46th of Searing, 120
Working for Barry was great and all, what with the free food, the banter, the warm indoors, and all the other things that Arkash enjoyed about the Bakery. But, aside from dragging bags of flour around and occasionally mixing the dough for Maurice, Arkash had no place there. Additionally, Barry was too intense sometimes, and the fact that he'd spoken with Arkash's dad put the young Rath at unease. he was in need of money, regardless. After all, he wasn't sure how many more encounters with the Thompson boys he could survive without giving them the money they were after. So, he just needed to pick up more odd labor jobs. He had to work harder to get the money he needed in order to leave Nivenhain for good, be it by purchasing a caravan to ride them to the next city or by making the trek themselves.
So, there he was with the hollows, working lumber. The money was barely better than the dirt he stood on, but it was the best he could come up with on such short notice. All the gear he needed was provided for him, anyway. An ax, a helmet, and even a pair of boots. Though, the last article didn't fit him at all. No matter how he squeezed his claws together, they wouldn't fit in the rim. The helmet sat awkwardly atop his head, too, and needed constant adjusting from the movements of his body, which threatened to knock it off balance when coupled with the wind which occasionally blew through the woodland. Regardless of the equipment provided and its quality, the rules of the job were simple. He was not to drop any trees on any hollows, he was not to be crushed by any trees or hollows, and he was to be paid ten farthings for every tree that he fell.
At his more leisurely pace, that was about... Twenty farthings an hour. Chopping wood was monotonous and exhausting. Giving it his all through the entire shift was almost impossible with how numb the task made his mind. Still, he had to try. In a way, this was the final sprint at the end of the race. The last stretch of track that would test his will, and his ability to cope with all the exhaustion that the rest of the run had built up. It had always been his drive when he first started working with Liu and Cojack; suffer now, live later. And for the most part, it had gotten him far. They were just short a few thousand farthings, which he could easily make before the end of the season. Whether or not he could survive until then, however, was uncertain.
It was clear that Brodie saw him as nothing but an animal; and not a cute kind of animal, like a puppy or a cat, either. It wasn't hard to see why; for he was a spindly, drooly lizard that lived in the gutter of the city with his scars and rags. It was difficult to imagine a future where Brodie and the other brothers wouldn't pursue or attack him, so he had to be ready for their next encounter. He would have to make a plan in the coming days of what he needed to do in order to escape when they next turned up. Though, he couldn't harm any of them; attacking anyone from a higher caste would result in execution via hollows, the same creatures that Arkash worked with at that very moment.
Arkash slowed his chopping to look about the woods, where he found a hollow in almost every direction. They were an efficient task force, supervised by the overseer in his tower; the same man that would hopefully be paying him at the end of the shift. Of course, daydreaming the hours away was a nice opportunity to reflect on his predicament, but he needed the money too. He had to cast his thoughts aside and focus on his work, lest he chopped the tree too sloppily or too slowly. The Hollows weren't slowing down for his sake, after all. So, he widened his stance a little and gripped the soil with his toe-claws. He faced the cut from a sort of diagonal-position and aimed his ax at the place that he'd been chopping, then turned his full body weight into the strike.
The result was a dull thwack in the softer flesh of the tree that saw some shaving of beige strip away. He pulled back in the same motion and struck the tree again. His ax landed near enough the same mark, and the blade got caught, so he yanked it free after a brief pause. Every swing wore down at the tree's flesh and eventually brought it to creak and groan beneath its own weight. A few more swings further weakened the tree's structure, and the remaining body began to snap and bend. As the tree was on a slight slant, he was quite sure which direction it would fall, but watched the break to be sure. Sure enough, the arbor fell as he'd expected, and Arkash was clear of the fall. A brief glance about confirmed no hollows were caught under the tree, either. A sigh of relief washed over him and he began to catch his breath before he proceeded to look for another tree with no hollows around it.
He began to think again as he walked, but not of the general circumstance of his life, but of the aching burn in his gut. The motions he ran through, he realized, worked his core. That was the source of all the body's strength. When he'd first started logging, he could barely swing his ax and his grouping was feet apart. Now, he was an accurate lumberjack that could fell trees for hours. Granted, he couldn't lift and carry the logs like the hollows, but he was still proud of his technique all the same. Eventually, his eyes fell upon another tree that suited him. It was on a slight downhill slant and there were no Hollows in his vicinity. So, he took a brief walk-around to inspect the body, then nodded to himself when he'd decided where to place his upper and lower cuts.
Again, he assumed the diagonal stance from the tree and began to hack away at the low base. The first couple of strikes yielded nothing, but the succeeding ones broke away at the bark and moss to expose the stripped lumber beneath. The chopping commenced, and Arkash focused on his power, which greatly sped up the process. The deeper he chopped, the wider he made his upper and lower cuts. He needed to swing his ax at an almost downward angle when forming the top of the cut some more, as it broke away more chunks of wood than it would have if he'd swung at it head-on. Once he met a certain depth, however, the wood hardened significantly, and the beige color had shifted to almost pink in hue. To proceed, she had to cut in potions. He'd deliver one strike to the bottom, then another to the top to chop out an almost square-shape chunk.
Due to how the wood held together, the back of the tree almost held the upper half in place. So, he had to turn a few times in order to cut through the sides and the back of the trunk, which weakened the overall stability of the timber. Eventually, the wood gave another creak and a groan, and Arkash stepped uphill, away from the direction that the wood was breaking. Again, the arbor fell without injuring himself or any hollows. Exhausted, the lizard put his ax to the stump and leaned his meager weight into the handle. There he spent a minute or two catching his breath. Indeed, logging was no joke. When he straightened up to proceed to the next tree, however, the whistle sounded.
The whistle was a command to the hollows and workers alike; they had enough trees. It was time to gather them up and proceed to the carts, where they would be hauled to the mill for processing. Normally, Arkash didn't help with that part; he was too small and weak to lift a tree by himself. But, perhaps there was a malformed hollow or something that he could lift one with? A hard downward swing buried his ax in the tree stump, and he went to search. To his dismay, there were no deformed Hollows at work, but there was one that dragged a tree alone from the heavier end. Arkash considered helping the creature for a moment before he broke into a jog to catch up with it. He positioned himself below the leaves and bent down to try and pick it up, but the hollow didn't stop moving and pulled it away from his grasp. Of course it did. Hollows were stupid.
"Hey," called Arkash, but the false life didn't reply, and kept dragging. "You know what? Screw you." The lizard hissed and flipped off the abomination. Fuck hollows. He didn't like them anyway. With a sigh, he went to retrieve his ax and helmet, then proceeded to the overseer.
Working for Barry was great and all, what with the free food, the banter, the warm indoors, and all the other things that Arkash enjoyed about the Bakery. But, aside from dragging bags of flour around and occasionally mixing the dough for Maurice, Arkash had no place there. Additionally, Barry was too intense sometimes, and the fact that he'd spoken with Arkash's dad put the young Rath at unease. he was in need of money, regardless. After all, he wasn't sure how many more encounters with the Thompson boys he could survive without giving them the money they were after. So, he just needed to pick up more odd labor jobs. He had to work harder to get the money he needed in order to leave Nivenhain for good, be it by purchasing a caravan to ride them to the next city or by making the trek themselves.
So, there he was with the hollows, working lumber. The money was barely better than the dirt he stood on, but it was the best he could come up with on such short notice. All the gear he needed was provided for him, anyway. An ax, a helmet, and even a pair of boots. Though, the last article didn't fit him at all. No matter how he squeezed his claws together, they wouldn't fit in the rim. The helmet sat awkwardly atop his head, too, and needed constant adjusting from the movements of his body, which threatened to knock it off balance when coupled with the wind which occasionally blew through the woodland. Regardless of the equipment provided and its quality, the rules of the job were simple. He was not to drop any trees on any hollows, he was not to be crushed by any trees or hollows, and he was to be paid ten farthings for every tree that he fell.
At his more leisurely pace, that was about... Twenty farthings an hour. Chopping wood was monotonous and exhausting. Giving it his all through the entire shift was almost impossible with how numb the task made his mind. Still, he had to try. In a way, this was the final sprint at the end of the race. The last stretch of track that would test his will, and his ability to cope with all the exhaustion that the rest of the run had built up. It had always been his drive when he first started working with Liu and Cojack; suffer now, live later. And for the most part, it had gotten him far. They were just short a few thousand farthings, which he could easily make before the end of the season. Whether or not he could survive until then, however, was uncertain.
It was clear that Brodie saw him as nothing but an animal; and not a cute kind of animal, like a puppy or a cat, either. It wasn't hard to see why; for he was a spindly, drooly lizard that lived in the gutter of the city with his scars and rags. It was difficult to imagine a future where Brodie and the other brothers wouldn't pursue or attack him, so he had to be ready for their next encounter. He would have to make a plan in the coming days of what he needed to do in order to escape when they next turned up. Though, he couldn't harm any of them; attacking anyone from a higher caste would result in execution via hollows, the same creatures that Arkash worked with at that very moment.
Arkash slowed his chopping to look about the woods, where he found a hollow in almost every direction. They were an efficient task force, supervised by the overseer in his tower; the same man that would hopefully be paying him at the end of the shift. Of course, daydreaming the hours away was a nice opportunity to reflect on his predicament, but he needed the money too. He had to cast his thoughts aside and focus on his work, lest he chopped the tree too sloppily or too slowly. The Hollows weren't slowing down for his sake, after all. So, he widened his stance a little and gripped the soil with his toe-claws. He faced the cut from a sort of diagonal-position and aimed his ax at the place that he'd been chopping, then turned his full body weight into the strike.
The result was a dull thwack in the softer flesh of the tree that saw some shaving of beige strip away. He pulled back in the same motion and struck the tree again. His ax landed near enough the same mark, and the blade got caught, so he yanked it free after a brief pause. Every swing wore down at the tree's flesh and eventually brought it to creak and groan beneath its own weight. A few more swings further weakened the tree's structure, and the remaining body began to snap and bend. As the tree was on a slight slant, he was quite sure which direction it would fall, but watched the break to be sure. Sure enough, the arbor fell as he'd expected, and Arkash was clear of the fall. A brief glance about confirmed no hollows were caught under the tree, either. A sigh of relief washed over him and he began to catch his breath before he proceeded to look for another tree with no hollows around it.
He began to think again as he walked, but not of the general circumstance of his life, but of the aching burn in his gut. The motions he ran through, he realized, worked his core. That was the source of all the body's strength. When he'd first started logging, he could barely swing his ax and his grouping was feet apart. Now, he was an accurate lumberjack that could fell trees for hours. Granted, he couldn't lift and carry the logs like the hollows, but he was still proud of his technique all the same. Eventually, his eyes fell upon another tree that suited him. It was on a slight downhill slant and there were no Hollows in his vicinity. So, he took a brief walk-around to inspect the body, then nodded to himself when he'd decided where to place his upper and lower cuts.
Again, he assumed the diagonal stance from the tree and began to hack away at the low base. The first couple of strikes yielded nothing, but the succeeding ones broke away at the bark and moss to expose the stripped lumber beneath. The chopping commenced, and Arkash focused on his power, which greatly sped up the process. The deeper he chopped, the wider he made his upper and lower cuts. He needed to swing his ax at an almost downward angle when forming the top of the cut some more, as it broke away more chunks of wood than it would have if he'd swung at it head-on. Once he met a certain depth, however, the wood hardened significantly, and the beige color had shifted to almost pink in hue. To proceed, she had to cut in potions. He'd deliver one strike to the bottom, then another to the top to chop out an almost square-shape chunk.
Due to how the wood held together, the back of the tree almost held the upper half in place. So, he had to turn a few times in order to cut through the sides and the back of the trunk, which weakened the overall stability of the timber. Eventually, the wood gave another creak and a groan, and Arkash stepped uphill, away from the direction that the wood was breaking. Again, the arbor fell without injuring himself or any hollows. Exhausted, the lizard put his ax to the stump and leaned his meager weight into the handle. There he spent a minute or two catching his breath. Indeed, logging was no joke. When he straightened up to proceed to the next tree, however, the whistle sounded.
The whistle was a command to the hollows and workers alike; they had enough trees. It was time to gather them up and proceed to the carts, where they would be hauled to the mill for processing. Normally, Arkash didn't help with that part; he was too small and weak to lift a tree by himself. But, perhaps there was a malformed hollow or something that he could lift one with? A hard downward swing buried his ax in the tree stump, and he went to search. To his dismay, there were no deformed Hollows at work, but there was one that dragged a tree alone from the heavier end. Arkash considered helping the creature for a moment before he broke into a jog to catch up with it. He positioned himself below the leaves and bent down to try and pick it up, but the hollow didn't stop moving and pulled it away from his grasp. Of course it did. Hollows were stupid.
"Hey," called Arkash, but the false life didn't reply, and kept dragging. "You know what? Screw you." The lizard hissed and flipped off the abomination. Fuck hollows. He didn't like them anyway. With a sigh, he went to retrieve his ax and helmet, then proceeded to the overseer.
