’d you find?” Just in case, he turned ahead towards their apparent destination – a steep greenstone climb towards something unseen, right next to a plummeting stream just big enough to be called an actual waterfall.

“Ah, easy!” That smirk of his had come back in less than a second, matching his tone. “Air smudged with coal and oils, carried by their respective smoke, and mixed in with the slightest, yet unmistakeable scent of sparking metal, all coming from a spot we know has rails, thanks to your map? Askal,” he said in a lilting voice, turning towards him just to make sure he saw that confident smile, “I believe our train is here, and just in time~.”

How convenient, thought Askalim with briefly-narrowed eyes. Still, they had a job to do. A smash and grab of sorts, though with no windows to actually smash they would need to get slightly more creative. Up the incline they went, climbing up with claws on the firmer outcroppings, as the badger leaned in to whisper against his companion’s helmet: “Keep your voice down, then, and keep your clanking to a minimum, Vi. If there’s so much as one Vez in that train we’re gonna have a slight problem.” He was practically on all fours, making sure none of the metal in his outfit touched the stones beneath him; he’d need to speak little, and move perfectly, as the water’s flow could only mask so many words and steps before someone grew suspicious…

Velardi, however, crawled over the stones like a natural, in spite of his oversized claws and damn near paunchy breastplate. It slid over the rock without actually scraping, somehow, and his movements seemed fluid enough to avoid clacking the pieces together. And his claws just propelled him forwards and upwards, almost the same motions he’d use for digging applied to hook him on each stone and send him forth faster than Askalim could match. Vel knew it, too, taking a moment to side-eye him (he assumed) just to jovially whisper back: “Please, sergeant, I’ve worn this half my life, I know how to keep iron quiet.”

Sergeant. Askal hadn’t been that in a while, and hearing it gave him pause, slowed his climb at his lip twitched, unsure whether to turn up or down. Still, he forced himself to catch up, going on autopilot for a few moments before they approached the end of their climb. “Guess Zee caught you up with that whole thing, didn’t she,” he muttered, “saves me some time I guess…” Oh, he’d need to have a talk with Ziv-Ziri about secrecy, even if he’d never told her not to tell anyone about how he came to work with her. But then again, maybe she was just paving the road between them, Vel was a military mole-
Velardi almost crested the edge of the climb, right behind a boulder, and settled in, motioning for Askalim to come and hurry. Another thought to put off for later, then, as he raced his way up to join him behind the rock, peer over its edge… and find the rails right there, not ten feet away from them. And right upon them, pointed West, stretching from the bridge ahead to a curve far to their right, was a heavy cargo train, utilitarian and plated all over with more steel than most. Every wagon was boxy and windowless, and the engine was oddly angular, practically a wedge on wheels with small windows and a chimney to break its geometric pattern.

“See, Askal,” the mole whispered right against the badger’s ear, “still smoking. The fires inside aren’t even out yet for this stop. We might even be ahead of schedule.”
“Where Zee got a schedule good enough for us to catch this thing right here is the real question”, the badger muttered to himself as he glanced ahead of the train. Yet-indistinct figures – thankfully short ones, so no Vezarym to hear them – seemed to be examining the bridge ahead, one of them kneeling to have a closer look.
“Perhaps the same contact that let her know such a train even existed? This one is quite unusual. Too muted to be ours, too simple to be Bannerbound, too unarmed to be one of yours, and too heavy to be most of anyone else’s, when it comes to the usual commerce”. He’d be right on all accounts, as far as Askalim knew, except for one he hadn’t thought of…
“I almost want to say it’s Shumhaq, the Burnt Hive have a thing for the rough and simple”, he countered, before grimacing. “But that engine’s throwing me off on that, and I don’t see anyone with more than two legs up there.” Then, he looked towards the tail-end of the train, and began a slow and silent march. “Whoever’s train it is, what it’s got is ours, let’s get moving.”

Right behind the edge of the climb, the two made their way towards the rear of the train, with eyes, ears and noses perked for any details or movements that might make their job harder. Little to be seen in that regard, the lack of windows worked in their favor, so it was a matter of stepping carefully, watching their backs, and double-checking every time they were about to pass another car just in case someone was stepping between them. “Bit easier than I thought it’d be,” Askalim muttered to himself, before adding, almost hastily, “so far.” It seemed right to add it, just in case, but he hoped the very comment hadn’t jinxed their work.

Velardi just quietly shushed him with one claw against his own snout, staying ahead and finding the steadiest path to ensure no missteps or rolling rocks gave them away. He was careful to keep the scenery between him and the train where he could, just in case; perhaps there might be hidden slits or other visors somewhere in there, discreet but functional. Better to follow his lead, he did handle subtlety a little better than Askal ever did… an embarrassing thought, when talking about a guy with more steel on him than cloth. But he’d been wearing that far longer… and in fact it was rare to see him without any protection. Sure, this was dangerous work, but when had Vi been out there with some actual clothing on instead of plating?

The badger’d need to hold that thought – worrying as it was that he couldn’t even think of one occasion in that time – because the mole was nearing the end of the train, crawling his way across the incline right ahead of him. All with no sign either of them had been spotted. No alarmed voices, no hurried steps, no doors swinging open, and most importantly no gunshots. All smooth, all flawless… so far. Those two words were important to add. Either way, the last wagon was there for them, seemingly unattended, boxy and windowless like the rest; only the “intel” Ziv-Ziri had given them pointed at it as special. If she, or rather her contact, was right about this, then there would be a few very valuable, and very heavy ingots of…

“…Vi, what’s the stuff we’re here for called again?”, he whispered, keeping embarrassment to a minimum.
“Sallow-silver I believe she said?”, the mole whispered back as he peered from behind one last boulder. He sounded uncertain, whether of the word or what it meant.
“Got any idea what that even is, Vi?”, he asked. He may as well; he’d never worked metal, just wore it and swung it, Velardi was ahead of him there.
“Not at all, I’m afraid.” Should’ve expected that. But then came his speculation: “Hardly sounds like jewelry, sallow isn’t a word for such, but silver is hardly war-worthy either. It must be something obscure. Perhaps even occult.”

Askalim could only nod quietly, as the idea completely left their areas of expertise. That was closer to Ushi’s playground, and she wasn’t here. All they could be sure of was that the ingots (presumably) in that wagon were very valuable indeed, to the point they’d hardly need many of them to cover their contact’s needs… he could only wonder if he could sneak any more beyond that number, just as a bonus for themselves. There had to be a market out there for it, right? Zee could surely find one, so long as they actually had the metal in her hands.

And so, the badger began his careful approach towards their objective, with Velardi right at his side. From rock to rock, on quick and light steps that wouldn’t scatter pebbles or rattle their own wear, quick looks and listens all around to make sure no one was close… by the time he made the last quick dash towards the train, both to use it as cover andd have a close look at the can they’d need to open, he couldn’t help but think this had to be the worst-guarded train he knew of. Even a passenger ferry would’ve spotted them by now! Were the ones making and riding these relying on thick walls to keep everyone out, and that’s it? Was this one just cheap, skimping on armaments and leaving only what could barely be called a skeleton crew, right at the front and nowhere else?

All such musings came to an end when they came close enough to touch the armored wagon, and felt – the same way one feels an oncoming tremor before it becomes a quake – that something very large inside it moved.

Both froze in their tracks. No one had seen them, but it became increasingly likely that something had felt them, even if it didn’t know who or what they were. They’d need to coordinate.

Vel looked back at his companion, and motioned with his claws. Pointed at himself, motioned downwards with one claw outstretched, and thrust it forwards… A breaching action, presumably; he could probably mold an opening into this thing if it was steely enough, knowing what he could do with the formless iron glob he called a weapon. Then the mole pointed back at Askalim, pretending to lunge with both hands and grabbing something unseen… He breaches, he stabs in, and Askal rushes in and grabs. That’s fair, quick, and maybe too simple. But then again it’s not like they knew what else to try.

Nothing left to do but try, then. Velardi stepped forwards, holding a shapeless metal lump in his claw, hovering it mere inches from the wagon’s side, while Askalim remained right behind him, axe at his side and both hands empty to snatch up anything he saw resembling their quarry. Seconds passed, as they readied up for a quick and violent entrance… Before Vel raised his iron “weapon”, shifted it around his claws like a form-fitting glove, counted to one, and plunged the last remaining clawtip into the wagon’s side. After some digging, it slowly sank in, “glove” and all, and he opened it up with an upwards cut, one he slowly widened by the iron’s constant push-

Through which something – a huge, shining metal arm with three claws longer than Vel’s own – erupted with a thundering CLANG, reaching blindly for the apparent intruder.

Velardi had to be thankful for his short stature, as the initial swipe narrowly missed his head; Askalim was caught instead, the claws tightening around the loose, improvised “breastplate” right in front of his vest, which easily came loose as the badger threw himself out of the way. This bought the two a few moments, as the claw busied itself with trying to crush the scrap it just caught – and finding worrying success.

“CHANGE OF PLANS,” the badger called out, knowing all subtlety had flown off a cliff, “YOU GRAB IT! I’LL KEEP THIS THING OFF!”. Flinging himself forwards, he yanked his axe off its straps, and gave the arm a quick, surveying look: It was all metal, each segment a metal “girder” of sorts joined to each other by a comparatively simple hinge – all of this surrounded by contraptions composed mostly of a single, shiny metal tube for each-

On a hunch, he reared back and slammed the blade of his axe right where one tube ended and its contraption began.
And where sharpness wouldn’t cut, the sheer force behind the swing did the trick. The blade was driven just a few inches in, but the great gout of amber fluid that spewed out of this gash once he’d pulled his weapon away let Askal know it was enough.

Yet as the badger pulled away, the metal arm strained against its confines to try and pursue. Something was twisting within the walls, turning the claw towards him in turn, but the lunge that followed after him wasn’t quite quick; just enough for him to swat the claw away and actually deflect it – barely. While the thing swung wide, he took a moment to glance at what Velardi was doing, far closer to whatever this arm belonged to… The mole was using the hole it’d opened up, reaching inside with one metal-coated claw to grab whatever he could. The iron twitched and flowed in his grasp, letting him know he’d at least have the reach.

The arm surging back to try and plant its sharpened digits into his back only confirmed Vi was on the right track. It strained itself, spewing its amber “blood” everywhere in an oily geyser, just to get at him.
This time, however, its injury had slowed it down just enough for Askalim to react. He stretched out his arm, raised his dented axe, and hooked a different tube with the “beard” of the blade right as he planted his boots as firmly against the stone as he could manage.

The badger found himself launched forwards into the arm, crashing chest-first against the assorted tubes as his hooking worked out – and revealed who was heavier in the process. He barely managed to stop himself from getting winded, grappling the machinery almost instinctively, while he felt something spray against his leg. Something hot, practically scalding, and oily as well – that was good news at least. But the bad news followed as he rose his weapon again, prepared for a tangled scuffle, and found the axe had been practically decapitated by the impact, its “neck” bent backwards at a near-perfect right angle…

But even a bad blade can be a good bludgeon, as they said back in Voska. Or in this case, a good lever. He grabbed his busted armament in both hands before the claw could resume its assault and jammed it right between the main body and a different tube, reeling the whole thing in and giving him leverage to start bending it. Anything to keep it away and distracted from what they actually came for, even if it meant fighting something that could kill him with just the one limb.

As the struggle began, Askal’s quick and savage thinking was paying off: Its next move was to immediately try to lift him in the air, presumably aiming to toss him off or even slam him back down, but between his Toskar bulk and the damage to its tubes all it achieved was spewing more amber fluid than it’d already lost, just to raise him a few inches off the ground. Even better, it gave him ample time to start twisting what would be yet another weapon lost in action right around its moving parts, the groaning metal letting him know he was on the right track. And from the looks of it Vi was already pulling something shiny right out of the wagon, reaching in for-

The arm slammed down with the same alarming speed as the first time, planting the badger’s heels into the ground with an audible crack as his boots met the rock. It kept pushing down, seemingly aiming to crush him – or so it would seem, because the actual claw was heading straight for the rock as well, actively reaching out to grasp it. Leverage, he thought. Better to mess with that too, if he wanted to remain distracting. And not be crushed into a smear over the cavern floor, that was important too.

He quickly found it’d be a slow and losing battle either way. Askal pushed up with all his might, as firm as a mountain of muscle like him could manage, but muscle was no match for this… machine. Inch by inch it was reaching the ground, no matter how much he strained; he could hear pebbles being ground to dust under his boots, barely above the sound of his own heart in his ears, but on it went, little by little, seemingly pushed forwards by the one tube he didn’t smash open. Damn it. The silver lining of the whole thing, however? He didn’t need to win, or even last forever. He just needed to hold until Velardi had cleaned out what they needed.

…Velardi, who – thanks to a coincidental glance – he saw was about to be menaced by another arm just like this one, emerging from the top of the opening he’d made. And by the tilt of his helmet, right as he was reaching deeper inside, he could see it too.

The seconds that followed were a blur. Only after they were over could Askalim piece together that he’d rushed the wagon with the contraption-riddled limb still in his grasp; he couldn’t quite remember if he was trying to imbalance it further, or just tried to crush the thing against the nearest wall in a fit of panicked fury. It took him a moment to figure out why it had worked in the first place, as brute force alone hadn’t been cutting it, and the strength granted by such an outburst couldn’t have been enough by itself. But then he saw glints of bluish light reflecting off the arm, and the wagon behind it. He felt his opponent’s strength as it slowly returned, erratically and without direction, from a sudden absence. And he heard something echo across the cavern, the remnants of a CRACK that he had been too blindly enraged to catch.

A spark of lightning. Of his lightning, erupting from his body as soon as he’d been pushed far enough. Yet again he’d forgotten he could do that – and yet again it’d only come out once he was too far gone to think.

“That’s enough of that, it’s time we left!”

Velardi’s voice cut above the rising ruckus of the wagon’s dweller regaining its bearings; when Askalim turned to face him, he saw the mole right next to a haphazard pile of ingots, tossing some behind him with one claw while the other tried to shove the machine back into the dark. This “sallow-silver” hardly looked like silver – to his eyes it looked like gold that’d somehow grown deathly ill, too sickly-shaded to even shine anymore – but it’s what they came for, and it’s what they’d have to haul out. And so he went, tossing his “opponent” aside before slipping off his empty backpack, hurrying to pack their loot inside and leave…

Shoving the ingots in by the handful, the badger looked back at his partner-in-crime, just in case he needed to intervene. Almost, but not quite, from the looks of it: He was trying to “knit” the cut he’d made back together, using his iron supply as the metaphorical thread to pull the sides together and seal them. The mole was already giving up trying to shove the (first) limb back in there, and was just molding metal around it, trapping it at the joint and presumably hoping it would hold long enough, while it was still weakened. Funny how he’d picked up on that so quickly, when Askalim had been the one actually wrestling the damn thing.

Then the machine inside twitched, and the improvised seal started to groan and creak. They’d either need more haste, or more iron, Askal thought – right before an ear-rattling pop of once-bound metal let him know haste alone might not cut it.

So in he charged, barging past Velardi – dropping the bag at his feet – to stuff what he could of their attacker’s arm back into its box, while kicking part of the pile of ingots away from their struggle. “More, you need more in there! Close it before it breaks out”, the badger called out as he did his best to hold the construct at bay. Surely he could spare some, if anything his weapon was even more expendable than Askal’s own!

And sure enough, the mole set both claws to work, smearing iron like clay over the gash, slowly patching it up with their opponent still stuck in it…
But when that ran out, there was a pause, a silence, that somehow pierced through the sounds of clanking metal.

“...Vi? That’s not gonna be enough”, the Toskar grunted out between pushes and shoves, side-eyeing the Ferigozi… the oddly quiet, oddly still Ferigozi, whose claw was reaching out, gesturing half-heartedly as if the iron he’d need would come from nowhere at all. But it was right there on his armor, he’d seen him mold it! “Vi, come on, we’ll pluck a rail or something later, move it!” A groan of effort punctuated their hurry, as the thing started pushing back – and through…

Yet the mole remained… confused? His beady eyes were wide, flitting around back and forth, so clearly he was present, but he wasn’t actually doing anything yet! He just kept glancing down then looking away like he didn’t want to. He swear he could hear him mutter, about not having… something, the struggle drowned out the specifics.
Finally, he looked back at Askalim with those same wide eyes and asked, in a weak and uncertain voice, “Askal, can you come closer, I need your armor…”

Another creak of tormented metal filled the air, as the badger did what he could to keep the thing inside, but his attention was fully on Velardi after that, staring at him in pure bafflement. Then, before he could even think about what he’d heard, he was already yelling back. “THEN COME AND PLUCK IT OFF ME WHILE I FIGHT THIS THING IF YOU CARE SO MUCH!” Askalim snarled, showing teeth and flaring what quills he had, practically forced to swallow whatever Voskan curse he was about to spit out. This wasn’t the moment for… whatever this was! Especially not for someone like Velardi, sandbagging this at the eleventh hour was not like him. And that almost fearful look he was giving back even less so! The badger’s quills sparked, reflecting off the mole’s armor again, the same armor he’d risk him for! “YOU’VE GOT ALL THIS IRON ON YOU AND YOU CAN’T PART WITH EVEN A SINGLE POUND OF IT!? ARE YOU GONNA-”

Something even louder than a furious Toskar cut him off. A sound of ruptured metal as the construct’s other limb poked through, and widened the gap just enough for both to see some of its body. Or were those three shining lights upon a rounded, silvery shape like the edge of a massive disc merely what it had for a face…?

Velardi said nothing, not even a syllable, in spite of his open mouth. His expression seemed to outright blank, in fact, as he clawed at his own armor, sinking his fingers into it like clay and smearing it, outright tossing it all over the opening he was meant to seal up. Practically threw himself at the wagon, scrabbling over it in his suddenly-desperate attempts to shutter it. The construct inside it, in spite of its efforts, was buried once more, arm and “wrist” thoroughly gummed up with iron smeared like plasticine over its workings. It’d break back out, those three glowing “eyes” buried into theirs told them as much, but it would buy them time. Just enough time to grab the silver and flee-

...the former task falling entirely in Vel’s hands, because the unarmored mole had scrambled off so fast he couldn’t even catch what he was wearing underneath. Was he running off on all fours, throwing himself forwards with his claws…? That would be convenient, but… improper. To him, at least.

No time for that. After all that racket the actual crew of this thing had to be coming. Nothing left to do but open the bag, scoop all the ingots in, and run off after Vi before they could catch either of them. Easy enough, so long as he could run fast enough… And the banging of metal against metal right behind him gave him a much-needed jumpstart, sending him into a dead sprint before he even thought to look back.

This time, however, keeping up with the mole proved almost impossible. He’d never seen Velardi move this fast before, scrambling over the sodden earth almost like a wild animal. Easy as it’d be to think this was just how he moved when finally unburdened, it didn’t feel like enough of an explanation. Even less so after Askal saw him rush the edge of the plateau they were on and leap right off, disappearing from his sight completely… And the glimpse he got of blank, beady-eyed panic on the mole’s face before plummeting below sealed the deal.
Askalim didn’t call out his name, not yet, not when they were being followed (not that he looked back to check). All he could do was rush in as fast as he could, panting and on aching legs, hauling however many pounds of priceless metal over his shoulder, to reach the same edge he’d jumped from so he could find a better way down – and more importantly, find if he’d need to carry off a shattered Ferigozi on his other shoulder. And when he came to a skidding halt right at the edge, and practically belly-flopped onto the edge to peer down without fear…

The good news was, there wasn’t a mole-shaped splatter down below, and “below” wasn’t too far off, with a few manageable meters right beneath him. The bad news was that said mole was nowhere to be seen, intact or otherwise. Nothing but a couple boulders and craggy stone. He reluctantly shined what light he had upon the place, hoping to catch even a single sign, but he saw nothing more, other than some scattered pebbles that were right below him.
…that got joined by a few more, scattered from the cliffside itself into the open.

If that was what he thought, Askal was still right on time, and if it wasn’t, he’d be far enough behind that he may as well check. Clinging with his claws to the edge, slid down and dropped off, landing below with bent knees to make sure he didn’t crack anything – Toskar didn’t handle heights well. Turning to face the cliff he’d just dropped from, he saw a large vein of white stone among the green, and upon shining his light on it all he saw what he was looking for: A single, large crag upon it, recently shattered and widened, with more and more pebbles tossed out of it… He’d need to crawl in there, squeeze in, but he could manage it. And so, swiping off his improvised, clattering armor and stuffing it into the bag with their haul, he got on his knees and started pushing himself in there, hoping he wouldn’t get stuck… Then again, maybe that would wake Vi up from this panicky fugue.

In he went, squeezing his bulk through the confines of the crack, and the tunnel inside it. The badger could only be thankful much of that bulk budged before the pressure, that his vest and fur were smooth enough not to snag on anything, but the process was slow, and reversing would need a prodigious show of strength, or Ferigozi help. He could barely keep a light forwards, shining through the newly-made tunnel in this softer, easily fractured rock, see the contours of a passage so hastily made, the clear gashes on the wall, with unmistakable clawmarks… He uttered into the dark: “Vi? Vi, this ain’t a bad hiding spot, but you can stop now.”

He held his breath, and heard the cracking of stone a short way ahead. Pebbles rattled as they flew out, bouncing underneath him. Perhaps he didn’t hear, perhaps he ignored his words, but Velardi was somewhere in there.

Further in he went, scraping himself against the rough edges of these hastily-carved walls. Not a place for a Toskar, not in the least, but he could say the same of this whole plateau. And the situation as a whole… Not the time for such thoughts. “Vi”, he called out once more, just a little louder, “slow down for a sec, I can barely get through these! Bit of help!?” He didn’t need that much help, but having him widen the gap a little further would be good. Especially if he needed to turn around for any reason. “I can’t follow you inside like this, come on!”, he called again, before adding almost absentmindedly: “You’re not gonna leave me behind, are you?”

That stopped the noise ahead. The grinding, the cracking, and eventually the clacking of pebbles and rocks against the confines of the tunnel. Silence reigned, saved for Askal’s breath… and, if he listened closely, Velardi’s.

Groaning, he made his way further in, practically pulling himself in with one free claw while the other dragged the bag behind him, legs planted firmly on the ground to shove him in. He hurried as much as his bulk and the bag allowed, even putting away his light to advance. An advance in near-complete darkness was still an advance, and the path was but one. The breathing was closer now, he could hear it – ragged, exhausted, yet still hurried and shallow…
And when he thought he heard it close enough, and how little it had changed, he did what he could to squeeze his other claw past his body, little by little, holding his only light – their only light, after the mole left his behind.

And so, he found Velardi, unarmored and bare, seemingly just… staring at the wall he’d been tunneling into, not even turning to face his partner in crime. Surrounded by soft, scattered pebbles and bigger shards that’d been hurled right behind him. The detritus his desperate tunneling had shredded his shirt, such as it was, baring him to the badger’s eyes, and…

Askalim knew the scars of battle, knew the marks that warfare could leave on a body. He’d read entire histories on the weathered skin and fur of fellow combatants. But what he found on Velardi was an outright pristine pattern of smooth, almost shiny scales. Unscathed, and dare he say outright untouched, with neither the scrape of a blade nor the crack of a hammer upon them. The pattern was unbroken all over his back, from his unexpectedly long tail up to where his collar would be…

Save for a single, scale-less scar, inches long and remarkably thick, narrowly missing his upper spine.

That wasn’t a battle injury, Askalim knew. And from the haunted look he could see in Velardi’s eye – he’d been so distracted he didn’t even see him turn – it wasn’t a scar he wanted to show, let alone boast about. Was he trying to hide it this whole time? Hiding the history behind it, and-
…doing all in his power so he wouldn’t repeat it. That sounded more like it.

Quietly, the badger took his time in pulling the bag through a gap between him and the wall, sliding himself back to place their loot between them… Not just the loot, but Askal’s ramshackle armor as well, still strung by its improvised straps as it was unveiled, and laid before the mole. “Here, you can have it now”, he whispered, as he put out the light.

Then, darkness, and a silence broken only by a soft sound of fur brushing against metal as – Askalim could only assume – the iron was reshaped under his claws. Not by brute force, but by whatever it was that let other Ferigozi give life and puissance to anything their hands could shape. And when that stopped, there was nothing but soft breathing, so much calmer than before…

When the light came back on, it was in Velardi’s claws. It’d been enough for a breastplate and greaves, but either he didn’t want a helmet, or it hadn’t been enough for one. And thus, one could see into his eyes… Distant, looking well away from his own, but very much there. Trying to glance at the badger, only to wince and shut them as if he’d stared into an open crucible. His mouth almost opened, as if it tried but couldn’t, with no words to justify it. A far cry from the usual…

So Askalim spoke first. “Caught one blade too many, didn’t you?”, he asked in the most empathic tone he could manage.
“Y-you saw it… Y-you don’t understand, one was too much, t-that one was too much…” Vi could only stammer in response, but it was progress.
“Not much of a battle-scar, that one.” Now for a risky maneuver, something closer to a bitter joke. “You hear talk about being stabbed in the back, sometimes, but I’m guessing this was pretty damned literal.”
A held breath, let out. Almost like a sob, in fact, but not quite there. “Y-you d-don’t know the half of it, Askal, it’s-”
On that, he had to interrupt. Gently, but firmly, briefly holding his snout shut between two fingers, but with a small, if ironic smile. “Way I made it here, from a Voskan sergeant to an outlaw hiding in a cave, thanks to a certain captain… I might know some of it. Maybe not half, but some at least.”

That silenced the mole, even after Askalim let go of him. One could almost hear the gears grinding in his head as he processed it all… Before he closed his eyes, sighing. “...perhaps. Perhaps you’re right on that. Of the sorry lot we’ve become, you might come closest there, shameful a badge as that may be.” The mole shook his head with a mirthless little smile. “A badge, I call it, as if this were a competition. As if anyone wanted to win… Heh. The closest thing to a prize for it was almost getting you killed, wasn’t it?”

Askal could only shrug. “Eh, almost sounds too close to me. Didn’t happen, that’s what matters right now. And this little hiding spot you made actually works so far, so that’s a plus. Just…” He trailed off, looking at the ceiling as if he’d find the right words there, before giving up. “Try not to lose it like that next time. Or any time. That’s all I can ask. Because wanting to know what the story is behind… that, that’s just curiosity, not my business to pry-”

He found it was his turn to be silenced, with one clawtip pushing his jaw shut. Velardi’s ever-present smile… bitter, sorrowful, but at least it was back. That was something. “No, no, after that… after that, I think you’ve at least earned the right. And besides, if we’re going to hide out in here, with hours to burn until the train moves on, we may as well burn them with something to bridge this whole business, don’t you think?” Lowering his claw, and setting it against the walls that pressed against Askalim’s ribs, he started digging them in, gently, inch by inch. “Let me just clear ourselves some ground for a proper camp, here in the deep. It’s about time someone else knew…”

“…funny that. All the stories I tell, and I never got to the most important one, didn’t I?”