Vermin of the city (Ninus)

[Novus]

Summer 15, 513 AV Novus strode along, his pace quicker than it had been when he’d walked down this self-same tunnel that passed as a corridor a few minutes back. He wasn’t bothered at all by the gloom, with only intermittent pools of light provided by the torches secured in sconces along the grey stone walls at lengthy intervals. His pupils, ordinarily larger than a human’s, were enlarged, making his eyes appear even blacker than when he was in a better lit environment. Still, the occasional stray play of light over the taut features of his face revealed the glint of dark purple in their glowering depths. With a tight shut jaw and a look of irritation, his brow beetled together, as he muttered to himself. This warren of a city was exasperating in the extreme, though, if he was honest, Kalinor was every bit as much a maze to negotiate. The difference was that here the passageways were almost entirely contained in rock tunnels whereas in the city of his birth the paths were delicate, yet amazingly strong, strands of silk hung suspended over a cavernous ravine hundreds of feet below. All in all, the pathways of Syliras were a fair bit safer to traverse. Still, his lack of familiarity with its lay-out, and his continual realization that he was once again lost, were putting his nerves on edge. Coming once more to a passageway that was half again as wide as the one he’d just come back down, he halted and looked left and right and left again, trying to recall the directions he’d been given. Novus was deep, deep below the upper surfaces of the city, down in the fourth tier to be precise, and if he had know what lay so very close to his current location, he might have been even more on edge. If he were to take two more right turnings, he’d find himself at the Mage laboratory, named after his own place of origin. Now, despite the fact that he’d not been the most esteemed resident of Kalinor all his life, Novus still held no ill will towards his hometown, and would certainly not have left, except for the fact that he’d killed one of its more respectable citizens, two seasons ago. That necessitated his exit there from in a very precipitous fashion, and it wasn’t likely that he’d ever be able to go back, and still keep his head attached to his shoulders. To that end, he was also trying to keep his true identity on the down low. And though it was unlikely news of the homicide would have reached Syliras any faster than he had, he’d still be quite rattled to know how close he’d put himself to the laboratory run by one of his fellow Symenestra. However, ignorance is bliss, and at this moment, Novus was being quite ignorant, though he might have been excused for his lack of sense of direction. Might have been, except that, for a hunter, he was showing an appalling dirth of navigational aptitude. It was a damn good thing his vision was as good as it was, or he’d be in even more trouble. Cursing quietly, he looked once more in each direction, and chose the left hand course. He walked quickly, noting various corridors that branched off the one he was in, confident that he recognized some of the turns, until the damn thing curved and ended in a solid wall. Heaving a huge sigh and rolling his eyes, he let out a great breath of frustration, turning to look back the way he’d come. As he did so, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he detected a movement, and he turned his head back to look to the side of the passage. At first glance it appeared to be quite the solid expanse, and in the very dim light, human eyes might have failed to see what his Symenestra heritage allowed him to see, with some clarity. In the corner formed by the wall of the passage and the dead end, there was a fissure, just large enough for a smallish human to slip through. On the floor of the corridor, he saw two rats, sat on their haunches and staring right at him. The motion that had caught his attention though, lay inside the crevice, but it was now gone, or whoever or whatever had made it had gone still. With a careful hand to the dagger in his belt, he asked facetiously of the rats, “So, as there doesn’t appear any better source to inquire of, perhaps one of you could tell me – how the petch do I get out of here?” wondering if he might, in fact, get a reply from the creature within the fissure.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats The rats stared at the half-breed, one of them licking its forearm and sweeping it over one round pink ear. They peered at him closely, one of them rearing up and sniffing at the unusual creature that had found its way to their part of the city. Neither rat knew what to make of it, but the large creature that pushed its away through the crevice did. This rat was a behemoth amongst her kind, fourteen pounds and three feet of soft brown fur with a head the size of a large man's fist. She gripped the stone with strong paws, pushing the other rats to the floor. They scurried off into the darkness, and Cricet peered at the intruder. She had come from her master's house, a few doors down through an alleyway in Traveller's Row. Often, Ninus left the door or a window open for her to get through. He was sleeping, however, so she took the opportunity to explore, play, and eat with the other rats. While much smaller, they enjoyed the company of Ninus' close companion. She wiggled her nose at Novus and leapt down from the crevice of broken stone. The giant rat bounded toward him, stopping just short of kicking distance and rearing up again. Was he here to see her master, procure some poison? He smelled like one of the widows, and could excrete poison of his own...couldn't he? What need did he have to see her master? Or was he lost? It seemed the last was the most likely. She wondered if Ninus couldn't help him. She approached him cautiously, not sure if she was about to be kicked, and grasped his pant leg in her pink, dextrous paws. She looked in the direction of her master's house and bounded a few feet toward the door, looking back with one ear up as if to ask Novus if he was coming. When they approached the small apartment Ninus rented, there was a staircase leading up past the first level to Ninus' home. Cricet stopped at the door, but climbed up the side of the stone and slipped into a window. She leapt up onto the bed. She nipped and shoved her way to the sleeping body of her master, putting her front paws on his cheek and nibbling his ear. "My lady.." Ninus grumbled. "I slumber deeply. Wake me not." She nipped him a bit more insistently. They had a visitor.

[Novus]

Novus about jumped out of his skin when he saw what the lurker really was. It was a rat – the biggest rat he’d ever laid eyes on – and he literally stepped back a pace as it came out of the shadow of the fissure. He blinked, and blinked again, but it was still there, and still every bit as big as he thought. So it was no product of a creeped out imagination, though in truth, it took quite a lot to unsettle the ex-resident of Kalinor. He’d spent a lifetime exploring that cavern, and its often odd and gruesome inhabitants and surprises. So even though the rat now facing off with him was as big as his aunt’s cat – bigger even – Novus retreated no further than that one step, and he waited to see how the thing would act, his hand now firmly wrapped about the dagger handle. But it did not attack, and failed to act aggressively at all. It seemed more inquisitive than anything, poking its sharp snout into the air and sniffing, whiskers atwitch. Novus remained pretty motionless, and after a few moments of inspection, the giant rat came towards him, with a casual gait that once again held no seeming menace. Though rats did have a reputation for carrying sickness with them, Novus held this as no distinction from other animals that lived with and around the races of the cities of this world, let alone the inhabitants themselves. So he had no particular fear of the rat, even when it reached out a tentative paw – almost like a tiny hand – and clawed gently at his trousers. This was most curious indeed, for it bespoke an intelligence that Novus had not often encountered in any type of animal, except for perhaps a dog or a wolf. He looked down into its beady eyes, and it looked back at him, as if in expectation. “What?’ he asked flippantly, not bothered a bit that he was talking to a rat, for he wasn’t really anticipating that it would understand, and certainly not that it would answer him. He wasn’t mad. And in fact, the super rodent made no verbal reply but did poke at his leg again, then set down on all fours and waddled off a few steps. Eyes narrowed, Novus watched it carefully, but made no move to follow. The creature stopped, and clearly and in no uncertain terms, looked back at him, staring him out of countenance, trying to relay some message. “What?” Novus asked again, his hand having dropped from his dagger and both hands held out in a gesture of confusion. “You want me to come with you? In there?” He pointed to the fissure, his brow twisted in disbelief, though it was just big enough, he thought, for a skinny guy like him to squeeze through. Still, although he was in need of finding and being shown the way out of this part of the warren that was Stormhold Castle, he could hardly be expected to find succor in the form of a giant rat – could he? Said rat simply remained still a few moments longer, still looking at him pointedly, almost making him feel stupid. Then it turned and waddled to the entrance of the crevice, and paused again, once more looking back over its shoulder at him. Clearly it did expect him to follow. Feeling more than a bit foolish, but intrigued by this vermin that seemed intent upon leading him…somewhere…Novus hesitated, then shrugged, and chuckled. Never one to shy from an adventure – even as crazy a one as being lead by a rat through the tunnels of the walled city – he stepped to the crevice, crouched down and squirmed his way through the few feet it took to reach another passageway on the far side. The way was wider, and brighter – it seemed the place actually gave onto some source of fresh air and daylight, and for this Novus was quite amazed, though his overlarge pupils contracted quickly in almost uncomfortable shock at the sudden illumination. His guide, meanwhile, was scurrying forward and it was no great task to keep her in sight, for really, she traveled only a little way down this new path and began the ascent of a staircase. Novus paused once more at the bottom of this, looking up, as the rat climbed onwards. He frowned. The place seemed like it might be someone’s, or ones’, dwelling, and he hadn’t planned on making a social call. He only wanted to find his way back to his own abode. But now, come to think of it, this passageway was very like the one he lived on, and he wondered if perhaps in his wrong turning, he had come close to his desired destination but had just missed it by one or two corridors? He stood at the bottom of the stairs, hesitating, wondering if perhaps he’d been imagining things after all. Observing the rat now scrambling up the stone face of the upper level, and slipping in through an open window, Novus remained, indecisive. In the next moment, he placed one foot on the lowest step. Oh, what the hell, he thought, quickly mounting to the door above. At the worst, if he knocked and someone actually appeared at the door, he could still ask for directions. He need not mention the rat at all – though as it had slipped inside the window, he was sure they’d have noticed it, unless they were blind. Seeing no need for further hesitation on his part, as he'd come this far on the loony rat chase, Novus raised his hand and knocked on the door, keeping an entirely open mind as to what, if anything, might happen next.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Cricet heard the apprehensive man approach the door. Her master was still determined to sleep, just as she was determined to wake him. She nudged at him again but Ninus simply made a wordless growl. His poetic manner of speech apparently left him when he was desperate for shut eye. Novus' knock came, and Cricet did the only thing she could to wake her master. She sank her teeth into his ear. Ninus exploded upward, sitting up and clutching the red and bloody bite mark from her teeth. She'd neatly punched through the cartilage by accident, and Ninus clutched the injured appendage with anger in half-awake eyes. "Thou foulest of companions! A she-wolf comes and mauls me in the sweetest of sleeps! Away with you, cursed creature, away with your miserable hide! Goddess of the sun you are, doing her service while I slumber in well-gotten peace!" he shoved her off the bed angrily. "What has possessed my faithful and affectionate servant to do such a deed?" Cricet saw what she'd done and hung her head. She hadn't meant to do it, he had just sat up so fast she had instinctively shut her teeth all the way around his pale ear. She saw his expression soften a bit. "No, thy guilty face speaks of your innocence in my puncture. Thy teeth sought not to bring blood, it was mine own reaction that tore flesh in twain." Ninus said, climbing out of bed and rising to his feet. He withdrew his hand and looked at the bloody spots on his fingers. "A swift heal." he mumbled, looking down at the guilty rat. He knelt and kissed her forehead. "What meant thou, by such a swift awakening? Knights?" he looked suspiciously at the door. He hadn't heard the knock, but Cricet didn't often do something like this. He approached the door of his home, half naked with only his pants hanging low on his skinny waist. He opened the portal to his home and was face to face with something he'd only read about. "Faithful, kind servant, I would take but a hundred such bites for such a gift." he spoke to her, and Cricet perked up a bit. She'd done well in bringing the widow to her master. He didn't often see such rare poison. He leaned against the doorway, his eyes on the half-breed that Cricet had brought him. One of the mysterious, pale, poisonous residents of the underground...oh but only a half-breed. A pity, but a pity he could work with. "What can this humble poisoner do to serve you, lost soul?" he asked. Ninus was a slender and pale creatue in his own right, most of his flesh on display as he had been sleeping soundly when Cricet had bitten him. His fingers were stained from working with poisons, scars and cuts marred his body from his harsh upbringing and the punishments of the rats. His eyes were staring intently at Novus, black and bright with intelligence, blinking long lashes. His face was as gaunt as the rest of him, mouth quirked up in an amused smile to see such a creature on his own doorstep. He examined Novus' face, finding him pleasing to the eyes. As pale and ethereal as his mother would be, but with enough human in him to temper the widow and make it not quite as stark. A pleasing face indeed.

[Novus]

Novus, all unaware of the stirring his coming was catalyzing inside the dwelling, waited a bit impatiently, second guessing himself and thinking this was the errand of a fool or a madman. He was just on the cusp of deciding to descend the stairs and seek his own way once more - stayed only by the likelihood of getting lost again – when the first rat came out of the window. It wasn’t the megarat, but an ordinary sized one, though it was big enough, and looked exceptionally plump and glossy, and not underfed by any means. Quickly, right on its tail, literally, came another, and another. It was as if the flood gates of some massive rat colony had been opened, and the creatures literally poured forth, to either climb up, towards the roof, or down, to cover the landing upon which Novus stood. Thank Viratas he had on good high boots, for, stoic as he might be in the face of many a peril, the thought of having those furry vermin crawling over his sandaled or bare feet would have been too much for him. Even so, he sort of hopped from one boot toe to the other, more than a little inclined to just start kicking at the damned things. Still, like their enormous counterpart, they offered him no violence or aggression, so he refrained, not a person to let a sudden wave of antipathy cause him to react hastily, and without cause. His attention distracted thusly, Novus almost but forgot about the door, or who or what might lie beyond it. He was far from convinced now that this was a residence of any kind – other than perhaps an abandoned one that these rodents had moved into and claimed as their own. He thought he might have heard some noise within – a voice, perhaps – but he was far too distracted by trying now not to step on the dozens of vermin clustered about his feet. The tiny porch was covered – every square inch of it, with translucent pink ears and brownish grey fur and pink naked tails, along with hundreds of beady eyes that peered up at him inquiringly. Once again, in an attempt perhaps to diffuse his own discomfort at the situation, Novus looked at them and asked, “What now? Has your leader sent you out here – with a message perhaps? Directions on how I should get home? Or do you plan to pick me up on your backs and carry me there, perhaps? Or maybe to some great rat oven out back?” Thus engaged in conversation with the rodents, Novus was caught by surprise when the door did finally open, swinging inwards to reveal – not another rat, but instead a human, from the looks of him. A human who had in all probability been asleep, based on the tousled hair, the lax set of the facial muscles, the bleary eyes and the lack of clothing. Novus was almost certain the loose trousers that hung so low on those painfully thin hips were at risk of falling to the bony ankles at any moment. Startled, and hoping beyond hope that the resident of the apartment hadn’t heard him actually talking to the rats, it took a moment for Novus to pull his wits together. He couldn’t have said with any clarity what type of individual he might have expected to find living in this humble place – if he could have conjured up any image whatsoever. But for some reason, he felt like the man he now stared at – openly and perhaps somewhat rudely, due to his momentary lack of poise – seemed to fit in rather well with the whole…rat motif. Clearly – surely – no-one could have inhabited a place so replete with the vermin and failed to note their presence? And the fact that the largest of them all now sat comfortably by the man’s bare feet, and he was leaning to it – and speaking to it! – well, that pretty much sealed the deal, didn’t it? And the words themselves… "Faithful, kind servant, I would take but a hundred such bites for such a gift." Novus could only stare the more, mouth slightly agape. What the petch…! Was the disheveled looking one talking about….him? And to a rat? Novus blinked, and blinked again, as if to clear his eyes, or maybe his head. Was he dreaming this? As Ninus gave his unlooked for ‘visitor’ the once over, so too did Novus stare back, his purple-black eyes trying to discern what manner of man this was that stood before him, leaning so casually against the door frame of an abode from which no less than two score rats had just now debarked – as the huge, monster rat sat almost affectionately at his feet, like some nightmare pet. His dark eyes took in a pair equally as obsidian in hue, framed in thick, dark lashes and imbued with a depth of intelligence that seemed to belie any notion that the man might be a bit…deranged. Though, in point of fact, were not many madmen on the level of genius? This other’s skin was as pallid as any of Novus’ mother’s race – as if, like them, he had spent too long away from the healthful rays of Syna. His form was long and lean, like a willow, though there was no way yet to know if indeed he bore the same resilient strength that might allow him to withstand the storms of life that might bend but not break the will. In any case, his hide certainly bore more than a few marks of such storms, for Novus easily saw both scars and fresh wounds – they looked like bite marks, and he had to reconsider his assessment of this man’s mental condition. Overall, a fair form and a most intriguing face, but one that, in this particular circumstance, left Novus with an odd, unsettled feeling in his stomach. The polite words, spoken in such regal tones, only served to confound and not to comfort him. "What can this humble poisoner do to serve you, lost soul?" Did he just refer to himself as a poisioner? Novus frowned a bit, thinking this must be some jest at his expense, based on the man’s apparently tumbling to the fact that the half-sym himself was possessed of a natural ability to poison, though it was much reduced in his diluted amalgam of genes. A bemused smile played about the other’s thin lips, and Novus wondered as well if he truly looked the part that he seemed to be hellbent on playing this day – that of being perpetually lost in this damned city of stone. Or had perhaps the giant rat whispered of his predicament in this fellow’s ear –which, Novus noticed, just happened to be bleeding? Shuffling his boot a bit, without thinking of the many, many rats that had heretofore so captured his attention, Novus looked down with dismay as his movement was accompanied by various squeaks and shrieks where he had stepped on a tail here or a paw there. Regaining his rigid pose, he could not help but ask a question of his own, that in no way answered the question that had been put to him. “Are these bloody thing yours?” His voice was a bit clipped, with the oddity of the entire situation. “I suppose if you’d do me a service, you could call them off, and then tell me how best to reach my room.” His eyes went to the big one by the man’s feet, and he wondered if things would veer even further from the ridiculous to the sublime, with this odd fellow commanding his minion to escort Novus home – wherever home was… His momentary loss of aplomb quickly passed though, and Novus regained his usual composure and even his good manners. “I – I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “I’m just a bit annoyed, with myself. And…all these rats are kind of giving me the willies.” He shot the guy a poignant look, and laughed softly at himself. “I’m new to Syliras, and I keep managing to get myself lost – as I guess you’ve somehow surmised. I – I’d take it quite kindly if you could put me on the right path again…if you know how.”

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus frowned at the squeaks from Novus fidgeting. "Stay your heels to the floor." he told Novus, squatting and eyeing the rats. "Why vex him, this poor creature led to my door seeking directions? Such children you are. Away with your curiosity, lest you earn more bruised tails for your silly determination." he made a shooing motion with his hands, and reluctantly the small horde of rats ambled away. Ninus picked up the large rat and stood, pushing her to settle across his shoulders like some sort of odd shepherd carrying a lamb. "One does not own rats any more than one owns the trees or the wind. They are but children that enjoy my presence. I have lived amongst them for years, and their father's fathers knew me and fed me when I first came to this city. Companions and friends they are, not mere pets." Ninus said. "I give them shelter, warmth, a place to raise little ones without the heel of a boot meeting tender infant skulls. They in return provide warmth in winter, a wise procurer of food in the spring...and apparently, new poisons in the summer." He smiled and rubbed Cricet's cheek, now having fully forgiven her for the earlier incident. "And a handsome creature that comes bearing the poison it is." He did, however, cock his head when Novus asked him to direct him in the correct direction. "To put you on the correct path, one would first need knowledge of your destination." he said. "And one would ask something in return. A humble poisoner does not find such a rare and delicate substance come knocking on his door. Nor does your mother's ilk wander often from the fold. I have askance of poison from your body, and I shall quite happily point your compass in the correct fashion. Come hither." He wedged open the door with a large fat stone set beside the door for that purpose, and withdrew into the home. Planters lined the bare stone walls, bristling with fungus, slime molds, unusual vines, and a pair of fruit trees looking very out of place. Other than the bed, a large desk dominated the area under the window on which Ninus' poison kit and tools lay. It was this Ninus approached and settled onto a creaking stool.

[Novus]

Upon the suggestion – or was it an order – that he remain still, Novus complied, more because he was intrigued to know just what connection this strange man had with the furry denizens of squalor. He stood like an unmoving rock, as the other crouched down and began to speak to the rats that milled about his boots. Now, Novus had heard any number of other individuals speak thus to animals – typically pets, or those they relied on for help in their tasks, such as horses or hunting dogs, and so on. So…he couldn’t completely condemn this fellow as deranged simply because he spoke to the little fuzzy beasts as if they understood. Novus knew that in many respects, animals did have some inkling of what was told or asked of them – it was, of course, one of the tools of being an animal trainer. That the vermin complied quite readily with the slender man’s instruction, simply might have indicated that…he trained them? Seriously…. Novus had to wonder if he wasn’t allowing for too much here. What man trained wild rats? And was possessed of a mutant giant specimen that he even now picked up and draped over his shoulders like a fur stole? The stranger’s next words, which Novus supposed was in reply to his inquiry if the rats were his, seemed to counter Novus’ silent conclusion of a moment before. OK, so he didn’t own them and they were his…friends? His equals, it seemed, from the way he spoke so fondly and positively of them. And apparently his flat mates, as well – and that would explain the mass exodus through the window of a few minutes ago. Novus blinked his dark eyes, wondering what manner of man chose to live so cozily with the despised villains that most humanoids detested with a passion and did their best to squish or skewer at any given chance? Again, the mixed blood himself was not quite so averse to the creatures, having encountered any number of them on his cave explorations. As towards most living creatures, he’d developed a live and let live kind of attitude, unless it was something he was hunting. Then it was game on. He was much more likely to take out Bambi than he was Templeton, for the latter had no use at all, once dead. So it was that Novus only found the man’s choice of companions bizarre, and not so much repulsive. That last sentiment expressed as part of that thought – once again referring to his own racial ability to produce poison and the fact that the big, big rat had brought him to her – friend’s – door, had Novus eyeing the creature speculatively, wondering just how much intelligence lay behind those pink rimmed eyes. The allusion to him being handsome (though he was relegated to being an “it”) didn’t totally escape him either, though he was inclined to ascribe that compliment to the apartment dweller as simply being polite, in a slightly flowery way. For his part, Novus found this other, strange, stranger to be fairly easy on the eye as well – a bit on the scrawny side but to one of his race that was a given. The spider people were not given to putting on any amount of extra flesh themselves, so he was well used to slender torsos and slim, delicate limbs. Of course, he’d had plenty of exposure to other races too, especially in the past two seasons, so he was aware that for a human – if human this man was – the rat friend was not of a very muscular build. But comparatively speaking, he had attractive features – and ones which bore some inscrutable shadowing that Novus found complimented well the fellow’s odd living circumstances – i.e. the rats. Novus’ expression had relaxed, as the rats at his feet had taken heed of the man’s admonition to go, and had in fact, gone. “My thanks for that,” he offered, in indeed a less strained tone, as he found the situation now more eccentric and less anxious than a few moments before, though he was still every bit as baffled by the whole thing. “I’d hate to mis-step and do a fatal injury to one of your…friends, there.” His words weren’t sarcastic, simply amused. The dark haired, dark eyed man gave him a speculative look in return, and in reply to Novus’ request for assistance in finding his path home, he said, "To put you on the correct path, one would first need knowledge of your destination. And one would ask something in return. A humble poisoner does not find such a rare and delicate substance come knocking on his door. Nor does your mother's ilk wander often from the fold. I have askance of poison from your body, and I shall quite happily point your compass in the correct fashion. Come hither." Now this was not expected, and Novus’ brows knit together in both surprise and slight affront at the audacity of the fellow. What? He wanted to use Novus as a poison cow? Was that it? Following the man with his eyes only, Novus ruminated. So…the man was actually a poisoner? Well, strange times for one such as this to be so bold and open about his profession. Novus was quite sure in an orderly city such as Syliras the knights would quite frown upon such a criminal occupation. For, he supposed, even if this man here wasn’t the one to administer his potions, would not the fact that he concocted and provided them make him equally as guilty as his customers, should illness or death be the final product of his toil? Novus stood where he was, and as the guy had propped open the door, and as Novus was possessed of the enhanced ability to see into gloom, he had a good view of the interior of the dwelling. To say it was as strange as its occupant would have been the understatement of the year. Rats were…everywhere, and engaged in every possible activity that might take the fancy of a rodent. Novus’ eyes were drawn to the especially lovely sight of an extremely large male rat going at it with a squeaking female, right on the pillow where he assumed this man laid his head of a night. Wonderful. Several females with litters lay on a bundle of rags, much as a house cat with kittens, or a pet dog with pups would do. And beyond the vermin, there were…plants? Or maybe, plant life would be more fitting a term? Shades of grey and shiny black and purplish-brown and slimy greens decorated the…things…that grew, or sprouted, or crept along, from the many, many terra cotta planters that lined the rough stone walls. Here and there would be some toxic splash of orange or bright mustard yellow, or fuzzy patches of white and cream. There were, in fact, a few actual “plants” amongst all this…decay…but none that Novus recognized. But he was no gardener or horticulturalist, so that came as no surprise. From a frown, his eyebrows lifted as he took in the incredibly weird aspect of the one room, and his nose wrinkled in both disdain and a feeling of having encountered something very, very foreign. He could in no way identify any of the…substances…that the poisoner seemed to be cultivating with a purpose. But that isn’t to say that he hadn’t encountered similar growths in the caverns back home in Kalea. He’d avoided those, though, as much as he could, for they looked, and sometimes smelled, foul, and he had no desire to cultivate any such organisms on his own skin by virtue of accidental contact. The fact that similar primordial organisms were here, in this abode, told him that he’d been in the right to exercise caution around them. All of this flashed through the mixed blood’s mind almost as quickly as it flashed before his observant eyes, while at the same time he considered the outlandish ‘request’, or offer, of the poisoner. With head canted a bit to the side, long, thin arms crossing over his chest, Novus considered the pros and cons of compliance – which might have seemed very odd in the first place. What type of individual, upon encountering a man such as the half dressed, scurrilous looking, rat afficianado, would even consider such a suggestion? Why had not Novus already turned tail and run off, doing his utmost to put as much distance between himself and this oddball as possible? Well, Novus was a bit of a non-conformist himself, and not one likely to shy from something intriguing simply because it bore some sense of the sinister. In fact, his curiosity was piqued and he was exactly the type to pursue whatever struck his fancy, until he had satisfied himself with whatever answers he sought. And here lay a great mystery indeed – slightly vile, slightly repugnant and repellant – but altogether alluring in its very baseness. Novus was not raised with a moral compass, per se, but more of a moral prism, through which actions and beliefs and motivations could be bent and twisted and warped, howsoever he decided with which angle he would look at a situation. Being looked upon his whole life as a true unwanted social pariah, he’d definitely grown up with a fair amount of contempt for the strictures of a well ordered power structure. Sure, a rat loving poisoner who grew gruesome looking slime in his apartment might be outside the bounds of polite society, but then again… so had Novus always been. Things might turn out to be different here, half a world away from Kalinor and its regard for racial purity – his taken pseudonym reflected his desire for such a change. But he wouldn’t hold his breath waiting. He was nobody here, and likely to remain pretty much part of the great anonymous grist for the mill of the powerful and elite. So truthfully, the rat man called to him in a way more poignant than if he had in fact worn silks and velvets and been surrounded by beautiful young women, than flea bitten vermin. He was, in a word, fascinating, in a very macabre way. Pushing himself forward into the small room – one man’s miniscule world of potential death – Novus smirked a bit, strolling to the dilapidated looking desk. “Indeed, I had planned on giving you the address, once I knew of your inclination to help,” he said, looking down at Ninus. “You’re quite astute, to have settled on my mother’s race so quickly. Not all are as observant as that.” One dark, fine eyebrow quirked up and a small smile played about Novus’ lips, as if he found that thought amusing somehow. Leaning one shoulder against the wall, just to the side of the window, he added, “And if it’s an exchange you require – a bartering of substance for information, well…I might be persuaded to agree to that.” He canted his head again and with a look of great mischief, he asked, “Where, pray tell, do you wish me to bite you?”

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus looked at Novus strangely as he took his seat, bidding the half breed to do likewise across from him. "Your mother's race is legendary amongst those who ply my trade." he explained as he picked up an unusual vial with a thin, tough piece of rawhide stretched across the mouth. "A poisoner would sacrifice his soul to study it, it is a paragon amongst us. My own mentor expressed a desire to study it, as it withers the flesh and blood. Harnessing such power for a weapon would make the man who studies it rich not only in knowledge but in mizas. This one has a healthy respect for your mother and her race, one does not often see a people so blessed by the soul of the spider. When I saw that pale flesh and short claws, what else could you be but the offspring of a man who found himself caught in a widows web and after mating escaped her wrath?" He chuckled when Novus asked him where to bite. "Nay, sink not those fangs in flesh. Pierce only this dead hide, it serves for serpents and spiders. Though it were my master who was the authority on such things that crawl upon the earth and not mine. I study the protections of a mother for her children as they grow on the vine, and those that grow from rot and damp. But I shall do my best to study yours." Ninus said. He reached up and touched Novus' cheek. His hands were stained with the leavings of various poisons that had long ago left their marks on his flesh, but his skin was warm and his touch gentle. He stroked his thumb over Novus' cheek, meeting his eyes. "So like a spider. Deadly and beautiful in your own way. I wonder how you lost your way, little spider, without so much as a silken thread to guide you home." he said quietly, his finger moving to stroke along Novus' lips. He felt excitement course through his veins...a new poison, diluted by human blood, but very few poisoners got the chance to study Symenestra poisons! So precious few, and they often met their ends by asking one of the gregarious females for poison. He couldn't believe his luck. Perhaps keeping the son around would give him ties to the mother, and there would his luck burst anew. To become the first man to study, in full, the affects of Symenestra poison...no, he couldn't allow this one to slip through his fingers. He would need more than just this simple sample, and when he guided the wayward spider home...he would know where he lived. "Open your mouth and bite down on the rawhide, little spider. Such dead flesh will provide you no comfort, but I dare not offer you the living." Ninus said softly, putting the rawhide-covered vial to the man's lips. Ninus was poised, still, his eyes on the half-breed's. He felt a bit strange doing this half-naked, but he was too excited to abandon the half-blood to go put on a shirt. Cricet toddled over to them, sniffing Novus curiously. Ninus thought of the rats, and how communal they were. He felt a bit angry for a moment...jealous of their companionship, but he shoved it away. He had allowed them a sanctuary, it was not their fault he bore an invisible, hideous burden. The 'most cursed of gnosis' he had called it.

[Novus]

Novus listened to his host laud this one attribute of his race – his mother’s race, as the fellow had deduced with such quick acumen. His quixotic expression did not alter when the vial appeared, though a trace of cautious skepticism now joined the curiosity already apparent in those deep purple eyes. The speech, though flowery still, held an iron ring of genuine admiration for the peculiar ability of the Symenestra to poison and…dissolve…other living creatures – for purposes of eating, or…otherwise. It was rare indeed to hear such sentiments being expressed by any other than a Symenestra. Novus had been around humans and other beings enough now to know – the widows were as a whole, a despised and much maligned race. This hadn’t come as a complete shock to the mixed breed. His own dealings with the various travelers who ended up at the cave city deep in the heart of the Wildlands had been illuminating on this point – though most kept their opinions or views couched in very careful and polite terms, while resident in or near the Widows’ city. Still, Novus had not fully comprehended the breadth and the depth to which his maternal ancestors were loathed throughout the rest of the world, and declaimed as murderers, and rapists. It had been both eye opening and novel – in that, for once, Novus wasn’t the worst thing to come out of Kalinor. For the first time in his life, after leaving the city, he had felt empowered to perhaps look down upon those who had always done the same to him. Being only half Symenestra, he was only to be halfway hated, potentially. One corollary to this newfound sense of self that particularly amused him centered around his potential love life. Whereas in Kalinor, no self respecting female would have ever deigned to give him a second glance – at least not in public - out here in the above ground cities, the very shortcomings in his breeding that had made him less than second class would actually enable him to court, win and mate with a female, and thereby create a family for himself that looked upon him as father, husband, protector, provider – with love and trust, and not with revulsion and antipathy and contempt. Sure, his mixed blood status might not be to every woman’s taste. But he was quite sure that there would be enough who’d be willing to overlook that minor ‘flaw’ in favor of his own winning persona. Of course, that presupposed that their interest would be reciprocated, which, in Novus’ case, typically it was not. Perhaps his usual lack of interest in the opposite sex had its genesis in his certain knowledge that he’d never really get anywhere with any female Symenestra. Those half bloods like himself who were female almost to a one held out hopes for “doing better” than having to settle for another mixed blood as husband or lover. In fact, he’d actually had better luck with the “purebloods” (many of whom were just as mixed and mingled as he was, only it was their mothers who had come from the outside world) – or, a select population of such. When he’d come to an age where his hormones began to rage and he could not help but to look around for some release, he’d been quite, quite surprised to find out that there were those who were looking back – and he’d been a little shocked, and repulsed, by who he saw gazing at him surreptitiously with such covetous eyes. They were, to a one, middle aged females, all married, and all interested in a fling with a young, good looking male, who couldn’t possible endanger their lives with some unwanted, and fatal, pregnancy. In their salacious and calculating eyes, he’d be oh so very grateful to have such largesse bestowed upon his unworthy mongrel self – and he’d know enough to keep his mouth shut about it all, or risk his own head being taken by some irate husband. Well, Novus had been young, and naïve, and horny, and he’d given it a try, several times. But literally, the experience had left him flat, and uneager for more. Which wasn’t to say that he wasn’t still overflowing with those inconvenient and troublesome teen hormones. His next foray into finding some relief for this uncomfortable situation proved to be a much better and happier fit. A caravan of merchants that arrived at his city brought with them one similarly randy and virile young male – a human, son of one of the merchants – who buddied up with the ever curious mixed blood and…well… he taught Novus that there was more to all this than just lady bits. Novus was, so to speak, won over to his friend’s way of thinking and enjoyed the hell out of their relationship, such as it was, until the other boy had to decamp and depart with his dad. Novus was sad, but hooked. As the vast majority of those who came to Kalinor from the far flung places of the outside world were male, he hadn’t encountered any really serious obstacles for finding those who were more than willing to spend some time with the outgoing half-Sym. He quickly lost interest in females, and right up until he had to flee his place of birth, he’d never thought to go there again. Since his flight, though, upon entering this new existence, and discovering, as has been mentioned, that his kind was not quite as despised as he himself had been, back home, it had occurred to him that perhaps it would be possible to pursue that which he had already written off as a potential future for himself – a wife, children, a family. Still, in the ensuing months, he hadn’t really been all that interested, it seemed. There had been a few pretty faces turned his way, here and there. But he found that he was still quite a bit more taken with handsome ones, and the accompanying acoutrements to be found therewith. So, despite the possibilities that having left Kalinor now presented, he had yet to be bothered to make a move in that direction, and though he rarely even thought about it, he was inclined to think that he probably never would. It was, therefore, quite odd, to him, to hear the poisoner speaking with such rapt praise of those Novus had, largely, now left behind. Though it was clear that his fascination lay as much in the potential for making some coin off of the natural venom of Novus’ maternal race as it was professional curiosity, or any innate appreciation of the race as a whole. Still, it was just another layer to this already intriguing puzzle of a man, and Novus was at least gratified to know – as was readily apparent from the man’s invitation – that Ninus was glad of his appearance on his stoop, even if his motivations were so self-serving. He took the other seat, as bidden, still looking at the vial with some reservations, as Ninus made it clear what he would be required to do. Novus made a little grimace of distaste for the task – biting down on long dead animal skin and then into nothing more than thin air was not exactly his idea of a pleasurable experience. He could think of one or two ways to extract the poison from his fangs by much more satisfying means, especially as those thin, delicate fingers touched his cheek, and then his lip. The poisoner couldn’t possibly know how a touch like that could elicit the response it very well might, given that Novus had been leading a fairly abstemious life of late – given the lack of privacy travel always entails. Having, in his life, made a few mistaken assumptions about other men, and having thus earned himself a few good clouts and one near drowning, he’d also learned to be quite cautious making any sort of approach for companionship of that nature. Whilst traveling, he’d found it perhaps a bit trickier to find both an appropriate time and place and a willing partner. Suffice it to say, it had been a good, long while since he'd been touched in such a way as the poisoner was now trailing his thumb so very lightly over his skin, and Novus found his own pulse quickening, though not for the same reason as Ninus’. And then the warmth of digits was gone and in its stead the press of hard, dry leather over glass was in it place. Novus kept his deep, amethysts gaze steadily on the onyx orbs that were locked with his, as Ninus gave his gentle command. "Open your mouth and bite down on the rawhide, little spider. Such dead flesh will provide you no comfort, but I dare not offer you the living." Novus remained noncompliant, though, considering if he would really go through with this bizarre exchange. Ninus turned away, to gaze towards the bed, and his guest put his own interpretation on the perhaps unconscious underpinnings of that glance - wondering if in fact the poisoner knew the full range of 'appetites' that would arouse the flow of the sought for secretion. “That’s a shame,” Novus said, a smirk playing about those lips that still tingled where that stained thumb had traced its design. “But if you truly prefer it this way…” His hand came up and closed about the one holding the vial, wrapping it in his own strong embrace, his fingers firm, but gentle. With one last poigant look at his host, his eyes dropped, the fringe of thick ebony lashes brushing against his cheeks, as he bit down, sinking both fangs through the disgusting tasting hide.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus watched Novus bite down on the hide. The fangs pierced it easily, and the hide hugged around them to ensure no venom was lost. He watched it flow down the side of the glass and collect in a syrupy, clear amber fluid at the bottom. He wondered if the venom would be closer to that of snakes, or that of spiders. Both had flesh-dissolving enzymes in their poison, but it would help determine how to cure the venom if one caught it in time. Or indeed, if it affected those who were allergic to bees and wasps. Bee, wasp and spider venom was surprisingly similar, and often times men who were allergic to one reacted poorly to the other. Ninus felt the hand on his wrist, holding him steady as the venom collected. It was weakened by Novus' genetics, and such a pity that was. But it would begin a very long, very hard stint of research Ninus was ever so excited about. He held Novus' gaze, both of them stock still with pulses running high. Ninus was no stranger to experiencing desire when he looked at other men. He was raised amongst bandits, an all-male family that was two parts brusque and one part roughneck. An odd sort of group that had found him in the Bronze Woods as a babe and raised him near Syliras. When Ninus was growing up he learned to accept his appetites, and had not seen a woman until he was well into his early teens. From what he had seen they couldn't fight worth a lick, screamed a lot, and didn't last long. But it was his mentor who had taught him about his unusual tastes for his own gender, and reassured him it was nothing abnormal. The rest of the men didn't often see it that way, and when Ninus was released into the city to fend for himself he realized that most of Syliras leaned more toward his father's men than they did the kind poisoner. So he had kept his quiet. He had tried out his affections once or twice with disastrous results, and had all but given up on sex as a hopeless, useless pursuit. What did he care what he was missing, if all he had done was heard and witness it but never felt it? His last attempt at some sort of connection had been with now a good friend and tradesman who had rebuffed his affections. Ninus had long felt his feelings a cursed, horrible thing. He didn't hate himself, he cursed the gods for putting an unseen gnosis on him that prevented that which he so dearly wanted. It made him want to scream and cry all at once, the lonliness at times was beyond torturous. The gods clearly hated him, and he had done nothing. He believed it was their own special form of torture to fling beautiful male friends at his feet, let him lust and want until he tripped up and dashed the friendship to pieces. He envied the rats at times. They copulated, same-sex and different sex, without discrimination and weren't beset upon by other rats for it. He supposed that was part of why he liked the creatures. Their intelligence, overwhelming sense of curiosity and wonder, and their rather peaceful acceptance of one another. Men, he had learned, would no more kiss you than whip about and punch you in the teeth. He'd experienced both, once one right after the other. He'd never experienced entwining around a lover. Stolen kisses here and there he treasured, but never that unreachable goal of true companionship. Ninus' little touch on Novus' lips had made an ache in his chest, a very old feeling he killed swiftly and silently. The ache for companionship was maddening, but the last thing he wanted to be attacked by was a creature from such a fearsome lineage. Ninus pulled the jar down from Novus' fangs, touching his cheek again to steady his head and make sure he didn't rend the hide with his sharp teeth. He allowed himself to run his thumb over Novus' lips again, to want and memorize the feeling for but a second before he pulled back and pulled the punctured hide off, stretching another bit of thicker leather over it to seal it. Now no air could get in and ruin the venom, and he could work on it. See if he could distill it down to a crystal, thicken it maybe to a lump or tar, make it inert and useless so he could recognize taste and feel. He cleared his throat, looking outside. "The sun is sinking low on her knees." he said. "Mayhaps you can stay here tonight, and venture forth in the morning. Traveler's row is not at all friendly after dark, the desperate and the shambling come out of their graves to feed. The rats are kind enough to leave my food to me, and my cooking is not unpalatable." Inwardly, he winced. What was he trying to do, torture himself further by having the man sup with him? Then what, make himself sleep on the floor while a living, breathing object of his desire lay in his bed? How pathetic, he growled at himself. "Unless your home calls so dearly to you." he added.