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53nd Searing, 120th of Steel
The way that the fur compressed under the weight of his teeth had always been somewhat uncomfortable. It would shiver and give way at odd angles, allowing the incisors to impress their shape firmly upon the skin. Of course, the impertinent vermin had little regard for the machinations of the elf, and so it struggled constantly, jolting to and from as it attempted to escape the bounds of the cavernous mouth. Greater pressure applied downward, the working of a jaw as it meticulously exerted downward, the upper teeth raking the thing's spine while the lower dug at its belly. It was harder than one expected, the fur and the skin, but there was give in its belly like a rotten patch of fruit.
The soft tissues were what gave first, pressed aside as a division was formed along the belly, the teeth jutting through it into the organs. There was a repulsive and rancorous odor that permeated the air as the intestinal tract was ruptured, the severance of the digestive system allowing for the sudden exposure of whatever feces and half-digested foodstuffs to the mouth of the ghoul. There was a squeal as the rat began to expire, the pain too great for its rodent heart, and he recognized the necessity to act quickly. Finally, with a climactic crash, the teeth met one another about the middle of the thing's body, bisecting it in twain and leaving half in his mouth and half within his clenched hand.
Grotesque and abhorrent, the lower half of the body was tossed onto the floor with exceptional abandon. The still-living portion that would comprise his meal, however, was now prodded by the taste buds of the undead elf. Fluid, both viscous and smooth flooded into his cheeks from the gaping hole at the creature's bottom, and he instinctively dug his tongue in to the opening, feeling it wrap about the innards of the thing, unintentionally bursting arteries with the rough movements of the tongue. Finally, the teeth fell again, breaking the divided piece further as he devoured.
A swallow and the licking of teeth for every last dribble of blood and aether signified the end of the rat, with its lower half still remaining on the floor, now being pawed at by the curious Poppy. It would serve as a suitable treat for the hound, and buy its silent apathy if not any loyalty. The beast still feared him, he knew, watching the way that she tucked her tail between her legs, eyeing him with suspicion until he had backed away enough from the prospective meal to provide space for her to snap it into her own jaws.
Even as he felt the life-giving effects of his meal spread throughout his form, Althalos questioned what it was that had created him to behave in such an utterly rapacious fashion. What was it that had molded his sense of flesh so as to require live digestion? Was it a gluttonous impulse lain into him by the sudden appearance of a god or a spirit, or had it been some unknown quantity impressed into his very flesh, awakened only by the touch of undeath? Was this the fate of all who rose from beyond the grave, or was he himself merely the apostle of a cannibalistic master whose debauchery had extended to such lengths that only these exercises in grotesquerie could facilitate unlife?
Pertinent questions to ponder, considered the false elf as he threw himself onto his empty cot, relishing the general quiet of the home. He had enjoyed the company of his guests, but he had forgotten too the exceptional joys that could be found simply in lonesomeness. Shasco would not return for another few hours, he considered, and Saej had decided to assuage her desire for travel by suddenly and inexplicably vanishing from the shared cottage for -- he arose, checking the note again upon the table -- twenty-three days.
Perhaps... in her absence he would have the opportunity to indulge the lingering questions that had only recently begun to articulate. What was he? Could he be fixed, or was his current state to be considered an alteration instead of a breach to be filled? Could a way be uncovered that would allow for him to absolve himself of the necessity of such frequent delicacies as the vermin? What did it mean to be alive, or to be dead?
There were ways to answer these questions, he knew, and while others involving his origin still held space within his headspace, he now resolved to dedicate a portion of his waking hours to these issues of physiological and psychological study, perhaps dedicating them to treatise if secrecy could be maintained that he might advance himself beyond his current meager state of skulking and imperceptible escapades.
Further ponderance while splayed out upon the cot brought to mind an advertisement he had observed while out and about throughout Alfsos. There was a town not far -- ten days travel for the novice equestrian -- that apparently possessed an apothecary of some talent and ability. Perhaps if he were to study the exact nature of chemical concoctions and the effects that they produced, then he would be able to uncover the very nature of his existence through some experimentation. Even if he were unable to entirely narrow down such issues, he would at the least have learned an exceptionally useful skill in prolonging his existence.
There would be a considerable risk to his health if he were to begin experimentation without focus or guide, however, and while he didn't believe for an instant that he would dedicate himself to an apprenticeship, he did recognize that there bound to be those who had mastered the basic elements of alchemy and who often wrote short guides for novices looking to begin working within the craft. These were bound to be only the most basic submissions, likely the few that had already been covered by other enterprising and compassionate teachers, or for those who believed that their work was of greater importance as a societal servant than as an economic function. After all, the more extant methodologies would almost certainly be kept secret for the sake of the masterminds of their conception, or else all of the costs they had incurred in their testing and re-testing would simply be skipped entirely by competitors.
Thus, Althalos realized that if he were to pursue his studies into alchemy and its divergent recipes, he would need not only to uncover a few simplistic recipes -- perhaps the apothecary would hold one or two of the guides with which he could direct his own work -- but he would need to acquire an understanding for the process as a whole. Just as a famed chef was capable of improvising their meals for each customer so as to better adjust to their palate, so he would need to acknowledge the necessity to change what was provided by others into something that would fulfill his own goals. A potion that allowed for an increase in the functions of life, after all, would be utterly worthless for the ghoulish undead.
Rising from his prostration, the elf meandered to the lone table of the room, reaching for a nearby writing utensil so that he could mar the edges of the paper with his own inadequate scrawl. He had originally considered writing some elaborate note for Shasco to discover upon his return to the mutual residence, but perhaps it would be best to err on the side of discretion. They were unaware of his true nature, and while it was not entirely out of the question for him to suddenly develop new habits, especially given the amnesiac story he'd provided, it would raise questions about why he found it necessary for pursuit.
No, this would be merely another secret to keep from the eyes of his companions, considered the undying elf as he granted a simple addendum to Saej's note: Ditto.
A great deal of funds had been spent already on the business venture he had pursued, but he had managed to acquire money from the project as well, and with such a publicly recognizable source for his income, he felt confident that he could seek other more private studies. Perhaps the alchemy would merely be the beginning of his pursuits, or perhaps he would find a way to allow it to bolster his art through some arcane knowledge, and he would have an even greater disposable income for later discoveries and adventures. Regardless, he knew that it was vital that he retained this source of farthings.
With his mind firmly set on the issue of study, the undead elf promptly began to pack a few of his necessities and prepared for the journey to Loras.
