Chapter 13: Wandering Aloud has finally been completed after months of not really getting the time to get to it properly.
It can be found Here
This chapter focuses heavily on the Kholean engineers Oyul and Britol and is a wonderful 5760~ words long compared to the previous iteration of 1928 words.
An enormous amount of work and love has gone into this chapter. I'm hoping the next will not take this many months to get to completion.
If you wish to start from chapter 1: Marion's awakening, you can find that Here
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Through the petrified woods, leaves turned to Ash underfoot. The rattling of the bolts in a crate, wobbling on the bed of Oyul’s cart echoed multiple times around them off of the surface of stony trees.
"I can't be doing with this." Oyul let go of his end of the cart and rummaged under the cloth tied over the tools. A tongue curled out of his lips like a small fish escaping craggy rocks. His eyebrows danced around and his eyes spun as he pawed at the spaces out of sight.
"Weuh" big green fingers curled around some scrap cloth and tore strips away. Oyul rolled the strips up and tucked them around and the bolts and gave the box a shake. It was much quieter now
An old sign post had been consumed by the tree it was placed upon, making it unreadable.
The pair scratched their heads.
Above them, something stirred, like a squirrel but much, much larger.
With a thud, something moist landed behind them.
“You are lost. I smell stone and metal upon you.” its voice was like a rasping breath, something emulating speech. The creature rose to its feet in a vaguely humanoid way. It’s skin was lightly glistening and its flesh was a sore looking pink, “You ought to know the way by instinct alone.”
The engineers watched in curious silence as the creature continued from its rise, kerning its spine backwards, arms outstretched and sticking to the woodland floor as it curled back around under its own legs.
“I heard your little chat earlier.” It rested its upside-down face on the back of one of its hands, a long, forked tongue whipped around its flat teeth.
“You are quite lost. I can help you, for a price.” It smiled it's down-turned smile, blinking innocently as more eyes opened up where they had not been before.
“What price? I don’t do riddles- if you’re going to try and pull my leg I'm going to see just how far you can stretch you circus freak.”
“Oy’, that’s not very polite.” Britol took a step forward. The creature didn’t seem bothered in the least by Oyul’s threat. “If it is something we don’t need directly, or something we can obtain then I don’t mind exchanging something for a way out of here. What do you require?”
The creature hummed, its head rocking side to side.
“I would like some *fish*. I would like some fish with a little flavour, some herbs. Perhaps some roasted potatoes? I can’t make such a nice meal. I don’t have the hands for it, you see.” It splayed its seven webbed fingers, thick mucous stretched between the digits.
“Brit I’m not making this thing fish and chips.” He gestured with a disrespectful thumb before folding his haunched arms across his barrelled chest, “listen, mate, I can’t cook. I couldn’t cook as a man, and I can’t cook now- I’d burst into flames- and I’m not about to let my lad get roasted either. You’re barking up the wrong tree ‘ere.”
The creature cowled, a disappointed, growling frown marred its features, some of the eyes sunk back in its head.
“So very rude to decline such a reasonable offer! An ouroboros is doomed to eat snails and slugs and worms and spiders! So rude- he is so rude!” The creature's body sprung back from under its legs and continued its momentum forward, its legs now standing over its head.
“It is not an unreasonable ask, to ask for a single hot meal! A persuasive beast like you could make someone else make the meal with mighty ease! I will tell you the way out, Guide you, even- But I beg of you to return to me with something tasty and warm!”
The creature fell onto its side limply, long arms slapping at its small pot-belly.
“I am full of bugs and worms and slugs and ants! Dull and slimy and bitter and cold! Feed me, feed me, feed me, giant man!”
Brit watched Oyul run a hand through his slick, receding hair. With a low grumble he relented.
“Lead the way you … thing. I’ll bring you something on the way back”
“I am an ouroboros! On the way, we can decide on a name if you like” The creature rolled forward like a wheel, hopping alternately between its hands and feet and humming a merry tune.
The vampires pulled their cart at a distance behind.
“I don’t like that thing, Brit. if it tries anything I’m going to tear it to pieces.”
“I think he’s okay, he just wants a good meal, I think.”
A shiny, Obsidian thumb rose over Britol’s shoulder.
I've been meaning to ask, I'm very curious about your The Corpse & the Spider fic, does it require knowing Blood Omen 2 and Defiance beforehand to read it? The nightmare of wanting to check out people's cool fanwork but not being caught up with a franchise is real.
This is a very important question, it’s probably the biggest question for those that see my posts about it but haven’t really delved into C&S.
The Corpse and the Spider began as a legacy of kain fic, set in nosgoth during the Vampire Empire era.
Over time it has become its own thing. We’re no longer in Nosgoth, though there are the rules I grew up with that apply to Vampires.
Tl;Dr: You do not need to know anything about the Legacy of kain lore or games. No characters from this series are talked of or take part in C&S
Water is still fatal.
some sunlight exposure is bearable to older vampires, to fledglings it is still fatal.
At the moment I have 4 main locations the story is planned to go:
The Vampire city (Still yet unnamed at the moment. It is presided over by a council, which is presided over by a group of lords, similar to how the UAE joined together.)
The Necropolis, The vampires here are more akin to european folklore vampires, where corpses are possessed. These vampires are not accepted in the Vampire city and are looked upon as lesser beings.
The Human City Cathborough, Humans are at the point in their technology where the industrial revolution started but did not fully take off- Marion will explain more when we go there
Khol, The volcanic mountain in the north, A group of vampires have been working on hollowing out the mountain and harnessing the geothermal power to expand their enclosed, subterranean city. This is where Oyul and Britol, the Engineers come from.
I adore being asked about it, i’ve been working on C&S for two or so years and it’s still taking shape, so any questions usually wind up helping me flesh something out somewhere.
Thanks for the ask!
You can begin Chapter 1 of The Corpse & the Spider Here
The huge engineer and carpenter, Oyul, blew gently at the piece, sending tiny curls of wood tumbling over his bench like lapping waves on a shore that never retreat.
With the very edge of his fingertips, Oyul pinched and twisted the caps from pots of varnish, made comically small in his enormous digits. Mere thimbles beside the great oak.
The vampire picked up a thin brush, holding it between the gap of his nail and fingertip and dipped its stiff hairs into the tiny jar. The paint held to the brush, ready to go where desired, hovering just out of reach of the wood.
A ratchet clicked once behind him, echoing thrice in the cavernous workshop, causing the bush of hair blanketing his massive shoulders to raise on end. It took everything in him not to break the toothpick-like brush in his grip.
Oyul turned, eyes connecting with the gaze of his lad, Britol; Dozens of meters high, tightening the bolts on a great steel structure. The nimble vampire cleared his throat, placing his ratchet in the bucket hanging beside him and replacing it with a second spanner. He gave Oyul an apologetic grimace before returning to the bolts.
Hours and hours passed by, layer upon layer of paint and varnish caressed the wood. Reds, pinks, deep blues, yellow-whites.
With a steady breath, Oyul placed a tin box over the small container and pushed himself from his work bench. His boots crunched the old metal shavings littering the floor.
“Brit’. It’s finished. I’m going out for some air, and that needs to dry.” he said, pointing a great green sausage of a finger behind him, “Don’t let anyone near it.” Oyul ran a meaty hand through his receding hairline, smearing grease and almost-dried paint into his scalp as he left the workshop.
Another day passed.
With caution, Oyul lifted the tin box to check on the piece below. Paint and varnish had set. It was glossy, and beautiful.
A small container with self-greased hinges recessed within the wood. An anatomically correct heart, albeit larger than that of a human. It looked fresh from the body, as though it might beat again at any moment. The inside lip managed to avoid any seeping paint or varnish too. Oyul let out a sigh of relief. The inside was a rich, deep, wine red crushed velvet, with grooves running like flowing blood. He turned the piece in the light, he could see where he had affixed the material, but only because it was *he* who put it there. Near-indiscernible to anyone else, he nodded to himself.
“It’s finally done then?” Britol ambled over to take a look.
“Aye, it’s all done and dusted.” He held the box out for Britol, without actually handing it over.
“Very nice.Who’s this for?”
“Marin. Special order.”
Britol squinted, internally correcting his foreman, “I didn’t think this would be his sort of thing.”
“Neil ordered for it, it’s a gift.”
Britol winced again, clicking his tongue against his cheek.
“Right… Do you trust the letter lad to not drop it?”
Oyul gave him a coy look and a crooked grin, a laugh emanating from somewhere in his barrel bell, shaking his shoulders up and down.
“Fancy a walk, laddo?” Oyul had already picked up a small box, placing the ornate heart within it and packing it with random soft objects and rags.
“Yes, but only because I need a new handle for my hammer sorted out.” Britol said, picking up a brand new hammer from his bench and smashing its handle in half against the bench's steel top-sheet.
Oyul reached above him as the pair left the workshop, pulling the rolling door to the ground and kicking a fastening pin into place before turning a sign around from “Come in!” to “Bugger Off!”
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This is another very accidentally long piece. i had something else to add here and i forgot what it was- apologies if formatting is a little skewiff at parts.
It was always dangerous, working around the lava floes on the Kholean mountainside. Both vampire and human worked side by side doing jobs the other couldn't, it was a mutually beneficial exchange. A vampire could easily hold up a heavy steel beam without the need for scaffolding and winches, and a human can straddle a lava flow in order to bolt the beam in place.
This was another of those jobs.
A small chunk of the mountainside had come loose, allowing a small magma chamber to leak out in a small but steady stream. Oyul, tasked with overseeing the work, took his apprenticed human, Britol, and a man who had not yet been apprenticed by a vampire.
"We might not have long, so be as quick as you can, but be careful. Aerus said the rock-face is still uneven. I can't join you, but I can support the metal." Oyul clapped his meaty hand against his round, slightly shiny, hairy belly with an empty thud.
Britol said nothing, his face already dripping with sweat, along with the other human, Markus. He gave a stern nod, straddling the glowing flow beneath and gesturing for the first sheet to be passed over.
"Are you alright to take it? How's your arm?" Oyul held the three inch sheet just out of reach of his apprentice, fixing him with a steady, concerned eye.
"I'm alright, that was a year ago already im-"
"Brittle boned." Oyul interrupted. He nodded to Markus, "Marky, take this and rest it gently across the flow, careful not to stand in the center. Don't let *him* do too much of the heavier work. I need you to adjust whilst he bolts and welds."
Markus shimmied over, wiping his drenched brow and drying his hands on his trousers. Steadily, the two men narrowly avoided dragging the thick steel sheet through the rock, their fingers ached as they crouched gently, slowing the speed at which they went down as each man constantly adjusted their footing.
The weight of the steel sheet shifted the dirt higher up from them, a small cascade of old Ash and mud slid into the magma stream below, burning up and vanishing within moments.
"Are we good, lads? Ready for the next piece?" The seven foot vampire clutched the next sheet between his thumb and palm, mindlessly running his fingers across the slightly coarse metal.
"It's a bit warm. I wish we could have done it in the rain." Markus wheezed. His face had gone flushed from the heat and fumes. His hairy forearms resembled a field of wheat in a summer morning, coated in dew.
"yeah but you'd be on your lonesome 'cos we can't be out in the rain." Oyul closed an eye, looking up at the dark, cloudy sky above.
Britol shook his arm at his foreman, "look can we just get on. Sooner we get this in place the sooner we can get back in, there's other work to do and it's too bloody hot to whinge and moan."
"n'awh. E's a good lad, isn't he?" Oyul shifted his hand and held out the next sheet of steel as though it was nothing more than a few sheets of paper. "steady now, lads. You're gonna wanna turn this one and push it on *this side*of the flow, then hammer it in *gently*. Give a few taps to each corner. If it feels like it's sinking a bit too quick tell me immediately and we'll shake a leg."
A mallet slid along the face of a third held out sheet of steel, bumping gently into Britol's hip.
Carefully, the pair shifted and shimmied and adjusted and lowered the first proper guiding steel into the gulley below them.
Tap tap.
Tap tap, tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap tap.
The plate stood proud, strong. It moved further into the ground no more.
Britol rose to his feet, shaking the sweat loose.
"okay. Next, Let's keep moving."
Oyul looked past him, to Markus, and beckoned him closer to receive the next sheet of steel.
"So this isn't going to melt in a few hours?" Markus asked, dragging the sheet across their makeshift bridge.
Britol spoke before Oyul could get his words out, "It's kholite. Heat resistant which makes it a bastard to forge but once it's done it's as sturdy as it gets."
The ground crunched under markus' boot as he made his way down the opposite side of the magma gulley. He took a shallow breath, taking the hammer from Britol's outstretched arm.
Wordlessly, the humans looked at each other, making sure they were ready to continue.
Marks hit one corner of the kholite sheet and it sank through like a knife in butter.
He shifted up toward Britol.
Thud. Thud.
Chonk.
He frowned, looking to Britol, who looked to Oyul.
"what is it, boys?"
"sounds like we've hit a bit of solid ro-"
Without warning, the edge of the gully collapsed.
Markus reached out, pulling himself up on the scooped out earth.
Everyone took a breath.
"That was close."
"it was. Pull yourself up and we'll call it. See if we can't work out a different method. Warn the lower areas of possible flow.
Markus gathered his breath and went to stand, with as much care as he could possibly muster. He dared not breathe, moving slowly, keeping an eye locked with Britol.
The earth beneath him gave out again. Britol burst into a sprint along the edge of the gully, small chunks giving way beneath his heels and falling into the magma beside them.
Diving forward, Britol throw his arms forward, reaching for Markus’ wrist
Oyul thought about his weight on the unstable ground for a fraction of a second before he threw caution to the wind, leaping across the gap.
Britol reached the edge a quarter inch too late. Markus had fallen entirely into the glowing, roiling lava. A particularly thick bubble of molten rock burst as his fingers swept through it, sticking to his fingers like tar.
Britol did not feel the pain immediately, nor did he feel Oyul’s massive arm wrap around his stomach and lift him up before he was brought back to more stable ground with a single leap.
The force obliterated the ground left behind as Oyul shot from his position, it was as if a cannon had fired into the mountainside from ten paces away. Lava shot into the air with a terrifying hiss.
Oyul looked down at his apprentice, who was silent, looking at his violently trembling hands. Flesh molten, sloughing away, chunks of magma embedded in his flesh. The shock abated quickly, and Britol erupted into a shrill, horrific scream.
The massive vampire resumed his spring, holding his apprentice close to his chest, feeling the heat against his skin, bubbling, threatening to ignite against his passive oily coat.
He screamed, lurching back, flaming hands coated in specs of lava.
Heavy boots thundered through the mountain, a heavy artillery bombardment with every step taken, desperate shouts for aid boomed throughout the chambers. It did not take long, both human and vampires rushed to aid, all did what they could, making way for vampiric healers, or staying well clear of buckets of water for Britol’s hands.
The screaming did not abate. Oyul cradled his adopted son, bloodied and kissing his temples, distraught at his inability to fix the situation.
His eyes burned with tears. He had not shed a tear the entire time he had been a vampire, but this was not the time to take this new sensation in. He whispered against Britol’s ear, telling him things that he thought would keep him conscious. Anything that came to mind.
“Remember when we first met and you corrected one of my pieces and pointed out where it didn't work?”
“There’s an old set of tools going spare in the other workshop, if you stay with me, you can ‘ave ‘em”
“Don’t die on me. Please.”
His arms tightened around Britol, who had fallen silent. The pain had knocked him near unconscious.
“Everyone get out of the way!”
Two robed vampires pushed any stragglers out of the way with steel rods, taking Britol from Oyul’s arms and laying him down, giving him a once-over glance and immediately setting to work.
One of the robed vampires kneeled and clashed the knuckles on the back of their metal-covered hand against the palm of the other hand, igniting some kind of brown powder and then tossed it onto the ground around his knees.
Quiet murmurs resonated inside his hood as the other robed vampire held both of Britol’s hands between his own, his steel rod gripped by his teeth, saliva pooling and dripping down his chin in a steady stream.
Oyul watched, silently. He couldn’t hear anything outside of the beating of his own heart. Louder than anything he had heard before.
The smoke from the powder began to ebb and crawl, reaching out around Britol’s body, crawling over his arm steadily as though creeping upon sleeping prey.
Oyul felt his body lurch forward, as though knocked by some tremendous force from behind. He steadied himself with his palms on the ground.
The crowd that had been gathered around faded from his vision, replaced by blinking, fading stars and darkness. His muscles rippled as though something was alive within them, aching to get out.
Oyul raised his head, mouth slack and pooled with spit, yet unable to swallow. His throat was too tight. He looked at the chanting, hooded vampire, but could not make out his eyes or face. Twisting features made up of words he had never heard. The thick cloud now covered Britols hands and chest like a near gelatinous cloud. The thickest soot and ash mixed with the rawest, most unrefined oil he had ever seen. It shone, crackling with *something*.
He clutched at his chest as his heart beat once more.
His heart stopped. He could not breathe. His eyes fixated on Britol’s hands, still clasped in the first vampire’s, trembling and rocking rhythmically back and forth, side to side. The saliva pouring around the rod in his mouth had become blood, mixed with *something else. * Deeply infected pus-like yellows with shards of bone hit the ground, but did not pool, as though passing through solid matter. The stream only got stronger, and stronger.
The chanting blasted inside his head. His heart still had not beat. Oyul’s skull was in a vice, threatening to crack, to burst at any moment. He could not even think to scream, to make it stop.
Britol’s bicep twitched. Oyul’s heart beat three times at once. More painful than when it stopped.
His body wretched, light poured back into his eyes and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was breathing again, the pressure faded around his skull, his heart beat. He turned his head.
Aerus’Ol stood with his shoulders tensed and pulled back as he expelled a hazy white gas from the many vents protruding from his back. His mouth, littered with holes and channels hung loose, the same gas clinging around his lips as he looked down at Oyul.
Aerus gave the most fractional nod, fingers tightening barely against his own shoulder.
Both worry and relief washed over Oyul and he fell back to his knees, exhausted for the first time since his turning.
His boy was going to make it, They would make sure of it.
“Gentlemen, You’ll be required to move your workshop to a new area within the week.” Aerus’ol clutched a wooden slab close to his body. Pages and pages of paper were stapled to it, and he barely looked up to address the engineers.
Britol leaned out from the large drilling machine in the center of the workshop, lifting goggles from his eyes and waving a pair of wrenches.
“Again? this is the third time this year.”
“It is. The workers have been chasing the crack through the mountain and have located a focus of fractures that are too close for comfort. There is ample space deeper in for your work.” Foreman Aerus reluctantly stepped further into the workshop, steel dust and shavings crunched under his heels. With a sneer he scraped the sole of his boot on a nearby chair.
“I do hope you will be sweeping up before you shuffle on.”
Rising slowly from his table, the pencil shattered in Oyul’s gradually increasing frustration.
“If it bothers you so much why don’t you sweep up you -”
“Oy’!”
The engineers met eyes and exchanged a silent rapport.
Oyul regarded Aerus, spat a thick ball of sludge to the ground, which attracted lighter fragments of steel dust and loose wire wool, and sat back in this chair with folded arms and expelling heavy huff from his nose.
“I won’t keep you long. I just need your marks here to have it logged that I have given you notice.” Aerus waggled the board and papers at Oyul.
Climbing out from the main body of the drill, Britol waved Aerus over.
“I’ll sign it for the pair of us.” Britol crunched over to a decent sized bowl, perched precariously on a broken piece of metal and a wooden beam. He rubbed his hands with a sand and grit mix, removing excess dirt and grease from his obsidian claws.
A little muttering between them and a couple of scribbles later, Aerus was gone, but not before giving his coat a brief shake of any latent detritus it may have picked up before he left the workshop.
Oyul shook his head and grit his teeth.
“I ‘Ate ‘Im, Brit. I really do, I could-”
“I know, Oy’. I know. Can’t do anything about it now, though.” He rubbed his claws along his forearms and took a deep breath.
“Have you got the drawings for the borer done?”
“Yes. Finished them yesterday.” Oyul pushed over a thick drill bit, and it clanked against a thin tube. “It’s in there. Didn’t want it getting lost.”
“That’s not like you, Oy’.”
“I worked hard on it. Didn’t annanonatate it though.”
“Annotate. and that’s fine, I know what your scrawlings mean.”
