"Bloody Nil."

As the words escaped his muzzle, they were soon left behind as the young
aslaran darted past the trees, his beige fur blending in with his surroundings.
The sound of chains and whips echoed in the humid air. Someone shouted in the
distance, but the aslaran had crouched to all fours and was running quickly
through the underbrush.

A clearing up ahead caused him to slow down almost to a stop. Ears perking,
swiveling to pick up the sounds of the beasts that hunted him, and at the first
noise he was darting again, jumping into the open air he had anticipated. His
stomach lurched and his mouth opened in a scream as he saw the world blur past
him, the water below rapidly growing larger and larger.

The wind nearly froze him as he fell through the mist of the waterfall, landing
in the deep mouth of the river with a cry of surprise and dislike. His ears
became waterlogged and painfully popped, his claws extended from his fingers and
toes as he attempted to claw his way to the top. When his lungs felt as if they
were about to burst his head broke water and he gasped, the colors around him
more vivid than ever, before his eyesight faded to white at the edges. Fighting
back the faint feeling, he dove back under water and swam a distance, hoping to
stay out of sight. Eyeing the cliff he had just leapt from, he quickly pulled
himself from the water and ran into the trees, shaking his fur dry and growling
softly.

His fur was a terrible mess. Uneven, coarse, bald spots all over, half his
whiskers missing on each side, some singed. The pads on his paws were cracked
and bleeding, some of the nails completely broken off. His tail bent awkwardly
at the tip, twitching. Shaking his head, he rolled over himself, crying out in
anguish at the headache his newly popped ears were giving him. He was still on
his back, gazing up at the canopy of the forest before him, and sighed. It was a
sigh full of relief, but also pain. He knew the journey wasn't over and it
wouldn't be for a long time, but he had done the worst, for now.

Heaving himself onto his belly and getting on all fours, he began to quickly
walk, raising his nose in the air to catch a scent of food, villagers, any
living thing that could help him.

---

Crouching low in the bushes, he observed the village. It was quaint, homely,
but one could never be too careful. He decided that he would wait until sunset
before sneaking in and stealing any supplies he needed, in case the ur'Guard had
sent troops to look for him in any surrounding villages. He wasn't sure how far
he had gone but it certainly wasn't far enough to be out of danger. Not yet.

When he saw the last candle go out he slowly began his way to the village,
stopping often to hide and observe. Looking through a window, he saw jars and
jars of herbs, an entire wall of kegs, and freshly made vials sitting neatly on
a countertop. His last options were to break open the window or pick the lock.

Behind the building there was only a single door. The handle was already loose
but he guessed there must be a lock on the inside to keep it from opening
entirely. With great care he extended a claw and slipped it between the wide gap
until he hit the metal. Fiddling delicately, he finally unlatched it and swung
the door open. No one was in there and it was quite dusty. More than once he had
to hide a sneeze, making his face tingle and whiskers vibrate.

He loaded himself with vials and herbs, healing his broken bones and putting up
defenses to protect himself in case of an ambush. The extra weight was unnatural
to his already naked body. He would have to adjust, he decided.

Sneaking out the rear and putting the door back just as it were, he lifted his
nose to smell gently, in order to find the blacksmith of the town. The previous
shop had not even so much as a shield on display. He needed some armor and at
least one weapon if he was going to win this fight.

The dirt roads left his footprints in sight, plain as daylight. He swept them
away with his tail and carefully made his way through the village, freezing when
he heard the rowdy cheers of an ur'Guard.

He leapt away, behind an empty wagon on the street corner of the flower shop.
It had been filled with manure and the scent was still strong, making the
aslaran unable to determine how many ur'Guard there were without looking.

The door was kicked open and the ur'Guards stepped out. He could hear the slosh
of lager in their oversized palms, although being unable to smell the Taint on
them was alarming. He crouched low, holding himself still. The laughter was cold
and cruel and he was afraid that they had been sent to find him.

An ur'Guard spoke, his grainy voice full of drunken rage and raspy from the
decay of his own flesh. "She was eyein' me, yeh could tell, yah?"

"Keep that distended piece o' flesh to yehself. It'd fall off if yeh tried
anythin' anyway."

They roared with laughter before inquiring, "Wha' is tha stench?"

"This whole village is full o' stench."

"Smells like..."

The aslaran heard the heavy sound of boots and armor come close to the wagon.
The slow, steady inhale of the ur'Guard was frightening.

"It's jus' horse manure, yeh pervy. See there? Flower shop." one scoffed.

He heard a grunt and the ur'Guard lean in closer. "Nah... it's somethin'...
else."

"Yeh a drunkard."

With a loud, abrupt roar, the wagon went flying and the aslaran was left,
crouching with his tail curled around him, staring up at the red-eyed ur'Guard,
whose mouth twisted into a sadistic grin.

"Ahh, Garron. Nice to see yeh here. Care for a pint?"

With a growl of his own, Garron leapt from his spot and dashed away, too quick
for the guard.

One of them yelled, "Get the troopers! Get the troopers you slow-arsed
scumbags!"

The sober growling of the ur'dead troopers set Garron in a frenzy. There was no
way he could escape them; they were twice as fast as the ur'Guard knights and
hit far harder. Even during his time in the prison he'd never had to be at the
mercy of one.

The troopers weren't far behind him. They wore heavy armor but they were just
as lithe and agile as he: as Garron scaled a building, using the crates and
balconies as leverage, the troopers caught up, despite his speed and nimbleness.

Leaping in mid-air, Garron's back was suddenly on fire, his vision swimming as
he fell to the ground with a crunch. Disoriented and hurt, he saw the backside
of a trooper, his tail in his hand as he was being drug across the ground.

"Ah, good on yeh," said an ur'Guard knight. The trooper glared at him.

"If I have to come save your sorry arse again, it will be for the last time.
Get this putrid waste of living flesh back into holding." He dropped Garron's
tail with disgust, and looked at the group of drunken ur'Guard. "And this time,
if it gets out, kill it at first sighting. Don't waste time chasing it."

An ur'Guard looked over the nearly unconscious form of Garron, scoffing.
"Luckeh we found 'im here, eh? All we was wantin' was a pint tonight. Who knew
we'd end up catching one o' these escapees!"

---

The rank smell of foreign feces and spoiled food woke Garron. With great
dexterity he launched himself up against the wall, feeling its slimy, unwashed
texture. The smell of taint crept into his nostrils, forcing its way into his
senses as it always did, settling aggressively in his very being. He slid down
the wall, feeling the dirt come alive and begin feasting on his fur.

They had stripped him of the vials he possessed and he was weak, likely to stay
that way unless he could get a decent amount of sleep. His rift hadn't been
touched, though. He took the opportunity to eat the herbs he had sparingly:
enough to make him stronger but not enough to make him noticeably healthier.

He knew he was still in the village, same as last night. He could smell the
horse manure. What he had heard from the ur'Guard was frightening; if they
hadn't been here to catch him, what was their purpose? It wasn't often the
ur'Guard had a chance to get at the wenches at the inns, but this was a village
far away from Shallach, a good day and a half, if one was quick and had a decent
boat. There were other places that were closer, more profitable and better able
to accommodate the ruthless ur'dead. His captivity must have been a plan so
delicately executed the ur'Guard knights didn't even realize it. That, or they
were far too drunk and careless to listen. Or it was simply by being in the
wrong place at the wrong time.

Either way, he was now in another holding cell, alone, the stench of taint
curling in and around his sensitive nostrils. His paws were dirty and his fur
was patchy. For a moment, he felt hopeless.

The dank cell had only one window, barred and small, looking out to a bleak
field of half burnt crops. Garron leaned against the wall, sighing and murmuring
to himself.

It was then a gentle voice, riding on its own fresh wind, caught Garron's
attention: "Give it time, child. I come to one and all."

Garron's ears perked but his body was slow to respond. A rock behind him began
to nudge, making a horribly hollowed sound. He moved away, and soon a glowing
stone was being pushed towards him.

"Let me teach you how to handle all the sadness in your soul," the sing-song
voice said from the other side of the wall, as Garron tugged the chipped,
glowing stone through the rock.

It was shaped into a palm, a sign of protection and defense. Despite its
glowing radiance, it was a milky opaque colour and rather plain looking.

The voice spoke again, saying in a whisper, "Secrets are kept behind the shield
of hope. You must seek the words for yourself..."

"What words?" Garron asked.

In a whisper, "Seek Them out and They will tell you..."

"'Them'? 'Them' who?" Garron had pressed his ear against the disgusting,
slime-covered wall, trying to catch every breath the voice made.

"The Divine... the Elder Gods..."

"What uses have They to bother with mortal affairs?"

The voice chuckled. "You will learn, child... You will learn Their silver
call."

Garron heard the clacking of keys as one of the ur'Guard made their rounds. He
quickly scrambled to the other side of the cell, tucking the strange glowing
rock beneath his makeshift bed of prickly straws of hay.

The keys were inserted into another door and turned.

"This cage is empty," said the ur'Guard, his voice slurred slightly.

Another one grunted and came to Garron's cell, roughly opening the door and
making the hinges shake.

"Up, you," he said, pointing with a thick finger.

Garron was escorted through the slimy hallways and beneath the hollow grates.
The echoes of the trapped moaned their way around the walls, striking fear where
they could, but he kept his eyes focused on his feet, ignoring the wailing and
the sounds of chains clanking as prisoners were driven mad inside their cells.

The dusty room they pushed him into was crudely made, the walls cracking and
the ceiling sloped. The small, barred window had the faintest rays of sun
shining through, but it was shining on the ugly Sea of Despair, its tainted,
filthy waters lapping the rocks and eating them away twice as fast as normal. In
a matter of years Garron's cell, with the smell of rotten eggs and decaying
flesh, would be no more.

A soon as he was pushed into an empty room, the ur'Guard began their brawl with
him. These senseless mind games were what kept the prisoners on the brink of
insanity and suicide. It was as it always had been: Garron tried desperately to
dodge the blows, but a few always made contact. He never left the room without
something broken or bruised.

Half-conscious and being drugged across the grated floor by his tail, back to
his cell, the sounds of the troopers made his ears swivel. As if in a dream,
Garron could hear the conversation.

"Dunnow what happened there, to be honest wit yeh."

"What do you mean, you 'dunnow'? You're supposed to look over that section of
cells. How difficult of a job is that?! It's one way in and one way out!"

"Well I jus... yeh know I dunnow, she were in there and then she weren't, yeh
know?"

A grunt, and then the sound of metal.

With a bellow, "Listen here, you drunken slob of an excuse for a soldier. You
search that cell and all the other cells and you find her! If you don't, I'll
take your head and send you to those Fate bitches to grovel!"

That is when darkness embraced Garron. He woke up in his cell, the oddly
familiar but certainly not homey one. His head was cracked and bleeding and he
reached into his rift for herbs, strengthening himself. His tail ached horribly
and he saw that it wasn't bent at just one odd angle, but three, from base to
tip, like a zig-zag. He began the slow process of mending it with what little he
had, when he heard the key enter the lock and the door shove open.

An ur'dead trooper entered, roaring, "Throw everything around. Check the floors
and walls. She will be found!"

Alarmed, Garron had no choice but to grab the glowing stone stuffed beneath his
haystack bed.

"Wha's that yeh got there?" asked a ur'Guard, swiping at Garron and pinning him
to the wall.

Garron was positive this was going to be it, as his vision began to fade to
black, but a voice said to him, gently but urgently, "Bite."

Opening his eyes, he saw the hand of the ur'Guard before him. Without thinking,
he pushed his muzzle forward and bit down as hard as he could, and held on
despite the taste and reeking smell.

Howling, the ur'Guard flung Garron across the room. Although he was
disoriented, he noticed he had been flung right at the door. Not bothering to
hesitate, and with great agility and speed, he leapt into the hallway and began
to dash, falling on all fours for greater speed.

The troopers howled and began bounding after him, and although they were on the
opposite end of the corridor, they were catching up quickly. Before Garron there
was a reinforced door of steel, and he heard a trooper yell, "It's locked, the
damn door is locked, he's stuck now!"

As Garron began to slow down, sure that his haphazard escape had failed, luck
would have none of it, and a drunken ur'Guard opened the door with a puzzling
look on his face.

"Wha's that?"

"CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR YOU BAFOON!"

Before the trooper could finish the sentence, Garron had slipped past the door,
his tail being clipped slightly on the way out.

The ur'Guard knight twirled around, growling menacingly and drawing his sword.
Wielding it in two hands, he raised it above his head and charged Garron, who
had become blocked by the firewall the ur'Guard had summoned.

With a glaring look of death from the knight, Garron's skin began to crawl,
then heat up, and then crisp as he was set on fire. The troopers from the
corridor had stopped their chase to witness this spectacle, chuckling as Garron
writhed.

Garron thought that this was the end, as he rolled around in an attempt to
dampen the fire on his skin, but then realized that he was already on fire, and
walking through the firewall would be little trouble; there was a bridge, and
past that, a waterfall. With a daring glance back at the troopers, Garron dashed
through the firewall.

The troopers growled, "CATCH HIM! CATCH HIM OR I'LL HAVE YOUR HEADS!"

The ur'Guard's armor prevented the fires from doing much harm to his already
warped flesh, and his healing powers were unparalleled. It would not slow him
down, Garron decided. He charged over the bridge after Garron, whose fur was
still ablaze in a red-orange glory.

A fresh breeze brushed past Garron, and within its whispering winds he heard a
voice croon, "...the bridge is not very sturdy..."

With that, he threw himself on the sides of the bridge, making it catch on fire
and totter unsteadily. The bridge began to burn easily and fast, and Garron
glanced back to see the knight hesitate, a trooper waving and screaming
profanities at him; he began to charge Garron despite the unsteady bridge.

Just as Garron reached land the knight was a little more than halfway over the
bridge; the bridge broke apart and collapsed, sending hot fumes in the humid air
and falling to pieces to the darkened depths below. The knights went with it,
his screams full of wrath and anger.

The trooper looked evenly at Garron, then raised his sword at him, a silent
statement of intent. Garron fled to the waters before him, diving in to douse
the fires, sighing with relief and aching with the burns as he let the waters
cool him down.

Garron lifted his paw, gazing at the glowing stone in his grasp. His voice
raspy, he said, "All for you," before passing out in the waters.