Warning: Mentions of blood, injuries and pain in a slighlty explicit way , nothing outside of the fantasy-violence label
“Mycolian or human, speak of your intentions or prepare to wager your life! ”
These confusing words were shouted with a resounding, guttural voice that could only be attributed to the strange tree. Mortigus looked forward confused. “Mycolian? Hunter or hunted? What do these mean, what status do these bring? What is correct to assume here, what could be the right answer?” Mortigus contemplated. His life may be endangered simply by responding wrongfully. Raising a wall of mushrooms usually took a few seconds but the lack of shade and humidity of the field meant mushrooms would grow severely slower. Mortigus then had to count on running, risking for his opponent to have a ranged attack related to the giant arms, or to count on conversing with the stranger. The fact the living tree didn’t attack yet was not directly a display of goodwill, the tree could simply be precautious, intending to avoid a trap or even set one up, waiting for Mortigus’ reaction. Mortigus did indeed feel the three white eyes fixating on his arms and legs. The tree’s words, however, were certainly the key of this conflict. Merely starting a dialogue showed there was the possibility of a reasonable outcome. The tree had perhaps faced a sort of opposition, being part of either the “human” or the “mycolian” group. Mortigus couldn’t tell which was the safe option, or even the factually correct one. “Mycolian” was a completely unheard of term for him, and the classification of human had no longer fit him for decades. What was he supposed to answer without unintentionally lying? The former didn’t seem too likely, after all, the tree had a form so far removed from the concept of humans. Perhaps this was a being that came about in a similar manner to him, calling themselves “mycolian”? Is that the reason the tree didn’t attack yet? A human would most certainly not hesitate before striking a bizarre entity such as Mortigus as an act of self-defence. Running away would be an even more logical reaction than to start a dialogue. In the end, Mortigus’ rationale concluded one thing: making clear that he was not affiliated with humans anymore. After all, that was the closest thing to a truth that he possessed. In the meantime, the tree seemed on edge, the floating weapons being prepared to either punch or block anything coming near the tree.
“ I have no ties to any humans anymore, I simply used to live in these woods.“, shouted Mortigus, attempting to keep his tone from getting too aggressive or defensive. He kept his feet firmly in place, fearing not to produce a reaction from the tree.” I wish you no harm.“
“You say you’re here in peace, then stay still as I get a bit closer, such so we can see each other better.” responded the echoing voice of the tree. Three roots started moving the body of the tree, slowly getting closer to Mortigus, cutting the distance between them to around 35 metres. Mortigus did not dare move, only staring at the stranger coming forward, followed by the giant arms.
“That body of yours looks Mycolian, yet I can sense something far misplaced in it, tinkered with, removed and reattached. Is this truly your body or what may you be hiding?” uttered the tree, or perhaps, the giant mushroom. From this closer distance, Mortigus could now tell that the one in front of him was most possibly made of mushrooms as well. The arms indeed were clearly covered in fungus, and the textures of the stranger’s body greatly resembled Mortigus’ inner arms.
“You look confused, how come you didn’t respond to the term Mycolian? You clearly speak the dialect of the humans in this region, you must understand this word, unless…” , the stranger winded up one of its arms, preparing a terrifying blow. Before Mortigus could even try to say anything, the stranger planted the arm into the ground with earth shattering force. A trail of mushrooms, tall enough to reach Mortigus’ knees, suddenly sprouted from the crater of the fist, hastily growing towards Mortigus in a straight line. Paralysed by fear and uncertainty, Mortigus stood still for exactly the two seconds it took for the mushroom to grow over the 35 metres distance, now reaching his feet. A sudden growth was followed by their abrupt explosion of spores, covering Mortigus’ face. He flinched, temporarily blinded, and made a motion from his neck and lower jaw, mimicking a sneezing motion despite his non-existent nose. Mortigus ignored his impaired vision, throwing his hands to the ground, controlling the already-grown mushrooms and forming a wall between him and the stranger, high enough to fully cover his silhouette.
“Wait!” shouts the tree again, now slightly desperate. They launched one of the arms forward, trying to catch Mortigus, who took the opportunity to flee away. Mortigus moved as fast as he could to the forest, as a massive force flew by him. The giant arm already arrived in front of Mortigus, grabbing his left leg before he could jump away from it. With little reservation, Mortigus prepared himself to rip out the captured leg and continue his retreat, his hands now pushing against the giant fingers while his left leg began to stretch and small tears popped up in the skin.
“Wait, there is no need to sacrifice a leg, nor no need to run!” urged the stranger, who started walking towards Mortigus. The giant arm released the captive leg in a fast motion, after which it dispersed into the wind, the mushrooms rotting into dust in mere seconds. Mortigus fell on his feet sluggishly, feeling slight pain in the exhorted leg. His eye immediately jumped nervously to the stranger, the distance between them having been reduced to 10 metres. The imposing tree stood in the way of the shining sun, its shadow wrapping around Mortigus. At this range, he pondered whether it was wiser to run or attempt to hit the tree, but his fright overwhelmed his system beyond any proactive actions.
“Please, calm down a bit. I now understand you are no human hunter wearing the body of our brethren. The spores I used can put to sleep any creature except a fellow Mycolian. I’m sorry for startling you, and for the unnecessary aggression. At a closer look, you are Mycolian, after all. Yet I can’t help but feel uneasy at your sight.” The stranger’s voice had gained a calmer, composed tone, almost soothing, but the veins in Mortigus’ head were beating too hard for his mind to process such details. As the glanced at each other for a bit, the tree decided to push on the conversation:
“ I wish you no harm, again I am sorry for earlier. My precaution certainly went too close to hostility. Introductions are in order: my name is Arbero, a one thousand-year-old Mycolian. What is yours?”
“ I am … Mortigus. I don’t necessarily know my age, I can only say it’s around 30 years old. '' responded Mortigus in a shrivelled voice. He tried to let his tensed-up body relax a little. It was better to keep his guard up, but at the same time he should try to be nonchalant. “What is a Mycolian, exactly?”
The look on Arbero’s face was starting to become quite confused, despite their limited facial features. The ethereal way their voice needed no mouth to reach Mortigus’ ears. Their head was marked only by a pair of three eyes on the lined head, with a seemingly thinner neck than the top of their head, contrasted by the thick, top-heavy body to which a trio of thin, flexible legs were attached. This stranger stood at more than a head above Mortigus, their intimidating presence starting to dawn on the hyper-attentive Mortigus.
“One of us so young and even untaught….You truly do not know of your own species?” asked Arbero, adding distrust to his tone. “ Mortigus, it is imperative to continue our discussion, but let us first move out of the open. WIll you follow me to the forest?”.
The two walked in an awkward silence across the field and over to the margin of the forest that was parallel to Mortigus’, who could feel his muscles tensed, his heart beating with uncertainty. Yet, something deep in him yet again instructed him to put a bit of trust into this stranger, a fellow mushroom monster, or perhaps fellow “Mycolian”.
“Your human silhouette is rather peculiar, Mortigus.” affirmed Arbero after reaching a stump and preparing to sit down. “Mycolian as a term refers to us, the mushroom folk, but you are not purely a Mycolian, are you?”
Mortigus feared answering such a question, wanting to avoid the memory of his new body’s origin. He could only speculate what reaction might arise from Arbero if he was to tell the truth, would this short truce end and need to consider fleeing again? With some hesitation, he chose to speak truthfully:
“ I am human, or I used to be, or a part of me is still one. This body was constructed by a group of Plague Doctors and forced onto me as a <<cure>>. I didn’t choose to be a <<Mycolian>>, I am …sorry.”
“ That’s…rather fascinating. And disturbing. To think the Plague Doctors would do such an experiment is quite baffling. I can’t imagine-” Arbero stopped for a second, detecting the fraught look of Mortigus. “... We can discuss the details later if it’s more … comfortable for you. I want to make it clear, I do not disconsider you nor blame you for what happened to you. In this moment, you are very close to a Mycolian and I shall treat you almost like brethren. If that doesn’t feel too sudden, at least.”
Mortigus found a silent, yet profound joy in those words, as he decided to let his guard down a little bit more. After decades of fearing the thoughts of others about him, such a warm reaction seemed almost undeserved, bizarre, but comforting.
Finally taking a moment to breathe, Mortigus started noticing the peculiar air of this forest. Despite being so close to the patch of forest he’d lived in, this new environment was far more humid, with mushrooms spread across all trees, while the air was mixed with pollen and woody scents. The light seemed to fall more gently in between the trees, in a manner that could be felt but not seen. The lack of bird songs and leaf crumpling was rather uncommon, perhaps Mortigus was an unwelcome presence there. Arbero modelled this forest in a thousand years perhaps? Not that Mortigus could properly imagine the length of such a life and what it would bear. For a second he questioned the possibility of him reaching such a milestone before Arbero broke the silence:
“Mortigus, I hope you can get comfortable here. I would like to talk more, to see what you know and what you need to know. Your circumstances are very peculiar, not that mine would count as normal, but… I hope you understand that we can trust each other more if we understand each other. Would <<trust>> be too much of a jump when our intense encounter was just minutes ago?”
“I’m willing to give this a chance. I haven’t had the opportunity to trust someone for a long time. And you seem to know a lot about what I am, far more than what I know. “ responded Mortigus.
They both sat down on lumps of trees, with a few metres between them. Arbero began by asking Mortigus more details about his incident with the Doctors, on the grounds of better understanding what his body suffered through. Mortigus looked away at the start, his giant eye staring into any direction but forward, staying silent for a few seconds. Before Arbero could attempt to move the conversation in a different direction, Mortigus clenched his hands and responded:
“My memory still feels foggy, scrappy. You were pretty blunt to ask me about this after saying I can take my time on the topic.”
“I apologise”. Mortigus tensed up a little at Arbero’s words, the “Mycolian” noticing this slight reaction, but continuing to speak. “I cannot deny that my worry for you and my curiosity made me too pushy. I think-”
“You can stop”, Mortigus said, interrupting Arbero, “I won’t judge you too hard for this. I just didn’t expect to feel so reluctant despite the long time that passed. It annoys me.”
Arbero made a short sound in an attempt to interrupt Mortigus, but he dismissed it in an abrupt tonal change. “ I will… make the effort to remember as much of my past as possible, but in exchange, I want answers. You offered your knowledge before, I will want to hear your own story. Agreed?” Arbero blinked with all their eyes at the same time then reluctantly nodded in agreement. Then Mortigus started to retell the events of his life, beginning only from the moment he was put down on the operation table by Rhit.
From the few moments of consciousness as he was surrounded by the doctors, to the dull ceiling of his cell. The way Rhit stormed in with a frozen arm and helped him escape, only for Mortigus to be the first to run away.
“A burst of fire took the whole place, but I didn’t try to go back. I kept running, hoping to hear Rhit coming after me, yet I didn't stop to wait. I just couldn’t control my legs. That was the last time I saw him. Despite all these years I didn’t go back to see what happened afterwards with the inn, I don’t know if I should blame myself for it. It would be too dangerous, right? Getting so close to humans…”, Mortigus’ speech kept getting more sparse, his voice getting more erratic. Arbero reached one of their limbs close to Mortigus' knee. Arbero stood silent as Mortigus also breathed in his last words, no longer talking. As Arbero’s limb touched his knee, a weird sensation went through Mortigus, like some needle tried to reach his head through his arm, causing Mortigus to jump back.
“ Sorry… it seems it’s too soon for physical contact.” apologised Arbero, removing his limb quickly, their eyes expressing a blend of confusion and remorse can't just stay and listen to you blaming yourself for the incident. It was not your fault that the escape resulted in that explosion, and it is completely justifiable that you kept running. You knew getting caught by the doctors again would result in treatment even worse than before. You had no one to rely on, no one to trust; being thrown into such circumstances when you were so young…I don’t condemn you for your actions. So don’t blame yourself so harshly for wanting to survive. Rhit wanted you to be free, to live, and you are trying to honour that wish, even if they are not here to see it.”
Mortigus’ eye fixated on Arbero, dilating back and forth in an attempt to bring out tears that could no longer be poured.
“I don’t want to assume Rhit’s wishes, maybe you shouldn’t either. Is it the wishful thinking of a guilt-ridden fool to decide Rhit’s will to be one that accommodates me? Was this anywhere close to a good outcome? My liberty came at the price of their life and I’ve wasted it. Rhit wasted their life on me.“ Mortigus’ tone was clearly rising higher and higher, his emotions making his body tremble like an overbearing weight finally cracking a table.
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