A Date with Depth, Skryms
Part 5


Written by Septia.


You stared upwards at whoever had cut you free from the tendril that attempted to drag you deeper in the dungeon. The blade rose, edge resting at eye level, through its reflection you saw a face peering down at you. 
	“Hark, and be greeted, I presume you too are stuck, bound to the walls of this labyrinth…” 
	It was him…the man who stabbed you not half an hour ago. 
	“… or, so I first thought…”
	You scrambled standing, backing up to the closest door, and kicking it in, within were counters and cabinets carved from marble and the cobble walls, a kitchen with several fireplaces and ingredients still strewn about. 
	“You stabbed me,” you shouted out. 'Oooh great commentary, it's not like he was there for it or anything'. Your inner commentary refused to stop berating you. 
	“And that didn't work out so well for me, did it?” he responded, stepping calmly into the kitchen chamber. In the light you saw what had cut the tendril: A jagged blade the size of a forearm… it was his forearm. Metal, blackened and harshly polished, grafted together into his arm, sharpened to a pale sheen towards its edge. Opposite the cutting end laid branches of jagged structures, metal sculpted into the likeness of hammers, thongs, knives… coins… tools. The missing tools from the first few rooms.
	“Maybe because. You. Stabbed. Me.” 
	“I thought, you were alone,” he wheezed. Stepping into the light, you could see this charred metal continued up his arm, where his shoulder should be was not but two stems of metal replacing the joint. And across his body, you saw this iron framework poke out through his flesh, concavities in his skin laying bare a network of twisted steel. “And if you were wounded, you'd need to show me the way out, or die,” he cried out, the metal, pulsating, under his skin, emerging in new rips as he walked forwards. 
	Something clicked in you. “You just wanted me to show you the way out.” 
	“You would have run… I am slow now… Slower than I was. You'd be gone. And then, I would be alone, again.” The metal monstrosity pleaded. “But now, I saved you. How's that for a character arc? Ahah, ahahaha, you will be thankful now…” His voice shifted to a whisper. “Thankful to your friend…,” his breathing ramped up, “thankful enough… you'll show me out… won't you?”
	The way he… or it, no... he spoke. Was, desperate. It was… genuine. Which only meant the things in here knew how to lie well… But the raspy tone, the shaking movement… You'd seen others leave the tavern, cursing the world and their misfortune in the same tone. Maybe in some world, you might have helped him. But, in this world. “You are forgetting… that you literally just stabbed me.” 
	This flushed anger through the metallic adversary's face. “If you liked it so much, that you can't stop talking about it, then maybe I should… just… do it again,” he cried and launched forwards. The figure driving his blade towards you, but a duck set the edge tearing into the counter… 
	You retaliated, striking him with the mace. the tune of sharp metal rang out as the mace head hit his left shoulder -Kkddnng-… 
	He staggered, then smirked. 
	You tore at the mace, it was stuck… You watched as the metal under his flesh swelled through the shoulder, strapping into the mace, melding it with his form. Sprouts and shoots of the onyx iron protruded through his weathered dermis, shedding more and more of his human guise. 
	You released the mace, it was part of him now, reinforcing his left arm, as he tugged out the right blade. 
	“I am too sober for this,” you gasp out. Then… it hits you… You grab the bottle of vinegar. Your brows furrow. Maybe it was a good thing you were sober after all… “Don't come any closer, back off,” you shout, and toss the bottle out of a shaking hand. 
	The man swings his new mace arm in the air, crushing the bottle, then winching as a hail of vinegar splattered over his form. “I, try, to be friendly, I try… violence… and neither… work. What, do I do… what? Do I… do?” he wheezed and staggered forwards. 
	“Don't come any closer, stay back, I am unarmed,” you cry. Then you toss the fist sized bottle from your borrowed medical strap.
	The metal monstrosity batters this one too, and was drenched in a hail of the translucent fluids. “You, just, show me, the way ou-… oa- au-aaauurrrgh…” His voice staggered. 
	You had been banking all your hopes on this… and yes. The acid Kurrond had spoken of, what had sterilized your wound… it was. “Hydrogen peroxide…,” you mumbled. 
	You could already see it start to sizzle in his uncovered iron frame. Tin vents of fumes rising up from his metal joints. Just needed one more thing. 
	“Hey, you should be careful in a kitchen,” you shouted out, the steaming creature twisted to face you. “I've heard that spilling salt is bad luck.” After your cry you haul a whole box of salt from the counter onto him. 'Really glad no one else is around who could hear you say that…' But you didn't care about that voice… because now… it worked… 
	Salt, vinegar, peroxide acid… Put em together, and it was a sure-fire way to speed up oxidation… in other words… He was rusting. 
	“Gyyghaahgha,” he screamed, the thin vents grew to plumes of gas as his metal joints bubbled, corroding and degrading his body, joints rusting over and his movements growing jagged, clumsy and sluggish. And judging by his screams… it wasn't exactly pleasant. “Hghaygyaarkak. Ghgyayaoaour. Gyyaaaarkkhhaaa,” he screamed, staggered forwards, shaking, sizzling, but still advancing… and you were running out of corner in the kitchen… He slowly raised his bladed arm, foaming and crackling with rust, screaming as he came ever closer. “Gyosuugahar.” 
	A weighty slam rang out like the peel of a bell -Thhhnnnnnnnnngggd-. In an instant, the rusted head crumpled sideways, bent out of shape by a firm impact, and folded over his shoulder. His motions stopped. And he stumbled backwards. The adversary crumpled into a pile of steaming metal and corroding flesh. Standing behind them… was a woman.
	“Geeze… you'd think that bastard would never shut up,” she scoffed, and tapped her stone mallet to his head. “But your lil' trick sure did a number on him. Really know how to use your head, huh? Or you're just really lucky, either or, you're alive, right?” 
	“… Yeah… T-thanks,” you were a touch shaken up, but managed to get back on your feet, looking over the woman. She was dressed in fitted armour, carrying the grace and charm of a true adventurer. “Thank you for the assist, though I think he was already done for…” 
	“Oh yeah, I was just getting annoyed by all that noise.” 
	“Heh…,” you chuckled. 
	“So,” the woman said, dusting off her clothes. “What's your name? My name's Re-.” 
	“Hit the hammer.” 
	“Taking the shot.” 
	A bolt cracked through the air -Shhhtwwp-, breaking the dungeon kitchen’s atmosphere as it dug into the woman's shoulder -Thhwnngkxxct-. Her expression went from friendly, to wide-eyed, to contorted in ache. She crumbled against the wall, instinctively grabbing her shoulder and crying out. “Gnhgyyaag-.” 
	You just stared as the woman fell like a ragdoll. Then you saw Kurrond striding into the kitchen. “W-wait.” 
	But the adventurer did not heed your words. Her mace struck the woman's spine with a crack so humid the reverberations trembled through your own bones -CKKGlllltrkkssskht-. 
	The woman stopped screaming. Her frame doubled over in a heap before you. 
	Your lungs quivered in your chest. “W-wait… Why did…” 
	“What does it take for you to fathom?” Kurrond scolded. Securing her mace to her side. “This is a dungeon, it has monsters of all variety. Hesitate, and you already know what fate befalls you.” She strode out, the same manner she’d walk in.
	You stood, stumbling after her, glancing back. “But, when you found me…,” you mumbled. 
	Kurrond graced you with a side eye. “Your characteristics were coherent with Skryms's description. If he had abstained from telling us of you…” Her voice dipped an octave. “I would not have hesitated.” Lady Kurrond turned away from you, leaving the chamber. “We have more to traverse, no further distractions, we are escorts today.” 
	“Yes, Lady Kurrond.” “Got it, Lady Kurrond.” 
	You stumbled after them, pausing in the doorway, looking down on the floor, stained with vinegar, salt and acid… eyes drawn to the woman's body. Hoping, that any moment now, it would crumble into iron, or burst into slime, or an illusion fading over a much more horrid figure. But… there was just a body. A body and blood. You steadied yourself with a breath. “I am going to need a drink after this…”