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[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored, he hath loosed the fateful lighting of his terrible swift sword, His Truth is marching on! "
Star-Gazer searched, the old holo-tape ringing out a battle cry as he watched the recording.
The last recording of the Humans.
The Ancient watched on, a look of longing on his wrinkled face.
"What are you gazing at, my child?"
"Ancient, I am confused, what are they doing?"
The recording showed segmented groups of human soldiers, facing each other. Each group was silent, except for one group who was singing with all their heart. After each song, they all applauded before the next started.
"They are singing battle songs, my child. Words of faith and courage and praise to their Gods."
"But why not sing all together?"
"Because they believe in different things, my child, some didn't believe in any gods at all."
"But would that not breed discord, Ancient?"
"It would indeed, my child. They had many great conflicts amongst themselves, and with those that fought them in the stars."
"Yet they all stand here, together. I do not see how they could do so."
The ancient chuckled. "They were a confusing race, indeed. My child, do you mind if I tell you about them?"
Star-Gazer paused the video, the humans forming into one formation on the screen, and turned around eagerly. "Gladly, Ancient!"
The Ancient settled in his Hover chair before starting.
"When the humans were here, I had the privilege of being the dignitary to the Human ambassador. He and I became close, so close that I thought of him as K'ran, a soul brother. But before that, I thought I was doomed to never connect with him. I could never understand his culture or race, and he couldn't understand me either. Even when we did become close, neither of us could quite explain what exactly the difference between our races were. "
The Ancient smiled. "But one day, he came up to me with a look of enlightenment. He said 'K'ran, I've got it, I know what the difference is between us.' I asked him to explain, and when he did I've not found a better way to say it than he. "
The Ancient gestured to Star-Gazer and himself
"You see we, the Tirathee, are like water. Our telepathy and way of life allows us to move together in cohesion. Humans are like stones; breakable, and different, but strong and resolute as well."
But the Ancient shook a finger. "But when they left, gone to fight They-Who-Hunger, I learned something. You see, Humans were not just any stone, they were coal. Passionate, productive and quick to flare. But coal, when given heat, when forced and pressured, changes."
Star-Gazer was curious. "What does it change into?"
"It changes into diamonds. "
The Ancient whirred about and turned the video back on. The human soldiers connected together into one group before a quiet chorus started.
"Can you hear, the prayer of the children? Softly echoing, in the shadow of an unknown room..."
The two sat in awe, as tens of millions of soldiers sang.
When the song concluded, the video ended.
Star-Gazer looked at the Ancient.
"Ancient, I mean no disrespect, but why did we not fight with them? Why did we run?"
Star-Gazer shook "They gave everything! Why did the Council leave Tiratha? We could have helped!"
The Ancient gave him a look, and sighed. "It would be easier to show you. Pull up the star maps, you will see."
Star-Gazer breathed deeply, calming himself before doing just that.
The room became alive as a map of the universe opened.
"Center to the Orion galaxy."
He did so, zooming the stars to focus on the particular system.
The Ancient nodded. "Turn on topographical view of all the planets."
"Ancient I do not see what this will accomplish..."
"Please, my child. You will understand. "
Biting his tongue, Star-Gazer did so.
He knew what the planets should look like. The Orion system had been transformed extensively to the point of fertility by the humans.
He wasn't prepared for what the planets actually looked like.
Black orbs surrounded the system, decimated planets circling their stars.
Star-Gazer looked at the Ancient, muttering a prayer.
He zoomed out, focusing on the cluster of galaxies around Orion.
All held the same dead planets.
"Look farther." The ancient commanded
He zoomed out again, seeing a divide between planets blackened and those remaining. The destruction looked like it was becoming a funnel to one point of the universe.
"What did they do? The planets... they're all dead... who would do such a thing?"
"The humans, when they did what they had to do. They torched everything to the ground when they were pushed off world by They-Who-Hunger. K'ran told me it was a practice called 'total war'. They did everything to stop them, even destroying their own planets to stop the invasion."
The Ancient looked at Star-Gazer. "This is what happens when coal becomes diamonds. This is what happens when humans decide to stand together. They band together, putting aside their differences to become harder, unified and most of all, unbreakable."
The Ancient looked grim. "Star-gazer, focus on the Sol system."
Star-Gazer didn't want to, but complied. His morbid curiosity helped him focus on the task.
In short time, he pulled up the system, pulling up the topographical view.
He was surprised to see that the 7 planets looked quite normal.
Wait... 7?
"Ancient one? Where is the humans home planet?"
The Ancient stayed silent.
"No... no, they wouldn't!"
"They did, my child. Look at their moon and focus on where Terra should be. "
The system shrank as it focused on the lunar body, and the area around it.
Star-Gazer saw nothing but dust, the moon blackened on the side that would have faced the planet Terra, home of the Humans.
Star-Gazer slumped in his chair. He gazed blankly at the screen
The Ancients voice was thick as he spoke.
"I could never imagine doing something like this, which is why we fled. Why the Humans begged us to escape. The humans revealed their darkest selves to fight that which wanted everything. Now all we have our my memories, that holo-tape, and their moon, covered in the prayers and messages they wanted to leave."
A moment of silence overtook the pair before the ancient sighed.
"Now you know, Star-Gazer, why we honor the Humans plea to flee Tiratha. May it guide you in your life like it has mine."
The Ancient turned to leave, when Star-Gazer called out to him.
"Honored Ancient, come see this before you leave."
Curious, the Ancient turned to the center of the room.
Star-Gazer looked curiously at the moon in the room, and a diagram of the Sol system on a separate screen.
"Honored Ancient, there should have been no way we could have seen the remains of Terra. The gravitational pull of the other planets would have taken the remains, if not the moon itself. Something is stopping the gravitational forces from disrupting the orbit. "
The Ancient looked at Star-Gazer, before turning back to the moon.
"Now that I think about it, my child, we only sent out drones to capture pictures to update the star maps" the Ancient mused.
He turned to Star-Gazer, a small smile on his face, and said
"And it would be, of any race in the whole universe the Humans that wouldn't allow anyone to see them unless they were face to face."
"... what are you trying to say, Honored Ancient?"
"What I'm saying, my child, is that stubborn, passion raising, mind numbingly complicated K'ran of mine was too thick to realize he never left me a message on how to find him or his kin in case he couldn't come back and it took 200 years for a young green switch to find him."
The Ancient laughed, before giving out an uncharacteristic whoop of excitement and started out the room, calling behind him.
"Follow me, Star-Gazer! We have a race to save and a debt to fulfill!" | I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy.
I do not know, little Star-Gazer whether they still live. Their blood flowed like a deep burgundy wine through the stars. So much of it the stars themselves turned red.
I cry little star-gazer, for the love they showed us after they hate we gave them.
No little Star-Gazer they were not as strong as the tales say. No faster than a Chupra, or stronger than a Gazeed. Those are all the lies we tell us to comfort our cowardice. That heroes
must be strong, tall, intelligent, and fearless. Oh no, no little Star-Gazer they were not fearless. I held the hands of countless human wounded who cried for their mothers as death came.
Why did they win little Star-Gazer while we stood cowed in this little corner of the universe?
Tell me of your pet, the human animal they called "Dog" and you call "dafg".
Yes, tell me about Kodof. A little runt of the litter? Barely twenty pounds, and scarred of half the world. And with that big, ugly scar on his face. Tell me again how he got that scar?
Why yes, that juvenile Chupra who stalked you in the forest. Even
young it had to have been a hundred pounds? And when it
pounced what did your little dog do?
He fought, without a thought in his head. Twenty pounds of runt against a seventy-pound killing machine. He fought without hesitation, with great ferocity, with great bravery. And that Chupra what did it do? It ran.
Now, why did he do that little Star-Gazer, even when your friends ran?
You don't know little Star-Gazer? Neither do I. But that little Star-Gazer is why the humans won. They will not sacrifice a member of the herd so the rest can escape. They call their herds packs, and for a member of the pack, they will bleed the stars themselves red. And for us, they did.
For us, they did. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | "Tell me about the humans."
"What about the humans? There is an old saying, you know, that for every three humans in a room there will be six opinions that can be found."
"I want to know about The Last War."
"Hmph, very well. Your mother will not be pleased with me, but it is a story worth passing down."
*The storyteller cleared their throat, and took a moment to consider the best way to relay the tale to the young one.*
"I was your age when the humans made contact the greater galactic community. This came to the surprise of many, given that surveys on the younger sapient races of the time had determined that they were not to acquire interstellar travel for a few centuries at the least. Nonetheless they were welcomed as most races are, and began integrating with galactic society. However, their timing was less than fortuitous."
"Why was that?"
"The old Empire had been planning to make great territorial expansions for some time at this point, and had determined that now, while the other galactic powers were busy acclimating the humans, would be the best time to make their move. The first strike was swift and decisive. Those who survived the initial attack were scattered, the rest obliterated. The remaining forces of the other races formed a United Front to fight the Empire, but their outlook was grim."
"So what went wrong?"
"The humans came to the United Front and made a proposal, that they would lead the vanguard in the fight against the Empire. You see, while humanity had only recently united and made the push into the cosmos, they had spent many millennia fighting amongst themselves. While many would see this as a weakness, it actually made them significantly greater warriors than they appeared, especially to those unfamiliar with their history. The United Front was doubtful, but with few options available to them they accepted."
"But the Empire back then were the greatest fighters in the galaxy, right?"
"Many would agree you, but they made one of the greatest sins a warrior can commit, underestimating ones foe. They believed the humans to be beneath them, and seeing them leading the forces of the enemy angered them greatly. They were determined to strike down the humans and bring the rest of the galaxy under Imperial hegemony. The Empire had grown accustomed to overpowering their foe, and fought with brute strength seeking to demoralize their enemies. The humans were familiar with such tactics, indeed many human leaders in their divided past had used the exact same methods, but this was not their only strength. They never gave up, and fought with fierce determination no matter how daunting the fight ahead had seemed."
"But they still lost a lot in the beginning, right? Did they not ever lose hope?"
"I confess, that is something I do not yet understand myself. Despite my time fighting in the war and my travels afterward, I have yet to fully understand the human spirit. My best guess is that despite facing near-insurmountable odds, the best of the humans are capable of moving beyond their fear, setting examples for their peers to follow. This came to a head once Imperial forces reached the human homeworld. There, they fought as though possessed by demons. They ensured that the Empire paid dearly for every inch of ground gained."
"So how did it all end?"
"Did my story excite you so much that you've forgotten your lessons? We lost. Our Empire was shattered and our people were humbled. We are fortunate that the humans have come to value compassion as much as they do. For their great losses during the war, it was decided that the humans would have the final say in our fate."
"What exactly did they choose?"
"Is it not obvious? In their histories, the humans are guilty of many atrocities against themselves. However, they learned that such practices only serve to sow seeds of hatred in the victims, seeds that are all too eager to sprout into more conflict. They made the hardest choice one can make: to spare your enemies, and unconditionally provide the help they need, in the hope that they will do the same should the worst come to pass." |
I do not know, Star-Gazer,
how the humans succeeded.
I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us,
they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns
as they set forth to meet the enemy.
Their sacrifice is why we still exist today.
When the time came and the skies were alight the human race world stare unblinking
Holding their line as we fled
Gifting us that one more second, those few more moments to reach for freedom
As their arms lifted, heels dug into the ground, chins up and jaws set
You could hear them from every galaxy we have
The humans were singing
As they faced their doom a song would spring from their lips as blood from a vain
Life would roll from them and hope spring forth to greet us
As the enemy would approach they all could be heard shouting yelling screaming
Verse was heard as if it were a life force
As if words alone could save them
You could hear them for light years around
Some say you can still hear them if you listen
The humans are still singing
\~ Rebecca Annie | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | Enbri sought the warmth of his mother. It was always so cold when they came here.
His mother wore the traditional tattered cloth over garments, a symbol of the wretches the Tolosians once were. They walked swiftly to the small spire at the center of the flat where a razor sharp tine pointed at the sky above a bronzed mural of several strange looking beasts.
"Stand up straight, Enbri. Pay your respect." Enbri rolled his eyes.
"Why do we do this every moon? It's just a stupid statue."
"Dear child, your fifth revolution is upon you. It's time you learned the story." She pointed towards anTolodian structure nearby, painted black - a memory block. The strangeness about this one was that everyone gave it a wide berth. Usually Tolosians would wall by these and touch their hands to them.
Enbri looked at his mother apprehensively. She nodded and pointed again, her long, slender finger sparkling in the sun as the translucent skin caught the light.
He approached the block and started hearing those closest to him whisper to each other. What was contained here? He slowly reaches put and placed his palm on the surface.
////
"Sir! The Kohli have arrived! They are dropping their ships to surround us!"
"Deploy flak! Give me a status on the Tolos's escape!" Enbri felt himself say. His body picked up an alien looking weapon and began some sort of ritual, checking the sighting, loading strange rectangles into the bottom, pulling back on a mechanism.
"The High Guard refuses to leave us. They insist they will die with us."
"They can die with us, but what about the civilians?"
"We got 30,000 to get down to the tunnels!"
"Get those High Guard down there and tell them that no civlians die! Then kick out their legs!"
"Yes, sir!" The soldier ran off towards a hallway.
Enbri slammed into a wall and peered out, an explosion in the sky catching his attention. The vessel spiraled into the city and came down on one of the tall buildings.
Enbri fought for what felt like hours. He watched and felt sorrow and guilt as the soldiers around him died one by one. The Kohli advanced mercilessly to their very doorstep.
A blast hit the room they were standing in. His visor reported that his was the only life sign. He stood up, every joint in his body aching with the pain of years of abuse. A sharp pain suddenly overcame everything and he fell down. One of his upper appendages appeared to be missing halfway down.
"Well, well. Good to meet you in person General." Enbri looked up into the face of a Kohli. "I wasn't expecting to have the honor of killing you."
An exoplated arm stretched above his head. Enbri tried to to close his eyes, but watched the razor sharp claws close in on him.
Enbri felt rage. "Wait." The arm paused.
"If you want honor," he felt himself continue, "Then let me fight you one on one. Knives only."
The Kohli's arm hovered. The human knew of their code of honor and used it wisely. "Very well. "
"Help me to my desk to get my knife."
Two Kohli dragged him to his desk, where he sat down and opened a drawer to reveal a large knife. Enbri watched the light shine from it as his good arm pulled it out.
"It's so good of you to permit me honor. But I long ago lost mine." Enbri flicked the bottom of the knife and pressed a button. The world around him turned blue and a fire erupted outside of the blue. Everything shook and the ground itself started swallowing him up.
////
Enbri screamed as he bolted up from the ground. He looked around and saw his mother, sadness in her eyes as she embraced him.
"What--what was that?"
"That was on this spot, dear. They saved everyone but the High Guard and sacrificed themselves to do it. This plain, and the memories carried by General Fitzsimmons as he died are all that is left of the humans on our world. We live because of them."
"Why did they do that?"
"We asked the general as he lay dying. He said, 'Mercy was what was left in Pandora's Box, not hope.' "
"What does that mean?"
"We may never know, child. Humans haven't returned - but neither have the Kohli. We can only hope they were the victors and will return to tell us one day." | "It was actually known that the humans were a fickle race. They were divided and united in one strange way." The Queen would sit down on the floor with her little child following her action as their sun's rays hit the floor through the ornate windows. "When I named you Star-Gazer, it was a reminder for the People about their achievements."
"A reminder of what?" the child asked. "The olden times?"
"Yes, the olden times." She looked over to the stained glass window above the throne room, which detailed a simple design. It was two of their kind shaking hands with another odd-looking figure above them with its two arms crossed on its chest and it had an outfit which was reminiscent of the guard armor they had now used. The glass windows detailed another thing behind the figure, an odd white bird with splotches of red with its wings outstretched. "The achievements were not possible with us alone, and through them, those who call themselves Humans, we managed to overcome the olden times."
"But… what does that white bird mean? And the figure below it?" the child questioned, curious.
"Star-Gazer Melehinam, the bird is their symbol of peace. And the figure underneath it is them. Notice the hands, dearie." The Queen pointed to the hands.
Melehinam saw the hands and saw that their left hand was open while the right arm was closed. "They're the same gestures we use on our warning system!" he realized. "What does that mean, my Queen?"
"For humans, the open hand represents their blessing, their action being stopped. The closed hand meant that they were ready to strike. I have taken to notify the guardsmen to open their hand when everything was at peace, and as a warning as well when they close it," The Queen replied.
"There's one thing I still don't understand, my Queen…" Melehinam looked at the bird. "Why does the bird have red parts over its body? What does that signal from the olden times?"
The Queen looked at the Star-Gazer and sighed. "The olden times, dear Star-Gazer, were times of war." The Star-Gazer gasped. "We were hunted down. But those humans have managed to band together and give us a chance to live."
The Star-Gazer looked at the other glass stained windows. "Is that what the other windows represent?" he looked amazed. "Why would they take care of us and not take care of themselves…"
"That is the true question, dear Star-Gazer. They had prayed towards their gods of war and sung their hymns. As I said, it is a fickle thing, the humans were. They unite to fight a common enemy and become divided when peace arrived." The Queen softly stood up. "When the olden times were done, they all returned home to their planets, their union dissolved."
"The other Star-Gazers told me that my name represented our need to see them again. Is that true?" Melehinam asked.
The Queen looked at him and softly kissed his forehead, where a mark of the same bird was placed as a sign. "I merely wish to give back their generosity, dear. You are not just a gazer of stars, you are a priest of the Bird. Their Bird is our Bird, and I want to give a message that we are thankful."
He looked stunned as the Queen returned to the throne. "Now, Melehinam. I suppose you'll be late for your ceremony."
At her words, he immediately looked back towards the entrance and gasped, running out. The Queen chuckled, before softly raising up her crown which hid her forehead, where the same outstretched bird was tattooed within. The future King will need this information, and it was better to tell what they know of it as early as possible, she mused.
She then looked to the stained glass panel opposite the one above her own throne and stared at the last remembrance of the olden times. It was a depiction of a sword and what the humans called a rifle, and behind it was the bird, but this time it was blue instead of white. And on the left were a depiction of their race, and on its right was the same for the humans.
"I miss you," the Queen whispered to nobody. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | Enbri sought the warmth of his mother. It was always so cold when they came here.
His mother wore the traditional tattered cloth over garments, a symbol of the wretches the Tolosians once were. They walked swiftly to the small spire at the center of the flat where a razor sharp tine pointed at the sky above a bronzed mural of several strange looking beasts.
"Stand up straight, Enbri. Pay your respect." Enbri rolled his eyes.
"Why do we do this every moon? It's just a stupid statue."
"Dear child, your fifth revolution is upon you. It's time you learned the story." She pointed towards anTolodian structure nearby, painted black - a memory block. The strangeness about this one was that everyone gave it a wide berth. Usually Tolosians would wall by these and touch their hands to them.
Enbri looked at his mother apprehensively. She nodded and pointed again, her long, slender finger sparkling in the sun as the translucent skin caught the light.
He approached the block and started hearing those closest to him whisper to each other. What was contained here? He slowly reaches put and placed his palm on the surface.
////
"Sir! The Kohli have arrived! They are dropping their ships to surround us!"
"Deploy flak! Give me a status on the Tolos's escape!" Enbri felt himself say. His body picked up an alien looking weapon and began some sort of ritual, checking the sighting, loading strange rectangles into the bottom, pulling back on a mechanism.
"The High Guard refuses to leave us. They insist they will die with us."
"They can die with us, but what about the civilians?"
"We got 30,000 to get down to the tunnels!"
"Get those High Guard down there and tell them that no civlians die! Then kick out their legs!"
"Yes, sir!" The soldier ran off towards a hallway.
Enbri slammed into a wall and peered out, an explosion in the sky catching his attention. The vessel spiraled into the city and came down on one of the tall buildings.
Enbri fought for what felt like hours. He watched and felt sorrow and guilt as the soldiers around him died one by one. The Kohli advanced mercilessly to their very doorstep.
A blast hit the room they were standing in. His visor reported that his was the only life sign. He stood up, every joint in his body aching with the pain of years of abuse. A sharp pain suddenly overcame everything and he fell down. One of his upper appendages appeared to be missing halfway down.
"Well, well. Good to meet you in person General." Enbri looked up into the face of a Kohli. "I wasn't expecting to have the honor of killing you."
An exoplated arm stretched above his head. Enbri tried to to close his eyes, but watched the razor sharp claws close in on him.
Enbri felt rage. "Wait." The arm paused.
"If you want honor," he felt himself continue, "Then let me fight you one on one. Knives only."
The Kohli's arm hovered. The human knew of their code of honor and used it wisely. "Very well. "
"Help me to my desk to get my knife."
Two Kohli dragged him to his desk, where he sat down and opened a drawer to reveal a large knife. Enbri watched the light shine from it as his good arm pulled it out.
"It's so good of you to permit me honor. But I long ago lost mine." Enbri flicked the bottom of the knife and pressed a button. The world around him turned blue and a fire erupted outside of the blue. Everything shook and the ground itself started swallowing him up.
////
Enbri screamed as he bolted up from the ground. He looked around and saw his mother, sadness in her eyes as she embraced him.
"What--what was that?"
"That was on this spot, dear. They saved everyone but the High Guard and sacrificed themselves to do it. This plain, and the memories carried by General Fitzsimmons as he died are all that is left of the humans on our world. We live because of them."
"Why did they do that?"
"We asked the general as he lay dying. He said, 'Mercy was what was left in Pandora's Box, not hope.' "
"What does that mean?"
"We may never know, child. Humans haven't returned - but neither have the Kohli. We can only hope they were the victors and will return to tell us one day." | I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded.
Did you ever meet one, Star-Gazer? Did you ever speak with one of their kind, face-to-face? Do you recall, from deepest memory, the names of those that helped your family live; can you hear the words they said to your mother to comfort her? I was old then, yet I remember the faces in so many hues, round and long and smiling and resolute. I remember the faces that reached out hands to pull me from cold space and set my feet on warm ground, in fresh air. They gave me sweet water to drink, clear water to wash and asked nothing in return.
I will tell you of their sounds, the way they spoke and sang and cried. I was their scout, you see, so long ago and yet even then I was old. I had moved between the stars, between the worlds. I knew the spaceways and grav-tracks as I know the lines on my face, so the humans gave me a chair to sit in, a console to work and ship to guide. I took them back, back and back, Star-Gazer, to the worlds our enemy had destroyed. I took them back to the places I ran as a child, place my mother laughed in before the enemy reduced them to tears. The humans, so swift to protect me, cried at my pain in going back, sang their war songs at going forward and followed wherever I would guide them.
Oh, Star-Gazer, you are too young to remember; I must remember for you those battles of red and green, each flash of one color the end of life. And I remember all the red lights! So many, many red lights out of the black, searing my eyes, ingrained in my memory forever. They would not fall back, even when they could have saved their own lives, they did not. The humans pressed forward, attacking their foe, our enemy, refusing to give it even a moon’s length. Some of them died in those red lights, some of them died in the sickening odor of burning metal, calling out their orders as they fell. Even their last breath was a song, a song calling their comrades to take up the torch as they flung it and fell, to take up positions and light a counterattack with their lives, the red flashes covering our cruisers as we fled a battle they could not win.
I carry that torch now, Star-Gazer, for I am the last of the scouts, the last of our people to have heard their voices and when I am gone, not in a red flash of light as I had thought then. You must sing for them in my stead, you must sing for them, child, their sacrifice must carry your tongue and you must carry my torch, the torch that I carry for them. They gave away their worlds and lives and songs and from that giving, so thoroughly destroyed our enemy, even as they were themselves destroyed. You must listen close to my song of them, of the humans, of their bravery, of their death, of the dignity in their eyes as they died. You must listen close to the songs of their people, the songs they cannot sing for themselves any longer, the songs they sang to me as I sat in the chair and showed them the ways through the space between worlds.
Their sacrifice is why we still exist today. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | 1.
The ship rocked slightly as the Elder made his way towards the gathering hall. He slowed and steadied himself, and felt a chill run through him despite being safely tucked away in the colony shop, far from the howling wind of the alien planet outside. An all too familiar darkness began to fill his soul.
As he'd done countless times before, he closed his eyes, and brought up the memories of his childhood. Memories of the bright, colorful, and lush jungles of his homeworld. As always, he wondered if he'd survive long enough to feel the warm humid air that his people were made for, or if he'd die here instead on this barren frozen planet. This was what his people had always imagined their version of hell to be. Nothing but cold, wind, and not a single livable tree to be found. The darkness inside him grew, and he had to force himself to push it away.
They were alive. That's what mattered. They weren't in hell, no matter how much it seemed to be so. They'd been shoved aside to this frozen planet and told to wait. So, they waited. They stayed where they'd been told to stay, and prayed for the day that Humans would return and set them free.
The Elder opened his eyes, balanced his many legs beneath him, and continued his walk. He needed to remember that there was hope, and he needed his people to remember as well. He would tell them the story of their journey tonight, so that they would remember how lucky they were to still be alive at all.
2.
"We never knew that anything could survive at the edge of the galaxy. It was too cold, and too dark." The Elder looked around the grand hall at the hundreds of faces staring back at him as he gave his sermon. So few were left...
"But then, out of nowhere, the Demons attacked. We'd no clue they existed. They'd known about us for ages. We'd never thought to hide ourselves. We thought we were alone. Our spread through the galaxy had been slow, but theirs was fast. They were the eaters of meat. Tiny creatures compared to our greatness, but our size was no match for their numbers, and their ferocity.
"Planet after planet fell to their unrelenting attack. We had no other option. We fled. We built as many colony ships as we could, as millions of our kind died to give us more time. When we could wait no longer, we set out into the unknown.
"Our ships spread throughout the galaxy, fanning out as much as possible to keep the Demons from finding us all. We don't know how many survived." The darkness tried to fill him, and he could see that it was doing the same to most of his listeners.
"But the gods heard our prayers," he shouted, rising slightly on his old and weak legs. "We found the Humans! They were small creatures as well, and had spread to barely fifteen planets at the time of our arrival. But, we knew. We knew that their capacity for death was more than a match for the Demons.
"We gave them our technology, but they barely had time to understand it before the Demons arrived. A small force had been pursuing us. They found the Humans instead. Before the Humans could even understand what was happening, they were down to fourteen planets...
"The Demons, after their initial easy victory, surely thought the Humans would run as well. But they underestimated them. All the Demons had accomplished was to awaken a sleeping giant, and fill it with a terrible resolve."
"How did the Humans win?" Asked a young one near the front. He was an overly curious and energetic member of their kind, always seeming to be underfoot of the adults and asking questions. The Elder liked him immensely.
"I do not know, Star-Gazer, if, or how, the Humans succeeded. I know they suffered many losses at first, though. But they told us to get behind them, that they'd protect us, and so we did. They sent us here, to this refugee planet they'd prepared for us, and told us to await their return.
"The last we saw of them they were launching their monstrous new fleet. We heard their transmissions as they prayed to their gods of war, and sang their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy." Every eye was on him. The darkness was gone from all of them, replaced by the fire.
"I saw that fleet. I heard their hymns. In that moment I was far more terrified of the Humans than I'd ever been of the Demons. I could feel their rage, their hate, their hunger for revenge, and I promise all of you that there exists nothing in this galaxy that could stand up to their power.
"They will win! They will return! And I swear on the gods that we will see our home again!"
3.
"Elder," Star-Gazer said, rushing into the room. "We just detected a fleet entering orbit! They sent me to tell you!"
Fear gripped the Elder's heart. Months had passed since his fiery speech, and they'd heard nothing. It'd been getting harder to hold back the darkness, and a few times he'd nearly given in to it.
"Is it..." the Elder asked. "Is it... them?" He didn't know which "them" it was that he was even asking about. He was too scared to learn the answer.
"Yes! It's them!
"The Humans are back! They won! Elder... we get to go home!" | I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded.
Did you ever meet one, Star-Gazer? Did you ever speak with one of their kind, face-to-face? Do you recall, from deepest memory, the names of those that helped your family live; can you hear the words they said to your mother to comfort her? I was old then, yet I remember the faces in so many hues, round and long and smiling and resolute. I remember the faces that reached out hands to pull me from cold space and set my feet on warm ground, in fresh air. They gave me sweet water to drink, clear water to wash and asked nothing in return.
I will tell you of their sounds, the way they spoke and sang and cried. I was their scout, you see, so long ago and yet even then I was old. I had moved between the stars, between the worlds. I knew the spaceways and grav-tracks as I know the lines on my face, so the humans gave me a chair to sit in, a console to work and ship to guide. I took them back, back and back, Star-Gazer, to the worlds our enemy had destroyed. I took them back to the places I ran as a child, place my mother laughed in before the enemy reduced them to tears. The humans, so swift to protect me, cried at my pain in going back, sang their war songs at going forward and followed wherever I would guide them.
Oh, Star-Gazer, you are too young to remember; I must remember for you those battles of red and green, each flash of one color the end of life. And I remember all the red lights! So many, many red lights out of the black, searing my eyes, ingrained in my memory forever. They would not fall back, even when they could have saved their own lives, they did not. The humans pressed forward, attacking their foe, our enemy, refusing to give it even a moon’s length. Some of them died in those red lights, some of them died in the sickening odor of burning metal, calling out their orders as they fell. Even their last breath was a song, a song calling their comrades to take up the torch as they flung it and fell, to take up positions and light a counterattack with their lives, the red flashes covering our cruisers as we fled a battle they could not win.
I carry that torch now, Star-Gazer, for I am the last of the scouts, the last of our people to have heard their voices and when I am gone, not in a red flash of light as I had thought then. You must sing for them in my stead, you must sing for them, child, their sacrifice must carry your tongue and you must carry my torch, the torch that I carry for them. They gave away their worlds and lives and songs and from that giving, so thoroughly destroyed our enemy, even as they were themselves destroyed. You must listen close to my song of them, of the humans, of their bravery, of their death, of the dignity in their eyes as they died. You must listen close to the songs of their people, the songs they cannot sing for themselves any longer, the songs they sang to me as I sat in the chair and showed them the ways through the space between worlds.
Their sacrifice is why we still exist today. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | “But why would Hum Ans do it?” Star Gazer asked. “Why would they even care? Teachers tell us that self interest is driving force in every species. What they did was exact opposite.” Sarssa smiled. It was a question that every new generation of students asked. Why did Hum Ans save them. “Hum Ans are creatures of many contradictions. It’s these contradictions that made them strong and capable to reach across the stars much further than anybody else. Hum Ans, I think, dwell in extremes. It’s one thing or the other, nothing in between. If they see any life suffering their will suffer with it, they will feel its pain and will do anything to help end the pain. But then they will turn around and inflict much bigger pain on their enemies without a thought or even realizing the contradiction. They will try to live in peace with everybody else, work together, trade, exchange knowledge. But when they fight, they fight to the end. They will not waver, they will not hesitate and will only stop when other side is utterly defeated, their worlds in ruins. But then they will put away their weapons, embrace the fallen foe and pull them up again, allowing them to join others. They will not dwell on the past and for them such war is in the past. They will remember it, but not bring it up nor hold it against their former foes. They are best friends and worst enemies. Hum Ans understood Vissi right away. Vissi were, after all, not much different then them. Not in having these contradictions but through history of conflict. You see, Hum Ans are species of conflict. We look back and count the wars they fought among the stars against other life. But they look back and count the wars they fought on their own world, among themselves. Of course the early history of their species is shrouded in mystery, not only for outsiders but for themselves as well. But ask Hum An why did one of their tribes rise above others or why it eventually fell down again and they will say “By defeating others and then be defeated itself”. Vissi believed conflict is driving force behind all life. And while Hum Ans understand and acknowledge that they also believe conflict is to be avoided. Vissi did not. Once Hum Ans met Vissi they knew right away conflict was inevitable and started to prepare for it right away. They sought knowledge, they sought information, they sought anything that will allow them to win war they knew was coming. But here is another Hum An contradiction for you. Even if they see conflict as inevitable they require a cause. They will not just start a war, they believe that anybody who does that is Agg Ressor, which is a great insult among their kind. But if other side starts the war then they are the Agg Ressor and then Hum Ans will fight what they see as right. So when Vissi demanded we submit to them Hum Ans declared they will not allow it. Hum Ans bestowed upon as a title of Frind, a sign that they hold us in high esteem. It’s not as noble title as Alli, a title that they bestowed on very few species but still, the title offered us protection. And protect us they did. Vissi brushed Hum An objections aside and attacked. In Hum An eyes that made them Agg Ressors so they could enter the war. Well, I’m sure you remember from other lessons how War went and how Vissi were only species Hum Ans actually destroyed. Not only their ships and their cities but they hunted down every Vissi and killed them. I believe Hum Ans saw too much of themselves in Vissi and saw Vissi not only as reflection of their past but also as manifestation of their violent nature which Vissi never tamed.” Sarssa gave a small nod, indicating she had finished speaking and students could ask further questions. Students looked at her with big eyes, somewhat in shock. It was same every year, Hum An actions were hard to understand, they were just so different. “And their war song?” Student in back asked. “Is it true that their warriors sang before battle to win favour of the Gods?” Sarssa nodded. “It is true, but they only sang the song once. The first time each warrior picked up a weapon they sung it. They believe once is enough and it will last them a life time. The song has never been properly translated into our language because we lack many ideas behind the words but for Hum Ans these ideas are natural.” Sarssa cleared her throat and sang “I hereby solemnly swear to protect and defend independence, sovereignty and territorial integrity of Terran Alliance from any and all enemies. For this I am willing to lay down my life.” | I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded.
Did you ever meet one, Star-Gazer? Did you ever speak with one of their kind, face-to-face? Do you recall, from deepest memory, the names of those that helped your family live; can you hear the words they said to your mother to comfort her? I was old then, yet I remember the faces in so many hues, round and long and smiling and resolute. I remember the faces that reached out hands to pull me from cold space and set my feet on warm ground, in fresh air. They gave me sweet water to drink, clear water to wash and asked nothing in return.
I will tell you of their sounds, the way they spoke and sang and cried. I was their scout, you see, so long ago and yet even then I was old. I had moved between the stars, between the worlds. I knew the spaceways and grav-tracks as I know the lines on my face, so the humans gave me a chair to sit in, a console to work and ship to guide. I took them back, back and back, Star-Gazer, to the worlds our enemy had destroyed. I took them back to the places I ran as a child, place my mother laughed in before the enemy reduced them to tears. The humans, so swift to protect me, cried at my pain in going back, sang their war songs at going forward and followed wherever I would guide them.
Oh, Star-Gazer, you are too young to remember; I must remember for you those battles of red and green, each flash of one color the end of life. And I remember all the red lights! So many, many red lights out of the black, searing my eyes, ingrained in my memory forever. They would not fall back, even when they could have saved their own lives, they did not. The humans pressed forward, attacking their foe, our enemy, refusing to give it even a moon’s length. Some of them died in those red lights, some of them died in the sickening odor of burning metal, calling out their orders as they fell. Even their last breath was a song, a song calling their comrades to take up the torch as they flung it and fell, to take up positions and light a counterattack with their lives, the red flashes covering our cruisers as we fled a battle they could not win.
I carry that torch now, Star-Gazer, for I am the last of the scouts, the last of our people to have heard their voices and when I am gone, not in a red flash of light as I had thought then. You must sing for them in my stead, you must sing for them, child, their sacrifice must carry your tongue and you must carry my torch, the torch that I carry for them. They gave away their worlds and lives and songs and from that giving, so thoroughly destroyed our enemy, even as they were themselves destroyed. You must listen close to my song of them, of the humans, of their bravery, of their death, of the dignity in their eyes as they died. You must listen close to the songs of their people, the songs they cannot sing for themselves any longer, the songs they sang to me as I sat in the chair and showed them the ways through the space between worlds.
Their sacrifice is why we still exist today. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | “How did we all survive, Elder?”
Tuska took a long drag from his pipe, and carefully considered his answer to the young Engi’s question. His mind flickered back to his race’s history. Perhaps long ago his ancestors would have bellowed in rage, draw their battle axes, and slaughter the group of young alien children gathered around him. The Humans had ‘corrected’ the issue when they discovered the genetic issue that caused an Ork’s characteristic rage. He couldn’t help but wonder if they had also cut out something more important in the process. He had been one of the first Orks born without the rage, just old enough to remember the Humans. Just old enough to remember the Exodus.
The old Ork allowed the question to sink into the atmosphere, causing the small circle to simmer down from the explosion of whispers the question had elicited. He would make sure the youngsters remembered their history. “To properly answer your question, young one, we must first go back to our galaxy’s early history.”
“The Humans originated from the Sol system, from a planet they named Earth but is better known as Terra on star charts. In the beginning, they were alone.” The words flowed smoothly out of him, though Tuska couldn’t put a finger on why he stilled remember all this clutter. At least he was using it to educate the younger generation. “But they held out hope, and slowly expanded across the stars. The Humans were a mighty race, and even today our technology can barely compare to their own. “
Tuska knew he had the children’ attention now, and continued on. “Eventually, the universe became filled with life. Many species, you, me, or your friends, evolved roughly around the same time as each other. Even the Humans had no idea why sentient life decided to evolve almost simultaneously, or why they were so early. But it was chalked up to another mystery of the universe.”
As the gathered children stared up at him, imploringly, Tuska felt a rush of emotion in his heart. They would grow up never knowing what it was like to travel beyond their system. “The Humans isolated life-seeded systems almost immediately, in hopes they would not disrupt natural evolution. Now, it’s regarded as a stroke of genius, allowing each race to have their own cultures and subcultures and so much more. But before, when the humans were still present, they fought over the issue almost constantly. Some called it unethical, while others refuted it was natural. The powerlock remained still, up until the first of the sentient species reached the stars. Then, the Humans put aside their differences and welcomed their new brothers and sisters.”
The Elder paused to take another puff of his pipe, and then carried on. “Soon, more and more species was reaching for the stars and the Humans were almost giddy with all the life. Like a sibling meeting their younger sibling for the first time, they swore to protect us from the worst the galaxy had to offer, and from ourselves.”
It wasn’t enjoyable, thinking back to this time, but Tuska understood the need to pass on the message. “Soon, the Humans became our protectors, our police force, our governors. Some species refused any assistance, and their decision was respected, while others whole-heartedly worked hand-in-hand with the Humans. We guess it was around now when the Humans began clandestine construction of the Sanctuary system, though for what purpose is still unknown. People debate whether it was a a failsafe in case of some sort of major calamity, or if it was a refuge for Humans to retreat to if they felt their position of power was ever challenged. But what everyone agrees on is that the construction of the Sanctuary system the the sole reason why sentient life remains today.”
The small circle was silent. The unexpectedly dark turn caused the children to pay closer attention than ever, and Tuska felt his own heart grow heavy. It was always the duty of the older generations to pass down burdens to the younger, but he still felt guilty nonetheless. “We’re not sure what the enemy even was. Perhaps it was some sort of extra dimensional invader, or refugees from another galaxy, or even their own machines turning against them. But we do know that the Humans could see the end was coming. So, began the Exodus. Almost every single sentient species, alongside several non-sentient species, was herded to the Sanctuary system where they were assigned a planet to live on based on their home environment. After ensuring every species was safely acclimated into their mega-planets, the humans left.”
Tuska paused, so he could force down the rush of anger, pain, and most importantly, betrayal, that raged within him. He reminded himself that it was for the best of all the other species. Even if it trapped them all, possibly forever. “Before they left, the Humans activated their final failsafe. If they were to fall, then they would ensure Sanctuary would stand. They activated a shield around the system, keeping us in a protective bubble but dooming us to be stuck in here. After they left, we rebuilt our civilisation to better interconnect with each other and to create one large family of life. But the Humans haven’t come back yet. How they fared against the enemy is unknown. Whether they were completely destroyed, the enemy was destroyed or if they are still fighting today is unknown.“
Tuska looked up to the captive sky, and wondered if he would ever sail between stars again. He jolted himself out of his thoughts and returned to finish the story. “We survived because the Humans wanted to preserve as much life as they could. We stand on the physical manifestation of all the love they had for life, but are trapped by their own selfish desires. All I hope is that one day, they’ll return. Return soon enough that you children could all sail the stars yourselves. Return so they can free us from this false sky.“
Tuska stood up and began to walk away from the circle of children. They would want to internalise his story on without his presence. He looked up, and his eyes were caught by a particularly bright star in the sky. He wondered if the Humans were there, right now, trying to return to the Sanctuary they created. Or if they had lost and the enemy was cursing the Humans for their preparations. But he knew the questions wouldn’t be answered in his, or anyone else’s lifetime. Only the Humans would know the answer. | I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded.
Did you ever meet one, Star-Gazer? Did you ever speak with one of their kind, face-to-face? Do you recall, from deepest memory, the names of those that helped your family live; can you hear the words they said to your mother to comfort her? I was old then, yet I remember the faces in so many hues, round and long and smiling and resolute. I remember the faces that reached out hands to pull me from cold space and set my feet on warm ground, in fresh air. They gave me sweet water to drink, clear water to wash and asked nothing in return.
I will tell you of their sounds, the way they spoke and sang and cried. I was their scout, you see, so long ago and yet even then I was old. I had moved between the stars, between the worlds. I knew the spaceways and grav-tracks as I know the lines on my face, so the humans gave me a chair to sit in, a console to work and ship to guide. I took them back, back and back, Star-Gazer, to the worlds our enemy had destroyed. I took them back to the places I ran as a child, place my mother laughed in before the enemy reduced them to tears. The humans, so swift to protect me, cried at my pain in going back, sang their war songs at going forward and followed wherever I would guide them.
Oh, Star-Gazer, you are too young to remember; I must remember for you those battles of red and green, each flash of one color the end of life. And I remember all the red lights! So many, many red lights out of the black, searing my eyes, ingrained in my memory forever. They would not fall back, even when they could have saved their own lives, they did not. The humans pressed forward, attacking their foe, our enemy, refusing to give it even a moon’s length. Some of them died in those red lights, some of them died in the sickening odor of burning metal, calling out their orders as they fell. Even their last breath was a song, a song calling their comrades to take up the torch as they flung it and fell, to take up positions and light a counterattack with their lives, the red flashes covering our cruisers as we fled a battle they could not win.
I carry that torch now, Star-Gazer, for I am the last of the scouts, the last of our people to have heard their voices and when I am gone, not in a red flash of light as I had thought then. You must sing for them in my stead, you must sing for them, child, their sacrifice must carry your tongue and you must carry my torch, the torch that I carry for them. They gave away their worlds and lives and songs and from that giving, so thoroughly destroyed our enemy, even as they were themselves destroyed. You must listen close to my song of them, of the humans, of their bravery, of their death, of the dignity in their eyes as they died. You must listen close to the songs of their people, the songs they cannot sing for themselves any longer, the songs they sang to me as I sat in the chair and showed them the ways through the space between worlds.
Their sacrifice is why we still exist today. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | Enbri sought the warmth of his mother. It was always so cold when they came here.
His mother wore the traditional tattered cloth over garments, a symbol of the wretches the Tolosians once were. They walked swiftly to the small spire at the center of the flat where a razor sharp tine pointed at the sky above a bronzed mural of several strange looking beasts.
"Stand up straight, Enbri. Pay your respect." Enbri rolled his eyes.
"Why do we do this every moon? It's just a stupid statue."
"Dear child, your fifth revolution is upon you. It's time you learned the story." She pointed towards anTolodian structure nearby, painted black - a memory block. The strangeness about this one was that everyone gave it a wide berth. Usually Tolosians would wall by these and touch their hands to them.
Enbri looked at his mother apprehensively. She nodded and pointed again, her long, slender finger sparkling in the sun as the translucent skin caught the light.
He approached the block and started hearing those closest to him whisper to each other. What was contained here? He slowly reaches put and placed his palm on the surface.
////
"Sir! The Kohli have arrived! They are dropping their ships to surround us!"
"Deploy flak! Give me a status on the Tolos's escape!" Enbri felt himself say. His body picked up an alien looking weapon and began some sort of ritual, checking the sighting, loading strange rectangles into the bottom, pulling back on a mechanism.
"The High Guard refuses to leave us. They insist they will die with us."
"They can die with us, but what about the civilians?"
"We got 30,000 to get down to the tunnels!"
"Get those High Guard down there and tell them that no civlians die! Then kick out their legs!"
"Yes, sir!" The soldier ran off towards a hallway.
Enbri slammed into a wall and peered out, an explosion in the sky catching his attention. The vessel spiraled into the city and came down on one of the tall buildings.
Enbri fought for what felt like hours. He watched and felt sorrow and guilt as the soldiers around him died one by one. The Kohli advanced mercilessly to their very doorstep.
A blast hit the room they were standing in. His visor reported that his was the only life sign. He stood up, every joint in his body aching with the pain of years of abuse. A sharp pain suddenly overcame everything and he fell down. One of his upper appendages appeared to be missing halfway down.
"Well, well. Good to meet you in person General." Enbri looked up into the face of a Kohli. "I wasn't expecting to have the honor of killing you."
An exoplated arm stretched above his head. Enbri tried to to close his eyes, but watched the razor sharp claws close in on him.
Enbri felt rage. "Wait." The arm paused.
"If you want honor," he felt himself continue, "Then let me fight you one on one. Knives only."
The Kohli's arm hovered. The human knew of their code of honor and used it wisely. "Very well. "
"Help me to my desk to get my knife."
Two Kohli dragged him to his desk, where he sat down and opened a drawer to reveal a large knife. Enbri watched the light shine from it as his good arm pulled it out.
"It's so good of you to permit me honor. But I long ago lost mine." Enbri flicked the bottom of the knife and pressed a button. The world around him turned blue and a fire erupted outside of the blue. Everything shook and the ground itself started swallowing him up.
////
Enbri screamed as he bolted up from the ground. He looked around and saw his mother, sadness in her eyes as she embraced him.
"What--what was that?"
"That was on this spot, dear. They saved everyone but the High Guard and sacrificed themselves to do it. This plain, and the memories carried by General Fitzsimmons as he died are all that is left of the humans on our world. We live because of them."
"Why did they do that?"
"We asked the general as he lay dying. He said, 'Mercy was what was left in Pandora's Box, not hope.' "
"What does that mean?"
"We may never know, child. Humans haven't returned - but neither have the Kohli. We can only hope they were the victors and will return to tell us one day." | "But, broodmother, I do not understand."
"What do you not understand, little one?"
"why would the humans help us? They had been at war with us for years because they thought us a threat. Why would that just turn round to help us all of a sudden?"
"Humans, whilst selfish, greedy and paranoid, also can be highly logical beings. When the Prethoryn Scourge invaded our galaxy, our territories, along with the Humans' and the Jamorrs', were struck first. The humans immediately recognised them as the largest threat.
"They immediately sent out ambassadors to the Jamorr and us, and notified their allies across the galaxy to prepare for war. The ambassador sent to the Jamorr returned empty handed, as the Jamorr were overconfident and wished to defeat the Scourge unaided. They were the first empire to fall.
"We agreed, that in exchange for supplying the Humans with technology, weapons and repairs, their fleets would aid us in protecting civilian evacuations while slowing the advance of the Scourge. They sacrificed their entire empire to make sure some of their race survived, along with most of us.
"It was the last day of evacuation that everything went wrong for the humans. Their casualties were high, but not high enough to stop their combat power. They had to defend the system one more month, before the new alliance fleets arrived.
"They arrived too late. The humans had been sieged tirelessly by the Scourge, who had focussed most of their attention on eliminating the Humans. They held out for five weeks... But it was not enough.
"Three days before the alliance was due to arrive, an enormous Scourge fleet collapsed onto the humans' remaining defence force. It was a slaughter. Hundreds of ships obliterated in the space of five hours. By the time the alliance arrived, the Scourge had begun gaining control of the system, the Human fleet a debris-riddled memory."
The broodling looked up at its carer. "That... Is truly a sad story, broodmother."
"It's not just a story, little one," said the broodmother. "It is true."
"What happened to the Scourge?"
"Thanks to the resilience of the Humans, it was easy for the alliance to remove the remaining Scourge from the galaxy. Rumour has it they are still running."
The broodling giggled. "do you think theyi'll come back?"
Broodmother's face darkened. "No," she began, "However the Traxi peoples claim the Prethoryn were running from something named 'The Hunters'. Hopefully they do not come here. However, if they do, we will be ready." | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | “How did we all survive, Elder?”
Tuska took a long drag from his pipe, and carefully considered his answer to the young Engi’s question. His mind flickered back to his race’s history. Perhaps long ago his ancestors would have bellowed in rage, draw their battle axes, and slaughter the group of young alien children gathered around him. The Humans had ‘corrected’ the issue when they discovered the genetic issue that caused an Ork’s characteristic rage. He couldn’t help but wonder if they had also cut out something more important in the process. He had been one of the first Orks born without the rage, just old enough to remember the Humans. Just old enough to remember the Exodus.
The old Ork allowed the question to sink into the atmosphere, causing the small circle to simmer down from the explosion of whispers the question had elicited. He would make sure the youngsters remembered their history. “To properly answer your question, young one, we must first go back to our galaxy’s early history.”
“The Humans originated from the Sol system, from a planet they named Earth but is better known as Terra on star charts. In the beginning, they were alone.” The words flowed smoothly out of him, though Tuska couldn’t put a finger on why he stilled remember all this clutter. At least he was using it to educate the younger generation. “But they held out hope, and slowly expanded across the stars. The Humans were a mighty race, and even today our technology can barely compare to their own. “
Tuska knew he had the children’ attention now, and continued on. “Eventually, the universe became filled with life. Many species, you, me, or your friends, evolved roughly around the same time as each other. Even the Humans had no idea why sentient life decided to evolve almost simultaneously, or why they were so early. But it was chalked up to another mystery of the universe.”
As the gathered children stared up at him, imploringly, Tuska felt a rush of emotion in his heart. They would grow up never knowing what it was like to travel beyond their system. “The Humans isolated life-seeded systems almost immediately, in hopes they would not disrupt natural evolution. Now, it’s regarded as a stroke of genius, allowing each race to have their own cultures and subcultures and so much more. But before, when the humans were still present, they fought over the issue almost constantly. Some called it unethical, while others refuted it was natural. The powerlock remained still, up until the first of the sentient species reached the stars. Then, the Humans put aside their differences and welcomed their new brothers and sisters.”
The Elder paused to take another puff of his pipe, and then carried on. “Soon, more and more species was reaching for the stars and the Humans were almost giddy with all the life. Like a sibling meeting their younger sibling for the first time, they swore to protect us from the worst the galaxy had to offer, and from ourselves.”
It wasn’t enjoyable, thinking back to this time, but Tuska understood the need to pass on the message. “Soon, the Humans became our protectors, our police force, our governors. Some species refused any assistance, and their decision was respected, while others whole-heartedly worked hand-in-hand with the Humans. We guess it was around now when the Humans began clandestine construction of the Sanctuary system, though for what purpose is still unknown. People debate whether it was a a failsafe in case of some sort of major calamity, or if it was a refuge for Humans to retreat to if they felt their position of power was ever challenged. But what everyone agrees on is that the construction of the Sanctuary system the the sole reason why sentient life remains today.”
The small circle was silent. The unexpectedly dark turn caused the children to pay closer attention than ever, and Tuska felt his own heart grow heavy. It was always the duty of the older generations to pass down burdens to the younger, but he still felt guilty nonetheless. “We’re not sure what the enemy even was. Perhaps it was some sort of extra dimensional invader, or refugees from another galaxy, or even their own machines turning against them. But we do know that the Humans could see the end was coming. So, began the Exodus. Almost every single sentient species, alongside several non-sentient species, was herded to the Sanctuary system where they were assigned a planet to live on based on their home environment. After ensuring every species was safely acclimated into their mega-planets, the humans left.”
Tuska paused, so he could force down the rush of anger, pain, and most importantly, betrayal, that raged within him. He reminded himself that it was for the best of all the other species. Even if it trapped them all, possibly forever. “Before they left, the Humans activated their final failsafe. If they were to fall, then they would ensure Sanctuary would stand. They activated a shield around the system, keeping us in a protective bubble but dooming us to be stuck in here. After they left, we rebuilt our civilisation to better interconnect with each other and to create one large family of life. But the Humans haven’t come back yet. How they fared against the enemy is unknown. Whether they were completely destroyed, the enemy was destroyed or if they are still fighting today is unknown.“
Tuska looked up to the captive sky, and wondered if he would ever sail between stars again. He jolted himself out of his thoughts and returned to finish the story. “We survived because the Humans wanted to preserve as much life as they could. We stand on the physical manifestation of all the love they had for life, but are trapped by their own selfish desires. All I hope is that one day, they’ll return. Return soon enough that you children could all sail the stars yourselves. Return so they can free us from this false sky.“
Tuska stood up and began to walk away from the circle of children. They would want to internalise his story on without his presence. He looked up, and his eyes were caught by a particularly bright star in the sky. He wondered if the Humans were there, right now, trying to return to the Sanctuary they created. Or if they had lost and the enemy was cursing the Humans for their preparations. But he knew the questions wouldn’t be answered in his, or anyone else’s lifetime. Only the Humans would know the answer. | The first to fall was Moscow. Several followed, and before we knew it, most of the modern earth was gone. We had expected as much, and had moved underground before the first impact. Still, the grainy news footage brought tears to many eyes, seeing our home systematically annihilated. Lying in wait beneath the rubble of our home, every able bodied human’s blood was boiling with the memories of our beautiful earth, irreplaceable, unforgettable. We were itching for revenge, however futile. The shaking stopped. Tense minutes passed In what seemed an eternity. The US marines were the first to surface. They sent one message to the Yolians: “You just fucked up”
As soon as it was sent they attacked. Ships rose from the ground, previously hidden in bunkers. People rose from the rubble and grabbed any weapon able to hit the descending ships. The initial volley of weapon fire should have been enough to scare the Yolians away, but they had never had problems subduing rebels, why should this be different? Over the weeks to come, the humans would adopt a rallying cry taken from the US presidents final speech before the Yolian invasion: “You May reduce our home to ash, BUT WE WILL NOT BURN”. They fought valiantly, driving the unwelcome outsiders back to their home planet. The final battle was the stuff of legends. In the end, it came down to the pure determination by humans to prove that no one defiles their homeland and escapes. It was a decisive victory for the Yolians when the human ship USSF Grettia did something the Yolians didn’t expect. They started singing. It was an old ship, one of the first space worthy vessels of its kind.
“It’s time to strap our boots on, this is the perfect day to -“
The Yolians promptly destroyed it. More humans caught on, though. More and more until every last human ship was bursting with a song that had kept them fighting through the bloody war.
“Wipe the blood out of our eyes.
In this life there’s no surrender
There’s nothing left for us to do,
Find the strength to see this through...
We are the ones who will never be broken.
With our final breath
We’ll fight to the death
We are soldiers “
The humans’ return from a seemingly already lost battle was enough to finally signal to the Yolians how much hatred ran through the blood of humans. The rest of the galactic empire watched in awe as less than a hundred humans on fifty ships took on and won against a thousand Yolian ships. The terrors of the galaxy were... gone. Every last one. Celebrations exploded out from every corner of the galaxy. From the humans, though, was only silence. The toll on human lives was great. All but 54 had perished in the 4 year conflict. Billions. But they had shown to the spectators that however many were left standing, WE WILL NOT BURN! | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | "Where are they now, Ome?" Star-Gazer asked.
"Beyond the beyond, still fighting out there at the edges of the stars. Keeping us safe from what hides in that darkness." Ome answered, sweeping two of their arms in wide arc across the view of the night sky.
"Are we safe?" Star-Gazer asked, their bright eyes drinking in the star light.
"Yes, child. Perfectly safe. Safe all these long generations." They patted the child's head. "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today."
"Tell me the stories again please Ome," Star-Gazer begged, their eyes too sincere and sweet to deny.
"One more time and then rest." Ome started the story handed down to them from their maker and now handed down to Star-Gazer. "Long before the before, before even the Ships and the Ayes, before it all, humans fought against the darkness. When they weren't fighting the darkness they fought each other. A thousand big and small wars and then the Five Grand Wars."
Star-Gazer fidgeted as if trying to take in the entire view; Ome, the stars, the wilderness around them.
"In the Fifth our kind was all but destroyed. The darkness took us one by one despite the humans fighting to keep us alive. In the end brave soldier of the light put our ancestors on the Great Ships and sent us out into the universe. Each of the Ayes there to see us through to our refuge and guide us in the work ahead."
Ome played the holo in one hand and Star-Gazer watched in wonder. In it a soldier in fatigues is talking to another soldier. "Get them loaded up and out of here before we lose the light!" The one soldier shouts to the other.
"How much longer do we have?" the other soldier asks.
"Not long. Finish up so we can go back to the fight. They have to get off safely."
The soldiers grab boxes and load them into the Ship one by one, all the while repeating the same prayer.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies."
The holo clipped to static and Ome closed their hand.
"They fought the shadows so we could live safe and free. They sent us all these billions of miles to places that had all we needed to survive. Not only survive, but to thrive and build and be happy." Ome smiled down at the child.
"What do we do now Ome?" Star-Gazer asked.
"We make a place for them like they did for us. We make sure they have everything they need too." Ome replied. "Some day they'll come back to us and the Ayes can rest and we'll live together in this place and the all the other places our kind found happiness in." | The first to fall was Moscow. Several followed, and before we knew it, most of the modern earth was gone. We had expected as much, and had moved underground before the first impact. Still, the grainy news footage brought tears to many eyes, seeing our home systematically annihilated. Lying in wait beneath the rubble of our home, every able bodied human’s blood was boiling with the memories of our beautiful earth, irreplaceable, unforgettable. We were itching for revenge, however futile. The shaking stopped. Tense minutes passed In what seemed an eternity. The US marines were the first to surface. They sent one message to the Yolians: “You just fucked up”
As soon as it was sent they attacked. Ships rose from the ground, previously hidden in bunkers. People rose from the rubble and grabbed any weapon able to hit the descending ships. The initial volley of weapon fire should have been enough to scare the Yolians away, but they had never had problems subduing rebels, why should this be different? Over the weeks to come, the humans would adopt a rallying cry taken from the US presidents final speech before the Yolian invasion: “You May reduce our home to ash, BUT WE WILL NOT BURN”. They fought valiantly, driving the unwelcome outsiders back to their home planet. The final battle was the stuff of legends. In the end, it came down to the pure determination by humans to prove that no one defiles their homeland and escapes. It was a decisive victory for the Yolians when the human ship USSF Grettia did something the Yolians didn’t expect. They started singing. It was an old ship, one of the first space worthy vessels of its kind.
“It’s time to strap our boots on, this is the perfect day to -“
The Yolians promptly destroyed it. More humans caught on, though. More and more until every last human ship was bursting with a song that had kept them fighting through the bloody war.
“Wipe the blood out of our eyes.
In this life there’s no surrender
There’s nothing left for us to do,
Find the strength to see this through...
We are the ones who will never be broken.
With our final breath
We’ll fight to the death
We are soldiers “
The humans’ return from a seemingly already lost battle was enough to finally signal to the Yolians how much hatred ran through the blood of humans. The rest of the galactic empire watched in awe as less than a hundred humans on fifty ships took on and won against a thousand Yolian ships. The terrors of the galaxy were... gone. Every last one. Celebrations exploded out from every corner of the galaxy. From the humans, though, was only silence. The toll on human lives was great. All but 54 had perished in the 4 year conflict. Billions. But they had shown to the spectators that however many were left standing, WE WILL NOT BURN! | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | All historical discoveries had to be shown to the Mothers and carefully recorded. That was one of the sacred laws of Nuitia.
Iktir climbed the steep stone steps, minding his footing on the polished tiles. The heavy inlaid box made it hard to balance. He had spoken to the Mothers only once before, when they had declared him Star-Gazer.
Only one of the simple wooden thrones was occupied, and she seemed to be asleep. Iktir sighed and wondered if he should come back another day, when more of them were present, but the figure suddenly jolted upright.
“High Mother,” Iktir said hastily, and bowed as low as he could. “I am-”
“I know who you are, Star-Gazer,” she said. “I am Mother Aeulara. What have you got there?”
“We unearthed these today,” Iktir said. He opened the ornate box carefully, so as to avoid flinging dust into their faces. “Bones, somewhat like ours, but different. Clad in armor and buried with a projectile weapon.”
“Let me see,” the High Mother said, businesslike. “Perhaps it is just an antique Nuitian gravesite from my childhood-”
She stopped and her eyes went wide.
“High Mother?” he asked uncertainly.
“These are human,” she whispered. “By the mothers… where did you get this?”
“The base of the Star Tower collapsed. When I investigated, I found a pit with hundreds of these boxes inside,” Iktir told her. “There are far more waiting to be catalogued.”
Mother Aeulara ran her many-fingered hands over the box, slowly and reverently, without a word.
“Human bones?” Iktir wondered. He knew many stories about humans, and he knew they had fought a great war in service of the Nuitians, but he had never thought to find any trace of their presence. “When were humans ever on this world?”
“Long before I met Miratha, my bond…” Aeulara let out a heavy sigh. “I loved another. A human woman.”
Iktir looked up in surprise. “You knew humans? But the war was thousands of years ago!”
“I never knew them well, and I do not know them now.” The elderly Nuitian turned away from him and ran her branching fingers across her withered face. “And I have never known another who compares to her.”
Iktir was silent. The High Mother was too lost in her memories.
“She was my world, for a long time.” Mother Aeulara reached up and pressed a strange pattern of tiles on the ornately detailed wall. One of them turned to reveal a small silver door handle. “Her name was Claire. Such a simple name for such a beautiful soul.”
She pulled the handle and something clicked deep within the wall. The panel swung outward to reveal an exquisitely lifelike painting- a much younger Aeulara embracing a small thin figure with only four limbs and a few fingers. Iktir cautiously took a step forward to study it closer. The human woman was strikingly pale, with long red hair braided in the Nuitian style. The expression on her face was tender and happy, but she wore heavy battle-scarred armor. With a chill, Iktir realized it was a variant of the armor he had found in the ornate box.
“It is a crime that I remember so little about her,” she murmured. “I have only this… and the memory of the last time we spoke.”
“Was she a soldier?” Iktir asked.
“A soldier and a diplomat,” Aeulara said. “She came to tell me that the humans would make a stand against the Haditi. She said humans had ways of making war that Nuitians could not fathom, and they would spare nothing in ensuring we were safe. I wonder if humanity had its own quarrel with Hadit, or if they simply cared so much for us…”
The High Mother trailed off, staring into space.
“I know humans used to worship great gods of war and death,” she added after a still moment. “Claire told me very little about their powers. She did not want to frighten me away, I think.”
“But they won the war,” Iktir said. “We wouldn’t exist if they hadn’t won.”
“Oh, they won,” the High Mother said sadly. “It was so strange. From the moment Claire told me that humanity was going to fight, I knew they would win. Isn’t that odd? Something was not right about her when she said that. She sounded so fierce and dreadful.”
Iktir stared at the painting, wondering if the small willowy figure with her brilliant red hair could commit atrocities terrible enough to make a warring empire crumble into ash and ghosts.
“I never saw her again,” Aeulara whispered. “I had that painting made when she took me to the new world- to here. I tried to make her promise that she would come back to me, but she refused. ‘Don’t wait for me, Lara,’ she said, ‘Don’t let your heart break over me.’”
“And you did as she asked,” Iktir said gently.
“I did,” the High Mother sighed. “Miratha made me smile at a time when nothing else could. So we joined hands the next year. Waiting for love is for fools and immortals.” She smiled wanly. “Claire said that to me.”
“Why have I never heard this?” Iktir asked cautiously. “We never knew humans had been buried here. Of course we all knew the stories of the war, but not of them ever setting foot here.”
“But we did know!” Aeulara gripped the armrests of her throne so tightly that the wood strained and creaked. “It stains every last one of us, boy! The shame of our race! Our empire… built on their bones! Her bones!” She let out a sudden broken sob. Iktir hurried to her side and clasped one of the shriveled, shaking hands. “And we offered them nothing! Gave them nothing! We hid and burrowed like baby *wretakh* while they fought and died… for us…”
She began to weep, heaving shattered breaths that tugged at Iktir’s heart. He knelt quietly at her side, holding her hand in both of his own, wondering where the High Mother’s grief and heartbreak had lain hidden all these years.
“Where would the humans go after the war?” Iktir asked when she seemed to calm down. “Surely they wouldn’t let themselves become extinct.”
“No, no,” the High Mother said quickly. Her voice was hoarse from crying. “They have gone home. Back to their strange terrible planet, covered in poison gases. It is beyond our reach. Beyond our sight.”
“I was chosen to be the Star-Gazer,” Iktir said hesitantly. “If I found the home planet of the humans-”
“You cannot,” she said. “Many before you have tried. All have failed. Better to spend your nights seeking something beyond our little corner of the firmament.”
Iktir fell silent once again, sensing something else lay beneath Mother Aeulara’s reluctance. Being the Star-Gazer had unlocked other ways of seeing within him. Hours spent deciphering the blue and yellow history splayed across the night sky made other Nuitians wary of his gaze. Her reticence was no different than that of his parents. Besides, Iktir was no stranger to the ways of love and love lost.
“High Mother… your secrets have forever been safe with the Star-Gazer,” Iktir began carefully. “I know heartache as well as any other.”
The High Mother jumped to her feet, flinging his hand away from hers in a fury.
“You know nothing! How can I face any of them, knowing we have forgotten their sacrifice? How can any of us bear the shame-”
She slipped off of the throne, falling to the hard tile floor. Iktir gripped her arm before she could collapse completely. “Mother!”
“Listen close, Star-Gazer,” Aeulara whispered. “Should you find the humans, wherever they are…”
Her voice dropped so low that Iktir barely caught the last few syllables.
“See to it that our debt is paid.”
​
Edit: A gold AND a Part 2? O.O thank you! Part 2 and 3 coming soon. | The first to fall was Moscow. Several followed, and before we knew it, most of the modern earth was gone. We had expected as much, and had moved underground before the first impact. Still, the grainy news footage brought tears to many eyes, seeing our home systematically annihilated. Lying in wait beneath the rubble of our home, every able bodied human’s blood was boiling with the memories of our beautiful earth, irreplaceable, unforgettable. We were itching for revenge, however futile. The shaking stopped. Tense minutes passed In what seemed an eternity. The US marines were the first to surface. They sent one message to the Yolians: “You just fucked up”
As soon as it was sent they attacked. Ships rose from the ground, previously hidden in bunkers. People rose from the rubble and grabbed any weapon able to hit the descending ships. The initial volley of weapon fire should have been enough to scare the Yolians away, but they had never had problems subduing rebels, why should this be different? Over the weeks to come, the humans would adopt a rallying cry taken from the US presidents final speech before the Yolian invasion: “You May reduce our home to ash, BUT WE WILL NOT BURN”. They fought valiantly, driving the unwelcome outsiders back to their home planet. The final battle was the stuff of legends. In the end, it came down to the pure determination by humans to prove that no one defiles their homeland and escapes. It was a decisive victory for the Yolians when the human ship USSF Grettia did something the Yolians didn’t expect. They started singing. It was an old ship, one of the first space worthy vessels of its kind.
“It’s time to strap our boots on, this is the perfect day to -“
The Yolians promptly destroyed it. More humans caught on, though. More and more until every last human ship was bursting with a song that had kept them fighting through the bloody war.
“Wipe the blood out of our eyes.
In this life there’s no surrender
There’s nothing left for us to do,
Find the strength to see this through...
We are the ones who will never be broken.
With our final breath
We’ll fight to the death
We are soldiers “
The humans’ return from a seemingly already lost battle was enough to finally signal to the Yolians how much hatred ran through the blood of humans. The rest of the galactic empire watched in awe as less than a hundred humans on fifty ships took on and won against a thousand Yolian ships. The terrors of the galaxy were... gone. Every last one. Celebrations exploded out from every corner of the galaxy. From the humans, though, was only silence. The toll on human lives was great. All but 54 had perished in the 4 year conflict. Billions. But they had shown to the spectators that however many were left standing, WE WILL NOT BURN! | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | All historical discoveries had to be shown to the Mothers and carefully recorded. That was one of the sacred laws of Nuitia.
Iktir climbed the steep stone steps, minding his footing on the polished tiles. The heavy inlaid box made it hard to balance. He had spoken to the Mothers only once before, when they had declared him Star-Gazer.
Only one of the simple wooden thrones was occupied, and she seemed to be asleep. Iktir sighed and wondered if he should come back another day, when more of them were present, but the figure suddenly jolted upright.
“High Mother,” Iktir said hastily, and bowed as low as he could. “I am-”
“I know who you are, Star-Gazer,” she said. “I am Mother Aeulara. What have you got there?”
“We unearthed these today,” Iktir said. He opened the ornate box carefully, so as to avoid flinging dust into their faces. “Bones, somewhat like ours, but different. Clad in armor and buried with a projectile weapon.”
“Let me see,” the High Mother said, businesslike. “Perhaps it is just an antique Nuitian gravesite from my childhood-”
She stopped and her eyes went wide.
“High Mother?” he asked uncertainly.
“These are human,” she whispered. “By the mothers… where did you get this?”
“The base of the Star Tower collapsed. When I investigated, I found a pit with hundreds of these boxes inside,” Iktir told her. “There are far more waiting to be catalogued.”
Mother Aeulara ran her many-fingered hands over the box, slowly and reverently, without a word.
“Human bones?” Iktir wondered. He knew many stories about humans, and he knew they had fought a great war in service of the Nuitians, but he had never thought to find any trace of their presence. “When were humans ever on this world?”
“Long before I met Miratha, my bond…” Aeulara let out a heavy sigh. “I loved another. A human woman.”
Iktir looked up in surprise. “You knew humans? But the war was thousands of years ago!”
“I never knew them well, and I do not know them now.” The elderly Nuitian turned away from him and ran her branching fingers across her withered face. “And I have never known another who compares to her.”
Iktir was silent. The High Mother was too lost in her memories.
“She was my world, for a long time.” Mother Aeulara reached up and pressed a strange pattern of tiles on the ornately detailed wall. One of them turned to reveal a small silver door handle. “Her name was Claire. Such a simple name for such a beautiful soul.”
She pulled the handle and something clicked deep within the wall. The panel swung outward to reveal an exquisitely lifelike painting- a much younger Aeulara embracing a small thin figure with only four limbs and a few fingers. Iktir cautiously took a step forward to study it closer. The human woman was strikingly pale, with long red hair braided in the Nuitian style. The expression on her face was tender and happy, but she wore heavy battle-scarred armor. With a chill, Iktir realized it was a variant of the armor he had found in the ornate box.
“It is a crime that I remember so little about her,” she murmured. “I have only this… and the memory of the last time we spoke.”
“Was she a soldier?” Iktir asked.
“A soldier and a diplomat,” Aeulara said. “She came to tell me that the humans would make a stand against the Haditi. She said humans had ways of making war that Nuitians could not fathom, and they would spare nothing in ensuring we were safe. I wonder if humanity had its own quarrel with Hadit, or if they simply cared so much for us…”
The High Mother trailed off, staring into space.
“I know humans used to worship great gods of war and death,” she added after a still moment. “Claire told me very little about their powers. She did not want to frighten me away, I think.”
“But they won the war,” Iktir said. “We wouldn’t exist if they hadn’t won.”
“Oh, they won,” the High Mother said sadly. “It was so strange. From the moment Claire told me that humanity was going to fight, I knew they would win. Isn’t that odd? Something was not right about her when she said that. She sounded so fierce and dreadful.”
Iktir stared at the painting, wondering if the small willowy figure with her brilliant red hair could commit atrocities terrible enough to make a warring empire crumble into ash and ghosts.
“I never saw her again,” Aeulara whispered. “I had that painting made when she took me to the new world- to here. I tried to make her promise that she would come back to me, but she refused. ‘Don’t wait for me, Lara,’ she said, ‘Don’t let your heart break over me.’”
“And you did as she asked,” Iktir said gently.
“I did,” the High Mother sighed. “Miratha made me smile at a time when nothing else could. So we joined hands the next year. Waiting for love is for fools and immortals.” She smiled wanly. “Claire said that to me.”
“Why have I never heard this?” Iktir asked cautiously. “We never knew humans had been buried here. Of course we all knew the stories of the war, but not of them ever setting foot here.”
“But we did know!” Aeulara gripped the armrests of her throne so tightly that the wood strained and creaked. “It stains every last one of us, boy! The shame of our race! Our empire… built on their bones! Her bones!” She let out a sudden broken sob. Iktir hurried to her side and clasped one of the shriveled, shaking hands. “And we offered them nothing! Gave them nothing! We hid and burrowed like baby *wretakh* while they fought and died… for us…”
She began to weep, heaving shattered breaths that tugged at Iktir’s heart. He knelt quietly at her side, holding her hand in both of his own, wondering where the High Mother’s grief and heartbreak had lain hidden all these years.
“Where would the humans go after the war?” Iktir asked when she seemed to calm down. “Surely they wouldn’t let themselves become extinct.”
“No, no,” the High Mother said quickly. Her voice was hoarse from crying. “They have gone home. Back to their strange terrible planet, covered in poison gases. It is beyond our reach. Beyond our sight.”
“I was chosen to be the Star-Gazer,” Iktir said hesitantly. “If I found the home planet of the humans-”
“You cannot,” she said. “Many before you have tried. All have failed. Better to spend your nights seeking something beyond our little corner of the firmament.”
Iktir fell silent once again, sensing something else lay beneath Mother Aeulara’s reluctance. Being the Star-Gazer had unlocked other ways of seeing within him. Hours spent deciphering the blue and yellow history splayed across the night sky made other Nuitians wary of his gaze. Her reticence was no different than that of his parents. Besides, Iktir was no stranger to the ways of love and love lost.
“High Mother… your secrets have forever been safe with the Star-Gazer,” Iktir began carefully. “I know heartache as well as any other.”
The High Mother jumped to her feet, flinging his hand away from hers in a fury.
“You know nothing! How can I face any of them, knowing we have forgotten their sacrifice? How can any of us bear the shame-”
She slipped off of the throne, falling to the hard tile floor. Iktir gripped her arm before she could collapse completely. “Mother!”
“Listen close, Star-Gazer,” Aeulara whispered. “Should you find the humans, wherever they are…”
Her voice dropped so low that Iktir barely caught the last few syllables.
“See to it that our debt is paid.”
​
Edit: A gold AND a Part 2? O.O thank you! Part 2 and 3 coming soon. | They left only ruins of their once-great civilization and their ashes. We preserve them today, as they once did. Though they were warriors and sang hymns of death in glory, they loved their planet and did a great deal to preserve its nature once they understood how much their wars and their greed had damage it almost beyond repair. It’s that love that conducted them to create what is still called Terraformer today.
Through these great machines and with the billions of nanites they contain, one human could change the most infertile piece of land into the most exuberant forest with plenty of lakes and rivers. Yet, on their own planet, they didn’t touch the deserts, for they were that way since long before they learned to write, thousands of years now.
But never they forgot war. They created rules for it, for they had made a great number of acts so terrible, they swear to never do the same. For while they killed each other, they were brothers and couldn’t bear, despite their greatest hatred, to make one of their own suffer so much. That’s how they used to call each other, even stranger they never met before, « brother ».
And the heroes they sang about, my lovely child, were all of the same kind. Men and women, children not much older than yourself sometimes, they were people who stood. Stood one last time against death and against tyranny.
The city we're in right now, they called Parisi and the tower you see in the center is the Fel tower. It was the pride of the humans who once lived there and many of their brothers would come to admire it. And this city has known many wars, both fought against external and internal enemies. But the Tower always stood. I remember a tale of how, once, this city was occupied by enemies. I saw it on the holo, I’ll let you watch it later. But yes, the city was occupied and when the allies of Parisi came close to liberate it, while the people themselves have taken arms, the leader of the enemy – and it was one of the most evil and mad kind – had a plan to burn the entire city. He couldn’t bear to know Parisi and the Fel tower were still standing in their pride and their beauty. But the man he put in charge of the plan, while he was a great soldier and a loyal man… he fell in love with the city and couldn’t bear to see it burned. Could not bear to be the one to push the button.
So yes, the humans, while they had many flaws… The habit of letting tyranny rule and destroy beauty was not one of them. On the contrary, they greeted us with open arms, hot meals and beverages ready on their tables while their soldiers were ready in their last armada. And they only told us one thing and we live by and thanks to these words now.
« Do not fret, brothers. They shall not pass. »
Edit : now separated into paragraphs. | |
[WP] You are the Commanding Officer of a soldier Main Character. You’ve somehow come to the realization that he/she has “plot immunity” and is incapable of being killed no matter how suicidal the mission seems. | Jackpot!
Today marks the 76th day of our war with the Globs. Ever since officer Jackson has come under my command we haven't lost a single battle to the Glob race. Better yet, I haven't lost a single soldier. Jackson takes out everyone before we can catch up to him. He can even use the alien's weapons, something that has evaded our best scientists knowledge for years. Now we had another "Game" solider, which is the term the upper brass is using for him, join us. His name is Carmine. I had a lot of hope for him, even if he skipped right past me when I was explaining how to use our brand of weapons. How I wished I listened to that red flag.
In our battle today, Jackson ran off without us like usual. That was when we heard it.
"Steve, what's the shoot button?" A voice reminiscent of a child being donkey kicked in the balls ranged out around us. There was no direction to the voice, but we all heard it.
"Sir, what was that voice?" Sargent Beck asked.
"Nothing. Just the enemy trying to play tricks on us." I had to keep my soldiers in the dark about Jackson and our reality. That's only for the higher ups and me to know. What I learned from my study is that this is wireless headphone communication between them.
"Just figure it out Billy, You shouldn't have skipped the tutorial." A deeper, more annoyed voice surrounds us. The voice of our hero, fitting.
We all went cover to cover, bullets grazed our skin like whips. Except for Carmine. He tossed a flare out in front of himself. A commotion started among the ranks. At that time, I knew this was only a phase. Jackson too had a time when he randomly threw flares. Our hope still laid with Jackson and Carmine.
But all that was dashed when he got his head shot off.
Before I knew it I had Carmine's blood on me. Soldiers called out enemy sightings and kept to their training. Seeing this however, threw all of my years of experience out the window. What I thought was going to be our saving grace died right in front of me. He was shot; something that always eluded Jackson.
Then he was back up.
"Ugh! Stupid snipers. Billy, you're supposed to cover me." He runs off into a straight line. A soldier next to me collapsed on my shoulder.
"Soldier, what's wrong?" I look at his dog tag. "Anthony, answer me!"
Another sniper round. Carmine is sent back to the ground. Like before, he gets back up, fully healed, like nothing happened. To my nine, I hear a solider yell that Devin isn't responding. This goes on five more times.
Each time Carmine is killed he gets up seconds later. His body doesn't lose life, so someone has to pay the price. If this keeps up we'll lose our whole army before Jackson can take down theirs. Forget the Globs, we have a bigger threat on our hands.
I have to kill a noob. | The air was cool enough to stilt the smoke pouring out of Captain Jorland's nose as another cigarette was finished and crushed into a nearby ash tray. The open air tent he sat within was barely lit by a small lantern and what moonlight was coming down from above. His First Sergeant MacReady was watching a perimeter line through binoculars. Watching and waiting as their soldiers patrolled a check point. That's when cries and cheers began to fill the night air. MacReady watched a lone soldier in British garb marching towards them, waving his hands. The other lads cheering and running to embrace him.
"He came back, did he?" Jorland asked staring off into space. He knew the answer already.
"I don't understand," MacReady said, slamming the binoculars on the table. "I've never seen anything like this. I've only heard about this kind of thing in fairy tales and soldiers myths around the office. Homer kind of stuff, you know? The impossible hero's journey."
Jorland shook his head. "I've seen it only once. It was disastrous for us. Took a long time to clean up and even then, the damage had been spread. Not much you can do outside of let it go and hope for the best."
Jorland was up now and staring at the lads celebration. He watched this man he'd sent into German territory on a rescue mission casually talking as he sauntered towards the tent. He was certainly taking his time. The tinkling of a phone sounded behind him as MacReady picked it up. After only a moment, he managed to snap Jorland out of his own thoughts.
"Hey, it's Central," MacReady said with the phone held out. "They say they've got something."
Jorland took the phone into his hand and began with the usual "mhmms" and "oh yeah?" But it soon turned far more desperate after he let out a "It fucking what?" MacReady watched the Captain's face turn ghostly white and sweat began to bead along his face. Soon as it'd started, the phone call was over and Jorland collapsed into a chair.
"Hey, Tom," MacReady spoke up, cutting into the silence of the moment. "Come on, talk to me here."
"He's a goddamned Undestined," Jorland muttered as MacReady stood a bit straighter, shock forming on his face. "It's fucking happening again."
"Those are a legend, Tom," MacReady stammered as they both turned to watch the lads approaching.
"Do you remember the story about Agent Rasputin?" Jorland choked out.
"Top agent," MacReady responded. "But he went off the reservation."
"One of the best damned temporal agents I'd ever seen," Jorland said. "I was a green boot that'd just come into the Agency. Rasputin was a legend. He could do anything. Undestined at that point were a myth. Just some bullshit the guys would talk about in the DFAC line or chat about on missions. They said he was Undestined because he couldn't die. Then he went crazy. Invaded a timeline and caused all kinds of havoc. We sent agent after agent, unit after unit, and nothing could bring him down. We lost a lot of good people and that timeline got ten kinds of fucked. No amount of going back could repair the continuum."
MacReady shifted around uneasily. "Should we kill him now?"
Jorland shifted his gaze to MacReady. "Hundred and fifty of Hitler's finest just had a go and didn't scratch him. I doubt we'd be much better off. As of right now, is file at the Agency no longer has his death date. It is blank. That kid is suddenly the most dangerous thing in the universe."
"Orders then, sir?" MacReady asked.
"Best we can do is leave for the Agency. We need to anyway. The actual British army is advancing through here soon and there isn't supposed to be a camp here. Get this encampment back to our dimension. I should shift back now and see what Central has to say about all this."
MacReady nodded and reached into a nearby foot locker to retrieve a small silver, blinking device. It beeped as he fiddled with it and handed it to Jorland. The two men exchanged nervous glances before Jorland seemingly blinked out of existence. MacReady smiled as the lads finally came up the hill and offered his joyous congratulations on a job well done, and another rift in time all closed up and fixed. | |
Sorry about the typo, its *you quickly stop it* not *to quickly stop it* | [WP] You are God's kid, you have the power of a literal god. But you mostly just use it for fun, tying people's shoelaces together, dumping water on people etc. You one day see a car crash about to happen but to quickly stop it, you then realize how good it feels to save people. | I was the child of a god.
And being the child of a god had it's perks. I could control pretty much everything in the literal universe, see possible futures, you name it, I could do it.
Most people, with my powers, would've done something major with it. World peace, hunger gone, some lofty human goal that was considered impossible.
Me? I played pranks. Harmless ones, nothing dangerous. The occasional water bucket spilled on someone, tying someone's shoelaces together, you know, the usual. It was funny to see their reactions. Most of them were a-holes anyway.
Well, one day I'm watching the world boredly, looking for something to do. There's not much to do in heaven anyway, unless you're an angel sending people up to the big door in the sky. Or a human learning the meaning of your life. Apart from that, you get entertainment from staring at Earth. Lots of drama happens, some of it really enjoyable.
Sorry, I get off-topic a lot.
Anyway, I'm watching the world, when I see a car crash happening. My power with the futures made me look and see that if the future continued it's course, both of them would die. They had promising futures too. The girl would get close to the cure for cancer, apparently.
Anyway, I focus and stop the car. It didn't take much to it, just some simple telekinesis. The driver just looked shocked, he was going to hit a person, who wouldn't be shocked, and just drove on. The girl just had that look, the one that says oh-no-I-nearly-died and went on with her day.
Strangely, it felt great to know that I had saved someone. Well, two someones, but technicalities. Even though all it really took was some focus, I felt really happy.
Since then, I saved some people who I felt like had potential that would go to waste if they died. It was small on my part, but still made me happy. I think I'm addicted to the high it gives me now.
Anyway, I'll have to leave now. Nice talking with you!
\------------------
I stared at the space in front of me in the shop. I had just talked to the *literal child of a god*. It wasn't talking, more like I was listening.
I sipped my coffee, watching as some of it spilled on the table from my shaky hands. *So that explained the sudden car stop on that day*, I thought, staring into the distance, reminiscing.
Well, apparently at some point I was going to get the cure for cancer.
Me, a struggling college student.
That was a lot of pressure. | "Fuck you, Dad," I chanted into the empty bowels of the sky. They were spewing God's tears, his tears of shame and mirth. I was going to have fun today, but he knew I hated rain. Sure I have made myself waterproof, but I was a developing kid - I didn't know how to do that yet, and apparently casting me down to live among mortals was a good growth period. I knew that if I ever did something bad in his book, I'd probably end up doing a few decades in hell - even though I had a propensity for mischief, as he probably knew. Down here, best I could do was apparently tying people's shoe laces together, randomly but believably dumping things on them, etc.. Occasionally I was even able to test my powers of influence on martial arguments.
I scowled as I ran from the rain. Stupid people with umbrellas, who I had to dash around. I was sorely tempted to steal one, but then they'd mark me as a bad guy and Dad would know. No way was I going to ask someone for something as lowly as an umbrella anyway.
I almost slipped on a patch of mud turning down the road. "Crap!"
"Hey, you all right there, bud?" asked some guy with a shaven beard.
I scowled as I raised myself up with the railing - where loomed a drop of quite a bit of magnitude, seeing as I preferred to wander the mountains. "Fine, fine."
"You shouldn't be walking around without an umbrella. In fact, a boy like you shouldn't be wandering around at all in this rain. You okay?"
I sighed. "It's nothing. I guess... if anything, it's my Dad."
"Daddy issues," he seemed to chuckle. "Don't we all have them. Look, if you'd like I can lend you one of my spare - "
"Watch out!" It turns out, quickly developing God senses could come in handy, but not enough for barreling trucks. Tinted windows, a bunch of screaming passengers, pounding rain. I could barely see, but I could hear the shrieks, and I could sense the distance.
As soon as it started, it was almost stopped. The man I had shoved out of the way, while the bus was teetering on the drop for a second - before I yanked it back in a panic, shoving everything against the other side of the mountain.
I collapsed to my knees, the mental strain daunting. What the hell had just happened? Black spots filled my vision, a sensation I had only ever come close to experiencing once, when I was cast down to the realm of mortals.
"Hey, mister. Are you okay?"
The sounds of groans filled the air - mine, I realized, mingled with others. People around me. People waking up. People injured. A girl was in front of me, and as I looked about, the man with the shaven beard against the mountain wall. Blood spilled out of his head, and nearby was the wreckage of a bus, with people milling about.
"The hell?" I muttered, before modifying my language. "Sorry Dad."
I didn't know why, but I was trying to find the trickle of healing powers, to little avail, when the guy opened his eyes. "You're one big brat, aren't you? But you did save the lives of all those passengers. That deserves some commendation."
"Who are you?" I startled, jumping back.
"No one. But would do well to help me tend to the others." He sighed. "You took my mission, you know. God told me to watch out for you, but instead you helped me, albeit with injuries to the passengers."
I looked over to the people from the bus, starting to get out, some gingerly cradling body parts. They looked to me with a kind of awe or reverence. Huh, I thought. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.
an: I know this is weak. Idk. Please give me critique. |
[WP] You are a evil scientist that has created modified clones with superpowers. Unfortunately you can't use them in battle because you've grown attached to them and don't want them to get hurt. | It all began, I would say, a few months ago. That's when "they" were created. These were the ones that I knew would succeed to my reign. My creation, my successor, my children. Those very months ago, several youths were discovered to have gone missing. Oh, but I know exactly where they went. Applying my years of research to these specimens of mine, I wiped their memories for a clean slate, before I began to, make changes to say the least. It was tiresome, but I did it, and within a week of training, I saw potential in each one of their eyes.
That was where it started, but I kept them a secret for longer than their training needed. With that, I sent the first two of my creations out there; Iron Maiden, a cyborg loaded to the teeth with weapons, and Clockwork, a speedy one who obstructs the flow of time around him. I had the feeling these two were good friends before their augmentation. They were sent to different locals for their respective crimes, and I giggled with delight by observing them do so under my satellite surveillance. Maiden did wonders destroying buildings, and Clockwork made quick work out of emptying entire streets of their belongings. That was the best I have felt in forever. And then they showed up.
I'm of course referring to the biggest roadblock in my path to total reign, Super JJ and his team of misfits. I couldn't believe my eyes when these super powered freaks shown on my cameras. Stati-king, JJ's right hand man, waved his hand with an electric shock, and took down Maiden in an instant. Wonder Bri, his girlfriend, sparked flames that surrounded Clockwork, and his time stopping abilities couldn't get him out of that. Damn. Those jokers are the reason why I made these experiments in the first place, to take them down and lead the way to my rise in power.
Luckily though, they were able to escape and return to the laboratory. I scolded them for not taking up any training protocols against them and sentenced them to their punishment. I know, it may be a bit harsh for the first time, but surely the next few would work wonders. Permafrost, my stealthy cold hearted killer, was sent to freeze over the center of the city. Toxin, the lizard-like battler, was flushed to the sewers and cause rupture in the pipes and drainage. And lastly, Overgrowth, my botanic warrior, was sent to take over the coast with her monstrous plants. These were destined to work and lead to the chaos I envisioned. Were.
JJ and his band of freaks foiled my plans again and again. Permafrost had a rough brawl with Black Lion and his titanium exo-suit. Toxin was swept out of the sewers by Photox and his manipulative ability of liquids. Arrowstorm was able to take down Overgrowth's plants with just a few precise shots.
Damn it. Damn it! DAMN IT! Why is it that whenever my plans seem perfect, these guys just waltz in and shoot it down? \*sigh\* It's been hours since then and all of my experiments were kept in their cells to wait out their punishments. I began to look over other possible plots on my computer, when I felt a tug on my lab coat.
"Excuse me, father." It was young Puppet. She was very young the day I took her and the others in, and she had a scar on her left eye. I properly gave her a fancy new one, but she was too frail for me to send out as I would with the others. I gave her the power to control other miniature objects with her mind. Not as impressive as the others, but she seemed to be very happy with it. The youth, so much more bubbly the younger they are.
"What is it Puppet? You know I'm busy.", I replied pulling her up to my lap.
"Its just that, you send everyone out there to do these things."
"Precisely. That is what I made them to do, to cause these acts of villainy so that we could rule the city."
"But.", I was assuming she would ask why I don't send her out there as well. I've told her about a million times now that she wasn't ready to do what the others could. However, she continued, "do you really care about us?"
I was shocked. Could she be thinking that I'm only using them for my twisted goals? "Wha- yes, of course I do sweetheart. I'm doing this because I want us all to live at the best we can." Hopefully, she would take the note.
"And when these don't go right, you lock them in their rooms?"
"Why yes. They should have performed better out there. There is no place here for failure."
She started tearing up. "Then don't hurt them for doing wrong, please. You don't want them to get hurt do you?"
Just then, something pierced my heart. Perhaps it was guilt. I've never felt this since I put the work in to augment Puppet here. This changed things. Am I really being a bad person by doing these things at all? There aren't my real children, but am I being a bad father figure to them? That night, was the first time in a while that I've been moved deeply by one of them. I wiped Puppet's tears and brought her to bed. And now, that led to here.
Over the next few months, I would send them out there less often. I made sure they were safely prepared to when the time came, and they still lost. But I've changed from that deranged scientist scolding his creations. Ever since that night, I've been more caring to them. I would rush to the scene or order them to return to the base when things got out of hand. I've seen more smiles on there faces that I showed them more love and care, and I want it to stay that way.
One day, the lab door burst open. "Long time no see Doc," a voice came from the door. JJ and his freaks.
"Father, stand back" uttered Toxin.
"We can handle 'em this time" spoke Clockwork.
I step forward past them. "No no no, children. I wouldn't dream of seeing you get hurt." I slid a remote control from under my coat and pointed it at the heroes. "Allow me to show you how it's done." | "I can't do it," I said. His gaze hardened. He took a menacing step toward me.
"You will do it, or you will be punished," he said, glancing behind him briefly at the long-haired man a few feet behind him.
"I can't send them out to fight," I said, "I know they're enhanced clones, but I can't, they're my children."
"Children?!" my boss barked in my face, laughing cruelly, "What's more important, your so-called children, or the allegiance you pledged to HYDRA?" My boss was scary when he was angry. My legs shook and I fiddled with the hem of my pristinely white lab coat.
"Answer me!" he screamed in my face, spit flying.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my eyes filling with tears.
"I don't want your sorry! I want you to answer the question!" he seethed, gripping my neck and squeezing. Hard.
"My children," I choked out.
"Very well," he said releasing my throat. He glanced at the man who had been silent the whole time. "You know what to do." I stood stone still as my boss left, and the notorious Winter Soldier made his way toward me in his place.
I took a breath and closed my eyes. The last thing I felt was the cold metal of the Winter Soldier's fist connecting with my face. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | *Fuck the snow.* Freshly fallen snow carpeted the entire town, the muddy road, the burned out storefronts it wound around, I could even see where it had begun to pile into a townhouse whose roof had given way to a shelling months prior. The only sounds I could hear were the crunching of snow with every next step, and the faint but persistent howling of wind in this wretched relic of brighter times. Alone.
Three weeks ago, it had all seemed so much simpler. Push east, liberate our people, put down the bloodthirsty mob that sought to destroy our traditions, our faith and our home. That's exactly what was in my mind when I was sitting in the back of that truck as it bounced across another nameless road, if it could be called such. I couldn't speak to how the others felt, one was smoking a cigarette, one read from a small book he kept in his pocket, another fidgeted with his helmet for the third time since our redeployment. I don't know which one helped the most when a HE round tore through the front of the truck, but I do know being the last person to get on the truck hadn't hurt. As I'd crawled my way from the wreckage, I couldn't hear, smoke burned my nose. I thought it'd only be moments before I'd find a bullet passing through the back of my skull, but if I managed to make my escape, I would personally find every person behind that gun and skin them alive. Instead, I collapsed.
I'd awoken in a storm cellar, to a little less than a dozen men and women talking under a single bare bulb. From my cot, I could see that very little of their clothing matched, some was ours, some was *theirs*, some was native. What they did have in common was bodies that seemed unnaturally thin, and their eyes had the bruised circles of many days without rest. I had been bound, but bandaged, and apparently tossed in a corner while the group had decided what to do with me. Truth be told, I don't remember all their names, because I largely did not care. The only two I can remember are Lena and Dieter, the two of which were engaged in a heated argument on whether to follow the former's plan to interrogate and execute me, or the latter's suggestion of persuading me to shift my allegiances.
Realizing the situation I was in, I first felt a wave of revulsion at the idea of betraying what I stood for, then an unclean sense of self-loathing as I quickly began to slander everything I'd sworn to uphold. I attempted to stand, but stumbled, still dizzy from the impact. At first, they were naturally distrustful, but I knew my only chance of survival was compliance: they plied me for information, I told, they asked how I'd come to service, I lied, they invited me to use my allegiance for their gain, I obliged. The next two weeks were spent lying, stealing and swindling for these people. I'd come to find that these people weren't on *their* side, but were a string of those people war lets slip through the cracks: partisans, deserters from either side, criminals, anyone who had nowhere else to go. They operated from a relatively intact barn at the edge of this forsaken town, and they survived by scrounging from the town, countryside and any troops that happened to be passing through. I never particularly learned to care for the deserters or partisans, they were traitors all in all, but I could learn to forgive them, and we grew into an uneasy peace. Until last week.
Last week, after a particularly successful ransacking of some long since evacuated banker's home, we sat again in that cellar, eating out of tin cans and listening to a radio we'd been lucky to find. As the broadcast had come to an end and we sat in silence, Dieter spoke to me. He told me that he'd deserted the army because he'd seen terrible things our people had done. I thought to myself it was likely untrue, or exaggerated, or even if true, it was justified to accomplish what we'd sent out to do, but I told him I understood. He went quiet, and looked deep into his empty can for a moment, then he looked at me, and he spoke three words that have burned themselves into my mind for the rest of my life. "It was me."
I looked at him, remaining silent. I fought back rage, disgust, outrage, this man had not only betrayed his people, betrayed his country, he had killed them. He tried to kill me. He killed my friends. With all the restraint I could muster, I spoke in a calm, level tone, "I understand." He nodded, and excused himself. Eventually, everyone followed suit and retired, but only one had not slept. One person waited until the others slept, one person had made the quiet trek to the train station at the other side of town, one person sent a wire back west, and the following morning, one person stood to the side as a dozen misfits were herded onto a truck. That same person watched with indifference as a bottomless contempt stared back at him in single file, until the last one was ready to embark. It was Dieter. His eyes were unapologetic, glassy, and empty, a person that had lost everything, and had been left with only spite. I asked the guards to stop a moment. I drew my sidearm, and leveled it between his uncaring eyes. He did nothing. I fired.
After a day, I was told to report further east. Instead, I again abandoned my post, but this time, alone. I knew sooner or later I'd be on the hook for the crimes I'd taken part in for the past two weeks. I knew the partisans were either dead, or soon to be. At first, I didn't believe I cared, they were all traitors or worse, and I had done what needed to be done. But as each day passed, the weight of the silent town grew. The barn and cellar became somehow smaller. I realized I too, had been a traitor, and that these people had been the last people I would have the trust of. While Dieter had killed his own, the others weren't any more guilty than I had been, and so I came to resolve, though I would never be accepted, by any side or by my own, I had one last justice to enforce.
I reach the train station across town, a single man operates the telegraph. The front is so far east now that there's no reason to waste any more manpower in an abandoned town. I enter the office, a stumble, he tries to stand but he's pinned before he has time to react. A few bruises and a cord of rope later, he's being led to the old barn on the other side of town. Inside, a chair sits atop a pile of straw. A small table sits next to it, and atop it, an old flensing knife, a notebook, and a pen. The next few hours aren't quiet, and the screams somehow comfort me. I know there's no possible way it could be the right thing to do, but I don't care, and just embrace the feeling. I leave the barn, holding the notebook, with the time and address I need. I fetch the truck the group had kept stashed a few houses away, I climb into its frigid and dusty cab, and check my rifle one more time. As the engine starts, I step out one more time to brush the thick layer of snow on the windshield. As clumps fall to the ground and my fingers begin to numb, only one thing comes to mind.
*Fuck the snow.* | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Drip. Drip. Drip. Rainwater flows off of the broken glass of the window that Mordecai had just thrown a guard through, pooling on the floor. Was he involved? Unlikely. Was he in the way? Most definitely. Hence why he was in a broken pile, six stories down. His raven hair is slicked back with rainwater, his helmet hanging from a leather band on his waist. For all intents and purposes, he was a knight. Beyond the visual however, was a total lack of knightly honor. A heavy plate boot rested on the back of the magistrate’s skull, pinning it to the hardwood floor of his office.
“I’ll ask again, because, frankly, I don’t think you’re hearing my question. Where were they taken?” He rasped out of a scarred throat, the result of mouthing off to an interrogator during one of his stints in a lord’s dungeon. A mottled burn scar ran from his throat to under his left eye, where hot oil had been liberally applied.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” The magistrate whined, earning a more firm step against his skull. Mordecai had warned him, after all. ‘Lie to me, and I’ll pop your head like a grape.’ Exact words.
“Papa?” Two pairs of eyes snapped up to meet baby blue ones. Childlike confusion and fear meeting one pair of fearful eyes, and one pair of blank, calculating ones. The girl couldn’t have been older than nine. And terrified of the rasping monster in this tattered armor.
“Maybe.. I’ll ask her?” His voice came out a gravelly snarl, the sound joined by the serpentine hiss of a blade leaving it’s scabbard. The girl took a step back, but there was a rattle of plate, followed by a strangled cry as a fistful of blonde hair is grabbed by a steel gauntlet. Where had the cry originated? Hard to say. A similar sound had left the girl and her father at the same time.
The magistrate began to blubber just before the cold, black steel of Mordecai’s dagger touched the tender one’s throat. “Duskford! They’re in Duskford!” The prison city. Home to the worst the kingdom had to offer. Monsters. Murderers. Thieves. Victoria passed through his mind. The lady paladin was by no means a gentle sort. But she didn’t deserve the depravity they’d thrown her to. Oleanna.. She did not either. He felt the ghost of her hands stitching the now scarred gash on his good cheek. She was too kind. Garrett.. music played in his head. The red face of the scholar as he offered the scarred warrior his hand. The feeling of shedding his plate to dance the evening away. Lips on his. Something more to while away the wee hours.
“Duskford.” Came the hoarse confirmation from Mordecai, releasing the girl as his thoughts flooded his head. She ran. Fine. Let her run. “You sent them to Duskford. They did nothing but help this rotten place.. and that is how you repay them?” He turned back to the magistrate, the cold in his eyes slowly being overtaken by something.. black. Hot, seething, black rage. Gods help them. He was glad Garrett wasn’t there to see what he did next.
The guards had been called to the manor for a disturbance. Shouting and broken glass, steel on steel. Reported by the nearest neighbors. They hadn’t expected this when they got there. The Magistrate hung limp, impaled on the sword the statue of the god of justice held in his courtyard. His innards his outers now. And below that... A head turned, a baleful eye meeting the captain of the guard’s from under a helmet, spattered with blood. “Justice will be done, your way..” The rasp of a longsword being drawn. “Or mine. What do you know..” He turned slowly, settling into a relaxed fighter’s stance. “About Duskford?” | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Manny stood by the limply hanging body of a man. The poor fool had run, and gotten himself tangled and mangled by the razorvine that was fairly common in the forest, and as a result had bled out on the ground, where the carnivorous plant's root structure lay.
Manny shook his head and sighed, the thin plant tendrils were already red from the blood meal being siphoned up from the ground. The man was his only current lead.
For most, this would mean the trail was now lost, gone cold. But Manny wasn't most people. He grew out half-foot long claws on one hand, and drove them into the corpse's chest. The dead man awoke instantly, suddenly alive again... and suddenly screaming again. There were some twitches as he thrashed, but his initial encounter with the vine had severed most of the relevant muscles, so all he managed was maybe a little sawing of the tough plant fiber into his bones.
"Oh do shut up..." Manny loosed a *silence* magic over the fellow, not giving him much choice. "... good. Now... where were we before you thought you could run? Oh, yes..." He paused, though the man would be unable to speak until the *silence* abated. Manny had to control himself so he didn't monologue, a very bad and old habit. "I was asking you about my wards... they are hard to miss. Both blonde, blue eyed young ladies, like mute little angels."
The dangling man coughed as the spell faded, and then groaned. "I...I don't know... please, it hurts... just let me go, please!"
Manny shook his head. "No, if you don't know, then you better tell me who does." When the man looked hesitant, Manny twisted his claws to tear open the man's chest. The man looked racked with pure pain, then panic as he realized he was returned to life by Manny, merely forced back into his mortal shell.
Manny growled a bit. "Speak, or I might just leave you here, let you know what it feels like to have your bones gnawed on, or cracked open to get at the marrow."
The man closed his eyes and shuddered. "Boss said he was taking them to the Thorned Rose, in Cloverton. Will you let me die now, please?"
Manny thought on this, and snarled. "A *brothel?* Hanna and Greta don't belong there. They aren't for *men like you* to toy with."
He was pissed. He'd promised Stitches he'd take care of the twins. They would not last in a whorehouse, they were too innocent. He yanked the claws out of the awakened corpse and trudged off, back to the road.
The man hung there limply again, "Um... Hello? I'm... still here... Hello? *Hello?*" The razorvine twisted and retracted into the woody bulb at the core of its roots, leaving the limp body on the ground, weakly calling out as the scavenger fauna crept towards the recent kill, ready to risk a meal now that the vine was through with it.
The voice called for help, sounding more scared and worried as critters stalked closer.
As they began to feed, the voice started screaming again. Manny heard it, but he had other things on his mind. He needed to tree some bastard in Cloverton. | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Are you sure you want me?"
"Yes!" The dwarf sounded so enthusiastic
"I've stolen from almost everyone including you four!"
"Oh we know" both the elves said in unison
"Ive murdered before for easy money!"
"But they were all shady people, their records were covered in filth" the lizard shot out.
The dwarf walked up to me and put his hand on my scrawny shoulder.
"You think your bad, but deep down under all those dark layers, is a true heart of gold!"
.
.
"It's been 3 weeks since they've gone missing, the dwarf, the two elves, and the lizard. I know for a fact you know who did it and where they are, so make it easy for us"
I held a dagger to his throat pressing harder with every silent moment
"Go to hell you rotten tiefling! All your kind does is backstab and steal, why do you care about them anyways?"
I dropped the dagger and walked towards a cage
"You shouldn't be concerned with why I'm doing this, more as you should worry over her safety."
I pulled away the cloth over the cage to reveal a slender red headed human
"You wouldn't dare, I'll have every gaurd in this place hunt you down until you found, dead of alive!"
I lit a match and turned to him
"I don't think you are in the position to make threats right now, my dear commander. All you have to do is answer my question and I will untie you and put out the match."
He looked me dead in the eye and laughed
"Fine have it your way, drop the match."
The redheads face dropped and she sank to the floor, quietly sobbing
I let out out a long, deep sigh and out out the match
"I already had all the information I needed from the journal you left in your bastard son's room, and the guard you had protecting there cell, and the paper left in your brothers room saying to get rid of my party."
"I just wanted to see the colors of your heart, looks likes your is a shadowy black, darkening the world around you!"
I grabbed my dagger and walked towards the commander
"Oh yea? Shadowy black?! Well I guess that makes us the same, so let's make a deal! One where we both get what we wanted and I don't have to die!"
"I dont make deals with anyone who cant see true colors, cause my heart is true gold!" | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I am simply *not* a 'good' person, I practice dark magic, necromancy, I murder, pillage, and torture, hell I've even made a species or two go completely extinct due to my lack of care for living creatures, but these people are different, and I will go through *any* lengths to find them.
"I swear! I never saw your party!"
The bound knight screamed in agony, as I drove splinters between his fingernails, and slowly scorched his back
"Really? Cause your friends said they did, they also said that you saw where my party went"
His eyes were about dead already, but he couldn't take anymore
"Alright, they went that way, through the forest. Now please let me out of this!"
I think he was a little too preoccupied shouting at me to realise that the key to his shackles were within arms reach of him, or to notice that his allies were now resurrected corpses with the sole mission of eating him. Either way, his screams of being eaten alive was absolute perfection on my ears. As I venture deeper into the forest, I came across an ogre who's riddle I had to solve
"Answer me this: A box without hinges, key, or lid,
Yet golden treasure inside is hid."
Of course I know it, an egg, but I'm not in the mood to deal with things as trivial as riddles, and although my party would like to keep this ogre alive I have no care for what happens to it. The sound of its intestines and blood sloshing on the stone ground in front of the wooden bridge made me absolutely euphoric, I can recall a time I've ever felt happier.
Eventually I came across a dungeon, guarded by one of the 'good' dragons
"Mortal, I believe you seek your allies, yes? To get to them, you must first give me a show of might to prove your worth, as well as answer my question"
Not this again
"I sense great evil from you, mortal, but that is beside the point. First, hit me as hard as you can with your strongest attack!"
I went very light, I didn't want to kill this dragon just yet
"Hmm. You held back great power, I am impressed. Now to see if your mind possesses similar power: I can sneak upon you, or lay before your eyes, but when I make my presence known, never the same you shall be. What am I?"
Now that's a bit harder, but being as I can kill this dragon with ease I may as well humor his riddle
"A parasite?"
The large beast shook its head
"I am afraid not, mortal. I hate to turn you away, especially when your friends are so close, but I can not allow you to enter this dun--"
A simple fireball, perhaps my weakest since I was a child, tore through its chest and destroyed its heart and lungs. I collected its blood, some bones, and scales for alchemy, with this I can certainly heal my allies from any trauma they've encountered, and with my resurrection it wouldn't be too difficult to bring them back to life if I'm too late.
Not a single creature in this dungeon could even get close to me, my passive spells killed them before anything else, and when I didn't allow them to get close enough to harm me they simply died the moment they touched my robe. At the end of the dungeon I came across a large throne room, with the bard from my party died to a pillar
"By the gods, what have they done to you!"
In a frenzy I rushed to his side
"Where are the others?! Are they alright?!"
He looked up at me, his wounds disappearing before my eyes
"Yeah, they're just fine"
With that, a sword pierced through my chest from behind, tearing my lungs, heart, and spine to shreds. It was our ranger, under an invisibility spell and using potions I made her. The knight also came out not a second later
"Did you really think we didn't know you were a lich? How stupid did you think we were?!"
As those words reverberated in my head, I realised my wounds weren't healing, all my mana was gone, and I felt very cold
"We used those potions of yours to make something to turn you human, at least long enough for us to kill you more easily, and our bard was the one to give it to you, since its contact based and you were gripping him pretty hard"
So my party was able to not only deceive me, but also kill me. I'm rather impressed
"And now, lich, I shall remove your head myself!"
As my head rolled on the hard stone, my final thoughts were upon that dragon's riddle. The answer, to which I discovered only now, was 'betrayal'.
The end. | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Command, please repeat. Over." His words were barely a whisper, tinged with a hint of hysterical disbelief. 'Please,' he wanted to beg the older man. Static cracked in Remmy's ear as he waited for confirmation. Even at twenty light years distance, gravity well fluctuations still caused minor interference in ship-to-ship comm signals.
That had to be the explanation. He couldn't have heard the orders correctly.
Another static burst hissed over the earpiece before clearing. When Major Renault's words echoed over the earpiece, they were reenforced with a hard edge that brokered no questioning or refusal. "Repeat. Command, authorization Gold-Zero-Seven. Stand down all engagements. Strike force retreat to tactical position Alpha. Best speed. Do not engage, do not respond to any hostile acts. Armistace has been reached. Over." The CO finished with an actual snarl made more vicious by another burst of convenient static.
Those words. They meant something. A part of his brain was pinging, a continous attempt at the back of his awareness, trying to get his attention. Yet, all Remmy could do was stare at the screen before him.
Cotton filled his mind, putting space between his thoughts and all reason. He knew he should act, to respond, comply with those commands. He knew what the words meant, understood they were important. It was his duty to acknowledge and carry them out. 'An oath sworn is a promise kept.'
Renault. The man's words echoed distantly in his mind. He had made one to Remmy. This time they would.
Raising his gaze from the tactical display, Remmy drifted for what felt an eternity and mere moments. A malaise came over him, sapping the strength from his limbs as he watched, helpless. Then...Light drew his attention to the ports above the command deck. Lights. So many of them, bright and beautiful. Though, distant. Cold at times. Among them a shadow, a world of darkness that blocked their shining brilliance. Whether his thoughts were describing the stars or himself, he couldn't understand.
The commands were firm. There was no misinterpreting them. He was to leave before they even had a chance to engage. Their mission was canceled. The war was over.
Remmy blinked.
Warmth came flooding back as he sat higher in the command chair. His gloves groaned softly where they gripped tighter at the tactile brackets of the flight controls. Emotional gravity sank all else but resolve to the pit of his stomach. He knew what he must do.
Clearing his throat, Remmy touched his lip to the comm to activate it. "Lieutenant Ambrose to Command. Over"
"This is Command. Go ahead. Over." The major's words were clipt. The cause of his ire was probably numerous and easily guessable even without a year spent serving the big jackass.
"Requesting permission to hold position and cover the retreat of strike force. Over." For a moment, Remmy held his breath. This would be the only chance. If he...
"Permission granted. Wait no more than twenty before rejoining strike force. Over and out." And that was it. There was no rebuke, no chance at negotiations. Those were the orders.
Like the unlucky armistace, this command demanded obedience.
On his tactical display, one large icon and six smaller began to move in formation. Their green coloring represented Terran forces. That had been the strike force.
Six inches to the left roated a massive red icon, surrounded by sixteen smaller. These were the Drelt. This was the Drelt home world. The armisticeg meant they would not face judgement. There would be no attack.
Once more, Remmy looked through the ports. They had come so close. Humanity had almost ended this ceaseless cycle of broken trusts and bloodshed. Armistice, again. Another pause, this time, at the edge. Never before had they gotten so close, to this world, to possible victory, to all-out war. Every time, it came back to the orders.
Don't fight. Don't attack. Don't stand your ground. Don't provoke. Don't so much as breathe in the Drelt's direction.
And why? They might become offended. An offended Drelt lead to dire consequences. At least, for humanity. The Drelt never felt the touch fate's ice-cold grip.
Until today.
Remmy's knuckles popped as he squeezed the controls. So close. They almost had it. Then, like always, the orders came. Last time, it had cost him. His colony. It wasn't big, nothing but a distant outpost. They had come for it none-the-less.
There would be no justice for it, of course. Earth had decided that, like always. And, like always, there would come another, and someone else would pay the price for the broken peace. Who, though? Whose blood would be spilt? Which of those tiny lights in the distance had to be next?
A quick check of the tactical display showed that the distance between his position and the rest of the strike force had grown to more than twenty times that of his and the Drelt.
Well, there would be no next time.
Remmy released the flight bracket to reach over to the console to his right. With a quick tap sequence over the terminal's buttons, he disabled the ship's incoming comm system. Another sequence started the ship's engines. Taking hold of the bracket once more, he squeezed the thruster controls and guided the ship ahead.
Steadily, the red icons grew in size on the tactical display. What appeared to be centimeters on the display were tens of thousands of miles. The planet of the Drelt attained great mass, but that was not his focus. No, he only had eyes on the sixteen smaller icons. They had to see him coming, had to be aware of the threat he posed.
Almost as one, their various positions around the larger icon changed. They moved in sync, converging in the direction of his projected path.
Sixteen against one. Slowly, Remmy felt an involuntary smile stretch across his face. That would be enough.
His tactical display flashed blue in warning. He was coming upon firing range. Data feeds trickled across the top and bottom, recommendations for speed, course corrections, possible attack vectors. Remmy ignored them. All of it was useless for this.
Pursing his lips, he activated the out-going comm. The tactical display flashed yellow. He was now in firing range from the Drelt ships.
Taking a slow breath, a tiny thrill shot down Remmy's spine, sending a shiver rippling through him. The urge to giggle like a kid almost overcame him. Maybe this was what giddiness felt like. With each passing moment, he felt the weight of wariness and the pain of memory lift from him.
The display flared maroon in warning. The Drelt ships were firing.
So what.
"Have you ever really paused and considered your ships?" The brackets trembled under his hands, signalling that full thrust had been achieved. There was nothing but flesh holding him down now. He felt so light in his own skin that Remmy thought his soul might float away. "How much power do you think it takes to make them go? I'm not talking fuel for the engines or electricity for the lights, I'm talking sheer power. The kind that allows you to cross vast distances between stars in days. Faster than light travel."
As one, the sixteen icons began to overlap as they converged upon his path. So simple. Such a dangerous race, yet, so easily led.
"Even with the power of a star, you can't achieve that kinda feat. Interstellar travel, that's something that requires the energy of levels of something large." This time, he did giggle. There was no stopping the edge of madness slipping through. "You can't just shut that off once activated. Even with your technology, FTL engine cores are really, really fucking terrifying if you don't treat them right." Releasing the right flight bracket, he reached out to the command console and began tapping the engines controls.
"Engine core ejection sequence activated," the console chirped at him. "To continue will disable Faster Than Light travel."
Remmy's giggle grew, bubbling into a full blown cackle as he entered the final command sequence. The moment he felt the ship shake from the violent ejection, he twisted the flight brackets. Away, he needed away!
Momentum pulled at Remmy as the sudden shift overcame the ship's artificial gravity generation. Subtle at first, he found himself quickly feeling heavier as he was pushed into the right side of his chair. Still, he did not slow or change direction. The thrust of his engines began to rattle the entire ship, causing haunting moans from deep in the decks beneath his feet.
Screeching started from all around him. Heart pounding at the sudden change, he focused upon the tactical display. The entirety of the screen was flashing dark red as something new rapidly grew from the direction of the Drelt forces. Their fire had hit the FTL engine core.
He wanted to scream with laughter as he watched the massive shockwave engulf the sixteen icons in quick succession. There was no time, though. Sixteen pulses fed the beast and the expansion soon eclipsed the size of the Drelt homeworld and chased after Remmy. Even with the speed of his full thrust, there was no outrunning this. At least, he sighed, he got to watch the leading edge crash over and envelop the hated place.
Closing his eyes, he savored the moment and awaited his fate. At last, there was finally, peace, and no more. | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | It was supposed to be easy gold, just kidnap the cleric and a knight. A job that had only taken a greased palm, some sleeping powder, and some muscle.
 
Easy.
 
With a start, he’d woken up. The room was almost pitch black save for some light coming through his window. The moon must’ve made it’s way to the other side of the building, an indicator of either the very late hour, or very early, depending on how one looked at such things. He was alone in his bed.
 
Wait, that wasn’t right, he’d paid for companionship for the evening, where the Hell was she?
 
The man froze, sensing that he wasn’t quite as alone in the room as he thought he was. He slowly reached his hand out toward the bedside table. He felt the leather scabbard of his knife, empty.
 
A voice spoke from the darkness, soft, but with a sharp edge to it.
 
“You won’t be needing that,”
 
He snapped his head towards the far corner of the room. The dim moonlight from the window didn’t quite reach halfway into the room, and he knew from previous experience that a chair and table rested in the far corner. If he focused, he could just make out the outline of someone sitting at it.
 
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice croaking from disuse at this time of night.
 
The other man didn’t immediately respond, instead letting silence reign. The man in the bed wondered for a brief moment if the other man hadn’t heard him. After a moment he responded, not by answering his question, but by asking his own, in the same tone of voice as before.
 
“Where are Sasha and Mirin?”
 
“Who?”
 
He could almost feel the venom coming from the other man as he spoke again.
 
“Sasha and Mirin. Both sisters of the Holy Order, one as the Right Arm of Saint Michael as his holy knight, the other using the blessings of Saint Alaire to heal the sick and injured,”
 
There was a small thud as he could only assume the man had pounded his fist onto the table next to that chair.
 
“I will ask again, Kirwen, where are they?”
 
Kirwen stared back at the man.
 
“How’d you know my name?”
 
Another moment of silence, seemingly for the other man to think. Kirwen took the moment to scoot himself a little closer to the headboard. Surreptitiously get his hand closer to his pillow.
 
“I found your companion, Rolfrick,” He said, his voice retuning to being soft but sharp, ”You had him deal with me while you took the girls. It didn’t take much to track him down, very few natural-born humans get to his size without having some Troll mixed into their lineages,”
 
There was a slight creaking sound, as Kirwen thought he saw the other man shift in the chair. He scooted another inch or so in the bed. How could Rolfrick have failed to kill this man?
 
“Before I put a knife through his heart, he told me that it was you that did this bit of business with a man from the town of Sibert. As I’m *sure* you know, that town, and few others around the Southern Reaches, are infamous slaving hubs. The Holy Order has been on something of a crusade against them for some time. You really should do your homework before taking on jobs,”
 
Kirwen slowly scooted another inch. He needed to buy some time. He spoke.
 
“You talk like someone who's not connected with the Church, what do you care if something *unfortunate* happens to them?”
 
“Because those two almost make me willing to believe there’s something good in me,”
 
The other man suddenly stood up. Kirwen scooted further up his bed, and managed to get his hand under his pillow. He could feel the hilt of his backup dagger.
 
“I’ve known those two since they were fifteen and stumbled across me while they were exploring the woods around their town. I taught Mirin everything I know about healing magics, and I helped Sasha with her combat training. I even showed them some of the things that would have helped them that the Church wouldn’t have taught them!”
 
As the other man talked, he slowly walked closer to Kirwen. His voice grew louder as he spoke. Kirwen wrapped his hand around the knife.
 
The man grabbed Kirwen by his shoulders and shook him as he spoke. His breath almost made him gag.
 
“NOW YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE THAT MAN IS TAKING THEM!”
 
Kirwen slammed the knife into the other man’s chest, producing an explosive exhalation out of the man as he shoved him into the table at the other end of the room. The table collapsed onto it’s side, taking the man, and the tableware with it and producing a truly cacophonous noise.
 
Kirwen lept into action. That noise was sure to wake everyone on the floor on the inn.
 
He wiped the blood, black in the dim light, onto the bedspread before opening the chest at the foot of his bed and dressed as rapidly as he could. Mercs in his line of work didn’t tend to make it far if they weren’t always prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. It was barely 30 seconds later that he was dressed and had his bag slung over his shoulder. He pulled at the handle to his door.
 
It didn’t budge.
 
A crackling sound came from the lamp on bedside table and the one attached to the ceiling, soon the room was bathed in a red-orange light.
 
He snapped his head around towards them, but there were no obvious signs of who had lit them.
 
The other man groaned from where the table had fallen, before rolling over and standing up.
 
Now that the light was good, he could see the other mans unnatural paleness, his stiff movements, and the sunkeness of his eyes. The knife was still sticking out of his chest, right were his heart should have been.
 
It was then that Kirwen knew, Rolfrick *hadn’t* failed to kill the man. The man knew necromancy.
 
He withdrew the knife from his chest, and let it drop to the ground.
 
“You are going to tell me where that man is taking them,” He said, returning to his soft and sharp voice, “Because, let’s be honest, death won’t even be able to save you,”
 
Kirwen scrambled into the corner next to the door.
 
“It doesn’t matter if you save them!” He yelled at the necromancer, “The Church will still destroy you!”
 
“I know,” He said, never raising his voice, “But those two are worth it.”
 
 
Sorry for having this out this late. I hope you enjoyed it -Halogen_03 | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | “I’m not a good person, Randall.”
The ocean waves churned at our feet. It had been nearly a fortnight since my party had disappeared. An accident on the field as the world knew it. I’d lost count at this point how many people had come to me offering some words of sympathy as though expecting they could distinguish themselves by acting as everyone else had.
I twined my fingers together and settled back more comfortably in my deck chair.
“Did I ever tell you how we met?” I shot him a glance to see if he was still listening.
His eyes flashed as they caught the half-light reflecting off the water, ”I didn’t ask.”
He skimmed the liquid off the top of his beer can, tipping his head back to drain the rest in one gulp. The nail of his index finger tapped at the wall of the can, before he flicked a wrist to send it flying into the obsidian waters.
“They were good people, you know,” I murmured softly, “That’s what everyone knew them as.”
“But they were a bunch of fools,” I pressed down the sound of mockery that threatened to come from my throat.
“Hmm.”
“And at some point… I wanted to be one of them, I… I wanted to be someone people would admire, someone people would point at in the streets and call a hero.”
He finally turned to look at me, the expression in his inky eyes unreadable.
“Is that why you left them there to die?” he drawled, low and cruel, “Why you’re here wasting time I could be using to catch up on sleep after following you halfway into the Deadlands looking for redemption from a bunch of brain-dead idiots who couldn’t tell a scam artist from a saint?”
I couldn’t answer that. As much as I wanted to sound like I knew what I was doing, this bastard always knew how to rip the coat of white from my sparkly clean exterior.
“Why the fuck are you here then,” I growled back, almost savage in my irritation.
He scoffed lightly, “Some of us know how to honour promises. We don’t pretend to be saints, but we know where our own bottom line is.”
He lay his weight against the arm of his deck chair and reached into his left pocket.
“You know what this is?” he asked me, his tone shifting too fast for me to gauge his emotions.
I squinted in the dusky light, trying to catch sight of the round object between his two fingers. I couldn’t make out much other than the general shape of the thing, but he answered his own question before I could ask.
“It’s a medal. My father’s medal. From those times we were busy fighting in honourable wars.”
He stood from his chair and closed the distance between us, leaning down to stare at me with eyes as bottomless as the waters around us.
“You know what this has taught me?” the only change in his expression was a slight quirk of his lips, “Honour is a joke, Charlie.”
“Honour is the reason why you and I are out here surrounded by man made creatures closer to mindless beasts than humans, looking for some happy go lucky dipshits who thought good people ever existed.”
“Honour will get you killed,” he breathed the next few words, “And so will this game of play pretend you seem so fond of.”
I gulped, the sound of it against the backdrop of the waves much louder than I would have hoped. He tucked his hands into his pockets, straightening up to look down at me.
“I’ll give you till tomorrow,” he skirted around my chair in a slow amble, “Hopefully it’s enough time for you to smarten up.”
His footsteps sounded rhythmically on the rotted pier behind me, coming to a stop after a few meters.
“Oh, and one more thing Charlie. I’m not sure how you survived this long out here with that tail hanging from your head, but if I see it still there in the morning, I’ll hand it to the Hungries myself and let them play tug of war over it. Goodnight.”
He walked off, leaving me to the jumble of my own thoughts.
“That fucking shit stain,” I hissed.
I couldn't stay angry for long, especially after realising it would be more stupid than anything to be alone at night in Hungry territory. I stalked after him, my pace faster than I would have admitted to with a gun at my head. I hated that bastard, but that bastard was the one carrying all the weapons. And I was a goner without those. | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Being good have never come naturally to Nokke.
Nokke's people were not known for it. Kobolds are generally known for being tricky and conniving bastards who would rather steal from you than give you the time of day.
Traps, misdirection and underhanded tactics. The bread and butter of Nokke's people. What had kept most of them alive when fighting people who could loom over them even when they sat.
It didn't work for long however. Nokke's small tribe had lost. Lost to some strange people. Nokke had been scared when these people, this group of 5 different and strange characters had stormed the small cave his first tribe called home.
Nokke thought about that fateful day as he quickly tied a rope around a flask's lid. It surprised Nokke how long ago that was yet how fresh the memory was in his mind. Nokke knew he had to be quick about it. There were too many variable to this plan to work but it had too. Nokke wouldn't except anything less. They needed him just as much he wanted them.
Once Nokke knew it was secure, he quickly pull the hood over his horns and felt the magic hide his presence again. Magic was something he never thought he would ever understand much less use. Of course he wasn't using magic itself, rather just using magical items. Yet it still amazed him how much he had learned from being with them. A small part of Nokke's mind wondered if his tribe was alright. It wouldn't surprise him if they were. Weak as Kobolds were, they would always manage to survive. Hithgard had always said Kobold's were like roaches; never really killed, just expelled from the holes. Nokke had always wondered what Hithgard meant and what roaches were. Nokke had never really seen one.
He quickly made his way around winding passages and cold halls. Nokke made sure to stay close to the walls and to move out of the way when he thought anyone would approach. The cloak that Elmarias had given him made him invisible but it didn't make him quite. Nokke had to do that himself.
As he went down the halls and past the doors, he made sure to check his preparations and their readiness. He made sure to check each one's place and positioning. Tweaking some as Nokke went along, making sure to try and stay out of sight as he did so. The cloak made it hard to operate with his hand when it was on, so Nokke had to time his alterations and tweaks to when he was sure no one would see him.
Nokke wasn't very smart, as much as Elmarias had tried to convince him otherwise. Despite this Nokke understood what planning and strategy was. The strange sorcerer girl had believed he could show more promise than he was actually worth was in part due to this understanding. Maybe she was right? Nokke wouldn't really know though. If things went right, maybe he would ask. When he had made sure that all of his preparation had been readied and secure, he began to head for his second objective.
The servants quarters were easy to slip into. The day was winding down which meant servants had to tidy up and tie up the things they could before nightfall. So the servants quarters were bustling with people moving in and out, carrying baskets of laudry, clothes, cleaning supplies and other things Nokke didn't know about. It was easy to move between them and pick his way to where Nokke knew she'd be. Nokke managed to spot her quickly enough, her silvery hair being easy to spot between all the mass of moving dull brown and reds of the servant outfits.
Nokke followed her as she worked, finding himself strangely annoyed at the small things that the other servants did to her as she worked quietly. Maybe Deriths care for his half-sister was rubbing off Nokke. He found his opening when an older woman tripped her as she carried a basket of clothes. The basket rolled and Nokke quickly tapped it to make it role farther. Nokke felt bad about how Feraithe had to chase after it but it was needed. Nokke needed to get her out of the castle for him to get what he wanted.
Once Nokke had managed to roll the basket out of the way enough for him to not be seen, he waited for Feraithe before pulling of his hood, releasing the magic that hide him. Feraithe let out of small gasp but quickly through her hands over her mouth. She quickly scanned the area for anyone that might see them but Nokke knew they wouldn't.
"Nokke, what are you doing here? Did you find anything about Deriths?" She quickly whispered as she knelt down.
"Yet not. Need you go out. Not safe castle." Nokke quickly said as he fished around his pockets for the map he made her. His common was still terrible but it would have to do as his elvish was even worse. Deriths wasn't as good a teacher as Elmarias.
"What do you mean not safe, Nokke? What's the matter?"
"Duke bad. Maybe betrayer. Not safe you here. Need you go out now," Nokke said quickly as he handed her a small parchement. "Go now. Follow map. Don't say word to people. Don't come back."
Feraiths nodded slowly as she took the parchment. She opened to quickly scan it before closing it back and hiding it. She picked up the basket and headed back out to the quarters. She stopped before she left Nokke's sight, turning to ask "Are you going to be alright?"
Nokke didn't know the answer to that. He knew that he wasn't going to come out whole, not when his plan was this. To essentially turn the entire castle into a trap-house as he worked to get info from the Duke. It was almost suicide if not for the things he picked up from the small band he had been traveling with for so long. Nokke nodded once before he pulled the hood over his horns and walked out of the quarters.
Nokke played with a small wand as he waited for an hour to pass. It would enough time for Feraiths to be out of the castle and be clear of the damages he would be doing. Booby-trapping the castle had been hard. Taking a little more than a couple days to setup. It was hard too. When trapping a cave, you knew that there was only 2 or 3 points of entry. Castles had too many to count But Nokke had managed to do it. All of the traps had been set up and kept in place thanks to Elmarias wands, keeping them ready and un-sprung and the spell wore-off.
Nokke didn't know if this would entirely work. The Duke was the only lead he had. He was the only one who knew where they had been that night. He had seen the mark on the hands of those who had taken his friends. The Duke had that same mark. It was hidden on his hand, Nokke seeing it one time when the gloves had slipped off. Nokke wasn't sure if the Duke knew where his friends are, but he was sure he had some idea why they were taken. Tonight, Nokke would find out.
Nokke may have started as their prisoner. But he wasn't one any longer. He may have been their pack-mule for a time but that had changed. He may have been resentful of them some time before but he had changed. If he needed to be that Kobold he was before, he do so again for them.
Nokke gripped the wand harder, bending further than it would take. Once it snapped, he began to slowly move towards the Duke's chambers. He glanced out the window once to see that the first trapped had been sprung. The moat was on fire. Not the first one he expected but that was fine. It might lead to more traps being sprung. As if the thought was the command, he hurt a small boom before screams filled the bellow him. The alchemist fire trap had been sprung down in the guard barracks. Maybe they would be dumb enough to try the water he hid there. The water contained a sleeping water elemental that Hithgard had captured once before. That would confuse them for a time.
Maybe enough for him to get some answers out of the Duke and his wife. | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | “I wouldn’t call myself an Evil person, just more of a compulsive liar.” That is what I always told them; I doubt they all got the double-entendre but my reluctance to admit my own faults certainly aided the party on many occasions. “The Party”, a moniker I always used with pleasure after explaining to Paladin Hines that a group only really became a party with the addition of a whore. He almost seemed to relish the opportunity to hold his temper in check, a self-flagellation that vindicated his own faith. If anything, it secured my position with the party, kept him from urging the others to push me out. To do so would be admitting I was getting the better of him.
Instead we worked together in ways others could not. A lot of our line of work is getting the right information, not just cracking heads or rescuing damsels. Interrogation isn’t easy work when the prisoner knows you won’t do anything very rough to them. That is where I came in, the villain who might plausibly peel their fingernails off if the honorable paladin didn’t keep stopping me. I wasn’t really in any hurry to do something like that. Too much like work. But they didn’t know that and it worked a treat.
But that wasn’t going to work now. I had smelled trouble and went to ground, cutting contact and avoiding everyone I knew for a few days. Those are the sort of instincts that keep someone alive in my line of business; if everything is fine you just pop back up after a couple days and nobody is the wiser. Cultivating a mysterious reputation is hardly the worst thing one can do, keep Hines wondering what I was up to. In this case it turned out to have been the right move.
When I returned they were gone barely 12 hours. Of course I first assumed they had finally ditched me, saw through my façade and figured they should cut their losses while I was missing. That was perhaps the most terrifying thought; not that they had finally wised up, but that my instincts had been so far wrong. If I could miss this group planning a move like that then in any other case I would have ended up with a knife between my ribs. Might as well lay down and die right now. A little investigation proved I had not misjudged as their bar tab from the previous night was unpaid. Leaving me behind was plausible but welching on a debt wasn’t something Hines would even contemplate.
Nobody had seen anything. That was a problem, a real problem. That many skilled warriors vanishing without a trace, without a commotion or clue was the work of professionals. The innkeeper didn’t understand, not seeing past the trivial sum he was owed, but my business was making people disappear. Give me a fat purse and plenty of time to build my team… and I still wouldn’t be sure of pulling such a thing off. Wouldn’t try either, who cares if there are some bloodstains or noise? The group you were after could fight a quarter of the town guard to a standstill anyway, if you could handle them you could handle any response from the law. Might even benefit by making a statement.
So there was no motive, no method, and no clues, which in itself is a clue. It meant they knew what they were doing and that meant leaving nothing to chance, so I would start with the guard. Even if they were no real threat it wouldn’t be left to dumb luck if they wandered into the area when the plan took place, which implied someone was influenced. That person was going to be die in short order (nothing left to chance) so I would need to move quickly, getting to them first before their “accidental” death could be arranged.
Luckily I could narrow down the search. Guardsmen with healthy family relationships were highest on the list, as threats against their lives were the best leverage to ensure compliance. Knowing that it had worked in the past meant that capturing their family and torturing them in front of the guard would certainly get the information I was after, but it also meant that there was no other option. Just grabbing the guard would likely mean they kept silent to protect their loved ones. Involving the family was necessary, and unless I somehow chose the right guard from the start it would mean torturing and disposing of several guards and their immediate family as quickly as possible. Once that many families started being killed off whoever was behind my party’s disappearance was bound to figure out what was happening, devoting more resources to the coverup.
Best case scenario I found the right guard and got some other information to go on. Even in that case my opponents would be killing several guards off as well, because if somehow my interrogation hadn’t worked they would need to imply that I had not picked the right one. Considering it was already obvious someone was looking for them they would also need to expand their killings to leave some ambiguity as to which one had actually been influenced, to hopefully waste time and throw me off their trail. Once the serial killings became known the guard families would become harder to access, perhaps being moved into the garrison, so in short order there would be an absolute bloodbath taking place.
But maybe I could use some of my experience to my advantage. If I was in their shoes and a clever assassin I might be a compulsive liar. Even my lies might be lies, and all those guards I killed weren’t my man at all. Innocent guards would react differently than the one who had been threatened, that one would probably try to rabbit immediately. To keep attention off of them he might even be allowed to flee long enough for me to catch up with them. In any case it was going to be a long few nights ahead of me. | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | He took them. He took the only three people who were really willing to give me a chance. The only people who didn't abandon me after seeing me torture someone for information. They made me promise never to go that far again, and I agreed, because having them with me was worth it. He fucking took them, and he was going to suffer for it.
I knew the location that he took them from. We were in an inn. we were going to fight them. It is time to get some fucking information.
I walked down the stairs and looked around the room. The bartender was standing there looking tired, a party of adventurers were there drinking and having a "good time", and some towns people were still here.
I started to channel.
Suddenly dark magic swirled around me, like black serpents. I pointed at the guy I assumed was the adventurer's tank, and he fell to ash. Then I cleared my throat.
"I am not here to fuck around. I need information and I will end anyone who doesn't-"
"Holy SHIT! You killed Gheregg!" This was from some fool in full armor. He started to get up from his stool but I wasn't in the mood. I pointed at him and he started coughing up smoke. Soon he fell backwards off his stool.
"I will repeat my self only one more time. I am not here to deal with your petty bullshit. I will kill everyone in this god damn room and resurrect you fuckers until I get the information I need. Now listen closely. Who. The fuck. Took my friends."
The room fell silent and I put out a circle of truth big enough to surround the town.
Suddenly a small child ran for the door. I made a lifting motion with my hands and summoned a demon from the ground. "Catch him and drag him back here."
The creature that could be described as a traditional demon but with an octopus with 8 foot long testicles for a head charged after the child.
"My first question is for you barkeep. Who came up those stairs while I was gone, and I expected names"
She was as pale as a ghost and blubbering incoherently. I walked up to her and put my hand under her head.
"I know you know something, and I need you to talk. Relax and tell the truth and you will walk out of here. Keep panicking and I may need to 'modify' you to make you more accommodating."
"I... I. Um. I saw..." This wasn't going to work, she was clearly too terrified to speak.
I took out my knife and rammed it into her heart. A terrified shriek came from the crowd. I then touched her corpse and she stood up.
"Minion, I need to know who went up to those room while I was gone."
"yes master. Gheregg and Steern went up, but I believe they went to their room. Those two would be the two who you killed earlier. The child that ran from here, Rikkard went there to clean the room. He was in the room for a while." She pointed to a priest and a mage. the priest was crying over the two corpses. "They went up as well. again their rooms are also up those stairs."
At this point I heard screaming coming from the door. "No! Please let me go! Someone help me!"
I walked over to the armored corpse and caste a reanimation spell on it. "Warrior, interrogate the child. See what he knows happened in the room. and find out where my party is."
"Yes master." it said in a raspy voice, smoke still billowing out of its mouth.
I turned back to the barkeep, "Go on.".
"Yes, that was all who went up to the 2nd story."
"And who in this town is affiliated with the mage Rrhekoette."
"None openly. At least none who I know of. He is hated here, and causes much suffering."
Screaming from the other room was growing louder.
"I'll be right back." I walked into the room where the child was. When I walked in he was missing an eye and had the a dagger through his right foot. I walked up to the warrior and motioned for him to guard the front.
"Listen boy, I can make this pain go away. I just need to know why you ran away."
"I. I got scared sir. You killed those two men, and... and I thought... I thought I might be able to hide."
"ah yes. I get that a lot. I know I look old, but I assure you, I can not be escaped. So tell me... Rikkard was it?"
He looked at me startled. "Yes sir?"
"Why were you in my room talking to my friends?"
"I was tasked with changing the sheets."
"And why did you take so long?"
"They was talking to me."
"And tell me, what did they have to say?"
"They was trying to ask how I ended up working here."
"I see, now this next part is very crucial Rikkard. I need you to give me a clue. Something that will direct me to where by friends were taken. If you can't do that then I fear your pain will become so much worse before it gets better. Tell me something I can use and your pain will end quickly."
"When I left their room, I heard a crash and looked back in the room and they were gone. I found ash around the room. I had to clean it and that was what took me so long."
The kid was a wreck by this point, and I knew he would never recover from this turmoil. So I held up my end of the bargain. "Behlzikin, end the child's suffering." The child couldn't even react before the demon sucked the child into it's mouth.
I walked past the bar patrons and back up to the room. I sat down and started meditating. Soon I found what the child alerted me to. I felt the spell, a teleportation spell. I knew now how to track it and I set up my own spell to take me to where they were taken. I felt the spell activate and soon I was there. A prison cell with the only people is this terrible world I cared about. I could start acting how I they expected me to again. We were going to be OK. | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. |
He was afraid, I could smell it on him. Who wouldn’t be.
“You don’t know what you’re dooming me to.” He said pathetically, struggling with his bonds. I looked up from the dagger I was sharpening and smiled.
“Yes I do.”
That got a reaction out of him. A funny little squeal of fear. I nearly chuckled but kept my composure.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked pleadingly. I rolled my eyes.
“Why do you care? Will it hurt less if you know why I’m pulling your intestines out through your belly button?
“Oh shit.” He spluttered, starting to sob now. I chuckled. Couldn’t help myself. Neither could he, judging by the dark stain growing on the front of his pants. I tossed the dagger up in the air and caught it by the hilt and stood up with a satisfied grunt. I went around, double checking that everything was in place. This was a tricky business, no take backs. But hey, l like playing for keeps.
Without looking up from the circle of protection I said, “My friends, they’ve gone missing for a while now so I figure that they’ve gone and got themselves killed.” I stood and inspected the various runes carved into the ground, filled with goat’s blood. “They’re the good-guy types, always going around, trying to fix shit.” He let out a groan and I nodded appreciatively. “Heh, yeah, it can be pretty annoying at times.” I flipped through the book until I found the right summoning spells.
“H-h-how do you know if this is even going to work? What if decides to drag you into the Pit as well?” He said, trying to reason his way out this one. I grinned.
“You think this is my first time? What about me says ‘virginal’ to you? No, this isn’t the only time I’ve had to bring them back from the abyss because of some cockeyed good-guy bullshit that went badly.” I let out a short laugh, “One time I did this ritual when I thought they had got themselves killed by some very nasty Orc fellows but it turned out we just got separated. Hilarious. I would’ve told them but they wouldn’t have appreciated the humor.”
“How could they be good if they cavort with the likes of you?” He spat venomously. This question took me aback and I paused for a moment, thinking it over.
“Well, I don’t know if they’re actually good or not. They seem like good-guys to me but maybe my standard is a bit off from regulation. They don’t know about this though, or some of the other stuff I do. But I’m willing to do anything to pretty much anyone if it get’s me what I want. Maybe that makes me a bad guy.”
The preparations were finished. I was ready to begin. I stood over him and raised the dagger above his chest. I looked down, directly in his eyes and smiled.
“But who says the bad guy can’t have friends?”
And in a swift motion, I brought the knife down. | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful.
"They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service."
The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes.
"I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead.
"Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed!
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?"
He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs.
"Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything."
"I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear"
I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?"
Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others.
And now I had the information I needed.
(Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.) | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | In the muted light of the room, Lakme's 'Flower Duet' played. It almost made for a romantic atmosphere.
Almost.
"You see... Marcus... here's the thing. I'm not what you would call a *good* person."
Marcus O'Reilly sneered up at me from the chair to which I'd tied him. When he came in the door to his palatial estate home, I'd surprised him from behind with chloroform and a rag. He struggled for a few seconds, but even a man of his size and physical fitness couldn't resist the sweet siren call of slumber under those circumstances.
I'd handcuffed him to the chair, positioned him in the middle of his massive living room, and waited patiently for him to wake up. I'd already been waiting hours for him to come home, so a couple more wasn't a huge deal at this point.
When he finally awoke, blinking away the confusion and disorientation, he didn't notice me at first in the muted light. But once he did, his attention snapped to me and he grinned his trademark sadistic grin. He told me I was a dead man, that I didn't even know it yet. Then he asked me just what the hell I was trying to pull off, that he *had* to know before I died, so he could satisfy his curiosity.
I just sat there in my chair, staring at him, expressionless. What seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again.
"Well asshole? What's your game plan here? I gotta know. You better talk quick, my security will be doing their sweeps any minute now, and when they do, you're as good as dead."
I blinked, then adopted a concerned expression. "Security?"
"Jesus," he said smugly. "You didn't think I'd have security? Who do you think you're dealing with?"
"Oh, I know you had security," I said, reaching out with one booted foot and tipping over the large Rubbermaid bin, spilling its contents over the polished hardwood floor. "I just don't think they're going to be much help, is all."
Marcus blanched as he saw eight severed heads roll onto the living room floor, leaving a coagulated blood trail behind them.
"Jeff put up the biggest fight, in case you were wondering. His widow should get some kind of bonus."
O'Reilly's eyes slowly lifted from the decapitated heads up to meet my eyes.
"You think someone won't notice there's a problem? You'll never make it out of here alive," he said, but with less bravado this time. "Someone will notice I'm missing, and they'll come to check what happened. You're as good as dead."
"By the time they do," I replied flatly, "They'll find nothing but a charred skeleton of your former house. There will be nothing left for them to use to track me down. I've made sure of that."
Marcus lost his cool then, and struggled violently against his handcuffs, trying to escape. In his attempts, he flopped over onto his side, knocking his head against the floor. He groaned as I moved over and lifted him back up into a sitting position.
"Here's the thing, Marcus. As I mentioned, I'm not a good person. You ordered my friends captured. I want them back. So I'm going to make you a very simple deal, one that you won't want to refuse."
"Fuck you," he sputtered hatefully.
I walked to the wall, switching on the rest of the lights in the room for the first time. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates.
"As you can see," I said coldly, "I also have your wife, two daughters and son here tonight."
Behind me, the wife and children also struggled against their bonds, their muffled cries now barely audible over the classical music, which had now changed to Tchaikovsky's 'Slave March'.
"I'm going to give you a choice, Marcus. You die tonight, regardless. I just can't leave you alive, it's simply too risky. But I *will* give you the opportunity to let your wife and kids live."
I slowly walked over to them, and began caressing the hair of his wife as she frantically struggled.
"You tell me where my friends are. If I find them alive and unharmed, I will release your wife and kids. They will not have to share your fate, burning and suffocating in a horrifying house fire 'accident'."
I moved, now caressing his older daughter's head as she cried soundlessly.
"If you refuse, I will burn this place to the ground and move on to your senior lieutenant next. I'm pretty sure he'll talk, but even if he doesn't... I have plenty of chances to get this information from *someone* under your employ, so don't think for one second that I'm bluffing. You aren't the only option available to me. You have no cards to play here."
His eyes moved from his family to the disembodied heads of his trusted guards, then back to me. I saw the look of resignation on his face as he realized I was correct.
"You promise you'll let them go?" he asked quietly.
"You have my word," I replied. "They don't know who I am."
"You know," Marcus said with sad amusement, "You would have made an excellent addition to my organization."
I smiled, coldly.
"You have no idea how right you are." | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | *On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch.*
These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them.
Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before.
It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. *Aelindel,* that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid.
I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself.
I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me.
Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do.
Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao | His fingernail carved line after line in the parched earth before him. Painted black and supernaturally sharpened, it seemed more a claw than anything else. Appropriate, a claw for a monster. He felt more like a monster on this dark day than in several years. Everything about him stank of wrath and the promise of death, from the light-devouring leather of his boots, to the spiked gauntlets adorning his hands, to the rune-etched bear skull that acted as a shoulder clasp for his tattered cloak.
Wait. That's all he had asked. Wait while he returned to the tower to retrieve some scrolls, a couple of wands, and an impressive staff that he made a few months into his time with his new friends. A few days gave everyone time to rest, and time for him to put the finishing touches on a new belt for the paladin. A magical gift for the man who had given him friends and purpose. And then he returned to the campsite to find nothing. No one. There had been no struggle, and the presence of their creature comforts, with the absence of armor and weapons led to one conclusion: Something caused his friends to attack the citadel without his assistance. Innocent lives at stake, no doubt, but the camp had not been lived in for at least a day. They should have returned, and they had not. Neither had they tried the emergency spell to contact him.
Now, all that mattered was their safe return. He couldn't leave them. He fought down bile and self-loathing when he returned to his old lair to gather the items of power he needed. Without them, this would become his life once again. Dark caverns, musty tomes, and isolation. Madness and decay. Loneliness. Terrible secrets would be pried from the shadows and everything he had ever done in the name of peace and justice would be only a dream of dust and vain desire.
"They. Are. Everything." He muttered under his breath, a mantra to prepare him for what must be done. He stood, bit his tongue, and spat on the terrifying design in the dirt. Profane syllables dripped from his lips to accompany the red rivulet, with every drop turning to acrid mist on contact with the dying earth. He stepped forward, and the earth blistered beneath his boot. By the time he reached the road, the mist blanketed the fetid ground around him. The citadel guards immediately opened fire, only to have their arrows pulled to the earth by some unseen force. The gate corroded with a single utterance, wood rotting and metal rusting.
Men-at-arms rushed forward to meet his advance, but like his friends, they had no apparent eldritch support. As soon as they stepped into the black mist coating the ground, now almost waist-high, pustules and sores opened on their skin, while some staggered into fits of coughing as they inhaled the fetid air. He walked onward, listening to the choked screams of those who fell to the ground, as skin and armor alike burned from contact with the voracious, poisonous earth.
Only the beginning. Now, the mercenaries streamed into the courtyard, their priests among them. The light from the holy men's prayers halted the mist and gave hope to the men and women who had most likely taken his friends.
"None of that now," he said, a note of perverse amusement in his voice. He tapped the skull on his shoulder, and within its sockets a flicker of baleful fire came to life. All around them, the faint sounds of drums began, growing louder with each step he took, with each line of the blackest speech he uttered in his unholy litany. When he finally gestured, hand crooked and clawed, the dead men rose, skin eaten away and armor pitted, ruined throats voicing rasped pleas for release and mercy even as their arms raised weapons. He could feel the faith of the priests waver, see their light flicker and fade. There, in the eyes of the mercenaries, was the fear he sought.
Hope would die here, along with every breathing soul, save the ones he longed to see. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Drip. Drip. Drip. Rainwater flows off of the broken glass of the window that Mordecai had just thrown a guard through, pooling on the floor. Was he involved? Unlikely. Was he in the way? Most definitely. Hence why he was in a broken pile, six stories down. His raven hair is slicked back with rainwater, his helmet hanging from a leather band on his waist. For all intents and purposes, he was a knight. Beyond the visual however, was a total lack of knightly honor. A heavy plate boot rested on the back of the magistrate’s skull, pinning it to the hardwood floor of his office.
“I’ll ask again, because, frankly, I don’t think you’re hearing my question. Where were they taken?” He rasped out of a scarred throat, the result of mouthing off to an interrogator during one of his stints in a lord’s dungeon. A mottled burn scar ran from his throat to under his left eye, where hot oil had been liberally applied.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” The magistrate whined, earning a more firm step against his skull. Mordecai had warned him, after all. ‘Lie to me, and I’ll pop your head like a grape.’ Exact words.
“Papa?” Two pairs of eyes snapped up to meet baby blue ones. Childlike confusion and fear meeting one pair of fearful eyes, and one pair of blank, calculating ones. The girl couldn’t have been older than nine. And terrified of the rasping monster in this tattered armor.
“Maybe.. I’ll ask her?” His voice came out a gravelly snarl, the sound joined by the serpentine hiss of a blade leaving it’s scabbard. The girl took a step back, but there was a rattle of plate, followed by a strangled cry as a fistful of blonde hair is grabbed by a steel gauntlet. Where had the cry originated? Hard to say. A similar sound had left the girl and her father at the same time.
The magistrate began to blubber just before the cold, black steel of Mordecai’s dagger touched the tender one’s throat. “Duskford! They’re in Duskford!” The prison city. Home to the worst the kingdom had to offer. Monsters. Murderers. Thieves. Victoria passed through his mind. The lady paladin was by no means a gentle sort. But she didn’t deserve the depravity they’d thrown her to. Oleanna.. She did not either. He felt the ghost of her hands stitching the now scarred gash on his good cheek. She was too kind. Garrett.. music played in his head. The red face of the scholar as he offered the scarred warrior his hand. The feeling of shedding his plate to dance the evening away. Lips on his. Something more to while away the wee hours.
“Duskford.” Came the hoarse confirmation from Mordecai, releasing the girl as his thoughts flooded his head. She ran. Fine. Let her run. “You sent them to Duskford. They did nothing but help this rotten place.. and that is how you repay them?” He turned back to the magistrate, the cold in his eyes slowly being overtaken by something.. black. Hot, seething, black rage. Gods help them. He was glad Garrett wasn’t there to see what he did next.
The guards had been called to the manor for a disturbance. Shouting and broken glass, steel on steel. Reported by the nearest neighbors. They hadn’t expected this when they got there. The Magistrate hung limp, impaled on the sword the statue of the god of justice held in his courtyard. His innards his outers now. And below that... A head turned, a baleful eye meeting the captain of the guard’s from under a helmet, spattered with blood. “Justice will be done, your way..” The rasp of a longsword being drawn. “Or mine. What do you know..” He turned slowly, settling into a relaxed fighter’s stance. “About Duskford?” | “Get the f*k...... OUTTA MY WAY”
Another body fell to the ground, another day stained with blood. The woman surveyed the scene of the room in which she stood before continuing. A dozen or so arrows were strewn across the floor, while several more protruded from the walls. Shattered vases and pieces of a broken table were obscured from her view by the remains of a mercenary whose life had been taken without remorse. To more bodies lay behind. Rays of light shone through shattered windows, bringing a slight warm to her neck and illuminating the carnage.
As soon as her breathing returned to normal, she brushed her hair to the side and started down a set of stairs. She bit her lip in a futile attempt to mask the pain of a deep cut on her left shoulder. Her feet reached the basement floor just as the building last inhabitants rushed forward, knife in hand. In one swift motion he was disarmed, lying on the floor, and writhing in pain, a sharp blade imbedded in his forearm.
“Where the HELL is HE?” | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Manny stood by the limply hanging body of a man. The poor fool had run, and gotten himself tangled and mangled by the razorvine that was fairly common in the forest, and as a result had bled out on the ground, where the carnivorous plant's root structure lay.
Manny shook his head and sighed, the thin plant tendrils were already red from the blood meal being siphoned up from the ground. The man was his only current lead.
For most, this would mean the trail was now lost, gone cold. But Manny wasn't most people. He grew out half-foot long claws on one hand, and drove them into the corpse's chest. The dead man awoke instantly, suddenly alive again... and suddenly screaming again. There were some twitches as he thrashed, but his initial encounter with the vine had severed most of the relevant muscles, so all he managed was maybe a little sawing of the tough plant fiber into his bones.
"Oh do shut up..." Manny loosed a *silence* magic over the fellow, not giving him much choice. "... good. Now... where were we before you thought you could run? Oh, yes..." He paused, though the man would be unable to speak until the *silence* abated. Manny had to control himself so he didn't monologue, a very bad and old habit. "I was asking you about my wards... they are hard to miss. Both blonde, blue eyed young ladies, like mute little angels."
The dangling man coughed as the spell faded, and then groaned. "I...I don't know... please, it hurts... just let me go, please!"
Manny shook his head. "No, if you don't know, then you better tell me who does." When the man looked hesitant, Manny twisted his claws to tear open the man's chest. The man looked racked with pure pain, then panic as he realized he was returned to life by Manny, merely forced back into his mortal shell.
Manny growled a bit. "Speak, or I might just leave you here, let you know what it feels like to have your bones gnawed on, or cracked open to get at the marrow."
The man closed his eyes and shuddered. "Boss said he was taking them to the Thorned Rose, in Cloverton. Will you let me die now, please?"
Manny thought on this, and snarled. "A *brothel?* Hanna and Greta don't belong there. They aren't for *men like you* to toy with."
He was pissed. He'd promised Stitches he'd take care of the twins. They would not last in a whorehouse, they were too innocent. He yanked the claws out of the awakened corpse and trudged off, back to the road.
The man hung there limply again, "Um... Hello? I'm... still here... Hello? *Hello?*" The razorvine twisted and retracted into the woody bulb at the core of its roots, leaving the limp body on the ground, weakly calling out as the scavenger fauna crept towards the recent kill, ready to risk a meal now that the vine was through with it.
The voice called for help, sounding more scared and worried as critters stalked closer.
As they began to feed, the voice started screaming again. Manny heard it, but he had other things on his mind. He needed to tree some bastard in Cloverton. | “Get the f*k...... OUTTA MY WAY”
Another body fell to the ground, another day stained with blood. The woman surveyed the scene of the room in which she stood before continuing. A dozen or so arrows were strewn across the floor, while several more protruded from the walls. Shattered vases and pieces of a broken table were obscured from her view by the remains of a mercenary whose life had been taken without remorse. To more bodies lay behind. Rays of light shone through shattered windows, bringing a slight warm to her neck and illuminating the carnage.
As soon as her breathing returned to normal, she brushed her hair to the side and started down a set of stairs. She bit her lip in a futile attempt to mask the pain of a deep cut on her left shoulder. Her feet reached the basement floor just as the building last inhabitants rushed forward, knife in hand. In one swift motion he was disarmed, lying on the floor, and writhing in pain, a sharp blade imbedded in his forearm.
“Where the HELL is HE?” | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Are you sure you want me?"
"Yes!" The dwarf sounded so enthusiastic
"I've stolen from almost everyone including you four!"
"Oh we know" both the elves said in unison
"Ive murdered before for easy money!"
"But they were all shady people, their records were covered in filth" the lizard shot out.
The dwarf walked up to me and put his hand on my scrawny shoulder.
"You think your bad, but deep down under all those dark layers, is a true heart of gold!"
.
.
"It's been 3 weeks since they've gone missing, the dwarf, the two elves, and the lizard. I know for a fact you know who did it and where they are, so make it easy for us"
I held a dagger to his throat pressing harder with every silent moment
"Go to hell you rotten tiefling! All your kind does is backstab and steal, why do you care about them anyways?"
I dropped the dagger and walked towards a cage
"You shouldn't be concerned with why I'm doing this, more as you should worry over her safety."
I pulled away the cloth over the cage to reveal a slender red headed human
"You wouldn't dare, I'll have every gaurd in this place hunt you down until you found, dead of alive!"
I lit a match and turned to him
"I don't think you are in the position to make threats right now, my dear commander. All you have to do is answer my question and I will untie you and put out the match."
He looked me dead in the eye and laughed
"Fine have it your way, drop the match."
The redheads face dropped and she sank to the floor, quietly sobbing
I let out out a long, deep sigh and out out the match
"I already had all the information I needed from the journal you left in your bastard son's room, and the guard you had protecting there cell, and the paper left in your brothers room saying to get rid of my party."
"I just wanted to see the colors of your heart, looks likes your is a shadowy black, darkening the world around you!"
I grabbed my dagger and walked towards the commander
"Oh yea? Shadowy black?! Well I guess that makes us the same, so let's make a deal! One where we both get what we wanted and I don't have to die!"
"I dont make deals with anyone who cant see true colors, cause my heart is true gold!" | “Get the f*k...... OUTTA MY WAY”
Another body fell to the ground, another day stained with blood. The woman surveyed the scene of the room in which she stood before continuing. A dozen or so arrows were strewn across the floor, while several more protruded from the walls. Shattered vases and pieces of a broken table were obscured from her view by the remains of a mercenary whose life had been taken without remorse. To more bodies lay behind. Rays of light shone through shattered windows, bringing a slight warm to her neck and illuminating the carnage.
As soon as her breathing returned to normal, she brushed her hair to the side and started down a set of stairs. She bit her lip in a futile attempt to mask the pain of a deep cut on her left shoulder. Her feet reached the basement floor just as the building last inhabitants rushed forward, knife in hand. In one swift motion he was disarmed, lying on the floor, and writhing in pain, a sharp blade imbedded in his forearm.
“Where the HELL is HE?” | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I am simply *not* a 'good' person, I practice dark magic, necromancy, I murder, pillage, and torture, hell I've even made a species or two go completely extinct due to my lack of care for living creatures, but these people are different, and I will go through *any* lengths to find them.
"I swear! I never saw your party!"
The bound knight screamed in agony, as I drove splinters between his fingernails, and slowly scorched his back
"Really? Cause your friends said they did, they also said that you saw where my party went"
His eyes were about dead already, but he couldn't take anymore
"Alright, they went that way, through the forest. Now please let me out of this!"
I think he was a little too preoccupied shouting at me to realise that the key to his shackles were within arms reach of him, or to notice that his allies were now resurrected corpses with the sole mission of eating him. Either way, his screams of being eaten alive was absolute perfection on my ears. As I venture deeper into the forest, I came across an ogre who's riddle I had to solve
"Answer me this: A box without hinges, key, or lid,
Yet golden treasure inside is hid."
Of course I know it, an egg, but I'm not in the mood to deal with things as trivial as riddles, and although my party would like to keep this ogre alive I have no care for what happens to it. The sound of its intestines and blood sloshing on the stone ground in front of the wooden bridge made me absolutely euphoric, I can recall a time I've ever felt happier.
Eventually I came across a dungeon, guarded by one of the 'good' dragons
"Mortal, I believe you seek your allies, yes? To get to them, you must first give me a show of might to prove your worth, as well as answer my question"
Not this again
"I sense great evil from you, mortal, but that is beside the point. First, hit me as hard as you can with your strongest attack!"
I went very light, I didn't want to kill this dragon just yet
"Hmm. You held back great power, I am impressed. Now to see if your mind possesses similar power: I can sneak upon you, or lay before your eyes, but when I make my presence known, never the same you shall be. What am I?"
Now that's a bit harder, but being as I can kill this dragon with ease I may as well humor his riddle
"A parasite?"
The large beast shook its head
"I am afraid not, mortal. I hate to turn you away, especially when your friends are so close, but I can not allow you to enter this dun--"
A simple fireball, perhaps my weakest since I was a child, tore through its chest and destroyed its heart and lungs. I collected its blood, some bones, and scales for alchemy, with this I can certainly heal my allies from any trauma they've encountered, and with my resurrection it wouldn't be too difficult to bring them back to life if I'm too late.
Not a single creature in this dungeon could even get close to me, my passive spells killed them before anything else, and when I didn't allow them to get close enough to harm me they simply died the moment they touched my robe. At the end of the dungeon I came across a large throne room, with the bard from my party died to a pillar
"By the gods, what have they done to you!"
In a frenzy I rushed to his side
"Where are the others?! Are they alright?!"
He looked up at me, his wounds disappearing before my eyes
"Yeah, they're just fine"
With that, a sword pierced through my chest from behind, tearing my lungs, heart, and spine to shreds. It was our ranger, under an invisibility spell and using potions I made her. The knight also came out not a second later
"Did you really think we didn't know you were a lich? How stupid did you think we were?!"
As those words reverberated in my head, I realised my wounds weren't healing, all my mana was gone, and I felt very cold
"We used those potions of yours to make something to turn you human, at least long enough for us to kill you more easily, and our bard was the one to give it to you, since its contact based and you were gripping him pretty hard"
So my party was able to not only deceive me, but also kill me. I'm rather impressed
"And now, lich, I shall remove your head myself!"
As my head rolled on the hard stone, my final thoughts were upon that dragon's riddle. The answer, to which I discovered only now, was 'betrayal'.
The end. | “Get the f*k...... OUTTA MY WAY”
Another body fell to the ground, another day stained with blood. The woman surveyed the scene of the room in which she stood before continuing. A dozen or so arrows were strewn across the floor, while several more protruded from the walls. Shattered vases and pieces of a broken table were obscured from her view by the remains of a mercenary whose life had been taken without remorse. To more bodies lay behind. Rays of light shone through shattered windows, bringing a slight warm to her neck and illuminating the carnage.
As soon as her breathing returned to normal, she brushed her hair to the side and started down a set of stairs. She bit her lip in a futile attempt to mask the pain of a deep cut on her left shoulder. Her feet reached the basement floor just as the building last inhabitants rushed forward, knife in hand. In one swift motion he was disarmed, lying on the floor, and writhing in pain, a sharp blade imbedded in his forearm.
“Where the HELL is HE?” | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Command, please repeat. Over." His words were barely a whisper, tinged with a hint of hysterical disbelief. 'Please,' he wanted to beg the older man. Static cracked in Remmy's ear as he waited for confirmation. Even at twenty light years distance, gravity well fluctuations still caused minor interference in ship-to-ship comm signals.
That had to be the explanation. He couldn't have heard the orders correctly.
Another static burst hissed over the earpiece before clearing. When Major Renault's words echoed over the earpiece, they were reenforced with a hard edge that brokered no questioning or refusal. "Repeat. Command, authorization Gold-Zero-Seven. Stand down all engagements. Strike force retreat to tactical position Alpha. Best speed. Do not engage, do not respond to any hostile acts. Armistace has been reached. Over." The CO finished with an actual snarl made more vicious by another burst of convenient static.
Those words. They meant something. A part of his brain was pinging, a continous attempt at the back of his awareness, trying to get his attention. Yet, all Remmy could do was stare at the screen before him.
Cotton filled his mind, putting space between his thoughts and all reason. He knew he should act, to respond, comply with those commands. He knew what the words meant, understood they were important. It was his duty to acknowledge and carry them out. 'An oath sworn is a promise kept.'
Renault. The man's words echoed distantly in his mind. He had made one to Remmy. This time they would.
Raising his gaze from the tactical display, Remmy drifted for what felt an eternity and mere moments. A malaise came over him, sapping the strength from his limbs as he watched, helpless. Then...Light drew his attention to the ports above the command deck. Lights. So many of them, bright and beautiful. Though, distant. Cold at times. Among them a shadow, a world of darkness that blocked their shining brilliance. Whether his thoughts were describing the stars or himself, he couldn't understand.
The commands were firm. There was no misinterpreting them. He was to leave before they even had a chance to engage. Their mission was canceled. The war was over.
Remmy blinked.
Warmth came flooding back as he sat higher in the command chair. His gloves groaned softly where they gripped tighter at the tactile brackets of the flight controls. Emotional gravity sank all else but resolve to the pit of his stomach. He knew what he must do.
Clearing his throat, Remmy touched his lip to the comm to activate it. "Lieutenant Ambrose to Command. Over"
"This is Command. Go ahead. Over." The major's words were clipt. The cause of his ire was probably numerous and easily guessable even without a year spent serving the big jackass.
"Requesting permission to hold position and cover the retreat of strike force. Over." For a moment, Remmy held his breath. This would be the only chance. If he...
"Permission granted. Wait no more than twenty before rejoining strike force. Over and out." And that was it. There was no rebuke, no chance at negotiations. Those were the orders.
Like the unlucky armistace, this command demanded obedience.
On his tactical display, one large icon and six smaller began to move in formation. Their green coloring represented Terran forces. That had been the strike force.
Six inches to the left roated a massive red icon, surrounded by sixteen smaller. These were the Drelt. This was the Drelt home world. The armisticeg meant they would not face judgement. There would be no attack.
Once more, Remmy looked through the ports. They had come so close. Humanity had almost ended this ceaseless cycle of broken trusts and bloodshed. Armistice, again. Another pause, this time, at the edge. Never before had they gotten so close, to this world, to possible victory, to all-out war. Every time, it came back to the orders.
Don't fight. Don't attack. Don't stand your ground. Don't provoke. Don't so much as breathe in the Drelt's direction.
And why? They might become offended. An offended Drelt lead to dire consequences. At least, for humanity. The Drelt never felt the touch fate's ice-cold grip.
Until today.
Remmy's knuckles popped as he squeezed the controls. So close. They almost had it. Then, like always, the orders came. Last time, it had cost him. His colony. It wasn't big, nothing but a distant outpost. They had come for it none-the-less.
There would be no justice for it, of course. Earth had decided that, like always. And, like always, there would come another, and someone else would pay the price for the broken peace. Who, though? Whose blood would be spilt? Which of those tiny lights in the distance had to be next?
A quick check of the tactical display showed that the distance between his position and the rest of the strike force had grown to more than twenty times that of his and the Drelt.
Well, there would be no next time.
Remmy released the flight bracket to reach over to the console to his right. With a quick tap sequence over the terminal's buttons, he disabled the ship's incoming comm system. Another sequence started the ship's engines. Taking hold of the bracket once more, he squeezed the thruster controls and guided the ship ahead.
Steadily, the red icons grew in size on the tactical display. What appeared to be centimeters on the display were tens of thousands of miles. The planet of the Drelt attained great mass, but that was not his focus. No, he only had eyes on the sixteen smaller icons. They had to see him coming, had to be aware of the threat he posed.
Almost as one, their various positions around the larger icon changed. They moved in sync, converging in the direction of his projected path.
Sixteen against one. Slowly, Remmy felt an involuntary smile stretch across his face. That would be enough.
His tactical display flashed blue in warning. He was coming upon firing range. Data feeds trickled across the top and bottom, recommendations for speed, course corrections, possible attack vectors. Remmy ignored them. All of it was useless for this.
Pursing his lips, he activated the out-going comm. The tactical display flashed yellow. He was now in firing range from the Drelt ships.
Taking a slow breath, a tiny thrill shot down Remmy's spine, sending a shiver rippling through him. The urge to giggle like a kid almost overcame him. Maybe this was what giddiness felt like. With each passing moment, he felt the weight of wariness and the pain of memory lift from him.
The display flared maroon in warning. The Drelt ships were firing.
So what.
"Have you ever really paused and considered your ships?" The brackets trembled under his hands, signalling that full thrust had been achieved. There was nothing but flesh holding him down now. He felt so light in his own skin that Remmy thought his soul might float away. "How much power do you think it takes to make them go? I'm not talking fuel for the engines or electricity for the lights, I'm talking sheer power. The kind that allows you to cross vast distances between stars in days. Faster than light travel."
As one, the sixteen icons began to overlap as they converged upon his path. So simple. Such a dangerous race, yet, so easily led.
"Even with the power of a star, you can't achieve that kinda feat. Interstellar travel, that's something that requires the energy of levels of something large." This time, he did giggle. There was no stopping the edge of madness slipping through. "You can't just shut that off once activated. Even with your technology, FTL engine cores are really, really fucking terrifying if you don't treat them right." Releasing the right flight bracket, he reached out to the command console and began tapping the engines controls.
"Engine core ejection sequence activated," the console chirped at him. "To continue will disable Faster Than Light travel."
Remmy's giggle grew, bubbling into a full blown cackle as he entered the final command sequence. The moment he felt the ship shake from the violent ejection, he twisted the flight brackets. Away, he needed away!
Momentum pulled at Remmy as the sudden shift overcame the ship's artificial gravity generation. Subtle at first, he found himself quickly feeling heavier as he was pushed into the right side of his chair. Still, he did not slow or change direction. The thrust of his engines began to rattle the entire ship, causing haunting moans from deep in the decks beneath his feet.
Screeching started from all around him. Heart pounding at the sudden change, he focused upon the tactical display. The entirety of the screen was flashing dark red as something new rapidly grew from the direction of the Drelt forces. Their fire had hit the FTL engine core.
He wanted to scream with laughter as he watched the massive shockwave engulf the sixteen icons in quick succession. There was no time, though. Sixteen pulses fed the beast and the expansion soon eclipsed the size of the Drelt homeworld and chased after Remmy. Even with the speed of his full thrust, there was no outrunning this. At least, he sighed, he got to watch the leading edge crash over and envelop the hated place.
Closing his eyes, he savored the moment and awaited his fate. At last, there was finally, peace, and no more. | “Get the f*k...... OUTTA MY WAY”
Another body fell to the ground, another day stained with blood. The woman surveyed the scene of the room in which she stood before continuing. A dozen or so arrows were strewn across the floor, while several more protruded from the walls. Shattered vases and pieces of a broken table were obscured from her view by the remains of a mercenary whose life had been taken without remorse. To more bodies lay behind. Rays of light shone through shattered windows, bringing a slight warm to her neck and illuminating the carnage.
As soon as her breathing returned to normal, she brushed her hair to the side and started down a set of stairs. She bit her lip in a futile attempt to mask the pain of a deep cut on her left shoulder. Her feet reached the basement floor just as the building last inhabitants rushed forward, knife in hand. In one swift motion he was disarmed, lying on the floor, and writhing in pain, a sharp blade imbedded in his forearm.
“Where the HELL is HE?” | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | It was supposed to be easy gold, just kidnap the cleric and a knight. A job that had only taken a greased palm, some sleeping powder, and some muscle.
 
Easy.
 
With a start, he’d woken up. The room was almost pitch black save for some light coming through his window. The moon must’ve made it’s way to the other side of the building, an indicator of either the very late hour, or very early, depending on how one looked at such things. He was alone in his bed.
 
Wait, that wasn’t right, he’d paid for companionship for the evening, where the Hell was she?
 
The man froze, sensing that he wasn’t quite as alone in the room as he thought he was. He slowly reached his hand out toward the bedside table. He felt the leather scabbard of his knife, empty.
 
A voice spoke from the darkness, soft, but with a sharp edge to it.
 
“You won’t be needing that,”
 
He snapped his head towards the far corner of the room. The dim moonlight from the window didn’t quite reach halfway into the room, and he knew from previous experience that a chair and table rested in the far corner. If he focused, he could just make out the outline of someone sitting at it.
 
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice croaking from disuse at this time of night.
 
The other man didn’t immediately respond, instead letting silence reign. The man in the bed wondered for a brief moment if the other man hadn’t heard him. After a moment he responded, not by answering his question, but by asking his own, in the same tone of voice as before.
 
“Where are Sasha and Mirin?”
 
“Who?”
 
He could almost feel the venom coming from the other man as he spoke again.
 
“Sasha and Mirin. Both sisters of the Holy Order, one as the Right Arm of Saint Michael as his holy knight, the other using the blessings of Saint Alaire to heal the sick and injured,”
 
There was a small thud as he could only assume the man had pounded his fist onto the table next to that chair.
 
“I will ask again, Kirwen, where are they?”
 
Kirwen stared back at the man.
 
“How’d you know my name?”
 
Another moment of silence, seemingly for the other man to think. Kirwen took the moment to scoot himself a little closer to the headboard. Surreptitiously get his hand closer to his pillow.
 
“I found your companion, Rolfrick,” He said, his voice retuning to being soft but sharp, ”You had him deal with me while you took the girls. It didn’t take much to track him down, very few natural-born humans get to his size without having some Troll mixed into their lineages,”
 
There was a slight creaking sound, as Kirwen thought he saw the other man shift in the chair. He scooted another inch or so in the bed. How could Rolfrick have failed to kill this man?
 
“Before I put a knife through his heart, he told me that it was you that did this bit of business with a man from the town of Sibert. As I’m *sure* you know, that town, and few others around the Southern Reaches, are infamous slaving hubs. The Holy Order has been on something of a crusade against them for some time. You really should do your homework before taking on jobs,”
 
Kirwen slowly scooted another inch. He needed to buy some time. He spoke.
 
“You talk like someone who's not connected with the Church, what do you care if something *unfortunate* happens to them?”
 
“Because those two almost make me willing to believe there’s something good in me,”
 
The other man suddenly stood up. Kirwen scooted further up his bed, and managed to get his hand under his pillow. He could feel the hilt of his backup dagger.
 
“I’ve known those two since they were fifteen and stumbled across me while they were exploring the woods around their town. I taught Mirin everything I know about healing magics, and I helped Sasha with her combat training. I even showed them some of the things that would have helped them that the Church wouldn’t have taught them!”
 
As the other man talked, he slowly walked closer to Kirwen. His voice grew louder as he spoke. Kirwen wrapped his hand around the knife.
 
The man grabbed Kirwen by his shoulders and shook him as he spoke. His breath almost made him gag.
 
“NOW YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE THAT MAN IS TAKING THEM!”
 
Kirwen slammed the knife into the other man’s chest, producing an explosive exhalation out of the man as he shoved him into the table at the other end of the room. The table collapsed onto it’s side, taking the man, and the tableware with it and producing a truly cacophonous noise.
 
Kirwen lept into action. That noise was sure to wake everyone on the floor on the inn.
 
He wiped the blood, black in the dim light, onto the bedspread before opening the chest at the foot of his bed and dressed as rapidly as he could. Mercs in his line of work didn’t tend to make it far if they weren’t always prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. It was barely 30 seconds later that he was dressed and had his bag slung over his shoulder. He pulled at the handle to his door.
 
It didn’t budge.
 
A crackling sound came from the lamp on bedside table and the one attached to the ceiling, soon the room was bathed in a red-orange light.
 
He snapped his head around towards them, but there were no obvious signs of who had lit them.
 
The other man groaned from where the table had fallen, before rolling over and standing up.
 
Now that the light was good, he could see the other mans unnatural paleness, his stiff movements, and the sunkeness of his eyes. The knife was still sticking out of his chest, right were his heart should have been.
 
It was then that Kirwen knew, Rolfrick *hadn’t* failed to kill the man. The man knew necromancy.
 
He withdrew the knife from his chest, and let it drop to the ground.
 
“You are going to tell me where that man is taking them,” He said, returning to his soft and sharp voice, “Because, let’s be honest, death won’t even be able to save you,”
 
Kirwen scrambled into the corner next to the door.
 
“It doesn’t matter if you save them!” He yelled at the necromancer, “The Church will still destroy you!”
 
“I know,” He said, never raising his voice, “But those two are worth it.”
 
 
Sorry for having this out this late. I hope you enjoyed it -Halogen_03 | “Get the f*k...... OUTTA MY WAY”
Another body fell to the ground, another day stained with blood. The woman surveyed the scene of the room in which she stood before continuing. A dozen or so arrows were strewn across the floor, while several more protruded from the walls. Shattered vases and pieces of a broken table were obscured from her view by the remains of a mercenary whose life had been taken without remorse. To more bodies lay behind. Rays of light shone through shattered windows, bringing a slight warm to her neck and illuminating the carnage.
As soon as her breathing returned to normal, she brushed her hair to the side and started down a set of stairs. She bit her lip in a futile attempt to mask the pain of a deep cut on her left shoulder. Her feet reached the basement floor just as the building last inhabitants rushed forward, knife in hand. In one swift motion he was disarmed, lying on the floor, and writhing in pain, a sharp blade imbedded in his forearm.
“Where the HELL is HE?” | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | “I’m not a good person, Randall.”
The ocean waves churned at our feet. It had been nearly a fortnight since my party had disappeared. An accident on the field as the world knew it. I’d lost count at this point how many people had come to me offering some words of sympathy as though expecting they could distinguish themselves by acting as everyone else had.
I twined my fingers together and settled back more comfortably in my deck chair.
“Did I ever tell you how we met?” I shot him a glance to see if he was still listening.
His eyes flashed as they caught the half-light reflecting off the water, ”I didn’t ask.”
He skimmed the liquid off the top of his beer can, tipping his head back to drain the rest in one gulp. The nail of his index finger tapped at the wall of the can, before he flicked a wrist to send it flying into the obsidian waters.
“They were good people, you know,” I murmured softly, “That’s what everyone knew them as.”
“But they were a bunch of fools,” I pressed down the sound of mockery that threatened to come from my throat.
“Hmm.”
“And at some point… I wanted to be one of them, I… I wanted to be someone people would admire, someone people would point at in the streets and call a hero.”
He finally turned to look at me, the expression in his inky eyes unreadable.
“Is that why you left them there to die?” he drawled, low and cruel, “Why you’re here wasting time I could be using to catch up on sleep after following you halfway into the Deadlands looking for redemption from a bunch of brain-dead idiots who couldn’t tell a scam artist from a saint?”
I couldn’t answer that. As much as I wanted to sound like I knew what I was doing, this bastard always knew how to rip the coat of white from my sparkly clean exterior.
“Why the fuck are you here then,” I growled back, almost savage in my irritation.
He scoffed lightly, “Some of us know how to honour promises. We don’t pretend to be saints, but we know where our own bottom line is.”
He lay his weight against the arm of his deck chair and reached into his left pocket.
“You know what this is?” he asked me, his tone shifting too fast for me to gauge his emotions.
I squinted in the dusky light, trying to catch sight of the round object between his two fingers. I couldn’t make out much other than the general shape of the thing, but he answered his own question before I could ask.
“It’s a medal. My father’s medal. From those times we were busy fighting in honourable wars.”
He stood from his chair and closed the distance between us, leaning down to stare at me with eyes as bottomless as the waters around us.
“You know what this has taught me?” the only change in his expression was a slight quirk of his lips, “Honour is a joke, Charlie.”
“Honour is the reason why you and I are out here surrounded by man made creatures closer to mindless beasts than humans, looking for some happy go lucky dipshits who thought good people ever existed.”
“Honour will get you killed,” he breathed the next few words, “And so will this game of play pretend you seem so fond of.”
I gulped, the sound of it against the backdrop of the waves much louder than I would have hoped. He tucked his hands into his pockets, straightening up to look down at me.
“I’ll give you till tomorrow,” he skirted around my chair in a slow amble, “Hopefully it’s enough time for you to smarten up.”
His footsteps sounded rhythmically on the rotted pier behind me, coming to a stop after a few meters.
“Oh, and one more thing Charlie. I’m not sure how you survived this long out here with that tail hanging from your head, but if I see it still there in the morning, I’ll hand it to the Hungries myself and let them play tug of war over it. Goodnight.”
He walked off, leaving me to the jumble of my own thoughts.
“That fucking shit stain,” I hissed.
I couldn't stay angry for long, especially after realising it would be more stupid than anything to be alone at night in Hungry territory. I stalked after him, my pace faster than I would have admitted to with a gun at my head. I hated that bastard, but that bastard was the one carrying all the weapons. And I was a goner without those. | “Get the f*k...... OUTTA MY WAY”
Another body fell to the ground, another day stained with blood. The woman surveyed the scene of the room in which she stood before continuing. A dozen or so arrows were strewn across the floor, while several more protruded from the walls. Shattered vases and pieces of a broken table were obscured from her view by the remains of a mercenary whose life had been taken without remorse. To more bodies lay behind. Rays of light shone through shattered windows, bringing a slight warm to her neck and illuminating the carnage.
As soon as her breathing returned to normal, she brushed her hair to the side and started down a set of stairs. She bit her lip in a futile attempt to mask the pain of a deep cut on her left shoulder. Her feet reached the basement floor just as the building last inhabitants rushed forward, knife in hand. In one swift motion he was disarmed, lying on the floor, and writhing in pain, a sharp blade imbedded in his forearm.
“Where the HELL is HE?” | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Being good have never come naturally to Nokke.
Nokke's people were not known for it. Kobolds are generally known for being tricky and conniving bastards who would rather steal from you than give you the time of day.
Traps, misdirection and underhanded tactics. The bread and butter of Nokke's people. What had kept most of them alive when fighting people who could loom over them even when they sat.
It didn't work for long however. Nokke's small tribe had lost. Lost to some strange people. Nokke had been scared when these people, this group of 5 different and strange characters had stormed the small cave his first tribe called home.
Nokke thought about that fateful day as he quickly tied a rope around a flask's lid. It surprised Nokke how long ago that was yet how fresh the memory was in his mind. Nokke knew he had to be quick about it. There were too many variable to this plan to work but it had too. Nokke wouldn't except anything less. They needed him just as much he wanted them.
Once Nokke knew it was secure, he quickly pull the hood over his horns and felt the magic hide his presence again. Magic was something he never thought he would ever understand much less use. Of course he wasn't using magic itself, rather just using magical items. Yet it still amazed him how much he had learned from being with them. A small part of Nokke's mind wondered if his tribe was alright. It wouldn't surprise him if they were. Weak as Kobolds were, they would always manage to survive. Hithgard had always said Kobold's were like roaches; never really killed, just expelled from the holes. Nokke had always wondered what Hithgard meant and what roaches were. Nokke had never really seen one.
He quickly made his way around winding passages and cold halls. Nokke made sure to stay close to the walls and to move out of the way when he thought anyone would approach. The cloak that Elmarias had given him made him invisible but it didn't make him quite. Nokke had to do that himself.
As he went down the halls and past the doors, he made sure to check his preparations and their readiness. He made sure to check each one's place and positioning. Tweaking some as Nokke went along, making sure to try and stay out of sight as he did so. The cloak made it hard to operate with his hand when it was on, so Nokke had to time his alterations and tweaks to when he was sure no one would see him.
Nokke wasn't very smart, as much as Elmarias had tried to convince him otherwise. Despite this Nokke understood what planning and strategy was. The strange sorcerer girl had believed he could show more promise than he was actually worth was in part due to this understanding. Maybe she was right? Nokke wouldn't really know though. If things went right, maybe he would ask. When he had made sure that all of his preparation had been readied and secure, he began to head for his second objective.
The servants quarters were easy to slip into. The day was winding down which meant servants had to tidy up and tie up the things they could before nightfall. So the servants quarters were bustling with people moving in and out, carrying baskets of laudry, clothes, cleaning supplies and other things Nokke didn't know about. It was easy to move between them and pick his way to where Nokke knew she'd be. Nokke managed to spot her quickly enough, her silvery hair being easy to spot between all the mass of moving dull brown and reds of the servant outfits.
Nokke followed her as she worked, finding himself strangely annoyed at the small things that the other servants did to her as she worked quietly. Maybe Deriths care for his half-sister was rubbing off Nokke. He found his opening when an older woman tripped her as she carried a basket of clothes. The basket rolled and Nokke quickly tapped it to make it role farther. Nokke felt bad about how Feraithe had to chase after it but it was needed. Nokke needed to get her out of the castle for him to get what he wanted.
Once Nokke had managed to roll the basket out of the way enough for him to not be seen, he waited for Feraithe before pulling of his hood, releasing the magic that hide him. Feraithe let out of small gasp but quickly through her hands over her mouth. She quickly scanned the area for anyone that might see them but Nokke knew they wouldn't.
"Nokke, what are you doing here? Did you find anything about Deriths?" She quickly whispered as she knelt down.
"Yet not. Need you go out. Not safe castle." Nokke quickly said as he fished around his pockets for the map he made her. His common was still terrible but it would have to do as his elvish was even worse. Deriths wasn't as good a teacher as Elmarias.
"What do you mean not safe, Nokke? What's the matter?"
"Duke bad. Maybe betrayer. Not safe you here. Need you go out now," Nokke said quickly as he handed her a small parchement. "Go now. Follow map. Don't say word to people. Don't come back."
Feraiths nodded slowly as she took the parchment. She opened to quickly scan it before closing it back and hiding it. She picked up the basket and headed back out to the quarters. She stopped before she left Nokke's sight, turning to ask "Are you going to be alright?"
Nokke didn't know the answer to that. He knew that he wasn't going to come out whole, not when his plan was this. To essentially turn the entire castle into a trap-house as he worked to get info from the Duke. It was almost suicide if not for the things he picked up from the small band he had been traveling with for so long. Nokke nodded once before he pulled the hood over his horns and walked out of the quarters.
Nokke played with a small wand as he waited for an hour to pass. It would enough time for Feraiths to be out of the castle and be clear of the damages he would be doing. Booby-trapping the castle had been hard. Taking a little more than a couple days to setup. It was hard too. When trapping a cave, you knew that there was only 2 or 3 points of entry. Castles had too many to count But Nokke had managed to do it. All of the traps had been set up and kept in place thanks to Elmarias wands, keeping them ready and un-sprung and the spell wore-off.
Nokke didn't know if this would entirely work. The Duke was the only lead he had. He was the only one who knew where they had been that night. He had seen the mark on the hands of those who had taken his friends. The Duke had that same mark. It was hidden on his hand, Nokke seeing it one time when the gloves had slipped off. Nokke wasn't sure if the Duke knew where his friends are, but he was sure he had some idea why they were taken. Tonight, Nokke would find out.
Nokke may have started as their prisoner. But he wasn't one any longer. He may have been their pack-mule for a time but that had changed. He may have been resentful of them some time before but he had changed. If he needed to be that Kobold he was before, he do so again for them.
Nokke gripped the wand harder, bending further than it would take. Once it snapped, he began to slowly move towards the Duke's chambers. He glanced out the window once to see that the first trapped had been sprung. The moat was on fire. Not the first one he expected but that was fine. It might lead to more traps being sprung. As if the thought was the command, he hurt a small boom before screams filled the bellow him. The alchemist fire trap had been sprung down in the guard barracks. Maybe they would be dumb enough to try the water he hid there. The water contained a sleeping water elemental that Hithgard had captured once before. That would confuse them for a time.
Maybe enough for him to get some answers out of the Duke and his wife. | “Get the f*k...... OUTTA MY WAY”
Another body fell to the ground, another day stained with blood. The woman surveyed the scene of the room in which she stood before continuing. A dozen or so arrows were strewn across the floor, while several more protruded from the walls. Shattered vases and pieces of a broken table were obscured from her view by the remains of a mercenary whose life had been taken without remorse. To more bodies lay behind. Rays of light shone through shattered windows, bringing a slight warm to her neck and illuminating the carnage.
As soon as her breathing returned to normal, she brushed her hair to the side and started down a set of stairs. She bit her lip in a futile attempt to mask the pain of a deep cut on her left shoulder. Her feet reached the basement floor just as the building last inhabitants rushed forward, knife in hand. In one swift motion he was disarmed, lying on the floor, and writhing in pain, a sharp blade imbedded in his forearm.
“Where the HELL is HE?” | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful.
"They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service."
The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes.
"I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead.
"Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed!
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?"
He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs.
"Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything."
"I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear"
I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?"
Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others.
And now I had the information I needed.
(Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.) | “Get the f*k...... OUTTA MY WAY”
Another body fell to the ground, another day stained with blood. The woman surveyed the scene of the room in which she stood before continuing. A dozen or so arrows were strewn across the floor, while several more protruded from the walls. Shattered vases and pieces of a broken table were obscured from her view by the remains of a mercenary whose life had been taken without remorse. To more bodies lay behind. Rays of light shone through shattered windows, bringing a slight warm to her neck and illuminating the carnage.
As soon as her breathing returned to normal, she brushed her hair to the side and started down a set of stairs. She bit her lip in a futile attempt to mask the pain of a deep cut on her left shoulder. Her feet reached the basement floor just as the building last inhabitants rushed forward, knife in hand. In one swift motion he was disarmed, lying on the floor, and writhing in pain, a sharp blade imbedded in his forearm.
“Where the HELL is HE?” | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Are you sure you want me?"
"Yes!" The dwarf sounded so enthusiastic
"I've stolen from almost everyone including you four!"
"Oh we know" both the elves said in unison
"Ive murdered before for easy money!"
"But they were all shady people, their records were covered in filth" the lizard shot out.
The dwarf walked up to me and put his hand on my scrawny shoulder.
"You think your bad, but deep down under all those dark layers, is a true heart of gold!"
.
.
"It's been 3 weeks since they've gone missing, the dwarf, the two elves, and the lizard. I know for a fact you know who did it and where they are, so make it easy for us"
I held a dagger to his throat pressing harder with every silent moment
"Go to hell you rotten tiefling! All your kind does is backstab and steal, why do you care about them anyways?"
I dropped the dagger and walked towards a cage
"You shouldn't be concerned with why I'm doing this, more as you should worry over her safety."
I pulled away the cloth over the cage to reveal a slender red headed human
"You wouldn't dare, I'll have every gaurd in this place hunt you down until you found, dead of alive!"
I lit a match and turned to him
"I don't think you are in the position to make threats right now, my dear commander. All you have to do is answer my question and I will untie you and put out the match."
He looked me dead in the eye and laughed
"Fine have it your way, drop the match."
The redheads face dropped and she sank to the floor, quietly sobbing
I let out out a long, deep sigh and out out the match
"I already had all the information I needed from the journal you left in your bastard son's room, and the guard you had protecting there cell, and the paper left in your brothers room saying to get rid of my party."
"I just wanted to see the colors of your heart, looks likes your is a shadowy black, darkening the world around you!"
I grabbed my dagger and walked towards the commander
"Oh yea? Shadowy black?! Well I guess that makes us the same, so let's make a deal! One where we both get what we wanted and I don't have to die!"
"I dont make deals with anyone who cant see true colors, cause my heart is true gold!" | They had never agreed with my... methods. To those ones, Necromancy was a vile prospect.
"The dead must rest," was what the damned paladin always said. He could never understand that I was merely using their bodies, their souls were perfectly free. Digging up the bodies, perhaps *producing* them was the biggest issue.
But none of the semantics mattered now. Those idiots, always helping the wrong people. The nice people, the sad orphans, the city guard. The helped the wrong crying beggar this time, found just the right people to assemble a cult, got themselves locked up.
And now they were to be sacrificed to that same cult, one which had already slaughtered hundreds to pull an army from the depths of the hells. A demon for every ten mortals slaughtered, a thousand demons. They would be a gift to the mighty Baphomet. And then his armies would take the world.
I hated to admit it, hell, I probably never would speak it aloud, but I needed them. A final act of kindness, a final act of redemption. The paladin, my... my friend. He would hunt me down to the ends of the earth. But it was all to save them. They had taken me in, accepted my power to an extent. And now, years of planning for just such an event were about to pay off.
Ten thousand corpses. Ten thousand loyal servants, if I wanted them. But demons are no ordinary foe. And now I had to do something... unsightly. Pulling these corpses together, stitching them through magic, merging beings that were individuals into one. Undead titans, golems of flesh and sinew. Each bound by magic, powered by a twisted facsimile of a soul.
Cultists in a circle, bound in runes. A small bottle of diamond in the center of the room. A long, black dagger. And my soul. They needed my help. I would become their greatest enemy, but right now I was their savior.
The knife in one hand, my soon to be phylactery in the other. A last breath of humanity. Screaming. Darkness.
Baphomet should fear. I am coming. I will save them. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I am simply *not* a 'good' person, I practice dark magic, necromancy, I murder, pillage, and torture, hell I've even made a species or two go completely extinct due to my lack of care for living creatures, but these people are different, and I will go through *any* lengths to find them.
"I swear! I never saw your party!"
The bound knight screamed in agony, as I drove splinters between his fingernails, and slowly scorched his back
"Really? Cause your friends said they did, they also said that you saw where my party went"
His eyes were about dead already, but he couldn't take anymore
"Alright, they went that way, through the forest. Now please let me out of this!"
I think he was a little too preoccupied shouting at me to realise that the key to his shackles were within arms reach of him, or to notice that his allies were now resurrected corpses with the sole mission of eating him. Either way, his screams of being eaten alive was absolute perfection on my ears. As I venture deeper into the forest, I came across an ogre who's riddle I had to solve
"Answer me this: A box without hinges, key, or lid,
Yet golden treasure inside is hid."
Of course I know it, an egg, but I'm not in the mood to deal with things as trivial as riddles, and although my party would like to keep this ogre alive I have no care for what happens to it. The sound of its intestines and blood sloshing on the stone ground in front of the wooden bridge made me absolutely euphoric, I can recall a time I've ever felt happier.
Eventually I came across a dungeon, guarded by one of the 'good' dragons
"Mortal, I believe you seek your allies, yes? To get to them, you must first give me a show of might to prove your worth, as well as answer my question"
Not this again
"I sense great evil from you, mortal, but that is beside the point. First, hit me as hard as you can with your strongest attack!"
I went very light, I didn't want to kill this dragon just yet
"Hmm. You held back great power, I am impressed. Now to see if your mind possesses similar power: I can sneak upon you, or lay before your eyes, but when I make my presence known, never the same you shall be. What am I?"
Now that's a bit harder, but being as I can kill this dragon with ease I may as well humor his riddle
"A parasite?"
The large beast shook its head
"I am afraid not, mortal. I hate to turn you away, especially when your friends are so close, but I can not allow you to enter this dun--"
A simple fireball, perhaps my weakest since I was a child, tore through its chest and destroyed its heart and lungs. I collected its blood, some bones, and scales for alchemy, with this I can certainly heal my allies from any trauma they've encountered, and with my resurrection it wouldn't be too difficult to bring them back to life if I'm too late.
Not a single creature in this dungeon could even get close to me, my passive spells killed them before anything else, and when I didn't allow them to get close enough to harm me they simply died the moment they touched my robe. At the end of the dungeon I came across a large throne room, with the bard from my party died to a pillar
"By the gods, what have they done to you!"
In a frenzy I rushed to his side
"Where are the others?! Are they alright?!"
He looked up at me, his wounds disappearing before my eyes
"Yeah, they're just fine"
With that, a sword pierced through my chest from behind, tearing my lungs, heart, and spine to shreds. It was our ranger, under an invisibility spell and using potions I made her. The knight also came out not a second later
"Did you really think we didn't know you were a lich? How stupid did you think we were?!"
As those words reverberated in my head, I realised my wounds weren't healing, all my mana was gone, and I felt very cold
"We used those potions of yours to make something to turn you human, at least long enough for us to kill you more easily, and our bard was the one to give it to you, since its contact based and you were gripping him pretty hard"
So my party was able to not only deceive me, but also kill me. I'm rather impressed
"And now, lich, I shall remove your head myself!"
As my head rolled on the hard stone, my final thoughts were upon that dragon's riddle. The answer, to which I discovered only now, was 'betrayal'.
The end. | They had never agreed with my... methods. To those ones, Necromancy was a vile prospect.
"The dead must rest," was what the damned paladin always said. He could never understand that I was merely using their bodies, their souls were perfectly free. Digging up the bodies, perhaps *producing* them was the biggest issue.
But none of the semantics mattered now. Those idiots, always helping the wrong people. The nice people, the sad orphans, the city guard. The helped the wrong crying beggar this time, found just the right people to assemble a cult, got themselves locked up.
And now they were to be sacrificed to that same cult, one which had already slaughtered hundreds to pull an army from the depths of the hells. A demon for every ten mortals slaughtered, a thousand demons. They would be a gift to the mighty Baphomet. And then his armies would take the world.
I hated to admit it, hell, I probably never would speak it aloud, but I needed them. A final act of kindness, a final act of redemption. The paladin, my... my friend. He would hunt me down to the ends of the earth. But it was all to save them. They had taken me in, accepted my power to an extent. And now, years of planning for just such an event were about to pay off.
Ten thousand corpses. Ten thousand loyal servants, if I wanted them. But demons are no ordinary foe. And now I had to do something... unsightly. Pulling these corpses together, stitching them through magic, merging beings that were individuals into one. Undead titans, golems of flesh and sinew. Each bound by magic, powered by a twisted facsimile of a soul.
Cultists in a circle, bound in runes. A small bottle of diamond in the center of the room. A long, black dagger. And my soul. They needed my help. I would become their greatest enemy, but right now I was their savior.
The knife in one hand, my soon to be phylactery in the other. A last breath of humanity. Screaming. Darkness.
Baphomet should fear. I am coming. I will save them. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Command, please repeat. Over." His words were barely a whisper, tinged with a hint of hysterical disbelief. 'Please,' he wanted to beg the older man. Static cracked in Remmy's ear as he waited for confirmation. Even at twenty light years distance, gravity well fluctuations still caused minor interference in ship-to-ship comm signals.
That had to be the explanation. He couldn't have heard the orders correctly.
Another static burst hissed over the earpiece before clearing. When Major Renault's words echoed over the earpiece, they were reenforced with a hard edge that brokered no questioning or refusal. "Repeat. Command, authorization Gold-Zero-Seven. Stand down all engagements. Strike force retreat to tactical position Alpha. Best speed. Do not engage, do not respond to any hostile acts. Armistace has been reached. Over." The CO finished with an actual snarl made more vicious by another burst of convenient static.
Those words. They meant something. A part of his brain was pinging, a continous attempt at the back of his awareness, trying to get his attention. Yet, all Remmy could do was stare at the screen before him.
Cotton filled his mind, putting space between his thoughts and all reason. He knew he should act, to respond, comply with those commands. He knew what the words meant, understood they were important. It was his duty to acknowledge and carry them out. 'An oath sworn is a promise kept.'
Renault. The man's words echoed distantly in his mind. He had made one to Remmy. This time they would.
Raising his gaze from the tactical display, Remmy drifted for what felt an eternity and mere moments. A malaise came over him, sapping the strength from his limbs as he watched, helpless. Then...Light drew his attention to the ports above the command deck. Lights. So many of them, bright and beautiful. Though, distant. Cold at times. Among them a shadow, a world of darkness that blocked their shining brilliance. Whether his thoughts were describing the stars or himself, he couldn't understand.
The commands were firm. There was no misinterpreting them. He was to leave before they even had a chance to engage. Their mission was canceled. The war was over.
Remmy blinked.
Warmth came flooding back as he sat higher in the command chair. His gloves groaned softly where they gripped tighter at the tactile brackets of the flight controls. Emotional gravity sank all else but resolve to the pit of his stomach. He knew what he must do.
Clearing his throat, Remmy touched his lip to the comm to activate it. "Lieutenant Ambrose to Command. Over"
"This is Command. Go ahead. Over." The major's words were clipt. The cause of his ire was probably numerous and easily guessable even without a year spent serving the big jackass.
"Requesting permission to hold position and cover the retreat of strike force. Over." For a moment, Remmy held his breath. This would be the only chance. If he...
"Permission granted. Wait no more than twenty before rejoining strike force. Over and out." And that was it. There was no rebuke, no chance at negotiations. Those were the orders.
Like the unlucky armistace, this command demanded obedience.
On his tactical display, one large icon and six smaller began to move in formation. Their green coloring represented Terran forces. That had been the strike force.
Six inches to the left roated a massive red icon, surrounded by sixteen smaller. These were the Drelt. This was the Drelt home world. The armisticeg meant they would not face judgement. There would be no attack.
Once more, Remmy looked through the ports. They had come so close. Humanity had almost ended this ceaseless cycle of broken trusts and bloodshed. Armistice, again. Another pause, this time, at the edge. Never before had they gotten so close, to this world, to possible victory, to all-out war. Every time, it came back to the orders.
Don't fight. Don't attack. Don't stand your ground. Don't provoke. Don't so much as breathe in the Drelt's direction.
And why? They might become offended. An offended Drelt lead to dire consequences. At least, for humanity. The Drelt never felt the touch fate's ice-cold grip.
Until today.
Remmy's knuckles popped as he squeezed the controls. So close. They almost had it. Then, like always, the orders came. Last time, it had cost him. His colony. It wasn't big, nothing but a distant outpost. They had come for it none-the-less.
There would be no justice for it, of course. Earth had decided that, like always. And, like always, there would come another, and someone else would pay the price for the broken peace. Who, though? Whose blood would be spilt? Which of those tiny lights in the distance had to be next?
A quick check of the tactical display showed that the distance between his position and the rest of the strike force had grown to more than twenty times that of his and the Drelt.
Well, there would be no next time.
Remmy released the flight bracket to reach over to the console to his right. With a quick tap sequence over the terminal's buttons, he disabled the ship's incoming comm system. Another sequence started the ship's engines. Taking hold of the bracket once more, he squeezed the thruster controls and guided the ship ahead.
Steadily, the red icons grew in size on the tactical display. What appeared to be centimeters on the display were tens of thousands of miles. The planet of the Drelt attained great mass, but that was not his focus. No, he only had eyes on the sixteen smaller icons. They had to see him coming, had to be aware of the threat he posed.
Almost as one, their various positions around the larger icon changed. They moved in sync, converging in the direction of his projected path.
Sixteen against one. Slowly, Remmy felt an involuntary smile stretch across his face. That would be enough.
His tactical display flashed blue in warning. He was coming upon firing range. Data feeds trickled across the top and bottom, recommendations for speed, course corrections, possible attack vectors. Remmy ignored them. All of it was useless for this.
Pursing his lips, he activated the out-going comm. The tactical display flashed yellow. He was now in firing range from the Drelt ships.
Taking a slow breath, a tiny thrill shot down Remmy's spine, sending a shiver rippling through him. The urge to giggle like a kid almost overcame him. Maybe this was what giddiness felt like. With each passing moment, he felt the weight of wariness and the pain of memory lift from him.
The display flared maroon in warning. The Drelt ships were firing.
So what.
"Have you ever really paused and considered your ships?" The brackets trembled under his hands, signalling that full thrust had been achieved. There was nothing but flesh holding him down now. He felt so light in his own skin that Remmy thought his soul might float away. "How much power do you think it takes to make them go? I'm not talking fuel for the engines or electricity for the lights, I'm talking sheer power. The kind that allows you to cross vast distances between stars in days. Faster than light travel."
As one, the sixteen icons began to overlap as they converged upon his path. So simple. Such a dangerous race, yet, so easily led.
"Even with the power of a star, you can't achieve that kinda feat. Interstellar travel, that's something that requires the energy of levels of something large." This time, he did giggle. There was no stopping the edge of madness slipping through. "You can't just shut that off once activated. Even with your technology, FTL engine cores are really, really fucking terrifying if you don't treat them right." Releasing the right flight bracket, he reached out to the command console and began tapping the engines controls.
"Engine core ejection sequence activated," the console chirped at him. "To continue will disable Faster Than Light travel."
Remmy's giggle grew, bubbling into a full blown cackle as he entered the final command sequence. The moment he felt the ship shake from the violent ejection, he twisted the flight brackets. Away, he needed away!
Momentum pulled at Remmy as the sudden shift overcame the ship's artificial gravity generation. Subtle at first, he found himself quickly feeling heavier as he was pushed into the right side of his chair. Still, he did not slow or change direction. The thrust of his engines began to rattle the entire ship, causing haunting moans from deep in the decks beneath his feet.
Screeching started from all around him. Heart pounding at the sudden change, he focused upon the tactical display. The entirety of the screen was flashing dark red as something new rapidly grew from the direction of the Drelt forces. Their fire had hit the FTL engine core.
He wanted to scream with laughter as he watched the massive shockwave engulf the sixteen icons in quick succession. There was no time, though. Sixteen pulses fed the beast and the expansion soon eclipsed the size of the Drelt homeworld and chased after Remmy. Even with the speed of his full thrust, there was no outrunning this. At least, he sighed, he got to watch the leading edge crash over and envelop the hated place.
Closing his eyes, he savored the moment and awaited his fate. At last, there was finally, peace, and no more. | They had never agreed with my... methods. To those ones, Necromancy was a vile prospect.
"The dead must rest," was what the damned paladin always said. He could never understand that I was merely using their bodies, their souls were perfectly free. Digging up the bodies, perhaps *producing* them was the biggest issue.
But none of the semantics mattered now. Those idiots, always helping the wrong people. The nice people, the sad orphans, the city guard. The helped the wrong crying beggar this time, found just the right people to assemble a cult, got themselves locked up.
And now they were to be sacrificed to that same cult, one which had already slaughtered hundreds to pull an army from the depths of the hells. A demon for every ten mortals slaughtered, a thousand demons. They would be a gift to the mighty Baphomet. And then his armies would take the world.
I hated to admit it, hell, I probably never would speak it aloud, but I needed them. A final act of kindness, a final act of redemption. The paladin, my... my friend. He would hunt me down to the ends of the earth. But it was all to save them. They had taken me in, accepted my power to an extent. And now, years of planning for just such an event were about to pay off.
Ten thousand corpses. Ten thousand loyal servants, if I wanted them. But demons are no ordinary foe. And now I had to do something... unsightly. Pulling these corpses together, stitching them through magic, merging beings that were individuals into one. Undead titans, golems of flesh and sinew. Each bound by magic, powered by a twisted facsimile of a soul.
Cultists in a circle, bound in runes. A small bottle of diamond in the center of the room. A long, black dagger. And my soul. They needed my help. I would become their greatest enemy, but right now I was their savior.
The knife in one hand, my soon to be phylactery in the other. A last breath of humanity. Screaming. Darkness.
Baphomet should fear. I am coming. I will save them. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | It was supposed to be easy gold, just kidnap the cleric and a knight. A job that had only taken a greased palm, some sleeping powder, and some muscle.
 
Easy.
 
With a start, he’d woken up. The room was almost pitch black save for some light coming through his window. The moon must’ve made it’s way to the other side of the building, an indicator of either the very late hour, or very early, depending on how one looked at such things. He was alone in his bed.
 
Wait, that wasn’t right, he’d paid for companionship for the evening, where the Hell was she?
 
The man froze, sensing that he wasn’t quite as alone in the room as he thought he was. He slowly reached his hand out toward the bedside table. He felt the leather scabbard of his knife, empty.
 
A voice spoke from the darkness, soft, but with a sharp edge to it.
 
“You won’t be needing that,”
 
He snapped his head towards the far corner of the room. The dim moonlight from the window didn’t quite reach halfway into the room, and he knew from previous experience that a chair and table rested in the far corner. If he focused, he could just make out the outline of someone sitting at it.
 
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice croaking from disuse at this time of night.
 
The other man didn’t immediately respond, instead letting silence reign. The man in the bed wondered for a brief moment if the other man hadn’t heard him. After a moment he responded, not by answering his question, but by asking his own, in the same tone of voice as before.
 
“Where are Sasha and Mirin?”
 
“Who?”
 
He could almost feel the venom coming from the other man as he spoke again.
 
“Sasha and Mirin. Both sisters of the Holy Order, one as the Right Arm of Saint Michael as his holy knight, the other using the blessings of Saint Alaire to heal the sick and injured,”
 
There was a small thud as he could only assume the man had pounded his fist onto the table next to that chair.
 
“I will ask again, Kirwen, where are they?”
 
Kirwen stared back at the man.
 
“How’d you know my name?”
 
Another moment of silence, seemingly for the other man to think. Kirwen took the moment to scoot himself a little closer to the headboard. Surreptitiously get his hand closer to his pillow.
 
“I found your companion, Rolfrick,” He said, his voice retuning to being soft but sharp, ”You had him deal with me while you took the girls. It didn’t take much to track him down, very few natural-born humans get to his size without having some Troll mixed into their lineages,”
 
There was a slight creaking sound, as Kirwen thought he saw the other man shift in the chair. He scooted another inch or so in the bed. How could Rolfrick have failed to kill this man?
 
“Before I put a knife through his heart, he told me that it was you that did this bit of business with a man from the town of Sibert. As I’m *sure* you know, that town, and few others around the Southern Reaches, are infamous slaving hubs. The Holy Order has been on something of a crusade against them for some time. You really should do your homework before taking on jobs,”
 
Kirwen slowly scooted another inch. He needed to buy some time. He spoke.
 
“You talk like someone who's not connected with the Church, what do you care if something *unfortunate* happens to them?”
 
“Because those two almost make me willing to believe there’s something good in me,”
 
The other man suddenly stood up. Kirwen scooted further up his bed, and managed to get his hand under his pillow. He could feel the hilt of his backup dagger.
 
“I’ve known those two since they were fifteen and stumbled across me while they were exploring the woods around their town. I taught Mirin everything I know about healing magics, and I helped Sasha with her combat training. I even showed them some of the things that would have helped them that the Church wouldn’t have taught them!”
 
As the other man talked, he slowly walked closer to Kirwen. His voice grew louder as he spoke. Kirwen wrapped his hand around the knife.
 
The man grabbed Kirwen by his shoulders and shook him as he spoke. His breath almost made him gag.
 
“NOW YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE THAT MAN IS TAKING THEM!”
 
Kirwen slammed the knife into the other man’s chest, producing an explosive exhalation out of the man as he shoved him into the table at the other end of the room. The table collapsed onto it’s side, taking the man, and the tableware with it and producing a truly cacophonous noise.
 
Kirwen lept into action. That noise was sure to wake everyone on the floor on the inn.
 
He wiped the blood, black in the dim light, onto the bedspread before opening the chest at the foot of his bed and dressed as rapidly as he could. Mercs in his line of work didn’t tend to make it far if they weren’t always prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. It was barely 30 seconds later that he was dressed and had his bag slung over his shoulder. He pulled at the handle to his door.
 
It didn’t budge.
 
A crackling sound came from the lamp on bedside table and the one attached to the ceiling, soon the room was bathed in a red-orange light.
 
He snapped his head around towards them, but there were no obvious signs of who had lit them.
 
The other man groaned from where the table had fallen, before rolling over and standing up.
 
Now that the light was good, he could see the other mans unnatural paleness, his stiff movements, and the sunkeness of his eyes. The knife was still sticking out of his chest, right were his heart should have been.
 
It was then that Kirwen knew, Rolfrick *hadn’t* failed to kill the man. The man knew necromancy.
 
He withdrew the knife from his chest, and let it drop to the ground.
 
“You are going to tell me where that man is taking them,” He said, returning to his soft and sharp voice, “Because, let’s be honest, death won’t even be able to save you,”
 
Kirwen scrambled into the corner next to the door.
 
“It doesn’t matter if you save them!” He yelled at the necromancer, “The Church will still destroy you!”
 
“I know,” He said, never raising his voice, “But those two are worth it.”
 
 
Sorry for having this out this late. I hope you enjoyed it -Halogen_03 | They had never agreed with my... methods. To those ones, Necromancy was a vile prospect.
"The dead must rest," was what the damned paladin always said. He could never understand that I was merely using their bodies, their souls were perfectly free. Digging up the bodies, perhaps *producing* them was the biggest issue.
But none of the semantics mattered now. Those idiots, always helping the wrong people. The nice people, the sad orphans, the city guard. The helped the wrong crying beggar this time, found just the right people to assemble a cult, got themselves locked up.
And now they were to be sacrificed to that same cult, one which had already slaughtered hundreds to pull an army from the depths of the hells. A demon for every ten mortals slaughtered, a thousand demons. They would be a gift to the mighty Baphomet. And then his armies would take the world.
I hated to admit it, hell, I probably never would speak it aloud, but I needed them. A final act of kindness, a final act of redemption. The paladin, my... my friend. He would hunt me down to the ends of the earth. But it was all to save them. They had taken me in, accepted my power to an extent. And now, years of planning for just such an event were about to pay off.
Ten thousand corpses. Ten thousand loyal servants, if I wanted them. But demons are no ordinary foe. And now I had to do something... unsightly. Pulling these corpses together, stitching them through magic, merging beings that were individuals into one. Undead titans, golems of flesh and sinew. Each bound by magic, powered by a twisted facsimile of a soul.
Cultists in a circle, bound in runes. A small bottle of diamond in the center of the room. A long, black dagger. And my soul. They needed my help. I would become their greatest enemy, but right now I was their savior.
The knife in one hand, my soon to be phylactery in the other. A last breath of humanity. Screaming. Darkness.
Baphomet should fear. I am coming. I will save them. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | “I’m not a good person, Randall.”
The ocean waves churned at our feet. It had been nearly a fortnight since my party had disappeared. An accident on the field as the world knew it. I’d lost count at this point how many people had come to me offering some words of sympathy as though expecting they could distinguish themselves by acting as everyone else had.
I twined my fingers together and settled back more comfortably in my deck chair.
“Did I ever tell you how we met?” I shot him a glance to see if he was still listening.
His eyes flashed as they caught the half-light reflecting off the water, ”I didn’t ask.”
He skimmed the liquid off the top of his beer can, tipping his head back to drain the rest in one gulp. The nail of his index finger tapped at the wall of the can, before he flicked a wrist to send it flying into the obsidian waters.
“They were good people, you know,” I murmured softly, “That’s what everyone knew them as.”
“But they were a bunch of fools,” I pressed down the sound of mockery that threatened to come from my throat.
“Hmm.”
“And at some point… I wanted to be one of them, I… I wanted to be someone people would admire, someone people would point at in the streets and call a hero.”
He finally turned to look at me, the expression in his inky eyes unreadable.
“Is that why you left them there to die?” he drawled, low and cruel, “Why you’re here wasting time I could be using to catch up on sleep after following you halfway into the Deadlands looking for redemption from a bunch of brain-dead idiots who couldn’t tell a scam artist from a saint?”
I couldn’t answer that. As much as I wanted to sound like I knew what I was doing, this bastard always knew how to rip the coat of white from my sparkly clean exterior.
“Why the fuck are you here then,” I growled back, almost savage in my irritation.
He scoffed lightly, “Some of us know how to honour promises. We don’t pretend to be saints, but we know where our own bottom line is.”
He lay his weight against the arm of his deck chair and reached into his left pocket.
“You know what this is?” he asked me, his tone shifting too fast for me to gauge his emotions.
I squinted in the dusky light, trying to catch sight of the round object between his two fingers. I couldn’t make out much other than the general shape of the thing, but he answered his own question before I could ask.
“It’s a medal. My father’s medal. From those times we were busy fighting in honourable wars.”
He stood from his chair and closed the distance between us, leaning down to stare at me with eyes as bottomless as the waters around us.
“You know what this has taught me?” the only change in his expression was a slight quirk of his lips, “Honour is a joke, Charlie.”
“Honour is the reason why you and I are out here surrounded by man made creatures closer to mindless beasts than humans, looking for some happy go lucky dipshits who thought good people ever existed.”
“Honour will get you killed,” he breathed the next few words, “And so will this game of play pretend you seem so fond of.”
I gulped, the sound of it against the backdrop of the waves much louder than I would have hoped. He tucked his hands into his pockets, straightening up to look down at me.
“I’ll give you till tomorrow,” he skirted around my chair in a slow amble, “Hopefully it’s enough time for you to smarten up.”
His footsteps sounded rhythmically on the rotted pier behind me, coming to a stop after a few meters.
“Oh, and one more thing Charlie. I’m not sure how you survived this long out here with that tail hanging from your head, but if I see it still there in the morning, I’ll hand it to the Hungries myself and let them play tug of war over it. Goodnight.”
He walked off, leaving me to the jumble of my own thoughts.
“That fucking shit stain,” I hissed.
I couldn't stay angry for long, especially after realising it would be more stupid than anything to be alone at night in Hungry territory. I stalked after him, my pace faster than I would have admitted to with a gun at my head. I hated that bastard, but that bastard was the one carrying all the weapons. And I was a goner without those. | They had never agreed with my... methods. To those ones, Necromancy was a vile prospect.
"The dead must rest," was what the damned paladin always said. He could never understand that I was merely using their bodies, their souls were perfectly free. Digging up the bodies, perhaps *producing* them was the biggest issue.
But none of the semantics mattered now. Those idiots, always helping the wrong people. The nice people, the sad orphans, the city guard. The helped the wrong crying beggar this time, found just the right people to assemble a cult, got themselves locked up.
And now they were to be sacrificed to that same cult, one which had already slaughtered hundreds to pull an army from the depths of the hells. A demon for every ten mortals slaughtered, a thousand demons. They would be a gift to the mighty Baphomet. And then his armies would take the world.
I hated to admit it, hell, I probably never would speak it aloud, but I needed them. A final act of kindness, a final act of redemption. The paladin, my... my friend. He would hunt me down to the ends of the earth. But it was all to save them. They had taken me in, accepted my power to an extent. And now, years of planning for just such an event were about to pay off.
Ten thousand corpses. Ten thousand loyal servants, if I wanted them. But demons are no ordinary foe. And now I had to do something... unsightly. Pulling these corpses together, stitching them through magic, merging beings that were individuals into one. Undead titans, golems of flesh and sinew. Each bound by magic, powered by a twisted facsimile of a soul.
Cultists in a circle, bound in runes. A small bottle of diamond in the center of the room. A long, black dagger. And my soul. They needed my help. I would become their greatest enemy, but right now I was their savior.
The knife in one hand, my soon to be phylactery in the other. A last breath of humanity. Screaming. Darkness.
Baphomet should fear. I am coming. I will save them. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Being good have never come naturally to Nokke.
Nokke's people were not known for it. Kobolds are generally known for being tricky and conniving bastards who would rather steal from you than give you the time of day.
Traps, misdirection and underhanded tactics. The bread and butter of Nokke's people. What had kept most of them alive when fighting people who could loom over them even when they sat.
It didn't work for long however. Nokke's small tribe had lost. Lost to some strange people. Nokke had been scared when these people, this group of 5 different and strange characters had stormed the small cave his first tribe called home.
Nokke thought about that fateful day as he quickly tied a rope around a flask's lid. It surprised Nokke how long ago that was yet how fresh the memory was in his mind. Nokke knew he had to be quick about it. There were too many variable to this plan to work but it had too. Nokke wouldn't except anything less. They needed him just as much he wanted them.
Once Nokke knew it was secure, he quickly pull the hood over his horns and felt the magic hide his presence again. Magic was something he never thought he would ever understand much less use. Of course he wasn't using magic itself, rather just using magical items. Yet it still amazed him how much he had learned from being with them. A small part of Nokke's mind wondered if his tribe was alright. It wouldn't surprise him if they were. Weak as Kobolds were, they would always manage to survive. Hithgard had always said Kobold's were like roaches; never really killed, just expelled from the holes. Nokke had always wondered what Hithgard meant and what roaches were. Nokke had never really seen one.
He quickly made his way around winding passages and cold halls. Nokke made sure to stay close to the walls and to move out of the way when he thought anyone would approach. The cloak that Elmarias had given him made him invisible but it didn't make him quite. Nokke had to do that himself.
As he went down the halls and past the doors, he made sure to check his preparations and their readiness. He made sure to check each one's place and positioning. Tweaking some as Nokke went along, making sure to try and stay out of sight as he did so. The cloak made it hard to operate with his hand when it was on, so Nokke had to time his alterations and tweaks to when he was sure no one would see him.
Nokke wasn't very smart, as much as Elmarias had tried to convince him otherwise. Despite this Nokke understood what planning and strategy was. The strange sorcerer girl had believed he could show more promise than he was actually worth was in part due to this understanding. Maybe she was right? Nokke wouldn't really know though. If things went right, maybe he would ask. When he had made sure that all of his preparation had been readied and secure, he began to head for his second objective.
The servants quarters were easy to slip into. The day was winding down which meant servants had to tidy up and tie up the things they could before nightfall. So the servants quarters were bustling with people moving in and out, carrying baskets of laudry, clothes, cleaning supplies and other things Nokke didn't know about. It was easy to move between them and pick his way to where Nokke knew she'd be. Nokke managed to spot her quickly enough, her silvery hair being easy to spot between all the mass of moving dull brown and reds of the servant outfits.
Nokke followed her as she worked, finding himself strangely annoyed at the small things that the other servants did to her as she worked quietly. Maybe Deriths care for his half-sister was rubbing off Nokke. He found his opening when an older woman tripped her as she carried a basket of clothes. The basket rolled and Nokke quickly tapped it to make it role farther. Nokke felt bad about how Feraithe had to chase after it but it was needed. Nokke needed to get her out of the castle for him to get what he wanted.
Once Nokke had managed to roll the basket out of the way enough for him to not be seen, he waited for Feraithe before pulling of his hood, releasing the magic that hide him. Feraithe let out of small gasp but quickly through her hands over her mouth. She quickly scanned the area for anyone that might see them but Nokke knew they wouldn't.
"Nokke, what are you doing here? Did you find anything about Deriths?" She quickly whispered as she knelt down.
"Yet not. Need you go out. Not safe castle." Nokke quickly said as he fished around his pockets for the map he made her. His common was still terrible but it would have to do as his elvish was even worse. Deriths wasn't as good a teacher as Elmarias.
"What do you mean not safe, Nokke? What's the matter?"
"Duke bad. Maybe betrayer. Not safe you here. Need you go out now," Nokke said quickly as he handed her a small parchement. "Go now. Follow map. Don't say word to people. Don't come back."
Feraiths nodded slowly as she took the parchment. She opened to quickly scan it before closing it back and hiding it. She picked up the basket and headed back out to the quarters. She stopped before she left Nokke's sight, turning to ask "Are you going to be alright?"
Nokke didn't know the answer to that. He knew that he wasn't going to come out whole, not when his plan was this. To essentially turn the entire castle into a trap-house as he worked to get info from the Duke. It was almost suicide if not for the things he picked up from the small band he had been traveling with for so long. Nokke nodded once before he pulled the hood over his horns and walked out of the quarters.
Nokke played with a small wand as he waited for an hour to pass. It would enough time for Feraiths to be out of the castle and be clear of the damages he would be doing. Booby-trapping the castle had been hard. Taking a little more than a couple days to setup. It was hard too. When trapping a cave, you knew that there was only 2 or 3 points of entry. Castles had too many to count But Nokke had managed to do it. All of the traps had been set up and kept in place thanks to Elmarias wands, keeping them ready and un-sprung and the spell wore-off.
Nokke didn't know if this would entirely work. The Duke was the only lead he had. He was the only one who knew where they had been that night. He had seen the mark on the hands of those who had taken his friends. The Duke had that same mark. It was hidden on his hand, Nokke seeing it one time when the gloves had slipped off. Nokke wasn't sure if the Duke knew where his friends are, but he was sure he had some idea why they were taken. Tonight, Nokke would find out.
Nokke may have started as their prisoner. But he wasn't one any longer. He may have been their pack-mule for a time but that had changed. He may have been resentful of them some time before but he had changed. If he needed to be that Kobold he was before, he do so again for them.
Nokke gripped the wand harder, bending further than it would take. Once it snapped, he began to slowly move towards the Duke's chambers. He glanced out the window once to see that the first trapped had been sprung. The moat was on fire. Not the first one he expected but that was fine. It might lead to more traps being sprung. As if the thought was the command, he hurt a small boom before screams filled the bellow him. The alchemist fire trap had been sprung down in the guard barracks. Maybe they would be dumb enough to try the water he hid there. The water contained a sleeping water elemental that Hithgard had captured once before. That would confuse them for a time.
Maybe enough for him to get some answers out of the Duke and his wife. | They had never agreed with my... methods. To those ones, Necromancy was a vile prospect.
"The dead must rest," was what the damned paladin always said. He could never understand that I was merely using their bodies, their souls were perfectly free. Digging up the bodies, perhaps *producing* them was the biggest issue.
But none of the semantics mattered now. Those idiots, always helping the wrong people. The nice people, the sad orphans, the city guard. The helped the wrong crying beggar this time, found just the right people to assemble a cult, got themselves locked up.
And now they were to be sacrificed to that same cult, one which had already slaughtered hundreds to pull an army from the depths of the hells. A demon for every ten mortals slaughtered, a thousand demons. They would be a gift to the mighty Baphomet. And then his armies would take the world.
I hated to admit it, hell, I probably never would speak it aloud, but I needed them. A final act of kindness, a final act of redemption. The paladin, my... my friend. He would hunt me down to the ends of the earth. But it was all to save them. They had taken me in, accepted my power to an extent. And now, years of planning for just such an event were about to pay off.
Ten thousand corpses. Ten thousand loyal servants, if I wanted them. But demons are no ordinary foe. And now I had to do something... unsightly. Pulling these corpses together, stitching them through magic, merging beings that were individuals into one. Undead titans, golems of flesh and sinew. Each bound by magic, powered by a twisted facsimile of a soul.
Cultists in a circle, bound in runes. A small bottle of diamond in the center of the room. A long, black dagger. And my soul. They needed my help. I would become their greatest enemy, but right now I was their savior.
The knife in one hand, my soon to be phylactery in the other. A last breath of humanity. Screaming. Darkness.
Baphomet should fear. I am coming. I will save them. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful.
"They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service."
The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes.
"I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead.
"Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed!
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?"
He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs.
"Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything."
"I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear"
I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?"
Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others.
And now I had the information I needed.
(Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.) | They had never agreed with my... methods. To those ones, Necromancy was a vile prospect.
"The dead must rest," was what the damned paladin always said. He could never understand that I was merely using their bodies, their souls were perfectly free. Digging up the bodies, perhaps *producing* them was the biggest issue.
But none of the semantics mattered now. Those idiots, always helping the wrong people. The nice people, the sad orphans, the city guard. The helped the wrong crying beggar this time, found just the right people to assemble a cult, got themselves locked up.
And now they were to be sacrificed to that same cult, one which had already slaughtered hundreds to pull an army from the depths of the hells. A demon for every ten mortals slaughtered, a thousand demons. They would be a gift to the mighty Baphomet. And then his armies would take the world.
I hated to admit it, hell, I probably never would speak it aloud, but I needed them. A final act of kindness, a final act of redemption. The paladin, my... my friend. He would hunt me down to the ends of the earth. But it was all to save them. They had taken me in, accepted my power to an extent. And now, years of planning for just such an event were about to pay off.
Ten thousand corpses. Ten thousand loyal servants, if I wanted them. But demons are no ordinary foe. And now I had to do something... unsightly. Pulling these corpses together, stitching them through magic, merging beings that were individuals into one. Undead titans, golems of flesh and sinew. Each bound by magic, powered by a twisted facsimile of a soul.
Cultists in a circle, bound in runes. A small bottle of diamond in the center of the room. A long, black dagger. And my soul. They needed my help. I would become their greatest enemy, but right now I was their savior.
The knife in one hand, my soon to be phylactery in the other. A last breath of humanity. Screaming. Darkness.
Baphomet should fear. I am coming. I will save them. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I am simply *not* a 'good' person, I practice dark magic, necromancy, I murder, pillage, and torture, hell I've even made a species or two go completely extinct due to my lack of care for living creatures, but these people are different, and I will go through *any* lengths to find them.
"I swear! I never saw your party!"
The bound knight screamed in agony, as I drove splinters between his fingernails, and slowly scorched his back
"Really? Cause your friends said they did, they also said that you saw where my party went"
His eyes were about dead already, but he couldn't take anymore
"Alright, they went that way, through the forest. Now please let me out of this!"
I think he was a little too preoccupied shouting at me to realise that the key to his shackles were within arms reach of him, or to notice that his allies were now resurrected corpses with the sole mission of eating him. Either way, his screams of being eaten alive was absolute perfection on my ears. As I venture deeper into the forest, I came across an ogre who's riddle I had to solve
"Answer me this: A box without hinges, key, or lid,
Yet golden treasure inside is hid."
Of course I know it, an egg, but I'm not in the mood to deal with things as trivial as riddles, and although my party would like to keep this ogre alive I have no care for what happens to it. The sound of its intestines and blood sloshing on the stone ground in front of the wooden bridge made me absolutely euphoric, I can recall a time I've ever felt happier.
Eventually I came across a dungeon, guarded by one of the 'good' dragons
"Mortal, I believe you seek your allies, yes? To get to them, you must first give me a show of might to prove your worth, as well as answer my question"
Not this again
"I sense great evil from you, mortal, but that is beside the point. First, hit me as hard as you can with your strongest attack!"
I went very light, I didn't want to kill this dragon just yet
"Hmm. You held back great power, I am impressed. Now to see if your mind possesses similar power: I can sneak upon you, or lay before your eyes, but when I make my presence known, never the same you shall be. What am I?"
Now that's a bit harder, but being as I can kill this dragon with ease I may as well humor his riddle
"A parasite?"
The large beast shook its head
"I am afraid not, mortal. I hate to turn you away, especially when your friends are so close, but I can not allow you to enter this dun--"
A simple fireball, perhaps my weakest since I was a child, tore through its chest and destroyed its heart and lungs. I collected its blood, some bones, and scales for alchemy, with this I can certainly heal my allies from any trauma they've encountered, and with my resurrection it wouldn't be too difficult to bring them back to life if I'm too late.
Not a single creature in this dungeon could even get close to me, my passive spells killed them before anything else, and when I didn't allow them to get close enough to harm me they simply died the moment they touched my robe. At the end of the dungeon I came across a large throne room, with the bard from my party died to a pillar
"By the gods, what have they done to you!"
In a frenzy I rushed to his side
"Where are the others?! Are they alright?!"
He looked up at me, his wounds disappearing before my eyes
"Yeah, they're just fine"
With that, a sword pierced through my chest from behind, tearing my lungs, heart, and spine to shreds. It was our ranger, under an invisibility spell and using potions I made her. The knight also came out not a second later
"Did you really think we didn't know you were a lich? How stupid did you think we were?!"
As those words reverberated in my head, I realised my wounds weren't healing, all my mana was gone, and I felt very cold
"We used those potions of yours to make something to turn you human, at least long enough for us to kill you more easily, and our bard was the one to give it to you, since its contact based and you were gripping him pretty hard"
So my party was able to not only deceive me, but also kill me. I'm rather impressed
"And now, lich, I shall remove your head myself!"
As my head rolled on the hard stone, my final thoughts were upon that dragon's riddle. The answer, to which I discovered only now, was 'betrayal'.
The end. | "But you're--"
His words died in his mouth, quite literally, as his tongue shriveled to a husk. His cheeks sunk in, his eyes hallowed. His hair turned gray while his skin became sallow. He collapsed to the ground, little more than skin hanging loosely off of brittle, shivering bones. He gasped, and it sounded every bit as hollow and desperate as a mummified man could.
"I'm not of your concern," I said. The purple magic emanating from my outstretched palm receded, and the hyper aging stopped. The man was probably over several hundred years old physically, and yet my magic would not let him die. "What I am, who I am, and what I'm doing is not important to you right now. What *is* important, however, is how much pain you're in right now. Are you in pain right now, mister?"
The man couldn't answer. His lungs were probably barely bigger than grapes, and his brain is little more than dust. His soul, however, could comprehend me. And it could comprehend the agony of such an existence, as well as the impossibility of such a thing.
He wanted nothing more than to die, and I wanted to drain the last of the life from him. But not yet.
"I could let you die. You could go to the afterlife, whatever that is, as peacefully as scum like you deserve. But you have to answer me, fully and honestly, or I will leave you here as such, bound to a state of undeath. Am I understood?"
The man couldn't speak. I could tell he wanted to, but his muscles has atrophied far past the point of uselessness. I released some of his life energy back into him, and his face returned to something of a forty year old.
The rest of his body was rotted away, however, so the first thing he did was scream unholy murder.
"Quiet," I hissed. "I don't care for your pains. Answer my question. Where is my team? My party: The Elucidates. They consist of a Swordsman, a Tank, a Rogue, and a cute little aspiring Paladin. Where are they?"
"I... I don't..."
I drained the life from his right eye. As the orb imploded inwards and bled, before drying up in the socket, the man's screams redoubled. I let him scream for a bit before quieting him.
"That is the response that your last teammate said. And the one before that. They all gave me unsatisfactory answers, and now they're all dead. You will be joining them soon, but they all died slowly. They were in agonizing pain that I don't think even they could describe to you. I know that you know where my team was taken. Every one of you disgusting cultists know where your home base is." I leaned down and grabbed him by his straw-like hair. I forced his one good eye to look at me. "Trust me, I could hurt you more than you or your false god ever could. Now, tell me, or I will hurt you."
I restored the man's hair. I restored his eye. I even restored his lungs and his barely pumping heart. He looked at me as a man stuck in a desert would look at a bottle of water.
Then he sang.
"It's... it's in the Western Highlands. Beyond the Forbidden Swamp."
I nodded. I hadn't thought to check there. I wiped out entire cultist bases from the Dwarven City of Dwargon to the Hidden Village of Elves. I never suspected to look there.
"Very well," I said. Then, without prompt, I restored the man to full health. He was a man of middling age and failing health when I cornered him. Now he looked to be the prime of his life. He looked to himself, surprised at my benevolence. I looked back at him, just as confused.
"Fairliln, my Captain and Swordsman, told me to always repay my debts. To everyone. I don't understand why I should have to repay scum like you, who is the entire reason I'm here in the first place, but I promised him I would be better. I keep to my promises, whether or not he is here."
The man seemed relieved, but recoiled when I lifted my hand. The purple energy sprang to life again, and visages of shadows and mists of the undead reached through the cracks of the stone walls.
"But I ever see you again, should you ever cross me once more, I will not hesitate to bring down the full wrath of a fully fledged NecroMaster."
The man nodded heavily, almost seeming to break his newly restored neck. I stared at him for a few minutes before accepting his subservience.
I sighed. "But that is no longer my title. I am now the Healer of The Elucidates, and my death magic is used for undeath, for Life. Don't make me regret this decision for you." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Command, please repeat. Over." His words were barely a whisper, tinged with a hint of hysterical disbelief. 'Please,' he wanted to beg the older man. Static cracked in Remmy's ear as he waited for confirmation. Even at twenty light years distance, gravity well fluctuations still caused minor interference in ship-to-ship comm signals.
That had to be the explanation. He couldn't have heard the orders correctly.
Another static burst hissed over the earpiece before clearing. When Major Renault's words echoed over the earpiece, they were reenforced with a hard edge that brokered no questioning or refusal. "Repeat. Command, authorization Gold-Zero-Seven. Stand down all engagements. Strike force retreat to tactical position Alpha. Best speed. Do not engage, do not respond to any hostile acts. Armistace has been reached. Over." The CO finished with an actual snarl made more vicious by another burst of convenient static.
Those words. They meant something. A part of his brain was pinging, a continous attempt at the back of his awareness, trying to get his attention. Yet, all Remmy could do was stare at the screen before him.
Cotton filled his mind, putting space between his thoughts and all reason. He knew he should act, to respond, comply with those commands. He knew what the words meant, understood they were important. It was his duty to acknowledge and carry them out. 'An oath sworn is a promise kept.'
Renault. The man's words echoed distantly in his mind. He had made one to Remmy. This time they would.
Raising his gaze from the tactical display, Remmy drifted for what felt an eternity and mere moments. A malaise came over him, sapping the strength from his limbs as he watched, helpless. Then...Light drew his attention to the ports above the command deck. Lights. So many of them, bright and beautiful. Though, distant. Cold at times. Among them a shadow, a world of darkness that blocked their shining brilliance. Whether his thoughts were describing the stars or himself, he couldn't understand.
The commands were firm. There was no misinterpreting them. He was to leave before they even had a chance to engage. Their mission was canceled. The war was over.
Remmy blinked.
Warmth came flooding back as he sat higher in the command chair. His gloves groaned softly where they gripped tighter at the tactile brackets of the flight controls. Emotional gravity sank all else but resolve to the pit of his stomach. He knew what he must do.
Clearing his throat, Remmy touched his lip to the comm to activate it. "Lieutenant Ambrose to Command. Over"
"This is Command. Go ahead. Over." The major's words were clipt. The cause of his ire was probably numerous and easily guessable even without a year spent serving the big jackass.
"Requesting permission to hold position and cover the retreat of strike force. Over." For a moment, Remmy held his breath. This would be the only chance. If he...
"Permission granted. Wait no more than twenty before rejoining strike force. Over and out." And that was it. There was no rebuke, no chance at negotiations. Those were the orders.
Like the unlucky armistace, this command demanded obedience.
On his tactical display, one large icon and six smaller began to move in formation. Their green coloring represented Terran forces. That had been the strike force.
Six inches to the left roated a massive red icon, surrounded by sixteen smaller. These were the Drelt. This was the Drelt home world. The armisticeg meant they would not face judgement. There would be no attack.
Once more, Remmy looked through the ports. They had come so close. Humanity had almost ended this ceaseless cycle of broken trusts and bloodshed. Armistice, again. Another pause, this time, at the edge. Never before had they gotten so close, to this world, to possible victory, to all-out war. Every time, it came back to the orders.
Don't fight. Don't attack. Don't stand your ground. Don't provoke. Don't so much as breathe in the Drelt's direction.
And why? They might become offended. An offended Drelt lead to dire consequences. At least, for humanity. The Drelt never felt the touch fate's ice-cold grip.
Until today.
Remmy's knuckles popped as he squeezed the controls. So close. They almost had it. Then, like always, the orders came. Last time, it had cost him. His colony. It wasn't big, nothing but a distant outpost. They had come for it none-the-less.
There would be no justice for it, of course. Earth had decided that, like always. And, like always, there would come another, and someone else would pay the price for the broken peace. Who, though? Whose blood would be spilt? Which of those tiny lights in the distance had to be next?
A quick check of the tactical display showed that the distance between his position and the rest of the strike force had grown to more than twenty times that of his and the Drelt.
Well, there would be no next time.
Remmy released the flight bracket to reach over to the console to his right. With a quick tap sequence over the terminal's buttons, he disabled the ship's incoming comm system. Another sequence started the ship's engines. Taking hold of the bracket once more, he squeezed the thruster controls and guided the ship ahead.
Steadily, the red icons grew in size on the tactical display. What appeared to be centimeters on the display were tens of thousands of miles. The planet of the Drelt attained great mass, but that was not his focus. No, he only had eyes on the sixteen smaller icons. They had to see him coming, had to be aware of the threat he posed.
Almost as one, their various positions around the larger icon changed. They moved in sync, converging in the direction of his projected path.
Sixteen against one. Slowly, Remmy felt an involuntary smile stretch across his face. That would be enough.
His tactical display flashed blue in warning. He was coming upon firing range. Data feeds trickled across the top and bottom, recommendations for speed, course corrections, possible attack vectors. Remmy ignored them. All of it was useless for this.
Pursing his lips, he activated the out-going comm. The tactical display flashed yellow. He was now in firing range from the Drelt ships.
Taking a slow breath, a tiny thrill shot down Remmy's spine, sending a shiver rippling through him. The urge to giggle like a kid almost overcame him. Maybe this was what giddiness felt like. With each passing moment, he felt the weight of wariness and the pain of memory lift from him.
The display flared maroon in warning. The Drelt ships were firing.
So what.
"Have you ever really paused and considered your ships?" The brackets trembled under his hands, signalling that full thrust had been achieved. There was nothing but flesh holding him down now. He felt so light in his own skin that Remmy thought his soul might float away. "How much power do you think it takes to make them go? I'm not talking fuel for the engines or electricity for the lights, I'm talking sheer power. The kind that allows you to cross vast distances between stars in days. Faster than light travel."
As one, the sixteen icons began to overlap as they converged upon his path. So simple. Such a dangerous race, yet, so easily led.
"Even with the power of a star, you can't achieve that kinda feat. Interstellar travel, that's something that requires the energy of levels of something large." This time, he did giggle. There was no stopping the edge of madness slipping through. "You can't just shut that off once activated. Even with your technology, FTL engine cores are really, really fucking terrifying if you don't treat them right." Releasing the right flight bracket, he reached out to the command console and began tapping the engines controls.
"Engine core ejection sequence activated," the console chirped at him. "To continue will disable Faster Than Light travel."
Remmy's giggle grew, bubbling into a full blown cackle as he entered the final command sequence. The moment he felt the ship shake from the violent ejection, he twisted the flight brackets. Away, he needed away!
Momentum pulled at Remmy as the sudden shift overcame the ship's artificial gravity generation. Subtle at first, he found himself quickly feeling heavier as he was pushed into the right side of his chair. Still, he did not slow or change direction. The thrust of his engines began to rattle the entire ship, causing haunting moans from deep in the decks beneath his feet.
Screeching started from all around him. Heart pounding at the sudden change, he focused upon the tactical display. The entirety of the screen was flashing dark red as something new rapidly grew from the direction of the Drelt forces. Their fire had hit the FTL engine core.
He wanted to scream with laughter as he watched the massive shockwave engulf the sixteen icons in quick succession. There was no time, though. Sixteen pulses fed the beast and the expansion soon eclipsed the size of the Drelt homeworld and chased after Remmy. Even with the speed of his full thrust, there was no outrunning this. At least, he sighed, he got to watch the leading edge crash over and envelop the hated place.
Closing his eyes, he savored the moment and awaited his fate. At last, there was finally, peace, and no more. | "But you're--"
His words died in his mouth, quite literally, as his tongue shriveled to a husk. His cheeks sunk in, his eyes hallowed. His hair turned gray while his skin became sallow. He collapsed to the ground, little more than skin hanging loosely off of brittle, shivering bones. He gasped, and it sounded every bit as hollow and desperate as a mummified man could.
"I'm not of your concern," I said. The purple magic emanating from my outstretched palm receded, and the hyper aging stopped. The man was probably over several hundred years old physically, and yet my magic would not let him die. "What I am, who I am, and what I'm doing is not important to you right now. What *is* important, however, is how much pain you're in right now. Are you in pain right now, mister?"
The man couldn't answer. His lungs were probably barely bigger than grapes, and his brain is little more than dust. His soul, however, could comprehend me. And it could comprehend the agony of such an existence, as well as the impossibility of such a thing.
He wanted nothing more than to die, and I wanted to drain the last of the life from him. But not yet.
"I could let you die. You could go to the afterlife, whatever that is, as peacefully as scum like you deserve. But you have to answer me, fully and honestly, or I will leave you here as such, bound to a state of undeath. Am I understood?"
The man couldn't speak. I could tell he wanted to, but his muscles has atrophied far past the point of uselessness. I released some of his life energy back into him, and his face returned to something of a forty year old.
The rest of his body was rotted away, however, so the first thing he did was scream unholy murder.
"Quiet," I hissed. "I don't care for your pains. Answer my question. Where is my team? My party: The Elucidates. They consist of a Swordsman, a Tank, a Rogue, and a cute little aspiring Paladin. Where are they?"
"I... I don't..."
I drained the life from his right eye. As the orb imploded inwards and bled, before drying up in the socket, the man's screams redoubled. I let him scream for a bit before quieting him.
"That is the response that your last teammate said. And the one before that. They all gave me unsatisfactory answers, and now they're all dead. You will be joining them soon, but they all died slowly. They were in agonizing pain that I don't think even they could describe to you. I know that you know where my team was taken. Every one of you disgusting cultists know where your home base is." I leaned down and grabbed him by his straw-like hair. I forced his one good eye to look at me. "Trust me, I could hurt you more than you or your false god ever could. Now, tell me, or I will hurt you."
I restored the man's hair. I restored his eye. I even restored his lungs and his barely pumping heart. He looked at me as a man stuck in a desert would look at a bottle of water.
Then he sang.
"It's... it's in the Western Highlands. Beyond the Forbidden Swamp."
I nodded. I hadn't thought to check there. I wiped out entire cultist bases from the Dwarven City of Dwargon to the Hidden Village of Elves. I never suspected to look there.
"Very well," I said. Then, without prompt, I restored the man to full health. He was a man of middling age and failing health when I cornered him. Now he looked to be the prime of his life. He looked to himself, surprised at my benevolence. I looked back at him, just as confused.
"Fairliln, my Captain and Swordsman, told me to always repay my debts. To everyone. I don't understand why I should have to repay scum like you, who is the entire reason I'm here in the first place, but I promised him I would be better. I keep to my promises, whether or not he is here."
The man seemed relieved, but recoiled when I lifted my hand. The purple energy sprang to life again, and visages of shadows and mists of the undead reached through the cracks of the stone walls.
"But I ever see you again, should you ever cross me once more, I will not hesitate to bring down the full wrath of a fully fledged NecroMaster."
The man nodded heavily, almost seeming to break his newly restored neck. I stared at him for a few minutes before accepting his subservience.
I sighed. "But that is no longer my title. I am now the Healer of The Elucidates, and my death magic is used for undeath, for Life. Don't make me regret this decision for you." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | It was supposed to be easy gold, just kidnap the cleric and a knight. A job that had only taken a greased palm, some sleeping powder, and some muscle.
 
Easy.
 
With a start, he’d woken up. The room was almost pitch black save for some light coming through his window. The moon must’ve made it’s way to the other side of the building, an indicator of either the very late hour, or very early, depending on how one looked at such things. He was alone in his bed.
 
Wait, that wasn’t right, he’d paid for companionship for the evening, where the Hell was she?
 
The man froze, sensing that he wasn’t quite as alone in the room as he thought he was. He slowly reached his hand out toward the bedside table. He felt the leather scabbard of his knife, empty.
 
A voice spoke from the darkness, soft, but with a sharp edge to it.
 
“You won’t be needing that,”
 
He snapped his head towards the far corner of the room. The dim moonlight from the window didn’t quite reach halfway into the room, and he knew from previous experience that a chair and table rested in the far corner. If he focused, he could just make out the outline of someone sitting at it.
 
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice croaking from disuse at this time of night.
 
The other man didn’t immediately respond, instead letting silence reign. The man in the bed wondered for a brief moment if the other man hadn’t heard him. After a moment he responded, not by answering his question, but by asking his own, in the same tone of voice as before.
 
“Where are Sasha and Mirin?”
 
“Who?”
 
He could almost feel the venom coming from the other man as he spoke again.
 
“Sasha and Mirin. Both sisters of the Holy Order, one as the Right Arm of Saint Michael as his holy knight, the other using the blessings of Saint Alaire to heal the sick and injured,”
 
There was a small thud as he could only assume the man had pounded his fist onto the table next to that chair.
 
“I will ask again, Kirwen, where are they?”
 
Kirwen stared back at the man.
 
“How’d you know my name?”
 
Another moment of silence, seemingly for the other man to think. Kirwen took the moment to scoot himself a little closer to the headboard. Surreptitiously get his hand closer to his pillow.
 
“I found your companion, Rolfrick,” He said, his voice retuning to being soft but sharp, ”You had him deal with me while you took the girls. It didn’t take much to track him down, very few natural-born humans get to his size without having some Troll mixed into their lineages,”
 
There was a slight creaking sound, as Kirwen thought he saw the other man shift in the chair. He scooted another inch or so in the bed. How could Rolfrick have failed to kill this man?
 
“Before I put a knife through his heart, he told me that it was you that did this bit of business with a man from the town of Sibert. As I’m *sure* you know, that town, and few others around the Southern Reaches, are infamous slaving hubs. The Holy Order has been on something of a crusade against them for some time. You really should do your homework before taking on jobs,”
 
Kirwen slowly scooted another inch. He needed to buy some time. He spoke.
 
“You talk like someone who's not connected with the Church, what do you care if something *unfortunate* happens to them?”
 
“Because those two almost make me willing to believe there’s something good in me,”
 
The other man suddenly stood up. Kirwen scooted further up his bed, and managed to get his hand under his pillow. He could feel the hilt of his backup dagger.
 
“I’ve known those two since they were fifteen and stumbled across me while they were exploring the woods around their town. I taught Mirin everything I know about healing magics, and I helped Sasha with her combat training. I even showed them some of the things that would have helped them that the Church wouldn’t have taught them!”
 
As the other man talked, he slowly walked closer to Kirwen. His voice grew louder as he spoke. Kirwen wrapped his hand around the knife.
 
The man grabbed Kirwen by his shoulders and shook him as he spoke. His breath almost made him gag.
 
“NOW YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE THAT MAN IS TAKING THEM!”
 
Kirwen slammed the knife into the other man’s chest, producing an explosive exhalation out of the man as he shoved him into the table at the other end of the room. The table collapsed onto it’s side, taking the man, and the tableware with it and producing a truly cacophonous noise.
 
Kirwen lept into action. That noise was sure to wake everyone on the floor on the inn.
 
He wiped the blood, black in the dim light, onto the bedspread before opening the chest at the foot of his bed and dressed as rapidly as he could. Mercs in his line of work didn’t tend to make it far if they weren’t always prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. It was barely 30 seconds later that he was dressed and had his bag slung over his shoulder. He pulled at the handle to his door.
 
It didn’t budge.
 
A crackling sound came from the lamp on bedside table and the one attached to the ceiling, soon the room was bathed in a red-orange light.
 
He snapped his head around towards them, but there were no obvious signs of who had lit them.
 
The other man groaned from where the table had fallen, before rolling over and standing up.
 
Now that the light was good, he could see the other mans unnatural paleness, his stiff movements, and the sunkeness of his eyes. The knife was still sticking out of his chest, right were his heart should have been.
 
It was then that Kirwen knew, Rolfrick *hadn’t* failed to kill the man. The man knew necromancy.
 
He withdrew the knife from his chest, and let it drop to the ground.
 
“You are going to tell me where that man is taking them,” He said, returning to his soft and sharp voice, “Because, let’s be honest, death won’t even be able to save you,”
 
Kirwen scrambled into the corner next to the door.
 
“It doesn’t matter if you save them!” He yelled at the necromancer, “The Church will still destroy you!”
 
“I know,” He said, never raising his voice, “But those two are worth it.”
 
 
Sorry for having this out this late. I hope you enjoyed it -Halogen_03 | "But you're--"
His words died in his mouth, quite literally, as his tongue shriveled to a husk. His cheeks sunk in, his eyes hallowed. His hair turned gray while his skin became sallow. He collapsed to the ground, little more than skin hanging loosely off of brittle, shivering bones. He gasped, and it sounded every bit as hollow and desperate as a mummified man could.
"I'm not of your concern," I said. The purple magic emanating from my outstretched palm receded, and the hyper aging stopped. The man was probably over several hundred years old physically, and yet my magic would not let him die. "What I am, who I am, and what I'm doing is not important to you right now. What *is* important, however, is how much pain you're in right now. Are you in pain right now, mister?"
The man couldn't answer. His lungs were probably barely bigger than grapes, and his brain is little more than dust. His soul, however, could comprehend me. And it could comprehend the agony of such an existence, as well as the impossibility of such a thing.
He wanted nothing more than to die, and I wanted to drain the last of the life from him. But not yet.
"I could let you die. You could go to the afterlife, whatever that is, as peacefully as scum like you deserve. But you have to answer me, fully and honestly, or I will leave you here as such, bound to a state of undeath. Am I understood?"
The man couldn't speak. I could tell he wanted to, but his muscles has atrophied far past the point of uselessness. I released some of his life energy back into him, and his face returned to something of a forty year old.
The rest of his body was rotted away, however, so the first thing he did was scream unholy murder.
"Quiet," I hissed. "I don't care for your pains. Answer my question. Where is my team? My party: The Elucidates. They consist of a Swordsman, a Tank, a Rogue, and a cute little aspiring Paladin. Where are they?"
"I... I don't..."
I drained the life from his right eye. As the orb imploded inwards and bled, before drying up in the socket, the man's screams redoubled. I let him scream for a bit before quieting him.
"That is the response that your last teammate said. And the one before that. They all gave me unsatisfactory answers, and now they're all dead. You will be joining them soon, but they all died slowly. They were in agonizing pain that I don't think even they could describe to you. I know that you know where my team was taken. Every one of you disgusting cultists know where your home base is." I leaned down and grabbed him by his straw-like hair. I forced his one good eye to look at me. "Trust me, I could hurt you more than you or your false god ever could. Now, tell me, or I will hurt you."
I restored the man's hair. I restored his eye. I even restored his lungs and his barely pumping heart. He looked at me as a man stuck in a desert would look at a bottle of water.
Then he sang.
"It's... it's in the Western Highlands. Beyond the Forbidden Swamp."
I nodded. I hadn't thought to check there. I wiped out entire cultist bases from the Dwarven City of Dwargon to the Hidden Village of Elves. I never suspected to look there.
"Very well," I said. Then, without prompt, I restored the man to full health. He was a man of middling age and failing health when I cornered him. Now he looked to be the prime of his life. He looked to himself, surprised at my benevolence. I looked back at him, just as confused.
"Fairliln, my Captain and Swordsman, told me to always repay my debts. To everyone. I don't understand why I should have to repay scum like you, who is the entire reason I'm here in the first place, but I promised him I would be better. I keep to my promises, whether or not he is here."
The man seemed relieved, but recoiled when I lifted my hand. The purple energy sprang to life again, and visages of shadows and mists of the undead reached through the cracks of the stone walls.
"But I ever see you again, should you ever cross me once more, I will not hesitate to bring down the full wrath of a fully fledged NecroMaster."
The man nodded heavily, almost seeming to break his newly restored neck. I stared at him for a few minutes before accepting his subservience.
I sighed. "But that is no longer my title. I am now the Healer of The Elucidates, and my death magic is used for undeath, for Life. Don't make me regret this decision for you." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | “I’m not a good person, Randall.”
The ocean waves churned at our feet. It had been nearly a fortnight since my party had disappeared. An accident on the field as the world knew it. I’d lost count at this point how many people had come to me offering some words of sympathy as though expecting they could distinguish themselves by acting as everyone else had.
I twined my fingers together and settled back more comfortably in my deck chair.
“Did I ever tell you how we met?” I shot him a glance to see if he was still listening.
His eyes flashed as they caught the half-light reflecting off the water, ”I didn’t ask.”
He skimmed the liquid off the top of his beer can, tipping his head back to drain the rest in one gulp. The nail of his index finger tapped at the wall of the can, before he flicked a wrist to send it flying into the obsidian waters.
“They were good people, you know,” I murmured softly, “That’s what everyone knew them as.”
“But they were a bunch of fools,” I pressed down the sound of mockery that threatened to come from my throat.
“Hmm.”
“And at some point… I wanted to be one of them, I… I wanted to be someone people would admire, someone people would point at in the streets and call a hero.”
He finally turned to look at me, the expression in his inky eyes unreadable.
“Is that why you left them there to die?” he drawled, low and cruel, “Why you’re here wasting time I could be using to catch up on sleep after following you halfway into the Deadlands looking for redemption from a bunch of brain-dead idiots who couldn’t tell a scam artist from a saint?”
I couldn’t answer that. As much as I wanted to sound like I knew what I was doing, this bastard always knew how to rip the coat of white from my sparkly clean exterior.
“Why the fuck are you here then,” I growled back, almost savage in my irritation.
He scoffed lightly, “Some of us know how to honour promises. We don’t pretend to be saints, but we know where our own bottom line is.”
He lay his weight against the arm of his deck chair and reached into his left pocket.
“You know what this is?” he asked me, his tone shifting too fast for me to gauge his emotions.
I squinted in the dusky light, trying to catch sight of the round object between his two fingers. I couldn’t make out much other than the general shape of the thing, but he answered his own question before I could ask.
“It’s a medal. My father’s medal. From those times we were busy fighting in honourable wars.”
He stood from his chair and closed the distance between us, leaning down to stare at me with eyes as bottomless as the waters around us.
“You know what this has taught me?” the only change in his expression was a slight quirk of his lips, “Honour is a joke, Charlie.”
“Honour is the reason why you and I are out here surrounded by man made creatures closer to mindless beasts than humans, looking for some happy go lucky dipshits who thought good people ever existed.”
“Honour will get you killed,” he breathed the next few words, “And so will this game of play pretend you seem so fond of.”
I gulped, the sound of it against the backdrop of the waves much louder than I would have hoped. He tucked his hands into his pockets, straightening up to look down at me.
“I’ll give you till tomorrow,” he skirted around my chair in a slow amble, “Hopefully it’s enough time for you to smarten up.”
His footsteps sounded rhythmically on the rotted pier behind me, coming to a stop after a few meters.
“Oh, and one more thing Charlie. I’m not sure how you survived this long out here with that tail hanging from your head, but if I see it still there in the morning, I’ll hand it to the Hungries myself and let them play tug of war over it. Goodnight.”
He walked off, leaving me to the jumble of my own thoughts.
“That fucking shit stain,” I hissed.
I couldn't stay angry for long, especially after realising it would be more stupid than anything to be alone at night in Hungry territory. I stalked after him, my pace faster than I would have admitted to with a gun at my head. I hated that bastard, but that bastard was the one carrying all the weapons. And I was a goner without those. | "But you're--"
His words died in his mouth, quite literally, as his tongue shriveled to a husk. His cheeks sunk in, his eyes hallowed. His hair turned gray while his skin became sallow. He collapsed to the ground, little more than skin hanging loosely off of brittle, shivering bones. He gasped, and it sounded every bit as hollow and desperate as a mummified man could.
"I'm not of your concern," I said. The purple magic emanating from my outstretched palm receded, and the hyper aging stopped. The man was probably over several hundred years old physically, and yet my magic would not let him die. "What I am, who I am, and what I'm doing is not important to you right now. What *is* important, however, is how much pain you're in right now. Are you in pain right now, mister?"
The man couldn't answer. His lungs were probably barely bigger than grapes, and his brain is little more than dust. His soul, however, could comprehend me. And it could comprehend the agony of such an existence, as well as the impossibility of such a thing.
He wanted nothing more than to die, and I wanted to drain the last of the life from him. But not yet.
"I could let you die. You could go to the afterlife, whatever that is, as peacefully as scum like you deserve. But you have to answer me, fully and honestly, or I will leave you here as such, bound to a state of undeath. Am I understood?"
The man couldn't speak. I could tell he wanted to, but his muscles has atrophied far past the point of uselessness. I released some of his life energy back into him, and his face returned to something of a forty year old.
The rest of his body was rotted away, however, so the first thing he did was scream unholy murder.
"Quiet," I hissed. "I don't care for your pains. Answer my question. Where is my team? My party: The Elucidates. They consist of a Swordsman, a Tank, a Rogue, and a cute little aspiring Paladin. Where are they?"
"I... I don't..."
I drained the life from his right eye. As the orb imploded inwards and bled, before drying up in the socket, the man's screams redoubled. I let him scream for a bit before quieting him.
"That is the response that your last teammate said. And the one before that. They all gave me unsatisfactory answers, and now they're all dead. You will be joining them soon, but they all died slowly. They were in agonizing pain that I don't think even they could describe to you. I know that you know where my team was taken. Every one of you disgusting cultists know where your home base is." I leaned down and grabbed him by his straw-like hair. I forced his one good eye to look at me. "Trust me, I could hurt you more than you or your false god ever could. Now, tell me, or I will hurt you."
I restored the man's hair. I restored his eye. I even restored his lungs and his barely pumping heart. He looked at me as a man stuck in a desert would look at a bottle of water.
Then he sang.
"It's... it's in the Western Highlands. Beyond the Forbidden Swamp."
I nodded. I hadn't thought to check there. I wiped out entire cultist bases from the Dwarven City of Dwargon to the Hidden Village of Elves. I never suspected to look there.
"Very well," I said. Then, without prompt, I restored the man to full health. He was a man of middling age and failing health when I cornered him. Now he looked to be the prime of his life. He looked to himself, surprised at my benevolence. I looked back at him, just as confused.
"Fairliln, my Captain and Swordsman, told me to always repay my debts. To everyone. I don't understand why I should have to repay scum like you, who is the entire reason I'm here in the first place, but I promised him I would be better. I keep to my promises, whether or not he is here."
The man seemed relieved, but recoiled when I lifted my hand. The purple energy sprang to life again, and visages of shadows and mists of the undead reached through the cracks of the stone walls.
"But I ever see you again, should you ever cross me once more, I will not hesitate to bring down the full wrath of a fully fledged NecroMaster."
The man nodded heavily, almost seeming to break his newly restored neck. I stared at him for a few minutes before accepting his subservience.
I sighed. "But that is no longer my title. I am now the Healer of The Elucidates, and my death magic is used for undeath, for Life. Don't make me regret this decision for you." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Being good have never come naturally to Nokke.
Nokke's people were not known for it. Kobolds are generally known for being tricky and conniving bastards who would rather steal from you than give you the time of day.
Traps, misdirection and underhanded tactics. The bread and butter of Nokke's people. What had kept most of them alive when fighting people who could loom over them even when they sat.
It didn't work for long however. Nokke's small tribe had lost. Lost to some strange people. Nokke had been scared when these people, this group of 5 different and strange characters had stormed the small cave his first tribe called home.
Nokke thought about that fateful day as he quickly tied a rope around a flask's lid. It surprised Nokke how long ago that was yet how fresh the memory was in his mind. Nokke knew he had to be quick about it. There were too many variable to this plan to work but it had too. Nokke wouldn't except anything less. They needed him just as much he wanted them.
Once Nokke knew it was secure, he quickly pull the hood over his horns and felt the magic hide his presence again. Magic was something he never thought he would ever understand much less use. Of course he wasn't using magic itself, rather just using magical items. Yet it still amazed him how much he had learned from being with them. A small part of Nokke's mind wondered if his tribe was alright. It wouldn't surprise him if they were. Weak as Kobolds were, they would always manage to survive. Hithgard had always said Kobold's were like roaches; never really killed, just expelled from the holes. Nokke had always wondered what Hithgard meant and what roaches were. Nokke had never really seen one.
He quickly made his way around winding passages and cold halls. Nokke made sure to stay close to the walls and to move out of the way when he thought anyone would approach. The cloak that Elmarias had given him made him invisible but it didn't make him quite. Nokke had to do that himself.
As he went down the halls and past the doors, he made sure to check his preparations and their readiness. He made sure to check each one's place and positioning. Tweaking some as Nokke went along, making sure to try and stay out of sight as he did so. The cloak made it hard to operate with his hand when it was on, so Nokke had to time his alterations and tweaks to when he was sure no one would see him.
Nokke wasn't very smart, as much as Elmarias had tried to convince him otherwise. Despite this Nokke understood what planning and strategy was. The strange sorcerer girl had believed he could show more promise than he was actually worth was in part due to this understanding. Maybe she was right? Nokke wouldn't really know though. If things went right, maybe he would ask. When he had made sure that all of his preparation had been readied and secure, he began to head for his second objective.
The servants quarters were easy to slip into. The day was winding down which meant servants had to tidy up and tie up the things they could before nightfall. So the servants quarters were bustling with people moving in and out, carrying baskets of laudry, clothes, cleaning supplies and other things Nokke didn't know about. It was easy to move between them and pick his way to where Nokke knew she'd be. Nokke managed to spot her quickly enough, her silvery hair being easy to spot between all the mass of moving dull brown and reds of the servant outfits.
Nokke followed her as she worked, finding himself strangely annoyed at the small things that the other servants did to her as she worked quietly. Maybe Deriths care for his half-sister was rubbing off Nokke. He found his opening when an older woman tripped her as she carried a basket of clothes. The basket rolled and Nokke quickly tapped it to make it role farther. Nokke felt bad about how Feraithe had to chase after it but it was needed. Nokke needed to get her out of the castle for him to get what he wanted.
Once Nokke had managed to roll the basket out of the way enough for him to not be seen, he waited for Feraithe before pulling of his hood, releasing the magic that hide him. Feraithe let out of small gasp but quickly through her hands over her mouth. She quickly scanned the area for anyone that might see them but Nokke knew they wouldn't.
"Nokke, what are you doing here? Did you find anything about Deriths?" She quickly whispered as she knelt down.
"Yet not. Need you go out. Not safe castle." Nokke quickly said as he fished around his pockets for the map he made her. His common was still terrible but it would have to do as his elvish was even worse. Deriths wasn't as good a teacher as Elmarias.
"What do you mean not safe, Nokke? What's the matter?"
"Duke bad. Maybe betrayer. Not safe you here. Need you go out now," Nokke said quickly as he handed her a small parchement. "Go now. Follow map. Don't say word to people. Don't come back."
Feraiths nodded slowly as she took the parchment. She opened to quickly scan it before closing it back and hiding it. She picked up the basket and headed back out to the quarters. She stopped before she left Nokke's sight, turning to ask "Are you going to be alright?"
Nokke didn't know the answer to that. He knew that he wasn't going to come out whole, not when his plan was this. To essentially turn the entire castle into a trap-house as he worked to get info from the Duke. It was almost suicide if not for the things he picked up from the small band he had been traveling with for so long. Nokke nodded once before he pulled the hood over his horns and walked out of the quarters.
Nokke played with a small wand as he waited for an hour to pass. It would enough time for Feraiths to be out of the castle and be clear of the damages he would be doing. Booby-trapping the castle had been hard. Taking a little more than a couple days to setup. It was hard too. When trapping a cave, you knew that there was only 2 or 3 points of entry. Castles had too many to count But Nokke had managed to do it. All of the traps had been set up and kept in place thanks to Elmarias wands, keeping them ready and un-sprung and the spell wore-off.
Nokke didn't know if this would entirely work. The Duke was the only lead he had. He was the only one who knew where they had been that night. He had seen the mark on the hands of those who had taken his friends. The Duke had that same mark. It was hidden on his hand, Nokke seeing it one time when the gloves had slipped off. Nokke wasn't sure if the Duke knew where his friends are, but he was sure he had some idea why they were taken. Tonight, Nokke would find out.
Nokke may have started as their prisoner. But he wasn't one any longer. He may have been their pack-mule for a time but that had changed. He may have been resentful of them some time before but he had changed. If he needed to be that Kobold he was before, he do so again for them.
Nokke gripped the wand harder, bending further than it would take. Once it snapped, he began to slowly move towards the Duke's chambers. He glanced out the window once to see that the first trapped had been sprung. The moat was on fire. Not the first one he expected but that was fine. It might lead to more traps being sprung. As if the thought was the command, he hurt a small boom before screams filled the bellow him. The alchemist fire trap had been sprung down in the guard barracks. Maybe they would be dumb enough to try the water he hid there. The water contained a sleeping water elemental that Hithgard had captured once before. That would confuse them for a time.
Maybe enough for him to get some answers out of the Duke and his wife. | "But you're--"
His words died in his mouth, quite literally, as his tongue shriveled to a husk. His cheeks sunk in, his eyes hallowed. His hair turned gray while his skin became sallow. He collapsed to the ground, little more than skin hanging loosely off of brittle, shivering bones. He gasped, and it sounded every bit as hollow and desperate as a mummified man could.
"I'm not of your concern," I said. The purple magic emanating from my outstretched palm receded, and the hyper aging stopped. The man was probably over several hundred years old physically, and yet my magic would not let him die. "What I am, who I am, and what I'm doing is not important to you right now. What *is* important, however, is how much pain you're in right now. Are you in pain right now, mister?"
The man couldn't answer. His lungs were probably barely bigger than grapes, and his brain is little more than dust. His soul, however, could comprehend me. And it could comprehend the agony of such an existence, as well as the impossibility of such a thing.
He wanted nothing more than to die, and I wanted to drain the last of the life from him. But not yet.
"I could let you die. You could go to the afterlife, whatever that is, as peacefully as scum like you deserve. But you have to answer me, fully and honestly, or I will leave you here as such, bound to a state of undeath. Am I understood?"
The man couldn't speak. I could tell he wanted to, but his muscles has atrophied far past the point of uselessness. I released some of his life energy back into him, and his face returned to something of a forty year old.
The rest of his body was rotted away, however, so the first thing he did was scream unholy murder.
"Quiet," I hissed. "I don't care for your pains. Answer my question. Where is my team? My party: The Elucidates. They consist of a Swordsman, a Tank, a Rogue, and a cute little aspiring Paladin. Where are they?"
"I... I don't..."
I drained the life from his right eye. As the orb imploded inwards and bled, before drying up in the socket, the man's screams redoubled. I let him scream for a bit before quieting him.
"That is the response that your last teammate said. And the one before that. They all gave me unsatisfactory answers, and now they're all dead. You will be joining them soon, but they all died slowly. They were in agonizing pain that I don't think even they could describe to you. I know that you know where my team was taken. Every one of you disgusting cultists know where your home base is." I leaned down and grabbed him by his straw-like hair. I forced his one good eye to look at me. "Trust me, I could hurt you more than you or your false god ever could. Now, tell me, or I will hurt you."
I restored the man's hair. I restored his eye. I even restored his lungs and his barely pumping heart. He looked at me as a man stuck in a desert would look at a bottle of water.
Then he sang.
"It's... it's in the Western Highlands. Beyond the Forbidden Swamp."
I nodded. I hadn't thought to check there. I wiped out entire cultist bases from the Dwarven City of Dwargon to the Hidden Village of Elves. I never suspected to look there.
"Very well," I said. Then, without prompt, I restored the man to full health. He was a man of middling age and failing health when I cornered him. Now he looked to be the prime of his life. He looked to himself, surprised at my benevolence. I looked back at him, just as confused.
"Fairliln, my Captain and Swordsman, told me to always repay my debts. To everyone. I don't understand why I should have to repay scum like you, who is the entire reason I'm here in the first place, but I promised him I would be better. I keep to my promises, whether or not he is here."
The man seemed relieved, but recoiled when I lifted my hand. The purple energy sprang to life again, and visages of shadows and mists of the undead reached through the cracks of the stone walls.
"But I ever see you again, should you ever cross me once more, I will not hesitate to bring down the full wrath of a fully fledged NecroMaster."
The man nodded heavily, almost seeming to break his newly restored neck. I stared at him for a few minutes before accepting his subservience.
I sighed. "But that is no longer my title. I am now the Healer of The Elucidates, and my death magic is used for undeath, for Life. Don't make me regret this decision for you." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful.
"They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service."
The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes.
"I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead.
"Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed!
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?"
He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs.
"Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything."
"I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear"
I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?"
Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others.
And now I had the information I needed.
(Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.) | "But you're--"
His words died in his mouth, quite literally, as his tongue shriveled to a husk. His cheeks sunk in, his eyes hallowed. His hair turned gray while his skin became sallow. He collapsed to the ground, little more than skin hanging loosely off of brittle, shivering bones. He gasped, and it sounded every bit as hollow and desperate as a mummified man could.
"I'm not of your concern," I said. The purple magic emanating from my outstretched palm receded, and the hyper aging stopped. The man was probably over several hundred years old physically, and yet my magic would not let him die. "What I am, who I am, and what I'm doing is not important to you right now. What *is* important, however, is how much pain you're in right now. Are you in pain right now, mister?"
The man couldn't answer. His lungs were probably barely bigger than grapes, and his brain is little more than dust. His soul, however, could comprehend me. And it could comprehend the agony of such an existence, as well as the impossibility of such a thing.
He wanted nothing more than to die, and I wanted to drain the last of the life from him. But not yet.
"I could let you die. You could go to the afterlife, whatever that is, as peacefully as scum like you deserve. But you have to answer me, fully and honestly, or I will leave you here as such, bound to a state of undeath. Am I understood?"
The man couldn't speak. I could tell he wanted to, but his muscles has atrophied far past the point of uselessness. I released some of his life energy back into him, and his face returned to something of a forty year old.
The rest of his body was rotted away, however, so the first thing he did was scream unholy murder.
"Quiet," I hissed. "I don't care for your pains. Answer my question. Where is my team? My party: The Elucidates. They consist of a Swordsman, a Tank, a Rogue, and a cute little aspiring Paladin. Where are they?"
"I... I don't..."
I drained the life from his right eye. As the orb imploded inwards and bled, before drying up in the socket, the man's screams redoubled. I let him scream for a bit before quieting him.
"That is the response that your last teammate said. And the one before that. They all gave me unsatisfactory answers, and now they're all dead. You will be joining them soon, but they all died slowly. They were in agonizing pain that I don't think even they could describe to you. I know that you know where my team was taken. Every one of you disgusting cultists know where your home base is." I leaned down and grabbed him by his straw-like hair. I forced his one good eye to look at me. "Trust me, I could hurt you more than you or your false god ever could. Now, tell me, or I will hurt you."
I restored the man's hair. I restored his eye. I even restored his lungs and his barely pumping heart. He looked at me as a man stuck in a desert would look at a bottle of water.
Then he sang.
"It's... it's in the Western Highlands. Beyond the Forbidden Swamp."
I nodded. I hadn't thought to check there. I wiped out entire cultist bases from the Dwarven City of Dwargon to the Hidden Village of Elves. I never suspected to look there.
"Very well," I said. Then, without prompt, I restored the man to full health. He was a man of middling age and failing health when I cornered him. Now he looked to be the prime of his life. He looked to himself, surprised at my benevolence. I looked back at him, just as confused.
"Fairliln, my Captain and Swordsman, told me to always repay my debts. To everyone. I don't understand why I should have to repay scum like you, who is the entire reason I'm here in the first place, but I promised him I would be better. I keep to my promises, whether or not he is here."
The man seemed relieved, but recoiled when I lifted my hand. The purple energy sprang to life again, and visages of shadows and mists of the undead reached through the cracks of the stone walls.
"But I ever see you again, should you ever cross me once more, I will not hesitate to bring down the full wrath of a fully fledged NecroMaster."
The man nodded heavily, almost seeming to break his newly restored neck. I stared at him for a few minutes before accepting his subservience.
I sighed. "But that is no longer my title. I am now the Healer of The Elucidates, and my death magic is used for undeath, for Life. Don't make me regret this decision for you." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I am simply *not* a 'good' person, I practice dark magic, necromancy, I murder, pillage, and torture, hell I've even made a species or two go completely extinct due to my lack of care for living creatures, but these people are different, and I will go through *any* lengths to find them.
"I swear! I never saw your party!"
The bound knight screamed in agony, as I drove splinters between his fingernails, and slowly scorched his back
"Really? Cause your friends said they did, they also said that you saw where my party went"
His eyes were about dead already, but he couldn't take anymore
"Alright, they went that way, through the forest. Now please let me out of this!"
I think he was a little too preoccupied shouting at me to realise that the key to his shackles were within arms reach of him, or to notice that his allies were now resurrected corpses with the sole mission of eating him. Either way, his screams of being eaten alive was absolute perfection on my ears. As I venture deeper into the forest, I came across an ogre who's riddle I had to solve
"Answer me this: A box without hinges, key, or lid,
Yet golden treasure inside is hid."
Of course I know it, an egg, but I'm not in the mood to deal with things as trivial as riddles, and although my party would like to keep this ogre alive I have no care for what happens to it. The sound of its intestines and blood sloshing on the stone ground in front of the wooden bridge made me absolutely euphoric, I can recall a time I've ever felt happier.
Eventually I came across a dungeon, guarded by one of the 'good' dragons
"Mortal, I believe you seek your allies, yes? To get to them, you must first give me a show of might to prove your worth, as well as answer my question"
Not this again
"I sense great evil from you, mortal, but that is beside the point. First, hit me as hard as you can with your strongest attack!"
I went very light, I didn't want to kill this dragon just yet
"Hmm. You held back great power, I am impressed. Now to see if your mind possesses similar power: I can sneak upon you, or lay before your eyes, but when I make my presence known, never the same you shall be. What am I?"
Now that's a bit harder, but being as I can kill this dragon with ease I may as well humor his riddle
"A parasite?"
The large beast shook its head
"I am afraid not, mortal. I hate to turn you away, especially when your friends are so close, but I can not allow you to enter this dun--"
A simple fireball, perhaps my weakest since I was a child, tore through its chest and destroyed its heart and lungs. I collected its blood, some bones, and scales for alchemy, with this I can certainly heal my allies from any trauma they've encountered, and with my resurrection it wouldn't be too difficult to bring them back to life if I'm too late.
Not a single creature in this dungeon could even get close to me, my passive spells killed them before anything else, and when I didn't allow them to get close enough to harm me they simply died the moment they touched my robe. At the end of the dungeon I came across a large throne room, with the bard from my party died to a pillar
"By the gods, what have they done to you!"
In a frenzy I rushed to his side
"Where are the others?! Are they alright?!"
He looked up at me, his wounds disappearing before my eyes
"Yeah, they're just fine"
With that, a sword pierced through my chest from behind, tearing my lungs, heart, and spine to shreds. It was our ranger, under an invisibility spell and using potions I made her. The knight also came out not a second later
"Did you really think we didn't know you were a lich? How stupid did you think we were?!"
As those words reverberated in my head, I realised my wounds weren't healing, all my mana was gone, and I felt very cold
"We used those potions of yours to make something to turn you human, at least long enough for us to kill you more easily, and our bard was the one to give it to you, since its contact based and you were gripping him pretty hard"
So my party was able to not only deceive me, but also kill me. I'm rather impressed
"And now, lich, I shall remove your head myself!"
As my head rolled on the hard stone, my final thoughts were upon that dragon's riddle. The answer, to which I discovered only now, was 'betrayal'.
The end. | Nobody ever thought much of me. I was just the silly little bard. I played my lute, sang songs and danced, and nobody cared why I always wore a mask. It was just funny little Sarmenti being his jokester self.
But now it was different. Everyone had been captured by the Baron and his men. They left me alone, laughing cruelly after surprising us and tying up my friends. The Baron mocked as he paid their bounties that clearly did not bear the mask of their funny bard companion. But he would not have the last laugh. Oh no. Because now I was hungry for revenge.
Not even my friends never knew what really hid behind the mask I wore. I was clearly human though, and a scraggly one at that. I suppose my unintimidating build was what got me an audience of the Baron. I had fauxed surrender and offered to become his court jester. He of course agreed, and I planned. I managed to meet with my group in the dungeons and told them to hang tight, I had a plan.
One day, the Baron held a large feast. Several wealthy, affluent, stuck up people came to it. I was a star of the show, dancing and juggling and singing and tumbling. I gave a glorious performance, and they laughed and laughed until they were blue and on the floor, even the guards. That was when I made my move. I grabbed for one of the knives meant to carve a fat roast pig and hid it in my sleeve. I prepared for my greatest joke yet.
I put on another dance, tumbling and stumbling as if drunk. The crowd laughed more. I tip toed gracefully up to the Baron and bowed, lifting my hand as if to ask for a dance. They laughed even more. The Baron, drunk on many wines, raised his own hand in suit. Then with a flash of blood and steel, his hand came off at the wrist. They all began to scream. I started to laugh as I leapt at the Baron and laughed as I plunged the knife into him again and again until his gurgling stopped. Drunken Guards swarmed as guests gawked in a stunned stupor. The mask had no expressions, hiding an ear to ear grin. I laughed more as I gutted the first guard stupid and drunk enough to try, and cut the throat of the next, still laughing at my expounding punchline. The nobles tried to get out but the doors were shut and locked to prevent interruption of the merriment. The keys jangled on the belt of the last guard, who scream was choked as I lodged the knife into his windpipe. The guests turned to me in realization. I grabbed more knives.
The next few minutes were a musical of incoherent screaming, the clean slicing of the knives, and my own mad laughter. By the time I was done, the floors and walls were painted a new coat of red. My grand finale complete, I went to get my friends, and since I had changed to a fresh costume no signs of the carnage on me. A quick key in hole, and out we popped.
"Wait! What about that Baron. We need to capture him and bring him to justice!" Galahad, our holy warrior, decreed.
"Oh, let him be, sir knight." I chuckled, "Gotta let some go now and again. My ole' granny used to say: if everybody took an eye for an eye, they'd go blind! Ha ha!"
They all laughed and we left through a side door and moved on to the next town before the news reached them. I'd say they'd never underestimate me again, but I suppose I left no witnesses. A bad habit, that. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Command, please repeat. Over." His words were barely a whisper, tinged with a hint of hysterical disbelief. 'Please,' he wanted to beg the older man. Static cracked in Remmy's ear as he waited for confirmation. Even at twenty light years distance, gravity well fluctuations still caused minor interference in ship-to-ship comm signals.
That had to be the explanation. He couldn't have heard the orders correctly.
Another static burst hissed over the earpiece before clearing. When Major Renault's words echoed over the earpiece, they were reenforced with a hard edge that brokered no questioning or refusal. "Repeat. Command, authorization Gold-Zero-Seven. Stand down all engagements. Strike force retreat to tactical position Alpha. Best speed. Do not engage, do not respond to any hostile acts. Armistace has been reached. Over." The CO finished with an actual snarl made more vicious by another burst of convenient static.
Those words. They meant something. A part of his brain was pinging, a continous attempt at the back of his awareness, trying to get his attention. Yet, all Remmy could do was stare at the screen before him.
Cotton filled his mind, putting space between his thoughts and all reason. He knew he should act, to respond, comply with those commands. He knew what the words meant, understood they were important. It was his duty to acknowledge and carry them out. 'An oath sworn is a promise kept.'
Renault. The man's words echoed distantly in his mind. He had made one to Remmy. This time they would.
Raising his gaze from the tactical display, Remmy drifted for what felt an eternity and mere moments. A malaise came over him, sapping the strength from his limbs as he watched, helpless. Then...Light drew his attention to the ports above the command deck. Lights. So many of them, bright and beautiful. Though, distant. Cold at times. Among them a shadow, a world of darkness that blocked their shining brilliance. Whether his thoughts were describing the stars or himself, he couldn't understand.
The commands were firm. There was no misinterpreting them. He was to leave before they even had a chance to engage. Their mission was canceled. The war was over.
Remmy blinked.
Warmth came flooding back as he sat higher in the command chair. His gloves groaned softly where they gripped tighter at the tactile brackets of the flight controls. Emotional gravity sank all else but resolve to the pit of his stomach. He knew what he must do.
Clearing his throat, Remmy touched his lip to the comm to activate it. "Lieutenant Ambrose to Command. Over"
"This is Command. Go ahead. Over." The major's words were clipt. The cause of his ire was probably numerous and easily guessable even without a year spent serving the big jackass.
"Requesting permission to hold position and cover the retreat of strike force. Over." For a moment, Remmy held his breath. This would be the only chance. If he...
"Permission granted. Wait no more than twenty before rejoining strike force. Over and out." And that was it. There was no rebuke, no chance at negotiations. Those were the orders.
Like the unlucky armistace, this command demanded obedience.
On his tactical display, one large icon and six smaller began to move in formation. Their green coloring represented Terran forces. That had been the strike force.
Six inches to the left roated a massive red icon, surrounded by sixteen smaller. These were the Drelt. This was the Drelt home world. The armisticeg meant they would not face judgement. There would be no attack.
Once more, Remmy looked through the ports. They had come so close. Humanity had almost ended this ceaseless cycle of broken trusts and bloodshed. Armistice, again. Another pause, this time, at the edge. Never before had they gotten so close, to this world, to possible victory, to all-out war. Every time, it came back to the orders.
Don't fight. Don't attack. Don't stand your ground. Don't provoke. Don't so much as breathe in the Drelt's direction.
And why? They might become offended. An offended Drelt lead to dire consequences. At least, for humanity. The Drelt never felt the touch fate's ice-cold grip.
Until today.
Remmy's knuckles popped as he squeezed the controls. So close. They almost had it. Then, like always, the orders came. Last time, it had cost him. His colony. It wasn't big, nothing but a distant outpost. They had come for it none-the-less.
There would be no justice for it, of course. Earth had decided that, like always. And, like always, there would come another, and someone else would pay the price for the broken peace. Who, though? Whose blood would be spilt? Which of those tiny lights in the distance had to be next?
A quick check of the tactical display showed that the distance between his position and the rest of the strike force had grown to more than twenty times that of his and the Drelt.
Well, there would be no next time.
Remmy released the flight bracket to reach over to the console to his right. With a quick tap sequence over the terminal's buttons, he disabled the ship's incoming comm system. Another sequence started the ship's engines. Taking hold of the bracket once more, he squeezed the thruster controls and guided the ship ahead.
Steadily, the red icons grew in size on the tactical display. What appeared to be centimeters on the display were tens of thousands of miles. The planet of the Drelt attained great mass, but that was not his focus. No, he only had eyes on the sixteen smaller icons. They had to see him coming, had to be aware of the threat he posed.
Almost as one, their various positions around the larger icon changed. They moved in sync, converging in the direction of his projected path.
Sixteen against one. Slowly, Remmy felt an involuntary smile stretch across his face. That would be enough.
His tactical display flashed blue in warning. He was coming upon firing range. Data feeds trickled across the top and bottom, recommendations for speed, course corrections, possible attack vectors. Remmy ignored them. All of it was useless for this.
Pursing his lips, he activated the out-going comm. The tactical display flashed yellow. He was now in firing range from the Drelt ships.
Taking a slow breath, a tiny thrill shot down Remmy's spine, sending a shiver rippling through him. The urge to giggle like a kid almost overcame him. Maybe this was what giddiness felt like. With each passing moment, he felt the weight of wariness and the pain of memory lift from him.
The display flared maroon in warning. The Drelt ships were firing.
So what.
"Have you ever really paused and considered your ships?" The brackets trembled under his hands, signalling that full thrust had been achieved. There was nothing but flesh holding him down now. He felt so light in his own skin that Remmy thought his soul might float away. "How much power do you think it takes to make them go? I'm not talking fuel for the engines or electricity for the lights, I'm talking sheer power. The kind that allows you to cross vast distances between stars in days. Faster than light travel."
As one, the sixteen icons began to overlap as they converged upon his path. So simple. Such a dangerous race, yet, so easily led.
"Even with the power of a star, you can't achieve that kinda feat. Interstellar travel, that's something that requires the energy of levels of something large." This time, he did giggle. There was no stopping the edge of madness slipping through. "You can't just shut that off once activated. Even with your technology, FTL engine cores are really, really fucking terrifying if you don't treat them right." Releasing the right flight bracket, he reached out to the command console and began tapping the engines controls.
"Engine core ejection sequence activated," the console chirped at him. "To continue will disable Faster Than Light travel."
Remmy's giggle grew, bubbling into a full blown cackle as he entered the final command sequence. The moment he felt the ship shake from the violent ejection, he twisted the flight brackets. Away, he needed away!
Momentum pulled at Remmy as the sudden shift overcame the ship's artificial gravity generation. Subtle at first, he found himself quickly feeling heavier as he was pushed into the right side of his chair. Still, he did not slow or change direction. The thrust of his engines began to rattle the entire ship, causing haunting moans from deep in the decks beneath his feet.
Screeching started from all around him. Heart pounding at the sudden change, he focused upon the tactical display. The entirety of the screen was flashing dark red as something new rapidly grew from the direction of the Drelt forces. Their fire had hit the FTL engine core.
He wanted to scream with laughter as he watched the massive shockwave engulf the sixteen icons in quick succession. There was no time, though. Sixteen pulses fed the beast and the expansion soon eclipsed the size of the Drelt homeworld and chased after Remmy. Even with the speed of his full thrust, there was no outrunning this. At least, he sighed, he got to watch the leading edge crash over and envelop the hated place.
Closing his eyes, he savored the moment and awaited his fate. At last, there was finally, peace, and no more. | Nobody ever thought much of me. I was just the silly little bard. I played my lute, sang songs and danced, and nobody cared why I always wore a mask. It was just funny little Sarmenti being his jokester self.
But now it was different. Everyone had been captured by the Baron and his men. They left me alone, laughing cruelly after surprising us and tying up my friends. The Baron mocked as he paid their bounties that clearly did not bear the mask of their funny bard companion. But he would not have the last laugh. Oh no. Because now I was hungry for revenge.
Not even my friends never knew what really hid behind the mask I wore. I was clearly human though, and a scraggly one at that. I suppose my unintimidating build was what got me an audience of the Baron. I had fauxed surrender and offered to become his court jester. He of course agreed, and I planned. I managed to meet with my group in the dungeons and told them to hang tight, I had a plan.
One day, the Baron held a large feast. Several wealthy, affluent, stuck up people came to it. I was a star of the show, dancing and juggling and singing and tumbling. I gave a glorious performance, and they laughed and laughed until they were blue and on the floor, even the guards. That was when I made my move. I grabbed for one of the knives meant to carve a fat roast pig and hid it in my sleeve. I prepared for my greatest joke yet.
I put on another dance, tumbling and stumbling as if drunk. The crowd laughed more. I tip toed gracefully up to the Baron and bowed, lifting my hand as if to ask for a dance. They laughed even more. The Baron, drunk on many wines, raised his own hand in suit. Then with a flash of blood and steel, his hand came off at the wrist. They all began to scream. I started to laugh as I leapt at the Baron and laughed as I plunged the knife into him again and again until his gurgling stopped. Drunken Guards swarmed as guests gawked in a stunned stupor. The mask had no expressions, hiding an ear to ear grin. I laughed more as I gutted the first guard stupid and drunk enough to try, and cut the throat of the next, still laughing at my expounding punchline. The nobles tried to get out but the doors were shut and locked to prevent interruption of the merriment. The keys jangled on the belt of the last guard, who scream was choked as I lodged the knife into his windpipe. The guests turned to me in realization. I grabbed more knives.
The next few minutes were a musical of incoherent screaming, the clean slicing of the knives, and my own mad laughter. By the time I was done, the floors and walls were painted a new coat of red. My grand finale complete, I went to get my friends, and since I had changed to a fresh costume no signs of the carnage on me. A quick key in hole, and out we popped.
"Wait! What about that Baron. We need to capture him and bring him to justice!" Galahad, our holy warrior, decreed.
"Oh, let him be, sir knight." I chuckled, "Gotta let some go now and again. My ole' granny used to say: if everybody took an eye for an eye, they'd go blind! Ha ha!"
They all laughed and we left through a side door and moved on to the next town before the news reached them. I'd say they'd never underestimate me again, but I suppose I left no witnesses. A bad habit, that. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | It was supposed to be easy gold, just kidnap the cleric and a knight. A job that had only taken a greased palm, some sleeping powder, and some muscle.
 
Easy.
 
With a start, he’d woken up. The room was almost pitch black save for some light coming through his window. The moon must’ve made it’s way to the other side of the building, an indicator of either the very late hour, or very early, depending on how one looked at such things. He was alone in his bed.
 
Wait, that wasn’t right, he’d paid for companionship for the evening, where the Hell was she?
 
The man froze, sensing that he wasn’t quite as alone in the room as he thought he was. He slowly reached his hand out toward the bedside table. He felt the leather scabbard of his knife, empty.
 
A voice spoke from the darkness, soft, but with a sharp edge to it.
 
“You won’t be needing that,”
 
He snapped his head towards the far corner of the room. The dim moonlight from the window didn’t quite reach halfway into the room, and he knew from previous experience that a chair and table rested in the far corner. If he focused, he could just make out the outline of someone sitting at it.
 
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice croaking from disuse at this time of night.
 
The other man didn’t immediately respond, instead letting silence reign. The man in the bed wondered for a brief moment if the other man hadn’t heard him. After a moment he responded, not by answering his question, but by asking his own, in the same tone of voice as before.
 
“Where are Sasha and Mirin?”
 
“Who?”
 
He could almost feel the venom coming from the other man as he spoke again.
 
“Sasha and Mirin. Both sisters of the Holy Order, one as the Right Arm of Saint Michael as his holy knight, the other using the blessings of Saint Alaire to heal the sick and injured,”
 
There was a small thud as he could only assume the man had pounded his fist onto the table next to that chair.
 
“I will ask again, Kirwen, where are they?”
 
Kirwen stared back at the man.
 
“How’d you know my name?”
 
Another moment of silence, seemingly for the other man to think. Kirwen took the moment to scoot himself a little closer to the headboard. Surreptitiously get his hand closer to his pillow.
 
“I found your companion, Rolfrick,” He said, his voice retuning to being soft but sharp, ”You had him deal with me while you took the girls. It didn’t take much to track him down, very few natural-born humans get to his size without having some Troll mixed into their lineages,”
 
There was a slight creaking sound, as Kirwen thought he saw the other man shift in the chair. He scooted another inch or so in the bed. How could Rolfrick have failed to kill this man?
 
“Before I put a knife through his heart, he told me that it was you that did this bit of business with a man from the town of Sibert. As I’m *sure* you know, that town, and few others around the Southern Reaches, are infamous slaving hubs. The Holy Order has been on something of a crusade against them for some time. You really should do your homework before taking on jobs,”
 
Kirwen slowly scooted another inch. He needed to buy some time. He spoke.
 
“You talk like someone who's not connected with the Church, what do you care if something *unfortunate* happens to them?”
 
“Because those two almost make me willing to believe there’s something good in me,”
 
The other man suddenly stood up. Kirwen scooted further up his bed, and managed to get his hand under his pillow. He could feel the hilt of his backup dagger.
 
“I’ve known those two since they were fifteen and stumbled across me while they were exploring the woods around their town. I taught Mirin everything I know about healing magics, and I helped Sasha with her combat training. I even showed them some of the things that would have helped them that the Church wouldn’t have taught them!”
 
As the other man talked, he slowly walked closer to Kirwen. His voice grew louder as he spoke. Kirwen wrapped his hand around the knife.
 
The man grabbed Kirwen by his shoulders and shook him as he spoke. His breath almost made him gag.
 
“NOW YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE THAT MAN IS TAKING THEM!”
 
Kirwen slammed the knife into the other man’s chest, producing an explosive exhalation out of the man as he shoved him into the table at the other end of the room. The table collapsed onto it’s side, taking the man, and the tableware with it and producing a truly cacophonous noise.
 
Kirwen lept into action. That noise was sure to wake everyone on the floor on the inn.
 
He wiped the blood, black in the dim light, onto the bedspread before opening the chest at the foot of his bed and dressed as rapidly as he could. Mercs in his line of work didn’t tend to make it far if they weren’t always prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. It was barely 30 seconds later that he was dressed and had his bag slung over his shoulder. He pulled at the handle to his door.
 
It didn’t budge.
 
A crackling sound came from the lamp on bedside table and the one attached to the ceiling, soon the room was bathed in a red-orange light.
 
He snapped his head around towards them, but there were no obvious signs of who had lit them.
 
The other man groaned from where the table had fallen, before rolling over and standing up.
 
Now that the light was good, he could see the other mans unnatural paleness, his stiff movements, and the sunkeness of his eyes. The knife was still sticking out of his chest, right were his heart should have been.
 
It was then that Kirwen knew, Rolfrick *hadn’t* failed to kill the man. The man knew necromancy.
 
He withdrew the knife from his chest, and let it drop to the ground.
 
“You are going to tell me where that man is taking them,” He said, returning to his soft and sharp voice, “Because, let’s be honest, death won’t even be able to save you,”
 
Kirwen scrambled into the corner next to the door.
 
“It doesn’t matter if you save them!” He yelled at the necromancer, “The Church will still destroy you!”
 
“I know,” He said, never raising his voice, “But those two are worth it.”
 
 
Sorry for having this out this late. I hope you enjoyed it -Halogen_03 | Nobody ever thought much of me. I was just the silly little bard. I played my lute, sang songs and danced, and nobody cared why I always wore a mask. It was just funny little Sarmenti being his jokester self.
But now it was different. Everyone had been captured by the Baron and his men. They left me alone, laughing cruelly after surprising us and tying up my friends. The Baron mocked as he paid their bounties that clearly did not bear the mask of their funny bard companion. But he would not have the last laugh. Oh no. Because now I was hungry for revenge.
Not even my friends never knew what really hid behind the mask I wore. I was clearly human though, and a scraggly one at that. I suppose my unintimidating build was what got me an audience of the Baron. I had fauxed surrender and offered to become his court jester. He of course agreed, and I planned. I managed to meet with my group in the dungeons and told them to hang tight, I had a plan.
One day, the Baron held a large feast. Several wealthy, affluent, stuck up people came to it. I was a star of the show, dancing and juggling and singing and tumbling. I gave a glorious performance, and they laughed and laughed until they were blue and on the floor, even the guards. That was when I made my move. I grabbed for one of the knives meant to carve a fat roast pig and hid it in my sleeve. I prepared for my greatest joke yet.
I put on another dance, tumbling and stumbling as if drunk. The crowd laughed more. I tip toed gracefully up to the Baron and bowed, lifting my hand as if to ask for a dance. They laughed even more. The Baron, drunk on many wines, raised his own hand in suit. Then with a flash of blood and steel, his hand came off at the wrist. They all began to scream. I started to laugh as I leapt at the Baron and laughed as I plunged the knife into him again and again until his gurgling stopped. Drunken Guards swarmed as guests gawked in a stunned stupor. The mask had no expressions, hiding an ear to ear grin. I laughed more as I gutted the first guard stupid and drunk enough to try, and cut the throat of the next, still laughing at my expounding punchline. The nobles tried to get out but the doors were shut and locked to prevent interruption of the merriment. The keys jangled on the belt of the last guard, who scream was choked as I lodged the knife into his windpipe. The guests turned to me in realization. I grabbed more knives.
The next few minutes were a musical of incoherent screaming, the clean slicing of the knives, and my own mad laughter. By the time I was done, the floors and walls were painted a new coat of red. My grand finale complete, I went to get my friends, and since I had changed to a fresh costume no signs of the carnage on me. A quick key in hole, and out we popped.
"Wait! What about that Baron. We need to capture him and bring him to justice!" Galahad, our holy warrior, decreed.
"Oh, let him be, sir knight." I chuckled, "Gotta let some go now and again. My ole' granny used to say: if everybody took an eye for an eye, they'd go blind! Ha ha!"
They all laughed and we left through a side door and moved on to the next town before the news reached them. I'd say they'd never underestimate me again, but I suppose I left no witnesses. A bad habit, that. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | “I’m not a good person, Randall.”
The ocean waves churned at our feet. It had been nearly a fortnight since my party had disappeared. An accident on the field as the world knew it. I’d lost count at this point how many people had come to me offering some words of sympathy as though expecting they could distinguish themselves by acting as everyone else had.
I twined my fingers together and settled back more comfortably in my deck chair.
“Did I ever tell you how we met?” I shot him a glance to see if he was still listening.
His eyes flashed as they caught the half-light reflecting off the water, ”I didn’t ask.”
He skimmed the liquid off the top of his beer can, tipping his head back to drain the rest in one gulp. The nail of his index finger tapped at the wall of the can, before he flicked a wrist to send it flying into the obsidian waters.
“They were good people, you know,” I murmured softly, “That’s what everyone knew them as.”
“But they were a bunch of fools,” I pressed down the sound of mockery that threatened to come from my throat.
“Hmm.”
“And at some point… I wanted to be one of them, I… I wanted to be someone people would admire, someone people would point at in the streets and call a hero.”
He finally turned to look at me, the expression in his inky eyes unreadable.
“Is that why you left them there to die?” he drawled, low and cruel, “Why you’re here wasting time I could be using to catch up on sleep after following you halfway into the Deadlands looking for redemption from a bunch of brain-dead idiots who couldn’t tell a scam artist from a saint?”
I couldn’t answer that. As much as I wanted to sound like I knew what I was doing, this bastard always knew how to rip the coat of white from my sparkly clean exterior.
“Why the fuck are you here then,” I growled back, almost savage in my irritation.
He scoffed lightly, “Some of us know how to honour promises. We don’t pretend to be saints, but we know where our own bottom line is.”
He lay his weight against the arm of his deck chair and reached into his left pocket.
“You know what this is?” he asked me, his tone shifting too fast for me to gauge his emotions.
I squinted in the dusky light, trying to catch sight of the round object between his two fingers. I couldn’t make out much other than the general shape of the thing, but he answered his own question before I could ask.
“It’s a medal. My father’s medal. From those times we were busy fighting in honourable wars.”
He stood from his chair and closed the distance between us, leaning down to stare at me with eyes as bottomless as the waters around us.
“You know what this has taught me?” the only change in his expression was a slight quirk of his lips, “Honour is a joke, Charlie.”
“Honour is the reason why you and I are out here surrounded by man made creatures closer to mindless beasts than humans, looking for some happy go lucky dipshits who thought good people ever existed.”
“Honour will get you killed,” he breathed the next few words, “And so will this game of play pretend you seem so fond of.”
I gulped, the sound of it against the backdrop of the waves much louder than I would have hoped. He tucked his hands into his pockets, straightening up to look down at me.
“I’ll give you till tomorrow,” he skirted around my chair in a slow amble, “Hopefully it’s enough time for you to smarten up.”
His footsteps sounded rhythmically on the rotted pier behind me, coming to a stop after a few meters.
“Oh, and one more thing Charlie. I’m not sure how you survived this long out here with that tail hanging from your head, but if I see it still there in the morning, I’ll hand it to the Hungries myself and let them play tug of war over it. Goodnight.”
He walked off, leaving me to the jumble of my own thoughts.
“That fucking shit stain,” I hissed.
I couldn't stay angry for long, especially after realising it would be more stupid than anything to be alone at night in Hungry territory. I stalked after him, my pace faster than I would have admitted to with a gun at my head. I hated that bastard, but that bastard was the one carrying all the weapons. And I was a goner without those. | Nobody ever thought much of me. I was just the silly little bard. I played my lute, sang songs and danced, and nobody cared why I always wore a mask. It was just funny little Sarmenti being his jokester self.
But now it was different. Everyone had been captured by the Baron and his men. They left me alone, laughing cruelly after surprising us and tying up my friends. The Baron mocked as he paid their bounties that clearly did not bear the mask of their funny bard companion. But he would not have the last laugh. Oh no. Because now I was hungry for revenge.
Not even my friends never knew what really hid behind the mask I wore. I was clearly human though, and a scraggly one at that. I suppose my unintimidating build was what got me an audience of the Baron. I had fauxed surrender and offered to become his court jester. He of course agreed, and I planned. I managed to meet with my group in the dungeons and told them to hang tight, I had a plan.
One day, the Baron held a large feast. Several wealthy, affluent, stuck up people came to it. I was a star of the show, dancing and juggling and singing and tumbling. I gave a glorious performance, and they laughed and laughed until they were blue and on the floor, even the guards. That was when I made my move. I grabbed for one of the knives meant to carve a fat roast pig and hid it in my sleeve. I prepared for my greatest joke yet.
I put on another dance, tumbling and stumbling as if drunk. The crowd laughed more. I tip toed gracefully up to the Baron and bowed, lifting my hand as if to ask for a dance. They laughed even more. The Baron, drunk on many wines, raised his own hand in suit. Then with a flash of blood and steel, his hand came off at the wrist. They all began to scream. I started to laugh as I leapt at the Baron and laughed as I plunged the knife into him again and again until his gurgling stopped. Drunken Guards swarmed as guests gawked in a stunned stupor. The mask had no expressions, hiding an ear to ear grin. I laughed more as I gutted the first guard stupid and drunk enough to try, and cut the throat of the next, still laughing at my expounding punchline. The nobles tried to get out but the doors were shut and locked to prevent interruption of the merriment. The keys jangled on the belt of the last guard, who scream was choked as I lodged the knife into his windpipe. The guests turned to me in realization. I grabbed more knives.
The next few minutes were a musical of incoherent screaming, the clean slicing of the knives, and my own mad laughter. By the time I was done, the floors and walls were painted a new coat of red. My grand finale complete, I went to get my friends, and since I had changed to a fresh costume no signs of the carnage on me. A quick key in hole, and out we popped.
"Wait! What about that Baron. We need to capture him and bring him to justice!" Galahad, our holy warrior, decreed.
"Oh, let him be, sir knight." I chuckled, "Gotta let some go now and again. My ole' granny used to say: if everybody took an eye for an eye, they'd go blind! Ha ha!"
They all laughed and we left through a side door and moved on to the next town before the news reached them. I'd say they'd never underestimate me again, but I suppose I left no witnesses. A bad habit, that. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Being good have never come naturally to Nokke.
Nokke's people were not known for it. Kobolds are generally known for being tricky and conniving bastards who would rather steal from you than give you the time of day.
Traps, misdirection and underhanded tactics. The bread and butter of Nokke's people. What had kept most of them alive when fighting people who could loom over them even when they sat.
It didn't work for long however. Nokke's small tribe had lost. Lost to some strange people. Nokke had been scared when these people, this group of 5 different and strange characters had stormed the small cave his first tribe called home.
Nokke thought about that fateful day as he quickly tied a rope around a flask's lid. It surprised Nokke how long ago that was yet how fresh the memory was in his mind. Nokke knew he had to be quick about it. There were too many variable to this plan to work but it had too. Nokke wouldn't except anything less. They needed him just as much he wanted them.
Once Nokke knew it was secure, he quickly pull the hood over his horns and felt the magic hide his presence again. Magic was something he never thought he would ever understand much less use. Of course he wasn't using magic itself, rather just using magical items. Yet it still amazed him how much he had learned from being with them. A small part of Nokke's mind wondered if his tribe was alright. It wouldn't surprise him if they were. Weak as Kobolds were, they would always manage to survive. Hithgard had always said Kobold's were like roaches; never really killed, just expelled from the holes. Nokke had always wondered what Hithgard meant and what roaches were. Nokke had never really seen one.
He quickly made his way around winding passages and cold halls. Nokke made sure to stay close to the walls and to move out of the way when he thought anyone would approach. The cloak that Elmarias had given him made him invisible but it didn't make him quite. Nokke had to do that himself.
As he went down the halls and past the doors, he made sure to check his preparations and their readiness. He made sure to check each one's place and positioning. Tweaking some as Nokke went along, making sure to try and stay out of sight as he did so. The cloak made it hard to operate with his hand when it was on, so Nokke had to time his alterations and tweaks to when he was sure no one would see him.
Nokke wasn't very smart, as much as Elmarias had tried to convince him otherwise. Despite this Nokke understood what planning and strategy was. The strange sorcerer girl had believed he could show more promise than he was actually worth was in part due to this understanding. Maybe she was right? Nokke wouldn't really know though. If things went right, maybe he would ask. When he had made sure that all of his preparation had been readied and secure, he began to head for his second objective.
The servants quarters were easy to slip into. The day was winding down which meant servants had to tidy up and tie up the things they could before nightfall. So the servants quarters were bustling with people moving in and out, carrying baskets of laudry, clothes, cleaning supplies and other things Nokke didn't know about. It was easy to move between them and pick his way to where Nokke knew she'd be. Nokke managed to spot her quickly enough, her silvery hair being easy to spot between all the mass of moving dull brown and reds of the servant outfits.
Nokke followed her as she worked, finding himself strangely annoyed at the small things that the other servants did to her as she worked quietly. Maybe Deriths care for his half-sister was rubbing off Nokke. He found his opening when an older woman tripped her as she carried a basket of clothes. The basket rolled and Nokke quickly tapped it to make it role farther. Nokke felt bad about how Feraithe had to chase after it but it was needed. Nokke needed to get her out of the castle for him to get what he wanted.
Once Nokke had managed to roll the basket out of the way enough for him to not be seen, he waited for Feraithe before pulling of his hood, releasing the magic that hide him. Feraithe let out of small gasp but quickly through her hands over her mouth. She quickly scanned the area for anyone that might see them but Nokke knew they wouldn't.
"Nokke, what are you doing here? Did you find anything about Deriths?" She quickly whispered as she knelt down.
"Yet not. Need you go out. Not safe castle." Nokke quickly said as he fished around his pockets for the map he made her. His common was still terrible but it would have to do as his elvish was even worse. Deriths wasn't as good a teacher as Elmarias.
"What do you mean not safe, Nokke? What's the matter?"
"Duke bad. Maybe betrayer. Not safe you here. Need you go out now," Nokke said quickly as he handed her a small parchement. "Go now. Follow map. Don't say word to people. Don't come back."
Feraiths nodded slowly as she took the parchment. She opened to quickly scan it before closing it back and hiding it. She picked up the basket and headed back out to the quarters. She stopped before she left Nokke's sight, turning to ask "Are you going to be alright?"
Nokke didn't know the answer to that. He knew that he wasn't going to come out whole, not when his plan was this. To essentially turn the entire castle into a trap-house as he worked to get info from the Duke. It was almost suicide if not for the things he picked up from the small band he had been traveling with for so long. Nokke nodded once before he pulled the hood over his horns and walked out of the quarters.
Nokke played with a small wand as he waited for an hour to pass. It would enough time for Feraiths to be out of the castle and be clear of the damages he would be doing. Booby-trapping the castle had been hard. Taking a little more than a couple days to setup. It was hard too. When trapping a cave, you knew that there was only 2 or 3 points of entry. Castles had too many to count But Nokke had managed to do it. All of the traps had been set up and kept in place thanks to Elmarias wands, keeping them ready and un-sprung and the spell wore-off.
Nokke didn't know if this would entirely work. The Duke was the only lead he had. He was the only one who knew where they had been that night. He had seen the mark on the hands of those who had taken his friends. The Duke had that same mark. It was hidden on his hand, Nokke seeing it one time when the gloves had slipped off. Nokke wasn't sure if the Duke knew where his friends are, but he was sure he had some idea why they were taken. Tonight, Nokke would find out.
Nokke may have started as their prisoner. But he wasn't one any longer. He may have been their pack-mule for a time but that had changed. He may have been resentful of them some time before but he had changed. If he needed to be that Kobold he was before, he do so again for them.
Nokke gripped the wand harder, bending further than it would take. Once it snapped, he began to slowly move towards the Duke's chambers. He glanced out the window once to see that the first trapped had been sprung. The moat was on fire. Not the first one he expected but that was fine. It might lead to more traps being sprung. As if the thought was the command, he hurt a small boom before screams filled the bellow him. The alchemist fire trap had been sprung down in the guard barracks. Maybe they would be dumb enough to try the water he hid there. The water contained a sleeping water elemental that Hithgard had captured once before. That would confuse them for a time.
Maybe enough for him to get some answers out of the Duke and his wife. | Nobody ever thought much of me. I was just the silly little bard. I played my lute, sang songs and danced, and nobody cared why I always wore a mask. It was just funny little Sarmenti being his jokester self.
But now it was different. Everyone had been captured by the Baron and his men. They left me alone, laughing cruelly after surprising us and tying up my friends. The Baron mocked as he paid their bounties that clearly did not bear the mask of their funny bard companion. But he would not have the last laugh. Oh no. Because now I was hungry for revenge.
Not even my friends never knew what really hid behind the mask I wore. I was clearly human though, and a scraggly one at that. I suppose my unintimidating build was what got me an audience of the Baron. I had fauxed surrender and offered to become his court jester. He of course agreed, and I planned. I managed to meet with my group in the dungeons and told them to hang tight, I had a plan.
One day, the Baron held a large feast. Several wealthy, affluent, stuck up people came to it. I was a star of the show, dancing and juggling and singing and tumbling. I gave a glorious performance, and they laughed and laughed until they were blue and on the floor, even the guards. That was when I made my move. I grabbed for one of the knives meant to carve a fat roast pig and hid it in my sleeve. I prepared for my greatest joke yet.
I put on another dance, tumbling and stumbling as if drunk. The crowd laughed more. I tip toed gracefully up to the Baron and bowed, lifting my hand as if to ask for a dance. They laughed even more. The Baron, drunk on many wines, raised his own hand in suit. Then with a flash of blood and steel, his hand came off at the wrist. They all began to scream. I started to laugh as I leapt at the Baron and laughed as I plunged the knife into him again and again until his gurgling stopped. Drunken Guards swarmed as guests gawked in a stunned stupor. The mask had no expressions, hiding an ear to ear grin. I laughed more as I gutted the first guard stupid and drunk enough to try, and cut the throat of the next, still laughing at my expounding punchline. The nobles tried to get out but the doors were shut and locked to prevent interruption of the merriment. The keys jangled on the belt of the last guard, who scream was choked as I lodged the knife into his windpipe. The guests turned to me in realization. I grabbed more knives.
The next few minutes were a musical of incoherent screaming, the clean slicing of the knives, and my own mad laughter. By the time I was done, the floors and walls were painted a new coat of red. My grand finale complete, I went to get my friends, and since I had changed to a fresh costume no signs of the carnage on me. A quick key in hole, and out we popped.
"Wait! What about that Baron. We need to capture him and bring him to justice!" Galahad, our holy warrior, decreed.
"Oh, let him be, sir knight." I chuckled, "Gotta let some go now and again. My ole' granny used to say: if everybody took an eye for an eye, they'd go blind! Ha ha!"
They all laughed and we left through a side door and moved on to the next town before the news reached them. I'd say they'd never underestimate me again, but I suppose I left no witnesses. A bad habit, that. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful.
"They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service."
The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes.
"I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead.
"Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed!
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?"
He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs.
"Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything."
"I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear"
I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?"
Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others.
And now I had the information I needed.
(Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.) | Nobody ever thought much of me. I was just the silly little bard. I played my lute, sang songs and danced, and nobody cared why I always wore a mask. It was just funny little Sarmenti being his jokester self.
But now it was different. Everyone had been captured by the Baron and his men. They left me alone, laughing cruelly after surprising us and tying up my friends. The Baron mocked as he paid their bounties that clearly did not bear the mask of their funny bard companion. But he would not have the last laugh. Oh no. Because now I was hungry for revenge.
Not even my friends never knew what really hid behind the mask I wore. I was clearly human though, and a scraggly one at that. I suppose my unintimidating build was what got me an audience of the Baron. I had fauxed surrender and offered to become his court jester. He of course agreed, and I planned. I managed to meet with my group in the dungeons and told them to hang tight, I had a plan.
One day, the Baron held a large feast. Several wealthy, affluent, stuck up people came to it. I was a star of the show, dancing and juggling and singing and tumbling. I gave a glorious performance, and they laughed and laughed until they were blue and on the floor, even the guards. That was when I made my move. I grabbed for one of the knives meant to carve a fat roast pig and hid it in my sleeve. I prepared for my greatest joke yet.
I put on another dance, tumbling and stumbling as if drunk. The crowd laughed more. I tip toed gracefully up to the Baron and bowed, lifting my hand as if to ask for a dance. They laughed even more. The Baron, drunk on many wines, raised his own hand in suit. Then with a flash of blood and steel, his hand came off at the wrist. They all began to scream. I started to laugh as I leapt at the Baron and laughed as I plunged the knife into him again and again until his gurgling stopped. Drunken Guards swarmed as guests gawked in a stunned stupor. The mask had no expressions, hiding an ear to ear grin. I laughed more as I gutted the first guard stupid and drunk enough to try, and cut the throat of the next, still laughing at my expounding punchline. The nobles tried to get out but the doors were shut and locked to prevent interruption of the merriment. The keys jangled on the belt of the last guard, who scream was choked as I lodged the knife into his windpipe. The guests turned to me in realization. I grabbed more knives.
The next few minutes were a musical of incoherent screaming, the clean slicing of the knives, and my own mad laughter. By the time I was done, the floors and walls were painted a new coat of red. My grand finale complete, I went to get my friends, and since I had changed to a fresh costume no signs of the carnage on me. A quick key in hole, and out we popped.
"Wait! What about that Baron. We need to capture him and bring him to justice!" Galahad, our holy warrior, decreed.
"Oh, let him be, sir knight." I chuckled, "Gotta let some go now and again. My ole' granny used to say: if everybody took an eye for an eye, they'd go blind! Ha ha!"
They all laughed and we left through a side door and moved on to the next town before the news reached them. I'd say they'd never underestimate me again, but I suppose I left no witnesses. A bad habit, that. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | It was supposed to be easy gold, just kidnap the cleric and a knight. A job that had only taken a greased palm, some sleeping powder, and some muscle.
 
Easy.
 
With a start, he’d woken up. The room was almost pitch black save for some light coming through his window. The moon must’ve made it’s way to the other side of the building, an indicator of either the very late hour, or very early, depending on how one looked at such things. He was alone in his bed.
 
Wait, that wasn’t right, he’d paid for companionship for the evening, where the Hell was she?
 
The man froze, sensing that he wasn’t quite as alone in the room as he thought he was. He slowly reached his hand out toward the bedside table. He felt the leather scabbard of his knife, empty.
 
A voice spoke from the darkness, soft, but with a sharp edge to it.
 
“You won’t be needing that,”
 
He snapped his head towards the far corner of the room. The dim moonlight from the window didn’t quite reach halfway into the room, and he knew from previous experience that a chair and table rested in the far corner. If he focused, he could just make out the outline of someone sitting at it.
 
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice croaking from disuse at this time of night.
 
The other man didn’t immediately respond, instead letting silence reign. The man in the bed wondered for a brief moment if the other man hadn’t heard him. After a moment he responded, not by answering his question, but by asking his own, in the same tone of voice as before.
 
“Where are Sasha and Mirin?”
 
“Who?”
 
He could almost feel the venom coming from the other man as he spoke again.
 
“Sasha and Mirin. Both sisters of the Holy Order, one as the Right Arm of Saint Michael as his holy knight, the other using the blessings of Saint Alaire to heal the sick and injured,”
 
There was a small thud as he could only assume the man had pounded his fist onto the table next to that chair.
 
“I will ask again, Kirwen, where are they?”
 
Kirwen stared back at the man.
 
“How’d you know my name?”
 
Another moment of silence, seemingly for the other man to think. Kirwen took the moment to scoot himself a little closer to the headboard. Surreptitiously get his hand closer to his pillow.
 
“I found your companion, Rolfrick,” He said, his voice retuning to being soft but sharp, ”You had him deal with me while you took the girls. It didn’t take much to track him down, very few natural-born humans get to his size without having some Troll mixed into their lineages,”
 
There was a slight creaking sound, as Kirwen thought he saw the other man shift in the chair. He scooted another inch or so in the bed. How could Rolfrick have failed to kill this man?
 
“Before I put a knife through his heart, he told me that it was you that did this bit of business with a man from the town of Sibert. As I’m *sure* you know, that town, and few others around the Southern Reaches, are infamous slaving hubs. The Holy Order has been on something of a crusade against them for some time. You really should do your homework before taking on jobs,”
 
Kirwen slowly scooted another inch. He needed to buy some time. He spoke.
 
“You talk like someone who's not connected with the Church, what do you care if something *unfortunate* happens to them?”
 
“Because those two almost make me willing to believe there’s something good in me,”
 
The other man suddenly stood up. Kirwen scooted further up his bed, and managed to get his hand under his pillow. He could feel the hilt of his backup dagger.
 
“I’ve known those two since they were fifteen and stumbled across me while they were exploring the woods around their town. I taught Mirin everything I know about healing magics, and I helped Sasha with her combat training. I even showed them some of the things that would have helped them that the Church wouldn’t have taught them!”
 
As the other man talked, he slowly walked closer to Kirwen. His voice grew louder as he spoke. Kirwen wrapped his hand around the knife.
 
The man grabbed Kirwen by his shoulders and shook him as he spoke. His breath almost made him gag.
 
“NOW YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE THAT MAN IS TAKING THEM!”
 
Kirwen slammed the knife into the other man’s chest, producing an explosive exhalation out of the man as he shoved him into the table at the other end of the room. The table collapsed onto it’s side, taking the man, and the tableware with it and producing a truly cacophonous noise.
 
Kirwen lept into action. That noise was sure to wake everyone on the floor on the inn.
 
He wiped the blood, black in the dim light, onto the bedspread before opening the chest at the foot of his bed and dressed as rapidly as he could. Mercs in his line of work didn’t tend to make it far if they weren’t always prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. It was barely 30 seconds later that he was dressed and had his bag slung over his shoulder. He pulled at the handle to his door.
 
It didn’t budge.
 
A crackling sound came from the lamp on bedside table and the one attached to the ceiling, soon the room was bathed in a red-orange light.
 
He snapped his head around towards them, but there were no obvious signs of who had lit them.
 
The other man groaned from where the table had fallen, before rolling over and standing up.
 
Now that the light was good, he could see the other mans unnatural paleness, his stiff movements, and the sunkeness of his eyes. The knife was still sticking out of his chest, right were his heart should have been.
 
It was then that Kirwen knew, Rolfrick *hadn’t* failed to kill the man. The man knew necromancy.
 
He withdrew the knife from his chest, and let it drop to the ground.
 
“You are going to tell me where that man is taking them,” He said, returning to his soft and sharp voice, “Because, let’s be honest, death won’t even be able to save you,”
 
Kirwen scrambled into the corner next to the door.
 
“It doesn’t matter if you save them!” He yelled at the necromancer, “The Church will still destroy you!”
 
“I know,” He said, never raising his voice, “But those two are worth it.”
 
 
Sorry for having this out this late. I hope you enjoyed it -Halogen_03 |
**T**he city had fallen, and with it, the last hope of resistance. Ash fell from the sky like snow, and for the first time in centuries, silence echoed in the streets. Buildings lay in ruins, desecrated by the sustained assault the opposition had brought. Market stalls were overturned on the side of the cobbles, forgotten by their proprietors in attempts to flee the dragonfire, and amidst all the ruination and wreckage stood but one lonely figure. He was weary and tired, armor rent in many places, sword hanging heavy from his loose fingers and dripping with blood, cloak once regal, now shredded and torn. Many expressions clashed on his dirt-streak face, but one sat deeper, etched into his features. For years, he had tried to keep his word. The merry band he had thrown his lot in with was gone, taken captive, dead, or worse, and with it, any inhibition he had. For years, he had kept a vow, once made out of desperation and then kept out of loyalty, and then respected out of friendship. There was nobody left though. Nobody he owed allegiance to, nobody who he owed his oath to. Still, he felt honorbound to a higher calling, a sacred obligation that transcended the desires of selfishness. No, he would not turn his back now. He would find them. He would save them. His fingers clenched tighter around the hilt of his well-used blade.
Many years ago, there was a warlord in a far northern province. Ruthless beyond compare, renowned for his vicious prowess in combat and equally as heartless leadership. Failure in his ranks was met often with death on a merciful day, and those who stood in his way were met with fire and steel. They called him once the Master of Cruelties, for none had mastered the art of torture as he had. Darkness will always be met by light, and one day, the adventurers walked into his camp. The details of the battle are brief and lost to time, only alive in the memories of those who witnessed it, but on that day, the Master of Cruelties died. For the years that followed, the adventurers had a new member. One who was perhaps a bit more aggressive, ferocious, and more willing to cross the line. He never took a life though, and never did he take the oath he had made to save his life for granted. For this man, he had shorn all the trappings of a past life and replaced it with honor, and in that, honor was all he had left.
Honor does not excuse the sins of the past. He was not a good man. He had raped, murdered, pillaged. He had burned down livelihoods and dreams, he had stolen from others that which can never be returned. These… adventurers had against all odds found it within themselves to forgive him, to *“reform”* him. He owed them everything.
He would do anything to get them back.
To hell with honor. He’d find it there. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | “I’m not a good person, Randall.”
The ocean waves churned at our feet. It had been nearly a fortnight since my party had disappeared. An accident on the field as the world knew it. I’d lost count at this point how many people had come to me offering some words of sympathy as though expecting they could distinguish themselves by acting as everyone else had.
I twined my fingers together and settled back more comfortably in my deck chair.
“Did I ever tell you how we met?” I shot him a glance to see if he was still listening.
His eyes flashed as they caught the half-light reflecting off the water, ”I didn’t ask.”
He skimmed the liquid off the top of his beer can, tipping his head back to drain the rest in one gulp. The nail of his index finger tapped at the wall of the can, before he flicked a wrist to send it flying into the obsidian waters.
“They were good people, you know,” I murmured softly, “That’s what everyone knew them as.”
“But they were a bunch of fools,” I pressed down the sound of mockery that threatened to come from my throat.
“Hmm.”
“And at some point… I wanted to be one of them, I… I wanted to be someone people would admire, someone people would point at in the streets and call a hero.”
He finally turned to look at me, the expression in his inky eyes unreadable.
“Is that why you left them there to die?” he drawled, low and cruel, “Why you’re here wasting time I could be using to catch up on sleep after following you halfway into the Deadlands looking for redemption from a bunch of brain-dead idiots who couldn’t tell a scam artist from a saint?”
I couldn’t answer that. As much as I wanted to sound like I knew what I was doing, this bastard always knew how to rip the coat of white from my sparkly clean exterior.
“Why the fuck are you here then,” I growled back, almost savage in my irritation.
He scoffed lightly, “Some of us know how to honour promises. We don’t pretend to be saints, but we know where our own bottom line is.”
He lay his weight against the arm of his deck chair and reached into his left pocket.
“You know what this is?” he asked me, his tone shifting too fast for me to gauge his emotions.
I squinted in the dusky light, trying to catch sight of the round object between his two fingers. I couldn’t make out much other than the general shape of the thing, but he answered his own question before I could ask.
“It’s a medal. My father’s medal. From those times we were busy fighting in honourable wars.”
He stood from his chair and closed the distance between us, leaning down to stare at me with eyes as bottomless as the waters around us.
“You know what this has taught me?” the only change in his expression was a slight quirk of his lips, “Honour is a joke, Charlie.”
“Honour is the reason why you and I are out here surrounded by man made creatures closer to mindless beasts than humans, looking for some happy go lucky dipshits who thought good people ever existed.”
“Honour will get you killed,” he breathed the next few words, “And so will this game of play pretend you seem so fond of.”
I gulped, the sound of it against the backdrop of the waves much louder than I would have hoped. He tucked his hands into his pockets, straightening up to look down at me.
“I’ll give you till tomorrow,” he skirted around my chair in a slow amble, “Hopefully it’s enough time for you to smarten up.”
His footsteps sounded rhythmically on the rotted pier behind me, coming to a stop after a few meters.
“Oh, and one more thing Charlie. I’m not sure how you survived this long out here with that tail hanging from your head, but if I see it still there in the morning, I’ll hand it to the Hungries myself and let them play tug of war over it. Goodnight.”
He walked off, leaving me to the jumble of my own thoughts.
“That fucking shit stain,” I hissed.
I couldn't stay angry for long, especially after realising it would be more stupid than anything to be alone at night in Hungry territory. I stalked after him, my pace faster than I would have admitted to with a gun at my head. I hated that bastard, but that bastard was the one carrying all the weapons. And I was a goner without those. |
**T**he city had fallen, and with it, the last hope of resistance. Ash fell from the sky like snow, and for the first time in centuries, silence echoed in the streets. Buildings lay in ruins, desecrated by the sustained assault the opposition had brought. Market stalls were overturned on the side of the cobbles, forgotten by their proprietors in attempts to flee the dragonfire, and amidst all the ruination and wreckage stood but one lonely figure. He was weary and tired, armor rent in many places, sword hanging heavy from his loose fingers and dripping with blood, cloak once regal, now shredded and torn. Many expressions clashed on his dirt-streak face, but one sat deeper, etched into his features. For years, he had tried to keep his word. The merry band he had thrown his lot in with was gone, taken captive, dead, or worse, and with it, any inhibition he had. For years, he had kept a vow, once made out of desperation and then kept out of loyalty, and then respected out of friendship. There was nobody left though. Nobody he owed allegiance to, nobody who he owed his oath to. Still, he felt honorbound to a higher calling, a sacred obligation that transcended the desires of selfishness. No, he would not turn his back now. He would find them. He would save them. His fingers clenched tighter around the hilt of his well-used blade.
Many years ago, there was a warlord in a far northern province. Ruthless beyond compare, renowned for his vicious prowess in combat and equally as heartless leadership. Failure in his ranks was met often with death on a merciful day, and those who stood in his way were met with fire and steel. They called him once the Master of Cruelties, for none had mastered the art of torture as he had. Darkness will always be met by light, and one day, the adventurers walked into his camp. The details of the battle are brief and lost to time, only alive in the memories of those who witnessed it, but on that day, the Master of Cruelties died. For the years that followed, the adventurers had a new member. One who was perhaps a bit more aggressive, ferocious, and more willing to cross the line. He never took a life though, and never did he take the oath he had made to save his life for granted. For this man, he had shorn all the trappings of a past life and replaced it with honor, and in that, honor was all he had left.
Honor does not excuse the sins of the past. He was not a good man. He had raped, murdered, pillaged. He had burned down livelihoods and dreams, he had stolen from others that which can never be returned. These… adventurers had against all odds found it within themselves to forgive him, to *“reform”* him. He owed them everything.
He would do anything to get them back.
To hell with honor. He’d find it there. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Being good have never come naturally to Nokke.
Nokke's people were not known for it. Kobolds are generally known for being tricky and conniving bastards who would rather steal from you than give you the time of day.
Traps, misdirection and underhanded tactics. The bread and butter of Nokke's people. What had kept most of them alive when fighting people who could loom over them even when they sat.
It didn't work for long however. Nokke's small tribe had lost. Lost to some strange people. Nokke had been scared when these people, this group of 5 different and strange characters had stormed the small cave his first tribe called home.
Nokke thought about that fateful day as he quickly tied a rope around a flask's lid. It surprised Nokke how long ago that was yet how fresh the memory was in his mind. Nokke knew he had to be quick about it. There were too many variable to this plan to work but it had too. Nokke wouldn't except anything less. They needed him just as much he wanted them.
Once Nokke knew it was secure, he quickly pull the hood over his horns and felt the magic hide his presence again. Magic was something he never thought he would ever understand much less use. Of course he wasn't using magic itself, rather just using magical items. Yet it still amazed him how much he had learned from being with them. A small part of Nokke's mind wondered if his tribe was alright. It wouldn't surprise him if they were. Weak as Kobolds were, they would always manage to survive. Hithgard had always said Kobold's were like roaches; never really killed, just expelled from the holes. Nokke had always wondered what Hithgard meant and what roaches were. Nokke had never really seen one.
He quickly made his way around winding passages and cold halls. Nokke made sure to stay close to the walls and to move out of the way when he thought anyone would approach. The cloak that Elmarias had given him made him invisible but it didn't make him quite. Nokke had to do that himself.
As he went down the halls and past the doors, he made sure to check his preparations and their readiness. He made sure to check each one's place and positioning. Tweaking some as Nokke went along, making sure to try and stay out of sight as he did so. The cloak made it hard to operate with his hand when it was on, so Nokke had to time his alterations and tweaks to when he was sure no one would see him.
Nokke wasn't very smart, as much as Elmarias had tried to convince him otherwise. Despite this Nokke understood what planning and strategy was. The strange sorcerer girl had believed he could show more promise than he was actually worth was in part due to this understanding. Maybe she was right? Nokke wouldn't really know though. If things went right, maybe he would ask. When he had made sure that all of his preparation had been readied and secure, he began to head for his second objective.
The servants quarters were easy to slip into. The day was winding down which meant servants had to tidy up and tie up the things they could before nightfall. So the servants quarters were bustling with people moving in and out, carrying baskets of laudry, clothes, cleaning supplies and other things Nokke didn't know about. It was easy to move between them and pick his way to where Nokke knew she'd be. Nokke managed to spot her quickly enough, her silvery hair being easy to spot between all the mass of moving dull brown and reds of the servant outfits.
Nokke followed her as she worked, finding himself strangely annoyed at the small things that the other servants did to her as she worked quietly. Maybe Deriths care for his half-sister was rubbing off Nokke. He found his opening when an older woman tripped her as she carried a basket of clothes. The basket rolled and Nokke quickly tapped it to make it role farther. Nokke felt bad about how Feraithe had to chase after it but it was needed. Nokke needed to get her out of the castle for him to get what he wanted.
Once Nokke had managed to roll the basket out of the way enough for him to not be seen, he waited for Feraithe before pulling of his hood, releasing the magic that hide him. Feraithe let out of small gasp but quickly through her hands over her mouth. She quickly scanned the area for anyone that might see them but Nokke knew they wouldn't.
"Nokke, what are you doing here? Did you find anything about Deriths?" She quickly whispered as she knelt down.
"Yet not. Need you go out. Not safe castle." Nokke quickly said as he fished around his pockets for the map he made her. His common was still terrible but it would have to do as his elvish was even worse. Deriths wasn't as good a teacher as Elmarias.
"What do you mean not safe, Nokke? What's the matter?"
"Duke bad. Maybe betrayer. Not safe you here. Need you go out now," Nokke said quickly as he handed her a small parchement. "Go now. Follow map. Don't say word to people. Don't come back."
Feraiths nodded slowly as she took the parchment. She opened to quickly scan it before closing it back and hiding it. She picked up the basket and headed back out to the quarters. She stopped before she left Nokke's sight, turning to ask "Are you going to be alright?"
Nokke didn't know the answer to that. He knew that he wasn't going to come out whole, not when his plan was this. To essentially turn the entire castle into a trap-house as he worked to get info from the Duke. It was almost suicide if not for the things he picked up from the small band he had been traveling with for so long. Nokke nodded once before he pulled the hood over his horns and walked out of the quarters.
Nokke played with a small wand as he waited for an hour to pass. It would enough time for Feraiths to be out of the castle and be clear of the damages he would be doing. Booby-trapping the castle had been hard. Taking a little more than a couple days to setup. It was hard too. When trapping a cave, you knew that there was only 2 or 3 points of entry. Castles had too many to count But Nokke had managed to do it. All of the traps had been set up and kept in place thanks to Elmarias wands, keeping them ready and un-sprung and the spell wore-off.
Nokke didn't know if this would entirely work. The Duke was the only lead he had. He was the only one who knew where they had been that night. He had seen the mark on the hands of those who had taken his friends. The Duke had that same mark. It was hidden on his hand, Nokke seeing it one time when the gloves had slipped off. Nokke wasn't sure if the Duke knew where his friends are, but he was sure he had some idea why they were taken. Tonight, Nokke would find out.
Nokke may have started as their prisoner. But he wasn't one any longer. He may have been their pack-mule for a time but that had changed. He may have been resentful of them some time before but he had changed. If he needed to be that Kobold he was before, he do so again for them.
Nokke gripped the wand harder, bending further than it would take. Once it snapped, he began to slowly move towards the Duke's chambers. He glanced out the window once to see that the first trapped had been sprung. The moat was on fire. Not the first one he expected but that was fine. It might lead to more traps being sprung. As if the thought was the command, he hurt a small boom before screams filled the bellow him. The alchemist fire trap had been sprung down in the guard barracks. Maybe they would be dumb enough to try the water he hid there. The water contained a sleeping water elemental that Hithgard had captured once before. That would confuse them for a time.
Maybe enough for him to get some answers out of the Duke and his wife. |
**T**he city had fallen, and with it, the last hope of resistance. Ash fell from the sky like snow, and for the first time in centuries, silence echoed in the streets. Buildings lay in ruins, desecrated by the sustained assault the opposition had brought. Market stalls were overturned on the side of the cobbles, forgotten by their proprietors in attempts to flee the dragonfire, and amidst all the ruination and wreckage stood but one lonely figure. He was weary and tired, armor rent in many places, sword hanging heavy from his loose fingers and dripping with blood, cloak once regal, now shredded and torn. Many expressions clashed on his dirt-streak face, but one sat deeper, etched into his features. For years, he had tried to keep his word. The merry band he had thrown his lot in with was gone, taken captive, dead, or worse, and with it, any inhibition he had. For years, he had kept a vow, once made out of desperation and then kept out of loyalty, and then respected out of friendship. There was nobody left though. Nobody he owed allegiance to, nobody who he owed his oath to. Still, he felt honorbound to a higher calling, a sacred obligation that transcended the desires of selfishness. No, he would not turn his back now. He would find them. He would save them. His fingers clenched tighter around the hilt of his well-used blade.
Many years ago, there was a warlord in a far northern province. Ruthless beyond compare, renowned for his vicious prowess in combat and equally as heartless leadership. Failure in his ranks was met often with death on a merciful day, and those who stood in his way were met with fire and steel. They called him once the Master of Cruelties, for none had mastered the art of torture as he had. Darkness will always be met by light, and one day, the adventurers walked into his camp. The details of the battle are brief and lost to time, only alive in the memories of those who witnessed it, but on that day, the Master of Cruelties died. For the years that followed, the adventurers had a new member. One who was perhaps a bit more aggressive, ferocious, and more willing to cross the line. He never took a life though, and never did he take the oath he had made to save his life for granted. For this man, he had shorn all the trappings of a past life and replaced it with honor, and in that, honor was all he had left.
Honor does not excuse the sins of the past. He was not a good man. He had raped, murdered, pillaged. He had burned down livelihoods and dreams, he had stolen from others that which can never be returned. These… adventurers had against all odds found it within themselves to forgive him, to *“reform”* him. He owed them everything.
He would do anything to get them back.
To hell with honor. He’d find it there. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | “I’m not a good person, Randall.”
The ocean waves churned at our feet. It had been nearly a fortnight since my party had disappeared. An accident on the field as the world knew it. I’d lost count at this point how many people had come to me offering some words of sympathy as though expecting they could distinguish themselves by acting as everyone else had.
I twined my fingers together and settled back more comfortably in my deck chair.
“Did I ever tell you how we met?” I shot him a glance to see if he was still listening.
His eyes flashed as they caught the half-light reflecting off the water, ”I didn’t ask.”
He skimmed the liquid off the top of his beer can, tipping his head back to drain the rest in one gulp. The nail of his index finger tapped at the wall of the can, before he flicked a wrist to send it flying into the obsidian waters.
“They were good people, you know,” I murmured softly, “That’s what everyone knew them as.”
“But they were a bunch of fools,” I pressed down the sound of mockery that threatened to come from my throat.
“Hmm.”
“And at some point… I wanted to be one of them, I… I wanted to be someone people would admire, someone people would point at in the streets and call a hero.”
He finally turned to look at me, the expression in his inky eyes unreadable.
“Is that why you left them there to die?” he drawled, low and cruel, “Why you’re here wasting time I could be using to catch up on sleep after following you halfway into the Deadlands looking for redemption from a bunch of brain-dead idiots who couldn’t tell a scam artist from a saint?”
I couldn’t answer that. As much as I wanted to sound like I knew what I was doing, this bastard always knew how to rip the coat of white from my sparkly clean exterior.
“Why the fuck are you here then,” I growled back, almost savage in my irritation.
He scoffed lightly, “Some of us know how to honour promises. We don’t pretend to be saints, but we know where our own bottom line is.”
He lay his weight against the arm of his deck chair and reached into his left pocket.
“You know what this is?” he asked me, his tone shifting too fast for me to gauge his emotions.
I squinted in the dusky light, trying to catch sight of the round object between his two fingers. I couldn’t make out much other than the general shape of the thing, but he answered his own question before I could ask.
“It’s a medal. My father’s medal. From those times we were busy fighting in honourable wars.”
He stood from his chair and closed the distance between us, leaning down to stare at me with eyes as bottomless as the waters around us.
“You know what this has taught me?” the only change in his expression was a slight quirk of his lips, “Honour is a joke, Charlie.”
“Honour is the reason why you and I are out here surrounded by man made creatures closer to mindless beasts than humans, looking for some happy go lucky dipshits who thought good people ever existed.”
“Honour will get you killed,” he breathed the next few words, “And so will this game of play pretend you seem so fond of.”
I gulped, the sound of it against the backdrop of the waves much louder than I would have hoped. He tucked his hands into his pockets, straightening up to look down at me.
“I’ll give you till tomorrow,” he skirted around my chair in a slow amble, “Hopefully it’s enough time for you to smarten up.”
His footsteps sounded rhythmically on the rotted pier behind me, coming to a stop after a few meters.
“Oh, and one more thing Charlie. I’m not sure how you survived this long out here with that tail hanging from your head, but if I see it still there in the morning, I’ll hand it to the Hungries myself and let them play tug of war over it. Goodnight.”
He walked off, leaving me to the jumble of my own thoughts.
“That fucking shit stain,” I hissed.
I couldn't stay angry for long, especially after realising it would be more stupid than anything to be alone at night in Hungry territory. I stalked after him, my pace faster than I would have admitted to with a gun at my head. I hated that bastard, but that bastard was the one carrying all the weapons. And I was a goner without those. | “There must be another option here”, he says earnestly.
​
I’m hesitating not to consider his offer but to determine how to slip past his weapon. What would he have to offer me? I’ve already considered the options for how best to save our quest and bring back my lost friends, there would be no other options. My only mistake so far, has been ignoring this young wanna-be hero long enough to let him get to the blunderbuss. He’s no match for me, but that hardware will cut me in half if I’m not careful.
​
It has been 6 years since I started my quest to destroy my mentor, the evil sorcerer Vasidgious. I drove him from his fortress and caused him to align himself with the Emperor Khalith. Luckily for me, the Emperor was cruel and arrogant. He’d made enemies of his subjects and as a result there were many fledgling groups of rebels scattered across his kingdom. It was easy to rally them behind one banner and select the best fighters from among their groups for my personal band of warriors. The downside was that these valiant and fearsome adventurers believed in their cause to usurp evil and bring freedom and peace. I’ve been unable to resort to many of my more direct methods to destroy those that stand between me and Vasidgious. In order to hold this group together, I’ve been restricted to honorable rules of combat. But it’s been worth it as their powers and skill have been essential in defeating the sheer number of the emperor’s soldiers. And being seen as heroic champions has allowed us to inspire the rebel armies and successfully besiege every fortification we’ve faced.
​
Over the years, I’ve come to know my companions and truly consider them friends. I am as fulfilled by the fellowship of my peers as much as by the quenching of my bloodlust by killing the emperor’s soldiers. I value them and have listened with interest at the stories of their simple lives and loves. Berquod’s young son, Borai, who shows so much promise as an archer and painter. His wife is educating him in arts at the citadel while his father used to take him hunting for elk in the mountains. Lislyllia’s husband is a surgeon and her daughters are all studying the healing arts. Jull, the golden knight, used to serve at the court of Baron Aellel before he was betrayed by Khalith and Jull led the remnants of Aellel’s soldiers to join our cause. Finally, the large beserker Gourth, whose effervescence and infectious joy match the fury he could unleash in battle. All of them powerful forces to be reckoned with and sweet and compassionate people who loved me as much as I had grown to love them.
​
But now they are all gone. Lost to me as this damned war unfolded. First it was the battle at Gildeoncourt where emperor Khalith’s strongest ally, Genral Khourinth, accepted terms of surrender and Jull stayed behind to oversee our forces in the West. It quickly unraveled for Khalith from there with one loss after another and the emperor and his mysterious sorcerer fled to the Hai’th mountains. Berquod was designated regent for the kingdom while the others went back to their homes and their loved ones.
​
Now I’m here trying to select the best way to bypass this upstart child. He’s naïve and in shock. He doesn’t understand what horrors are in the next room. I’ve already supplied Khourinth with the soldiers he needed to take back his castle. Murdering all the novices at the temple of healing in Shyria ensured that Lislyllia would find no peace in her home. And that story itself was enough to enrage Gourth so much that he has sworn a blood pact to see Khalith and Visidgious die. Berquod was more difficult. He claimed that he owed a debt to the nation to serve as regent and would not accompany us to the Hai’th mountains. So here I am with his son, Borai, the last living member of Berquod’s family. He’s using the lessons his father taught him to try and find common ground and reach a noble solution that doesn’t require bloodshed. Knowing better than he that there will be no resolution, I feign an overhead lunge with my sword but drop to the floor and quickly flick my dagger loose. He fires the great gun into the ceiling while my knife sinks into his throat. And the deed is done. I will leave a blood-soaked banner of Khalith at the scene and expect that Berquod and his personal guard will soon join us as we continue our quest. All friends, perhaps less optimistic, but each dedicated to the cause. My cause. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Being good have never come naturally to Nokke.
Nokke's people were not known for it. Kobolds are generally known for being tricky and conniving bastards who would rather steal from you than give you the time of day.
Traps, misdirection and underhanded tactics. The bread and butter of Nokke's people. What had kept most of them alive when fighting people who could loom over them even when they sat.
It didn't work for long however. Nokke's small tribe had lost. Lost to some strange people. Nokke had been scared when these people, this group of 5 different and strange characters had stormed the small cave his first tribe called home.
Nokke thought about that fateful day as he quickly tied a rope around a flask's lid. It surprised Nokke how long ago that was yet how fresh the memory was in his mind. Nokke knew he had to be quick about it. There were too many variable to this plan to work but it had too. Nokke wouldn't except anything less. They needed him just as much he wanted them.
Once Nokke knew it was secure, he quickly pull the hood over his horns and felt the magic hide his presence again. Magic was something he never thought he would ever understand much less use. Of course he wasn't using magic itself, rather just using magical items. Yet it still amazed him how much he had learned from being with them. A small part of Nokke's mind wondered if his tribe was alright. It wouldn't surprise him if they were. Weak as Kobolds were, they would always manage to survive. Hithgard had always said Kobold's were like roaches; never really killed, just expelled from the holes. Nokke had always wondered what Hithgard meant and what roaches were. Nokke had never really seen one.
He quickly made his way around winding passages and cold halls. Nokke made sure to stay close to the walls and to move out of the way when he thought anyone would approach. The cloak that Elmarias had given him made him invisible but it didn't make him quite. Nokke had to do that himself.
As he went down the halls and past the doors, he made sure to check his preparations and their readiness. He made sure to check each one's place and positioning. Tweaking some as Nokke went along, making sure to try and stay out of sight as he did so. The cloak made it hard to operate with his hand when it was on, so Nokke had to time his alterations and tweaks to when he was sure no one would see him.
Nokke wasn't very smart, as much as Elmarias had tried to convince him otherwise. Despite this Nokke understood what planning and strategy was. The strange sorcerer girl had believed he could show more promise than he was actually worth was in part due to this understanding. Maybe she was right? Nokke wouldn't really know though. If things went right, maybe he would ask. When he had made sure that all of his preparation had been readied and secure, he began to head for his second objective.
The servants quarters were easy to slip into. The day was winding down which meant servants had to tidy up and tie up the things they could before nightfall. So the servants quarters were bustling with people moving in and out, carrying baskets of laudry, clothes, cleaning supplies and other things Nokke didn't know about. It was easy to move between them and pick his way to where Nokke knew she'd be. Nokke managed to spot her quickly enough, her silvery hair being easy to spot between all the mass of moving dull brown and reds of the servant outfits.
Nokke followed her as she worked, finding himself strangely annoyed at the small things that the other servants did to her as she worked quietly. Maybe Deriths care for his half-sister was rubbing off Nokke. He found his opening when an older woman tripped her as she carried a basket of clothes. The basket rolled and Nokke quickly tapped it to make it role farther. Nokke felt bad about how Feraithe had to chase after it but it was needed. Nokke needed to get her out of the castle for him to get what he wanted.
Once Nokke had managed to roll the basket out of the way enough for him to not be seen, he waited for Feraithe before pulling of his hood, releasing the magic that hide him. Feraithe let out of small gasp but quickly through her hands over her mouth. She quickly scanned the area for anyone that might see them but Nokke knew they wouldn't.
"Nokke, what are you doing here? Did you find anything about Deriths?" She quickly whispered as she knelt down.
"Yet not. Need you go out. Not safe castle." Nokke quickly said as he fished around his pockets for the map he made her. His common was still terrible but it would have to do as his elvish was even worse. Deriths wasn't as good a teacher as Elmarias.
"What do you mean not safe, Nokke? What's the matter?"
"Duke bad. Maybe betrayer. Not safe you here. Need you go out now," Nokke said quickly as he handed her a small parchement. "Go now. Follow map. Don't say word to people. Don't come back."
Feraiths nodded slowly as she took the parchment. She opened to quickly scan it before closing it back and hiding it. She picked up the basket and headed back out to the quarters. She stopped before she left Nokke's sight, turning to ask "Are you going to be alright?"
Nokke didn't know the answer to that. He knew that he wasn't going to come out whole, not when his plan was this. To essentially turn the entire castle into a trap-house as he worked to get info from the Duke. It was almost suicide if not for the things he picked up from the small band he had been traveling with for so long. Nokke nodded once before he pulled the hood over his horns and walked out of the quarters.
Nokke played with a small wand as he waited for an hour to pass. It would enough time for Feraiths to be out of the castle and be clear of the damages he would be doing. Booby-trapping the castle had been hard. Taking a little more than a couple days to setup. It was hard too. When trapping a cave, you knew that there was only 2 or 3 points of entry. Castles had too many to count But Nokke had managed to do it. All of the traps had been set up and kept in place thanks to Elmarias wands, keeping them ready and un-sprung and the spell wore-off.
Nokke didn't know if this would entirely work. The Duke was the only lead he had. He was the only one who knew where they had been that night. He had seen the mark on the hands of those who had taken his friends. The Duke had that same mark. It was hidden on his hand, Nokke seeing it one time when the gloves had slipped off. Nokke wasn't sure if the Duke knew where his friends are, but he was sure he had some idea why they were taken. Tonight, Nokke would find out.
Nokke may have started as their prisoner. But he wasn't one any longer. He may have been their pack-mule for a time but that had changed. He may have been resentful of them some time before but he had changed. If he needed to be that Kobold he was before, he do so again for them.
Nokke gripped the wand harder, bending further than it would take. Once it snapped, he began to slowly move towards the Duke's chambers. He glanced out the window once to see that the first trapped had been sprung. The moat was on fire. Not the first one he expected but that was fine. It might lead to more traps being sprung. As if the thought was the command, he hurt a small boom before screams filled the bellow him. The alchemist fire trap had been sprung down in the guard barracks. Maybe they would be dumb enough to try the water he hid there. The water contained a sleeping water elemental that Hithgard had captured once before. That would confuse them for a time.
Maybe enough for him to get some answers out of the Duke and his wife. | “There must be another option here”, he says earnestly.
​
I’m hesitating not to consider his offer but to determine how to slip past his weapon. What would he have to offer me? I’ve already considered the options for how best to save our quest and bring back my lost friends, there would be no other options. My only mistake so far, has been ignoring this young wanna-be hero long enough to let him get to the blunderbuss. He’s no match for me, but that hardware will cut me in half if I’m not careful.
​
It has been 6 years since I started my quest to destroy my mentor, the evil sorcerer Vasidgious. I drove him from his fortress and caused him to align himself with the Emperor Khalith. Luckily for me, the Emperor was cruel and arrogant. He’d made enemies of his subjects and as a result there were many fledgling groups of rebels scattered across his kingdom. It was easy to rally them behind one banner and select the best fighters from among their groups for my personal band of warriors. The downside was that these valiant and fearsome adventurers believed in their cause to usurp evil and bring freedom and peace. I’ve been unable to resort to many of my more direct methods to destroy those that stand between me and Vasidgious. In order to hold this group together, I’ve been restricted to honorable rules of combat. But it’s been worth it as their powers and skill have been essential in defeating the sheer number of the emperor’s soldiers. And being seen as heroic champions has allowed us to inspire the rebel armies and successfully besiege every fortification we’ve faced.
​
Over the years, I’ve come to know my companions and truly consider them friends. I am as fulfilled by the fellowship of my peers as much as by the quenching of my bloodlust by killing the emperor’s soldiers. I value them and have listened with interest at the stories of their simple lives and loves. Berquod’s young son, Borai, who shows so much promise as an archer and painter. His wife is educating him in arts at the citadel while his father used to take him hunting for elk in the mountains. Lislyllia’s husband is a surgeon and her daughters are all studying the healing arts. Jull, the golden knight, used to serve at the court of Baron Aellel before he was betrayed by Khalith and Jull led the remnants of Aellel’s soldiers to join our cause. Finally, the large beserker Gourth, whose effervescence and infectious joy match the fury he could unleash in battle. All of them powerful forces to be reckoned with and sweet and compassionate people who loved me as much as I had grown to love them.
​
But now they are all gone. Lost to me as this damned war unfolded. First it was the battle at Gildeoncourt where emperor Khalith’s strongest ally, Genral Khourinth, accepted terms of surrender and Jull stayed behind to oversee our forces in the West. It quickly unraveled for Khalith from there with one loss after another and the emperor and his mysterious sorcerer fled to the Hai’th mountains. Berquod was designated regent for the kingdom while the others went back to their homes and their loved ones.
​
Now I’m here trying to select the best way to bypass this upstart child. He’s naïve and in shock. He doesn’t understand what horrors are in the next room. I’ve already supplied Khourinth with the soldiers he needed to take back his castle. Murdering all the novices at the temple of healing in Shyria ensured that Lislyllia would find no peace in her home. And that story itself was enough to enrage Gourth so much that he has sworn a blood pact to see Khalith and Visidgious die. Berquod was more difficult. He claimed that he owed a debt to the nation to serve as regent and would not accompany us to the Hai’th mountains. So here I am with his son, Borai, the last living member of Berquod’s family. He’s using the lessons his father taught him to try and find common ground and reach a noble solution that doesn’t require bloodshed. Knowing better than he that there will be no resolution, I feign an overhead lunge with my sword but drop to the floor and quickly flick my dagger loose. He fires the great gun into the ceiling while my knife sinks into his throat. And the deed is done. I will leave a blood-soaked banner of Khalith at the scene and expect that Berquod and his personal guard will soon join us as we continue our quest. All friends, perhaps less optimistic, but each dedicated to the cause. My cause. | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | His arm felt cold. A kind of freezing sensation that was not unknown to him but through many years had become unfamiliar. The chill clung to his bones as it crept up to his chest, icy fingers round his heart. With a controlled exhale he felt the discomfort lessen and shrink away before being pushed out of the palm of his hand into the corpse at his feet. An unholy light danced in the air between them, lifeless blue sparks backdropped by a dead aurora as the body trembled. It sat up abruptly. Its vacant eyes glowed in the dusklight.
"I'm cold." the corpse said, her voice without affectation. Her bloodied hair clung to her pale face. She hadn't been dead long. "Why do I feel cold? Where are my boys?"
The man squatted down, entering her eye-line. His tattered cloak was sodden with mud and clung to him. He felt the cold too, though he suspected not like her.
"You are the innkeeper here, correct?" he said. He was tired and he spoke softly. Most people would have struggled to hear what he said, but the dead woman whipped her head round before he had finished his question.
"Yes." she said abruptly. "I didn't say that. What's happened to me? That was my voice but I didn't say that. Where are my boys? Where's my husband?" despite her monotonous intonation, he could hear panic start to creep in.
"A few days past, members of the Royal Guard past through here. Where did they go?"
"They took the North road" she said, interrupting her growing hysteria, before descending into it once more. "Oh gods, they died didn't they? I was outside when I heard them screaming. And when I ran over, you... You killed me! I'm dead. We're dead." she began to let out this dull groan as she finished. He realised this was her attempt to scream.
"When the guard left," as he cut across her the moaning stopped instantly, "did they mention any prisoners?"
"Yes. They laughed about them." she did not resume screaming, instead she asked "Why did you kill us?"
He paused for a moment. He was not sure if it was worth saying, she would be fully dead once more soon enough. But she had been useful.
"I need to locate my companions who were captured. I knew their captors had passed through this town and I reasoned they may have rested at this Inn. And right now you are incapable of lying to me. Killing you and your family was simply quicker than risking misinformation. You were only the fourth person I had to temporarily resurrect in this settlement, so your death has proven useful." he said as he stood up.
"Temporar-" her question was cut off as he snapped his fingers. The light vanished from her eyes and she slumped to floor.
He adjusted the hood of his cloak and began the march north. He knew they were days ahead already, and who knows how many questions he would still have to ask before he found them. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | The big man in red plunged his hand like a blade between the fourth and fifth rib of the man under him. “Your buddies are all dead,” he rasped, his throat raw from berserker rage. “Tell me where my friends are and I’ll let you live.” His leather-clad fist tightened and the thug moaned. “Don’t tell and I’ll eat your heart in front of you before you can die.” He smiled, teeth white against the blood splashed against his face and beard. “And I’m hungry.” The thug babbled an answer and was dropped aside as the big man turned to go. He had almost reached the door when the thug gasped, “They’re just reindeer, man!” The big man in red turned slowly, menacingly, back to the thug. Then he smiled, so warmly that for a moment the thug lost all fear. But when he looked into the big man’s eyes, his heart fell as he saw his end. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | They were good people. That’s always what you heard whenever you went tavern diving or strayed around markets. But, of course, it would always be followed by “but that shady one makes me feel uneasy.” You were that shady one, but you couldn’t really fault them, or get angry. On the whole ‘light-side crusade’ that was their party, anyone who wasn’t lawful good or lawful neutral would automatically be the dark one. And you were fine with that. They were strong, supportive, and slowly, you started to see some of the lighter things in life. Perhaps good things could happen to good people at times.
You were out in a local dive when the attack occured. You were half-listening to a sad drunk’s tale while sipping your own drink, completely unaware that your party was being attacked at that very moment. After making some new contacts you returned to the small encampment your party had set up, but instead to a quiet night broken only by whichever poor sap had drawn the night shift, you returned to a half-destroyed battlefield with no signs of life.
Of course, there were small clues that his party had been fighting. Deep gouges in the earth, the occasional missed arrow, or even small splatters of blood. But no bodies. No tracks leading to wherever their unconscious bodies had been carried off to. You completely dug up that camp, almost maddened in your search for any trace, any lead, but you failed. It was as if they had disappeared in the midst of fighting, as if they had been carried away to some strange other world. That meant magic. You hated magic.
Nothing good came out of magic, especially for someone such as you. Truth compulsions, magical tracking, all had screwed you over at some time or the other. Technically, healing was classified as Divine Magic so your whole hatred was justified, but you knew how close to hypocrisy you came. Still, you weren’t unwelcome to the occasional haste buff or piercing enchantment your magically-inclined allies casted upon you during combat, so you tolerated it. However, occasionally magic was used to complete feats of complete bullshit, such as teleporting an entire party from an area while leaving no traces. You reaffirmed that they were just waiting for you to find them. They were *not* dead. In order to find them, however, you were going to have to go through *drastic* measures.
Thus, you found yourself outside a church. You didn’t know what distinguished churches from temples or chapels, but all you knew was that this place of worship was willing to perform certain rituals for certain fees. You didn’t really care about all the people you had to rob, steal from, or con in order to pay the price necessary. What? It’s not like you would pay for this using your *own* money. The source of your money aside, you felt trepidation as you approached the church’s doors. It had been years-no decades since you had been in one. That.. that was when you were younger. When the world was a little brighter. Even with proof of gods and higher beings you still felt skepticism when faced with religion. Though today, you would have to renounce all that.
There was a nun waiting by the door for any travellers, and you could tell from the way her arms tensed that she expected you to start some sort of trouble. Inwardly, you scoffed. Of course even here there was bigotry and assumptions. Though you had never directly clashed with your party’s paladin, there was always something in her gaze that made you feel.. unclean. Apparently this was where she got it from. You were about to explain what your purpose was, but the nun raised a hand to quiet you. “We already know why you have come here. Our God sent us a vision explaining your plight. We are willing to assist you in this noble and good endeavour, provided, of course, you find some way to.. dispose of your ill-begotten gains.”
At your confused expression, the nun simply motioned to the side, where a box labeled “DONATIONS” was waiting. Of course.
The tracking ritual was.. disconcerting. It had required you to divulge.. personal details about yourself to the nuns in the room and the deity, and you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about that. Maybe it was the knowing look the nun gave you, or perhaps it was the Otherness of the ritual, but you felt ill at ease with yourself. But you forced the feeling down. The ritual was successful, and you had managed to find the place the ritual had described. Thankfully, it was only a fortress. If it had been another monastery you might have left your party altogether.
You quickly infiltrated the fortress, and slowly started to move towards your party while disguised as a maid. Nobody questioned your movements, too afraid that you were on an important someone’s bidding, so you quickly found your way into the heart of the fortress. Finally, you found your way to your party. A smile threatened to break on your face, but you forced it down. It would completely destroy your respect amongst your group!
You quickly slaughtered the feeble guardsmen, and then walked into the prisoners’ room. There, slightly hurt but not dead, was your party. You could see the surprise in their eyes when they saw you, but they were silent. Finally, the white mage asked, “So, uh, is the maid thing permanent?”
There were a small round of snickers, and you felt the inexplicable urge to leave them all there. Then again, you had gone through all this trouble. You reach down unlock their chains with the keys you had pilfered from the guards outside, and as you’re leaning down over the paladin, she asks, “Was it hard to find us?”
You considered telling the truth, telling them about your visit to the church and how they had thought you were on some ‘noble’ quest to save them. But then you simply said “It was only a fortress.” and left it at that. The paladin’s truth-sight wasn’t fooled, but she was gracious enough that she didn’t call you out when the rest of the party started to laugh.
You unlocked the your last party member, a shifty spellsword that you could swear had been a thief once, and look back to the assembled party. This time, you allowed the smile to show on your face. Though what you planned went directly against what some of their alignments might stand for, you had the feeling that they would be all to happy to play along.
“Let’s slaughter our way out of here.” | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | “I wouldn’t call myself an Evil person, just more of a compulsive liar.” That is what I always told them; I doubt they all got the double-entendre but my reluctance to admit my own faults certainly aided the party on many occasions. “The Party”, a moniker I always used with pleasure after explaining to Paladin Hines that a group only really became a party with the addition of a whore. He almost seemed to relish the opportunity to hold his temper in check, a self-flagellation that vindicated his own faith. If anything, it secured my position with the party, kept him from urging the others to push me out. To do so would be admitting I was getting the better of him.
Instead we worked together in ways others could not. A lot of our line of work is getting the right information, not just cracking heads or rescuing damsels. Interrogation isn’t easy work when the prisoner knows you won’t do anything very rough to them. That is where I came in, the villain who might plausibly peel their fingernails off if the honorable paladin didn’t keep stopping me. I wasn’t really in any hurry to do something like that. Too much like work. But they didn’t know that and it worked a treat.
But that wasn’t going to work now. I had smelled trouble and went to ground, cutting contact and avoiding everyone I knew for a few days. Those are the sort of instincts that keep someone alive in my line of business; if everything is fine you just pop back up after a couple days and nobody is the wiser. Cultivating a mysterious reputation is hardly the worst thing one can do, keep Hines wondering what I was up to. In this case it turned out to have been the right move.
When I returned they were gone barely 12 hours. Of course I first assumed they had finally ditched me, saw through my façade and figured they should cut their losses while I was missing. That was perhaps the most terrifying thought; not that they had finally wised up, but that my instincts had been so far wrong. If I could miss this group planning a move like that then in any other case I would have ended up with a knife between my ribs. Might as well lay down and die right now. A little investigation proved I had not misjudged as their bar tab from the previous night was unpaid. Leaving me behind was plausible but welching on a debt wasn’t something Hines would even contemplate.
Nobody had seen anything. That was a problem, a real problem. That many skilled warriors vanishing without a trace, without a commotion or clue was the work of professionals. The innkeeper didn’t understand, not seeing past the trivial sum he was owed, but my business was making people disappear. Give me a fat purse and plenty of time to build my team… and I still wouldn’t be sure of pulling such a thing off. Wouldn’t try either, who cares if there are some bloodstains or noise? The group you were after could fight a quarter of the town guard to a standstill anyway, if you could handle them you could handle any response from the law. Might even benefit by making a statement.
So there was no motive, no method, and no clues, which in itself is a clue. It meant they knew what they were doing and that meant leaving nothing to chance, so I would start with the guard. Even if they were no real threat it wouldn’t be left to dumb luck if they wandered into the area when the plan took place, which implied someone was influenced. That person was going to be die in short order (nothing left to chance) so I would need to move quickly, getting to them first before their “accidental” death could be arranged.
Luckily I could narrow down the search. Guardsmen with healthy family relationships were highest on the list, as threats against their lives were the best leverage to ensure compliance. Knowing that it had worked in the past meant that capturing their family and torturing them in front of the guard would certainly get the information I was after, but it also meant that there was no other option. Just grabbing the guard would likely mean they kept silent to protect their loved ones. Involving the family was necessary, and unless I somehow chose the right guard from the start it would mean torturing and disposing of several guards and their immediate family as quickly as possible. Once that many families started being killed off whoever was behind my party’s disappearance was bound to figure out what was happening, devoting more resources to the coverup.
Best case scenario I found the right guard and got some other information to go on. Even in that case my opponents would be killing several guards off as well, because if somehow my interrogation hadn’t worked they would need to imply that I had not picked the right one. Considering it was already obvious someone was looking for them they would also need to expand their killings to leave some ambiguity as to which one had actually been influenced, to hopefully waste time and throw me off their trail. Once the serial killings became known the guard families would become harder to access, perhaps being moved into the garrison, so in short order there would be an absolute bloodbath taking place.
But maybe I could use some of my experience to my advantage. If I was in their shoes and a clever assassin I might be a compulsive liar. Even my lies might be lies, and all those guards I killed weren’t my man at all. Innocent guards would react differently than the one who had been threatened, that one would probably try to rabbit immediately. To keep attention off of them he might even be allowed to flee long enough for me to catch up with them. In any case it was going to be a long few nights ahead of me. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | He took them. He took the only three people who were really willing to give me a chance. The only people who didn't abandon me after seeing me torture someone for information. They made me promise never to go that far again, and I agreed, because having them with me was worth it. He fucking took them, and he was going to suffer for it.
I knew the location that he took them from. We were in an inn. we were going to fight them. It is time to get some fucking information.
I walked down the stairs and looked around the room. The bartender was standing there looking tired, a party of adventurers were there drinking and having a "good time", and some towns people were still here.
I started to channel.
Suddenly dark magic swirled around me, like black serpents. I pointed at the guy I assumed was the adventurer's tank, and he fell to ash. Then I cleared my throat.
"I am not here to fuck around. I need information and I will end anyone who doesn't-"
"Holy SHIT! You killed Gheregg!" This was from some fool in full armor. He started to get up from his stool but I wasn't in the mood. I pointed at him and he started coughing up smoke. Soon he fell backwards off his stool.
"I will repeat my self only one more time. I am not here to deal with your petty bullshit. I will kill everyone in this god damn room and resurrect you fuckers until I get the information I need. Now listen closely. Who. The fuck. Took my friends."
The room fell silent and I put out a circle of truth big enough to surround the town.
Suddenly a small child ran for the door. I made a lifting motion with my hands and summoned a demon from the ground. "Catch him and drag him back here."
The creature that could be described as a traditional demon but with an octopus with 8 foot long testicles for a head charged after the child.
"My first question is for you barkeep. Who came up those stairs while I was gone, and I expected names"
She was as pale as a ghost and blubbering incoherently. I walked up to her and put my hand under her head.
"I know you know something, and I need you to talk. Relax and tell the truth and you will walk out of here. Keep panicking and I may need to 'modify' you to make you more accommodating."
"I... I. Um. I saw..." This wasn't going to work, she was clearly too terrified to speak.
I took out my knife and rammed it into her heart. A terrified shriek came from the crowd. I then touched her corpse and she stood up.
"Minion, I need to know who went up to those room while I was gone."
"yes master. Gheregg and Steern went up, but I believe they went to their room. Those two would be the two who you killed earlier. The child that ran from here, Rikkard went there to clean the room. He was in the room for a while." She pointed to a priest and a mage. the priest was crying over the two corpses. "They went up as well. again their rooms are also up those stairs."
At this point I heard screaming coming from the door. "No! Please let me go! Someone help me!"
I walked over to the armored corpse and caste a reanimation spell on it. "Warrior, interrogate the child. See what he knows happened in the room. and find out where my party is."
"Yes master." it said in a raspy voice, smoke still billowing out of its mouth.
I turned back to the barkeep, "Go on.".
"Yes, that was all who went up to the 2nd story."
"And who in this town is affiliated with the mage Rrhekoette."
"None openly. At least none who I know of. He is hated here, and causes much suffering."
Screaming from the other room was growing louder.
"I'll be right back." I walked into the room where the child was. When I walked in he was missing an eye and had the a dagger through his right foot. I walked up to the warrior and motioned for him to guard the front.
"Listen boy, I can make this pain go away. I just need to know why you ran away."
"I. I got scared sir. You killed those two men, and... and I thought... I thought I might be able to hide."
"ah yes. I get that a lot. I know I look old, but I assure you, I can not be escaped. So tell me... Rikkard was it?"
He looked at me startled. "Yes sir?"
"Why were you in my room talking to my friends?"
"I was tasked with changing the sheets."
"And why did you take so long?"
"They was talking to me."
"And tell me, what did they have to say?"
"They was trying to ask how I ended up working here."
"I see, now this next part is very crucial Rikkard. I need you to give me a clue. Something that will direct me to where by friends were taken. If you can't do that then I fear your pain will become so much worse before it gets better. Tell me something I can use and your pain will end quickly."
"When I left their room, I heard a crash and looked back in the room and they were gone. I found ash around the room. I had to clean it and that was what took me so long."
The kid was a wreck by this point, and I knew he would never recover from this turmoil. So I held up my end of the bargain. "Behlzikin, end the child's suffering." The child couldn't even react before the demon sucked the child into it's mouth.
I walked past the bar patrons and back up to the room. I sat down and started meditating. Soon I found what the child alerted me to. I felt the spell, a teleportation spell. I knew now how to track it and I set up my own spell to take me to where they were taken. I felt the spell activate and soon I was there. A prison cell with the only people is this terrible world I cared about. I could start acting how I they expected me to again. We were going to be OK. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. |
He was afraid, I could smell it on him. Who wouldn’t be.
“You don’t know what you’re dooming me to.” He said pathetically, struggling with his bonds. I looked up from the dagger I was sharpening and smiled.
“Yes I do.”
That got a reaction out of him. A funny little squeal of fear. I nearly chuckled but kept my composure.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked pleadingly. I rolled my eyes.
“Why do you care? Will it hurt less if you know why I’m pulling your intestines out through your belly button?
“Oh shit.” He spluttered, starting to sob now. I chuckled. Couldn’t help myself. Neither could he, judging by the dark stain growing on the front of his pants. I tossed the dagger up in the air and caught it by the hilt and stood up with a satisfied grunt. I went around, double checking that everything was in place. This was a tricky business, no take backs. But hey, l like playing for keeps.
Without looking up from the circle of protection I said, “My friends, they’ve gone missing for a while now so I figure that they’ve gone and got themselves killed.” I stood and inspected the various runes carved into the ground, filled with goat’s blood. “They’re the good-guy types, always going around, trying to fix shit.” He let out a groan and I nodded appreciatively. “Heh, yeah, it can be pretty annoying at times.” I flipped through the book until I found the right summoning spells.
“H-h-how do you know if this is even going to work? What if decides to drag you into the Pit as well?” He said, trying to reason his way out this one. I grinned.
“You think this is my first time? What about me says ‘virginal’ to you? No, this isn’t the only time I’ve had to bring them back from the abyss because of some cockeyed good-guy bullshit that went badly.” I let out a short laugh, “One time I did this ritual when I thought they had got themselves killed by some very nasty Orc fellows but it turned out we just got separated. Hilarious. I would’ve told them but they wouldn’t have appreciated the humor.”
“How could they be good if they cavort with the likes of you?” He spat venomously. This question took me aback and I paused for a moment, thinking it over.
“Well, I don’t know if they’re actually good or not. They seem like good-guys to me but maybe my standard is a bit off from regulation. They don’t know about this though, or some of the other stuff I do. But I’m willing to do anything to pretty much anyone if it get’s me what I want. Maybe that makes me a bad guy.”
The preparations were finished. I was ready to begin. I stood over him and raised the dagger above his chest. I looked down, directly in his eyes and smiled.
“But who says the bad guy can’t have friends?”
And in a swift motion, I brought the knife down. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful.
"They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service."
The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes.
"I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead.
"Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed!
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?"
He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs.
"Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything."
"I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear"
I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?"
Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others.
And now I had the information I needed.
(Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.) | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I am not a person. I've was aware of that simple fact when I was a young child scrounging for scraps on the streets, and I am aware of that fact now. When I first met the party, they found me eating the arm of one of the beggars in the district. They'd heard rumors of people disappearing into the night, never to be seen again, and went to investigate. Their reaction when they found me really stuck with me though, even years later. It was one of compassion more than raw horror. It confused me to no end, everyone else I had They saw a starving child forced to eat another in an attempt to survive. From then on, they cared for me, gave me food, invited me into their own home, and gave me people to talk to, and to trust...
And now they're gone. gone. gone. The word rings through my head like an gong, sending my heart racing again and again. They had left me at their base for a mission, telling me it was far too dangerous for me to go with them. They were supposed to be back five days ago, two at the very latest. And they're not here. I'm alone. I'm alone for the first time in nearly ten years. They never left me alone, they were always there by my side. From my first mission with them, to the one before this one, they've been by my side the whole time. And for the first time in my life, I feel something. Pure, unadulterated rage...
It only took me a month to find where they'd gone. The party had hid where they went, not giving me a clue so I wouldn't follow them in secret, but there were only so many places the quest could have come from, and I knew every single one of them. On the 16th, I hit jackpot. One of the cities about a days ride from our home had reported a bandit problem, and my party had accepted the request. I still had no clue why they hadn't let me join them, but at least I knew where they went...
On the run again. When I first arrived at the city of Ciallyan, it had seemed peaceful, despite the apparent bandit problem. I got a room at the inn, planning to start information gathering the next day. That night, however, I found myself fighting off several assassins. I escaped out the window after several more trickled into the fight, one of which was wearing what appeared to be the cities' guard uniform. I have no plans to fight more than a couple of people without having access to either the party or some of my more potent weapons. Speaking of them, I should probably retrieve them from the other side of the city walls. First off, to find the back door... | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | The portal sparked into life as my last movement completed its arc. You'd think that an energy portal would illuminate the oppressive darkness of the battlefield, but you'd be someone not born of hell. Anyone local would know what to expect. That dank greenness that dampens light instead of emitting it, that unmistakable void that makes hope no longer even a memory is easily recognized by anyone who's done some time in the pit.
As the first lower level demons came through I was starting to feel the old twinges of bloodlust lapping at the carefully built up facade of humanity. I watched the demons shiver in excitement at the thrill of upcoming slaughter. I felt that shiver myself and I reveled in it.
The gesture that started the slaughter came so naturally I didn't even notice making it. All these years of suppressing what I am. Of contstraining the inferno that is I. Limiting it to what is "human", did not make me forget anything. Instead, each action that awoke one of the parts of my true self now felt as an additional thrill.
As the initial wave of demons crashed over the trolls protecting the entrance to the cave that swallowed my companions no more than an hour ago, I made another movement. The demons having felled the giant forest trolls that seemed impossibly strong to a mere human, fell back. Like well trained puppies, they waited for the command that would allow them to have some fun with the orcish inhabitants of the village that surrounded the entrance of the cave that was the only thing that mattered to me now.
Asmodeth stepped through the portal first. If you've never seen a knight of hell entering a room before, you'd be forgiven for invoulntarily abandoning any pretense that what you up until that moment thought of as a meaningful life was in fact an empty existence, devoid of purpose. You would come to that realization for many reasons. Highest among them would likely be the absolute perfection of her form as a destroyer. She stands seven feet tall, unless she's feeling underappreciated, at which point she stretches herself to the full nine. All of that is muscle and venomous spikes, constructed to be the ultimate in sheer battlefield domination. She's entered battles before and emerged unscathed as the lone survivor, both sides of the battle consigned to ignominy of not being in the written histories. That's the thing about Asmodeth, she doesn't care about the sides. She does what I desire, and I didn't used to care about either side of the battle. All that mattered was the fallen.
I cared now...
Jared, with that jagged scar running across his face that made him look fearsome until you spent some time with him at a campfire and listened to the stories full of love, loss and longing.
Ariel, of the pointed ears and the tinkling laugh. He made your heart skip a beat just looking at him, even as he sliced through the throngs of enemies we faced together throughout this past year.
Ot'eth, of the Southern Forge, the hardest mage ever produced by the unique conditions of that terrible place that was designed to melt away anything that was not in the service of making the spells sing with power. The poems that she muttered under her breath were like the most beautiful perls of soul in word form. She would share them with you once you'd spent enough nights together drinking Hivish elixir.
They were all in that cave.
Now as Bradthfet slithered across the Portal, I finally took off the mask. As my horns came free, time paused momentarily and the world had to adjust to the horns now being part of it. A few islands far in the ocean sank to equalize the energy differential that the horns created. The knights, now lined up in an attack pattern, visibly shook. It was a shake of anticipation. They knew what was coming next. I did not make them wait.
With a slight movement of the head, the horns now pointed to the cave.
I roared... | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | In the muted light of the room, Lakme's 'Flower Duet' played. It almost made for a romantic atmosphere.
Almost.
"You see... Marcus... here's the thing. I'm not what you would call a *good* person."
Marcus O'Reilly sneered up at me from the chair to which I'd tied him. When he came in the door to his palatial estate home, I'd surprised him from behind with chloroform and a rag. He struggled for a few seconds, but even a man of his size and physical fitness couldn't resist the sweet siren call of slumber under those circumstances.
I'd handcuffed him to the chair, positioned him in the middle of his massive living room, and waited patiently for him to wake up. I'd already been waiting hours for him to come home, so a couple more wasn't a huge deal at this point.
When he finally awoke, blinking away the confusion and disorientation, he didn't notice me at first in the muted light. But once he did, his attention snapped to me and he grinned his trademark sadistic grin. He told me I was a dead man, that I didn't even know it yet. Then he asked me just what the hell I was trying to pull off, that he *had* to know before I died, so he could satisfy his curiosity.
I just sat there in my chair, staring at him, expressionless. What seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again.
"Well asshole? What's your game plan here? I gotta know. You better talk quick, my security will be doing their sweeps any minute now, and when they do, you're as good as dead."
I blinked, then adopted a concerned expression. "Security?"
"Jesus," he said smugly. "You didn't think I'd have security? Who do you think you're dealing with?"
"Oh, I know you had security," I said, reaching out with one booted foot and tipping over the large Rubbermaid bin, spilling its contents over the polished hardwood floor. "I just don't think they're going to be much help, is all."
Marcus blanched as he saw eight severed heads roll onto the living room floor, leaving a coagulated blood trail behind them.
"Jeff put up the biggest fight, in case you were wondering. His widow should get some kind of bonus."
O'Reilly's eyes slowly lifted from the decapitated heads up to meet my eyes.
"You think someone won't notice there's a problem? You'll never make it out of here alive," he said, but with less bravado this time. "Someone will notice I'm missing, and they'll come to check what happened. You're as good as dead."
"By the time they do," I replied flatly, "They'll find nothing but a charred skeleton of your former house. There will be nothing left for them to use to track me down. I've made sure of that."
Marcus lost his cool then, and struggled violently against his handcuffs, trying to escape. In his attempts, he flopped over onto his side, knocking his head against the floor. He groaned as I moved over and lifted him back up into a sitting position.
"Here's the thing, Marcus. As I mentioned, I'm not a good person. You ordered my friends captured. I want them back. So I'm going to make you a very simple deal, one that you won't want to refuse."
"Fuck you," he sputtered hatefully.
I walked to the wall, switching on the rest of the lights in the room for the first time. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates.
"As you can see," I said coldly, "I also have your wife, two daughters and son here tonight."
Behind me, the wife and children also struggled against their bonds, their muffled cries now barely audible over the classical music, which had now changed to Tchaikovsky's 'Slave March'.
"I'm going to give you a choice, Marcus. You die tonight, regardless. I just can't leave you alive, it's simply too risky. But I *will* give you the opportunity to let your wife and kids live."
I slowly walked over to them, and began caressing the hair of his wife as she frantically struggled.
"You tell me where my friends are. If I find them alive and unharmed, I will release your wife and kids. They will not have to share your fate, burning and suffocating in a horrifying house fire 'accident'."
I moved, now caressing his older daughter's head as she cried soundlessly.
"If you refuse, I will burn this place to the ground and move on to your senior lieutenant next. I'm pretty sure he'll talk, but even if he doesn't... I have plenty of chances to get this information from *someone* under your employ, so don't think for one second that I'm bluffing. You aren't the only option available to me. You have no cards to play here."
His eyes moved from his family to the disembodied heads of his trusted guards, then back to me. I saw the look of resignation on his face as he realized I was correct.
"You promise you'll let them go?" he asked quietly.
"You have my word," I replied. "They don't know who I am."
"You know," Marcus said with sad amusement, "You would have made an excellent addition to my organization."
I smiled, coldly.
"You have no idea how right you are." | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "The child, save the child." Henshaw called out to you in if rough Half-Orc voice. Lynanna left her Half-Elf form and shaped changed into her bear formand charged into the enemy, Lejus charged with her. Amun was next you, but he was healing them and holding open the portal. You could see how much this use of magic was draining him. Save the child? The child is small, even for a child, some weird smaller goblin, no one knows what it was, but you all get paid to save it. The only problem is it's still almost the size of you. You throw it on your back drop to all fours and run as fast as your scaly legs can carry you. The portal is smaller than any of your allies already. It's now or never. As you run you here Amun say "Be Safe."
The portal closed as soon as you went through. You are not talkative, you are not a caregiver, and now you have a child of an unknown species to take care of. Also, where are you? Okay, it looks you are on your world. Do you know this place? If only you were better at directions.
In the distance you see a town, Stoneridge. It's where you met your friends. It's where you took this stupid job. All you want is to get strong enough to kill the dragon who leads your Kobold tribe. But these were the only people who have tolerated you. On the road you see a supply wagon coming from town. You block their path. They ask you to move. You motion for them to turn around. When it appeared that they were going to go around you started generating electricity. Then you had a ride back to town.
After getting off the wagon you head toward town. The guards look at peculiar creature strapped to your back. It's the most attention they've paid to you since you joined your friends. Then you hear the people from the wagon talking to the guards. You scurry into town and back to the Guildhall. They seemed surprised to see you, and ask where the rest of the party is. They then ask you to hand over the child. You stand to your proud three foot height in a posture that says no. One member comes towards you. They get jolted with electricity for their trouble. They are upset at you. You just want help getting your friends back then they can have the kid. You jolt two more as they move to attack you. You won't be able to dodge the third.
You are outside. How? Why? You don't know. But the door to the Guildhall is in front of you. You hear voices above you and you see a portal, into the Guildhall. It's coming from your back. The baby. It has powerful magic, maybe it can get you back to your friends. Then you see a small partol of guards, one from the entrance to the town is with them. They have spotted you.
You hate walking, you hate running, it's why you normally traveled in Henshaw's bag. You especially hate running with an unknown magic child on you back. Running through the crowd, trying not to get trampled. You know all the buildings but not where to go. The downside to not walking anywhere yourself. There's less of a crowd this way so you run that way, it's unfamiliar. Then you realize you are headed towards the manor. Guards in front of the manor, guards chasing behind you.
You create a wall of electricity on top the guards in front of you. They all fo down. You open the manor door and quickly shut it and lock it behind you. Done. There are two guards looking at you puzzled. They have guards inside too? The one guard tells you to hold, while the other opens the door, the two groups of guards, and the members of the guild are outside. You take the child off your back. They are circling you, telling you to put the child down. It's so hard to talk common. "Back! Friends!" You say to the child. Hands are going for you and more hands are reaching for the child.
This time you see the floor beneath you open up. So do the guards and guild members. It opens beneath everyone. Your back. Where your friends were. Creatures around you are startled. But then they start attacking the guards. The guild and the guards fight back. You run, looking for your friends. Only Henshaw remains standing, he's guarding your wounded friends. You jolt your way to him. You hold up the child, "Take! Back!" you growl.
The six of you are back outside town. You go into everyone's bag, take out a potion and give it to them. It seems with them being hurt, and all the fighting, no one saw all the people you brought with you. They are asking a lot of questions. Maybe you should have left them. Lyanna starts to head to Stoneridge. "No! They no pay, we keep." you growl as you pat the child. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | *On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch.*
These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them.
Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before.
It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. *Aelindel,* that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid.
I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself.
I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me.
Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do.
Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | The room was thick with the smell of iron. The smell of blood. A cry of pain rings through the room. A cry of agony.
"What happens when you bring light into a dark room... what was your name again? It seems it slipped my mind in the confusion." The mans calm dread voice queried.
"Aaa.... aaa... Albert" came the stuttering reply between sobs, the terror audible in his voice.
"Ah yes! Albert! I had a dog once name Albert ya know. Wonderful thing. He was with me for years... it was a dark day when I had to put him down. Rabies you see." The man spoke over the occasional whimpers. "Oh darkness! My apologies I due tend to ramble. What happens when you bring light to a dark room my good Albert? What happens to the darkness?"
"It... it goes away?" Came Albert's hesitant answer. A fist flew the air in a blur striking Albert in the sternum.
"WRONG!" The mans voice boomed with thunder. "It hides... it goes into the corners... under the chair. Under the table." He resumed in his calm soothing dread voice once more. He began to walk the tavern room as he spoke. His footing careful. He stepped around the bodies strewn about. Some slumped in chairs. Some against tables. Some pinned to pillars, ones face was buried in the hearth. Careful to avoid the pools of blood. His dark clothing and robes were spotless in stark contrast to the bloody room. Albert's whimpers of pain were quiet but present.
"Darkness never leaves. It's always present" he continued with his hands behind his back. "At times light gives the illusion of consuming the dark. At times it appears to win it over. But when the light leaves there's a return of the dark. Almost as if the dark is the natural state of things. As though darkness is the way the world was meant to be. And light is the intruder." He said as he leaned over to retrieve a blade buried in one of the bodies. It resisted his pull. "Damn..." he mumbled as he put a foot on the still warm corpse. He pulled again and the dagger came free with a wet sucking sounds. He wiped the blood on the corpse and continued to walk. Occasionally stopping to retrieve blades of various sizes from corpses.
"Now my good Albert. The Marry Few. If you ask me it's a trite name but well you didn't ask now did you? Think of them as the light in this situation. And think of me as the dark room. A noble band of heroes comes in and brightens things. It scatters the shadow with there good deeds. It scours the black from the room with good intent. It cleans the fog with charity and kindness. Till seemingly all is well in the room. The fire blazes at the hearth... the latterns brighten every corner. A few shadows hide yes but they are small things. Surely nothing to worry much over.
"Now remove the light" and as the man spoke now he carefully walked to the light sources in the room and extinguished them. "And darkness reigns once more. It rises from its hiding and consumes greedily. The chaos and brooding returns with glee." His voice grew darker as he spoke. The room matching his voice as more light vanished. "Till soon you're left with things as they are meant to be. All is in its natural state. And my good boy Albert. I must thank you for doing this for me. For removing my brightness. For now all is dark once more. And Richard the Black strolls freely in the night." And with this Richard grabbed a pitcher of ale from a table and poured it on the fire. With a rush of steam and embers the fires last flames went out and all that was left was glowing embers. The room now devoid of all light sources was dark as pitch. Black as night. As empty as Richard's soul. Albert's sobs and whimpers increased at this turn of events.
"NOW ALBERT." Richard's voice seemed to fill the room and all that was in it. Seemed to ring inside Albert's head. Seemed to come from all the corpses. Not booming with thunder as earlier. But a brooding wall of panic and terror. Like The calm embrace of death. As empty and hollow as the night. As cold and unfeeling as the fog. "WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN MY LIGHT?"
Soon. The tavern was filled with screams.
Edit: spelling and grammar. Critique welcome! Very new to this! | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I woke to the sound of footsteps. First thing I noticed was that it was pitch dark. Second thing I noticed was that I had a killer hangover. How much did I end up drinking last night? Let’s see… We got paid, we went for drinks at Art’s, Wes tried to flirt with the waitress, cap had a spat with Artie and... we got kicked out? Did I get arrested? Shit.
A splash of icy water shocked me into motion. What the hells?
I heard groaning and shuffling around me.
“Who’s the asshole throwing the water around?” yelled someone to my left.
“Ciara, is that you? Where the hells are we?” I said. Or tried to say, it came out more like a croak.
“Park, is that you?”
“What the-”
A chorus of confused and just-awoken voices erupted around me.
“Are we all in here?”
“What in the 7th hell happened last night?”
An unexpected voice chimed in from the darkness.
“Hi everyone, you were brought in for questioning for the events of last week. If I can jog your memory, you were hired to spring a night-time ambush on the Traveler's House, outside of Sunset Gate.”
I didn’t know who the stranger was, but the accent sounded a little western. Must be a boy from the provinces.
“Quit blabbing and speak to the Captain of the Guard. We’re supposed to have an understanding,” said cap.
“Oh, no. This isn’t an arrest or police action. You were involved in the abduction of some people I know and I want some answers,” The stranger replied. This guy was way too cheerful. Creepily so.
“Is this some goddamn revenge fantasy? Are you actually serious right now?,” Cap let out a short laugh. “This only ends one way, kid. The Lady is gonna put you in multiple barrels and sink them to the bottom of the ocean. Cut your losses and let us go.”
“Maybe. But I feel like I owe them something. I was going to leave the city and never turn back, but I think I really miss them, you know? For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. This is kind of a detour but... “ He trailed off. “Anyways, that’s why you’re here. I want answers and you have them.”
“Nothing you can do is gonna be worse than what’s in stock for us if we talk. Try your best,” said Ciara. She always was the brave one.
“I will,” said the stranger.
A lantern flickered on, bringing the room into view. Over a dozen of us were sprawled out in a cell. The lantern made it difficult to see, but it looked like there was just a lone silhouette. One guy, seriously? There’s no way that just one guy could lock us up in here, was there?
“Couple of questions. First, what happened to members of the Righteous Spear, Gil Guiseppe, Kaara, Flem, and Issac? Second, what is their condition? Third, where are they? And finally, who is the responsible party? Guessing this ‘Lady’ had something to do with the whole ordeal, but I’m gonna need a little more.”
“Why don’t you come in and find out?” said Mort, leering.
The stranger set down the lamp, and stepped to the side. Light-medium build, relatively short. Didn’t seem to be armed at all. He could definitely be mobbed if we got the drop on him.
“I mean, I was seeing if I could avoid the whole interrogation thing,” The stranger shrugged. “Let’s start with a grizzled veteran who’s too dumb to spill the beans“
The stranger snapped his fingers and Mort disappeared. He reappeared on the other side of the bars, new silvery bindings appearing at his wrists and ankles. A sorcerer that could teleport people. Shit, everything got a lot more complicated. Before I could react, the stranger pulled out a dagger and rammed it into his eye.
“You-you fucking psycho! I thought you were involved in a heroic party!” shouted Wes. I looked around, and everyone seemed to be in the process of realising no one was gonna get out of this alive.
Stepping over Mort’s twitching body, he approached the cell again.
“Emphasis on *party*. I’m just some miscreant they took under the wing.”
The stranger pulled out another knife.
“Who’s ready for round 2?”
----
10 bodies later, the first person spoke up. 13 bodies later, a second person corroborated their story. 15 bodies later, there was no one left alive in the cell.
The stranger poured some oil jugs into the cell, sparked a flame with his finger, and walked out of the basement. Checking himself for bloodstains, he walked back to the city. Whistling, he thought that this must be what righteousness felt like. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Wakey wakey!" A sing-song greeting poked the first hole in the haze filling the man's head. The armchair beneath him felt strangely hard and unfortable, and his limbs didn't seem to want to move. The grogginess and discomfort after a night of drinking, he was used to. The voice rousing him, not so much.
The hard slap across the face, even less so.
"I said: **Wake. Up**." That same voice, a growl instead of a song this time.
A single bleary eye opened, peering about the room, trying to find the source of the voice.
Realization dawned, and adrenaline cleared away any last dregs of the waking haze. This was not his home. This was not his armchair. His hands were bound to his sides, and his body was bound to the wooden chair beneath him. The room was dingy, poorly lit, and poorly constructed. A smell of mildew and sawdust filled his nose. He struggled against his bindings, but they held fast, and him with them.
"Welcome back to the land of the living. For now, at least."
His eyes snapped to the voice's owner. Across from him, straddling another plain wooden chair, was someone strangely familiar. His drinking companion from the previous night. He thought he'd recognized him from somewhere, but the mead was flowing that night, and that recognition slipped away from him at the time. Now, in the cold light of... was it day? He wasn't sure, but the light filtering in between the cracks in the wall suggested it. He brushed the thought from his mind, and focused again on the man in front of him.
"You?!"
"So, you DO know who I am! I was worried that my reputation wasn't as far reaching as I'd thought! Well, this saves time on introductions. I know who you are, Constable, and you know who I am, which means you probably figured out why we're both here, right?" The man grinned, the smile creasing his red skin, his gold-colored eyes seeming to bore right into his captive.
The bound man was silent, and just glared at his captor.
"I'll take that as a yes."
"I ain't sayin' shit."
"Fantastic. You start talking shit, we're going to have a bigger problem than we already do. You know why we're here, so let's skip straight to the main event. Where are they?"
"Dunno what you're talking about, Nox."
Nox closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled as a frustrated parent does before explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Okay, so, we're doing it this way, then? Good. I was hoping we would."
It was a this point that the Constable noticed the particularly nasty-looking knife dangling from Nox's fingers, and the bucket of rock salt next to him. For a split second, an expression of worry crossed his face, before he remembered who he was dealing with.
​
"Please, you're a hero. Helped save a town, hanging out with a paladin and everything. I know your type. You act all brooding and dangerous, but you ain't gonna do shit to me. Just let me go now, and maybe I'll consider not running you out of town. Again." The Constable scoffed. Valyar Nox had been a trouble-maker in the past, but since he'd been run out of town, he'd fallen in with a group of self-styled heroes. Together, they'd managed to defeat a plague of undead, save a town, defeat an evil necromancer, got a commendation from the Navy, the whole nine yards. Especially rare considering Nox was a Tiefling, a fiend-spawn.
​
"You seem to have some real weird ideas about me, so, let me explain a few things. Yeah, I hang with heroes. They're my allies. I *like* having allies. If that means having to keep my nose clean, so be it. And it turns out, doing the right thing also pays pretty well. Now, though, those allies have gone missing. Someone, I'm guessing with connections to you and your bosses, had something to do with it. See, you're not smart enough to do this on your own, but I've a feeling you can point me in the right direction," Nox lightly tapped the point of the knife into the man's chest as he spoke.
"So, here's what's going to happen. When we're done here, I am going to kill you. Nothing you say or do can change that fact," Nox said, in the most matter-of-fact tone possible. "But here's the good news: You get to influence what happens until that point! See, I'm going to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer me quickly, and you're going to answer me honestly. You do that and I'm happy with your answers? I give you a swig of whiskey, and stab you right in the heart. You die *quick*, you die *painless.*" Nox's voice was disturbingly cheerful as he explained all of his, his face stretching into a grin once more.
The cheer drained from his face , and his voice dropped into a growl as he continued. "But if you decide to mouth off? You lie to me? Hell, if I think you're taking too long to answer, well... You'd be surprised how much skin you can lose and not go in to shock." He pressed the blade flat against the Constable's cheek, pressing gently as he dragged it across the skin, until it just began to catch at the flesh. That slight twinge of pain, and the Constable's former bravado began to waver. His eyes flicked to Nox's face. The Tiefling was still grinning, his solid yellow eyes still boring into him. Sometimes a grin is show of happiness. This one was the grin of a predator that had been caged for far too long.
​
"But... you **can't** do this! You're supposed to be a hero! You helped save all those people!" Panic began creeping in to the Constable's voice. This had to be some sort of hoax? Just a game of psychological chicken? He couldn't possible be serious?
"Only half right. I *did* help save all those people, yes, because *my allies* were helping. But I did it *because* I like *my allies*, not because I like any of you people. And now, someone has stolen those allies- no, stolen **my** allies from me. See, when you say a hero can't do this..." Nox leaned in much closer now, the knife's edge beginning to draw blood. His grinning mouth was just inches from his captive's ear. *"You're right."* | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | After my parents died early on in my life, I wasn't the same cheerful person I always was. I started taking dangerous missions and fighting monsters I could barely beat on my own. I was aimless, without a purpose, trying to fill an endless void with mere adrenaline.
It didn't work. But I was lucky, because it was at my lowest point where I found them. The void in my soul was filled, even overflowing! Five unique people, friendly, adventurous, exciting... loving.
I had- correction, they had found me, and we became a tight knit family.
And one day they were gone. Like they vanished out of the face of the earth, without a notice, without a word. I panicked, wondered if they left me...
But I knew them, I trusted myself in what I knew about them, and I knew they wouldn't had just gone and left, without a word, without a sound.
I was always my best self when around them, didn't even need to try, they were just that important to me that I wouldn't even think of anything hurtful.
But they weren't here now. They were gone, something was up and they couldn't see what I was going to do to get them back.
First I broke into the office of the city's leader, killed a few of his guards and interrogated him. If he knew nothing about my friends, sorry, goodbye, you never saw me.
But he knew, he lied to me because he knew the people I was talking about. For each lie I cut a finger... and he lied a lot. It was too bad I had gotten used to being lied to, lying and in consequence knowing when someone was lying.
After losing three of his fingers he knew I wasn't easily fooled. Then he tried to misdirect me, which also didn't work. When he finally decided it wasn't worth the pain, he let out most of what he knew. He claimed it was all, but I knew it wasn't. It didn't matter though, so I didn't comment.
The five had actually gotten into a large debt before meeting me. It wasn't a simple debt either, not with how much the governor tried to cover it up.
Adventuring is an expensive habit for beginners. The only reason I was able to begin a solo path in it was from my parents money in the first place. My family on the other hand had no choice but to borrow a large amount of money, for equipment, consumables, magic scrolls, etc.
Their large need of money was also what led them to be more... reckless, than others. Well, it wasn't a difference from my previous activities, if anything it was safer, but it was also our first common ground.
Shaking my head, I focused on the task at hand. Before they got sold off or killed for their bodies I had to get them back.
Where and what would I do to get them? Well, for starters the city had to go, too hard with it in place. Thus my starting point was in an alchemist's alcove... well, former alchemist's alcove, now it was mine.
Poison this, poison that... that's just stupid, just fuck up with the water and you're done.
Due to not knowing if my friends would also be affected by the poison, I chose something non-lethal. Well, if everyone is on the toilet it's hard to defend against a monster rampage, isn't it?
My thoughts exactly! Located near the outskirts of the city, the stronghold which was most likely holding my friends was hit first and was hit hard. Of course, I had to do a lot of work to lure a few hundred monsters to a specific part of the city, but I had dealt with worse.
The gates were broken down in mere minuted without anyone to hold position and the stronghold was much the same. I continued inside what should have been my grave if I went on my own, trying to find my friends.
It was hard to believe this was city sanctioned, but alas, the city needs that one more extra income source!
Well, it wasn't about to continue being a source for much longer, but it still made me annoyed.
Weakened people tried to fight off monsters that were in general stronger than a average adventurer. It didn't work.
The city wasn't that badly affected, not many innocent individuals died, while also not many guards died. The exception was my point of focus, which barely had a door standing at the end of my stroll.
The prisoners were protected in the metal cages, all weakened by my poison, but a few certain five wouldn't be for much longer.
Of course, they made me share my remaining antidote with a few of the other people they made me free.
This whole situation made me feel weird about myself. Would they assume I had just gone up and saved them, or would they ask? And if they asked, would I say the truth?
As I stared at the beaten and rugged figures of my friends, I thought I really shouldn't had left everyone off that easily. At least I had killed off the city's leader whom seemed to be guy behind all of this.
Thankfully no one was dead, I dreaded to even think of what I would had done to this poor city if that had happened...
Well, to be honest, it isn't something hard to imagine. That alchemist wasn't a friendly person, I wasn't a friendly person, and when you combine the willingness of a madman with the seriousness of a scared alchemist you get really bad results. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Steel City Stalwarts, unite!"
Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them.
The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one.
Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run.
The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed.
He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!"
As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?"
Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that."
The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!"
Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately.
"That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!"
They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!"
They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait.
When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero."
Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade."
The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile.
In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling.
Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her.
"Look what we got here! The mascot!"
Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!"
Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?"
She shook her head. "What?"
Eric pointed to the bomb.
"You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens."
The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy."
"No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!"
Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded.
The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells.
Eric said, "What the...?"
Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had.
She said, "No."
Eric screamed, "Fire!"
Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him.
Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb.
Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor.
Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him.
"C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password."
He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard.
"You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you."
Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine.
"He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo."
"Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump.
"For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy.
Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-"
"So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do.
"I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you.
"Now die."
The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!"
The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?"
A small voice said, "Here."
They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor.
Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother.
"Oh T.L., did they hurt you?"
The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired."
Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster."
Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it."
The Sargeant looked around the room.
"Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here."
Nightshade covered the girl's ears.
"Language!"
Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it." | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Drascar. Every black market, mafia, and crime syndicate on the continent can be traced back to this city, so much so that it's often called the City of Thieves. When the others went missing I knew I had to pay a visit to my old home town.
Even just walking down the road through the outskirts of the town you can feel the eyes on you. Well, that may just be me. It's not every day that the famed Master of the Raging Flame, one of the world's greatest heroes, visits a city whose biggest export is crime. I'm sure by now the news of Heavenly Paladin Kranor and Beast Master Srakan going missing has reached this place, and I'm even more sure that the people behind it are in one of the mansions towards the centre of town. Or perhaps they're in a hidden compound bellow one. You can never tell with Drascar.
Either way, I know that I can't just barge in alone. I have a reputation to uphold, and when I get the others back I don't want them hearing about how their dear friend burned down a city and murdered the inhabitants in a raging inferno, no matter how crime ridden it is. Something tells me Kranor would scold me about "cold blooded murder" and "we thought we were past this." Srakan would just stare, silently disapproving. I can't take that, their disappointment, so I'm going to do this right.
I'll start with the children, the orphans and urchins. I know from experience that they hear much more than people think, and are willing to part with that information for a few copper coins. Throw in a good meal for them and their friends and they'll die for you.
Having arrived at a small orphanage, I politely knock on the door. Kranor said it got better results than just blowing it up with a fireball, and it seems he was right, as instead of running away screaming a young woman stuck her head out.
"What? We haven't missed any payments."
Unusually articulate for a resident of this rotten semblance of a town.
"No, ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm looking for some information, and was hoping that your charges had heard something that may help me."
She looked at me warily, undoubtedly suspecting a trap or scam of some kind. "I don't think-"
The sight of silver quickly changed her mind, and she opens the door quickly. I pressed the coin into her hands while brushing past her further into the orphanage. Kranor said charity was good, perhaps his god would smile upon me and give me a hint. Or maybe he'd fuck me over again, I don't put much faith in the gods.
The orphans, of course, didn't want to talk to me. They were scared, I could tell because they even turned downy copper. They'd seen something, otherwise they'd have taken the coin and spent a few days on the street laying low so I didn't come after them having learned of their lies. Someone powerful had commited this crime, and they were too afraid to speak out against them, even in private. Of course, when I summoned a flame into my hand and threatened to burn them all their tongues loosened considerably. I left a few coins with them on my way out, enough to feed them for a month, so Kranor wouldn't be too angry if he found out.
The mansion I got directions to from the orphans was the largest in the city. Of course it was, who other than the Lord of Drascar had the resources to kidnap two of the three members of Zeriol's Chosen?
I didn't bother knocking this time. The smoldering ruins of the large double doors were blown into the entrance hall, and the guards standing before them were reduced to ash by my fury. The flames licked around me as I stormed into the mansion. Bodies fell like a fiery rain as the guards further into the house rushed towards me, and I will admit that I lost track of myself for a while, nothing but the endless roaring flame whipping around me.
The gibbering Lord directed me towards the basement before being reduced to ash, and there I found myself, my flames extinguished by a sight I had never expected. Kranor, stripped of his armour, covered in wounds weeping blood. Srakan, curled up beside the remains of his great black wolf, a dagger through his chest. Neither drew breath.
Kranor... Srakan... I need you! What do I do! What do I do?! I need you to guide me, I can't... I... What do I...
No. I don't... They won't know any more. They can't guide me any longer, I won't feel their disapproving stares ever again... This... This is my choice. Here, now, I choose what direction my life takes. I can't follow them any further, so now I must step up and make my own choice. I could feel the flames respond to my will, wrapping around me, supporting me. In the end, only the flames will never leave me.
I strode out of the sea of ashes once known as Drascar, City of Thieves. So many more must pay, so many more caused this pain, and the flames still hunger. The merchants who sold armor that could not protect Kranor, the woods whose beasts did not defend Srakan, the King who gave us this mission, the inn that did not hold them when I awoke. All of you... All of you will feed the flames of my wrath, and you shall burn until not even ashes proclaim that you once were. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service.
In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches".
One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well.
And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be *that* suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did.
Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for.
But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my *friends.* He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors.
And I will *not* permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees.
It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party.
They're good people. And they deserve me. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | My party-my friends-have been missing for almost a week. We were supposed to meet up near the church and...they never showed. Lucky for me the church's priest invited me in, and allowed me to stay for the night last night. The climate had gotten cold, and our locksmith rogue kept the money safe, so I had none for an inn. It was last night I got my first clue. As I prepared to sleep, someone broke open the church door. They sounded like thugs, and as they tried to loot the donations vault, they were talking about the ransom they plan to get from the king using the princess and her esteemed guards.
The princess and her guards...**my friends**.
After a lovely chat with those fellows, I grabbed a clean set of monk's clothing from the church wardrobe; I promise to return them when I'm done, but it wouldn't do me any good to go through the town wearing bloodied rags. Sure, it'll be highly questionable seeing me dressed as a monk, but it's better than the alternative. I just need to find their friend, who hides in the sewer near the Rusty Flask, because that's who his dead friends directed me to.
*My arm! H-h-how did you bend it that waAAAaaaAAAugh!!!...*
*Th-Those horns! W-w-what the hell are you-gh-gh-ghugh....*
*Teeth don't look like that, get away from me! Sto-AAAAAAAaaaaaugh....*
Having the abilities of a demon has its advantages, but it would be nice if I could tone down the...let's just say "additional" features a little bit. At least I can hide the wings. Too much blood on me and they think I'm a vampire, which is hilarious, since vampires don't actually exist anymore. At least my friends knew that. They enjoyed having a reformed demigod on their side. Well, they think I'm a demigod, anyway. I'm not about to go and correct the only beings to ever care about me. Especially Princess Valeria. I never imagined someone of royalty could be so kind and empathetic.
*It's ok, Dremyoluok, its not your fault you are the way you are. Be proud of yourself for choosing your own destiny. Not every fallen angel gets a chance at redemption. Paul, Tri-Krimea, Folthum and myself, we will support you every inch of the way. You can help us protect the kingdom!*
That was almost 2 years ago, that they found me in that cave. I'll never forget the kindness they showed me, and the help they've rendered. It took me a few months of rehabilitation, but from then I've sworn that I won't let anyone bring harm upon my friends as long as I'm with them. No matter what.
Paul the Monster-Slayer, Paladin of Thoruld, God of Righteous Might; Tri-Krimea, the elven naturalist and druid; Folthum the Wise, wielder of deep and powerful magic. They were eternally loyal to the naturally graceful and beautiful Princess Valeria; She is considered a top student at the High College of Magical Arts, having learned almost every healing spell along with many spells of both evocation and enchantment. I told them several half truths about myself, true enough to pass a Zone of Truth test, but not enough for them to know the full history of what I've done. I had truly stopped committing evil deeds only about 200 years before then, and had bound myself to that cave for almost 50 years. Truth is, I was turned into that form almost 2000 years ago, and the demonic power went straight to my head. Make of that what you will.
I don't know how the bandits managed to capture them, but I know where to look now. They have a hideout a few miles north, and it only took an hour to extract the info from the bandit in the sewer. And how did he manage to also have seven friends hidden with him? At least there was enough clean water running through to get the blood off the robes. I can ditch the robes back by the church on my way out of town, before the sun rises. I won't need the rags on my mission. I'll leave an apology for the priest, and a small donation from those who no longer need their money.
My friends...I can pick up their scents now. I've found the encampment. I hope they can forgive me for what will happen to these bandits...I should be able to get through the 30 bandits patrolling the perimeter before the rest notice the missing patrols. Who would've guessed only a few miles north of town, there was a bandit camp the size of a small city? Almost as many bandits as 3 villages worth of people. I think I might be about to knock out two birds with one stone here...save my friends, and solve the kingdom's bandit problem for a while... | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends.
Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew.
Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men.
Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor.
Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas." | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | "No."
*Blam*
"Aargh! Sarding Fext!" screamed my victim.
His four guards descended upon me, and were blown away by my magical gust of force. Their heavy armor plunked against the floor and the walls. I spoke once more, temper shortened.
"Let's try again, shall we? That wound in your gut will lead to a painful death. I can heal you, if you allow my friends their freedom."
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever you want."
"That's what I thought."
My hand glowed golden with healing energy as I approached the wincing baron.
"Don't move. This will feel odd, but it will heal you fully." | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | His arm felt cold. A kind of freezing sensation that was not unknown to him but through many years had become unfamiliar. The chill clung to his bones as it crept up to his chest, icy fingers round his heart. With a controlled exhale he felt the discomfort lessen and shrink away before being pushed out of the palm of his hand into the corpse at his feet. An unholy light danced in the air between them, lifeless blue sparks backdropped by a dead aurora as the body trembled. It sat up abruptly. Its vacant eyes glowed in the dusklight.
"I'm cold." the corpse said, her voice without affectation. Her bloodied hair clung to her pale face. She hadn't been dead long. "Why do I feel cold? Where are my boys?"
The man squatted down, entering her eye-line. His tattered cloak was sodden with mud and clung to him. He felt the cold too, though he suspected not like her.
"You are the innkeeper here, correct?" he said. He was tired and he spoke softly. Most people would have struggled to hear what he said, but the dead woman whipped her head round before he had finished his question.
"Yes." she said abruptly. "I didn't say that. What's happened to me? That was my voice but I didn't say that. Where are my boys? Where's my husband?" despite her monotonous intonation, he could hear panic start to creep in.
"A few days past, members of the Royal Guard past through here. Where did they go?"
"They took the North road" she said, interrupting her growing hysteria, before descending into it once more. "Oh gods, they died didn't they? I was outside when I heard them screaming. And when I ran over, you... You killed me! I'm dead. We're dead." she began to let out this dull groan as she finished. He realised this was her attempt to scream.
"When the guard left," as he cut across her the moaning stopped instantly, "did they mention any prisoners?"
"Yes. They laughed about them." she did not resume screaming, instead she asked "Why did you kill us?"
He paused for a moment. He was not sure if it was worth saying, she would be fully dead once more soon enough. But she had been useful.
"I need to locate my companions who were captured. I knew their captors had passed through this town and I reasoned they may have rested at this Inn. And right now you are incapable of lying to me. Killing you and your family was simply quicker than risking misinformation. You were only the fourth person I had to temporarily resurrect in this settlement, so your death has proven useful." he said as he stood up.
"Temporar-" her question was cut off as he snapped his fingers. The light vanished from her eyes and she slumped to floor.
He adjusted the hood of his cloak and began the march north. He knew they were days ahead already, and who knows how many questions he would still have to ask before he found them. | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | The big man in red plunged his hand like a blade between the fourth and fifth rib of the man under him. “Your buddies are all dead,” he rasped, his throat raw from berserker rage. “Tell me where my friends are and I’ll let you live.” His leather-clad fist tightened and the thug moaned. “Don’t tell and I’ll eat your heart in front of you before you can die.” He smiled, teeth white against the blood splashed against his face and beard. “And I’m hungry.” The thug babbled an answer and was dropped aside as the big man turned to go. He had almost reached the door when the thug gasped, “They’re just reindeer, man!” The big man in red turned slowly, menacingly, back to the thug. Then he smiled, so warmly that for a moment the thug lost all fear. But when he looked into the big man’s eyes, his heart fell as he saw his end. | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | They were good people. That’s always what you heard whenever you went tavern diving or strayed around markets. But, of course, it would always be followed by “but that shady one makes me feel uneasy.” You were that shady one, but you couldn’t really fault them, or get angry. On the whole ‘light-side crusade’ that was their party, anyone who wasn’t lawful good or lawful neutral would automatically be the dark one. And you were fine with that. They were strong, supportive, and slowly, you started to see some of the lighter things in life. Perhaps good things could happen to good people at times.
You were out in a local dive when the attack occured. You were half-listening to a sad drunk’s tale while sipping your own drink, completely unaware that your party was being attacked at that very moment. After making some new contacts you returned to the small encampment your party had set up, but instead to a quiet night broken only by whichever poor sap had drawn the night shift, you returned to a half-destroyed battlefield with no signs of life.
Of course, there were small clues that his party had been fighting. Deep gouges in the earth, the occasional missed arrow, or even small splatters of blood. But no bodies. No tracks leading to wherever their unconscious bodies had been carried off to. You completely dug up that camp, almost maddened in your search for any trace, any lead, but you failed. It was as if they had disappeared in the midst of fighting, as if they had been carried away to some strange other world. That meant magic. You hated magic.
Nothing good came out of magic, especially for someone such as you. Truth compulsions, magical tracking, all had screwed you over at some time or the other. Technically, healing was classified as Divine Magic so your whole hatred was justified, but you knew how close to hypocrisy you came. Still, you weren’t unwelcome to the occasional haste buff or piercing enchantment your magically-inclined allies casted upon you during combat, so you tolerated it. However, occasionally magic was used to complete feats of complete bullshit, such as teleporting an entire party from an area while leaving no traces. You reaffirmed that they were just waiting for you to find them. They were *not* dead. In order to find them, however, you were going to have to go through *drastic* measures.
Thus, you found yourself outside a church. You didn’t know what distinguished churches from temples or chapels, but all you knew was that this place of worship was willing to perform certain rituals for certain fees. You didn’t really care about all the people you had to rob, steal from, or con in order to pay the price necessary. What? It’s not like you would pay for this using your *own* money. The source of your money aside, you felt trepidation as you approached the church’s doors. It had been years-no decades since you had been in one. That.. that was when you were younger. When the world was a little brighter. Even with proof of gods and higher beings you still felt skepticism when faced with religion. Though today, you would have to renounce all that.
There was a nun waiting by the door for any travellers, and you could tell from the way her arms tensed that she expected you to start some sort of trouble. Inwardly, you scoffed. Of course even here there was bigotry and assumptions. Though you had never directly clashed with your party’s paladin, there was always something in her gaze that made you feel.. unclean. Apparently this was where she got it from. You were about to explain what your purpose was, but the nun raised a hand to quiet you. “We already know why you have come here. Our God sent us a vision explaining your plight. We are willing to assist you in this noble and good endeavour, provided, of course, you find some way to.. dispose of your ill-begotten gains.”
At your confused expression, the nun simply motioned to the side, where a box labeled “DONATIONS” was waiting. Of course.
The tracking ritual was.. disconcerting. It had required you to divulge.. personal details about yourself to the nuns in the room and the deity, and you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about that. Maybe it was the knowing look the nun gave you, or perhaps it was the Otherness of the ritual, but you felt ill at ease with yourself. But you forced the feeling down. The ritual was successful, and you had managed to find the place the ritual had described. Thankfully, it was only a fortress. If it had been another monastery you might have left your party altogether.
You quickly infiltrated the fortress, and slowly started to move towards your party while disguised as a maid. Nobody questioned your movements, too afraid that you were on an important someone’s bidding, so you quickly found your way into the heart of the fortress. Finally, you found your way to your party. A smile threatened to break on your face, but you forced it down. It would completely destroy your respect amongst your group!
You quickly slaughtered the feeble guardsmen, and then walked into the prisoners’ room. There, slightly hurt but not dead, was your party. You could see the surprise in their eyes when they saw you, but they were silent. Finally, the white mage asked, “So, uh, is the maid thing permanent?”
There were a small round of snickers, and you felt the inexplicable urge to leave them all there. Then again, you had gone through all this trouble. You reach down unlock their chains with the keys you had pilfered from the guards outside, and as you’re leaning down over the paladin, she asks, “Was it hard to find us?”
You considered telling the truth, telling them about your visit to the church and how they had thought you were on some ‘noble’ quest to save them. But then you simply said “It was only a fortress.” and left it at that. The paladin’s truth-sight wasn’t fooled, but she was gracious enough that she didn’t call you out when the rest of the party started to laugh.
You unlocked the your last party member, a shifty spellsword that you could swear had been a thief once, and look back to the assembled party. This time, you allowed the smile to show on your face. Though what you planned went directly against what some of their alignments might stand for, you had the feeling that they would be all to happy to play along.
“Let’s slaughter our way out of here.” | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | “I wouldn’t call myself an Evil person, just more of a compulsive liar.” That is what I always told them; I doubt they all got the double-entendre but my reluctance to admit my own faults certainly aided the party on many occasions. “The Party”, a moniker I always used with pleasure after explaining to Paladin Hines that a group only really became a party with the addition of a whore. He almost seemed to relish the opportunity to hold his temper in check, a self-flagellation that vindicated his own faith. If anything, it secured my position with the party, kept him from urging the others to push me out. To do so would be admitting I was getting the better of him.
Instead we worked together in ways others could not. A lot of our line of work is getting the right information, not just cracking heads or rescuing damsels. Interrogation isn’t easy work when the prisoner knows you won’t do anything very rough to them. That is where I came in, the villain who might plausibly peel their fingernails off if the honorable paladin didn’t keep stopping me. I wasn’t really in any hurry to do something like that. Too much like work. But they didn’t know that and it worked a treat.
But that wasn’t going to work now. I had smelled trouble and went to ground, cutting contact and avoiding everyone I knew for a few days. Those are the sort of instincts that keep someone alive in my line of business; if everything is fine you just pop back up after a couple days and nobody is the wiser. Cultivating a mysterious reputation is hardly the worst thing one can do, keep Hines wondering what I was up to. In this case it turned out to have been the right move.
When I returned they were gone barely 12 hours. Of course I first assumed they had finally ditched me, saw through my façade and figured they should cut their losses while I was missing. That was perhaps the most terrifying thought; not that they had finally wised up, but that my instincts had been so far wrong. If I could miss this group planning a move like that then in any other case I would have ended up with a knife between my ribs. Might as well lay down and die right now. A little investigation proved I had not misjudged as their bar tab from the previous night was unpaid. Leaving me behind was plausible but welching on a debt wasn’t something Hines would even contemplate.
Nobody had seen anything. That was a problem, a real problem. That many skilled warriors vanishing without a trace, without a commotion or clue was the work of professionals. The innkeeper didn’t understand, not seeing past the trivial sum he was owed, but my business was making people disappear. Give me a fat purse and plenty of time to build my team… and I still wouldn’t be sure of pulling such a thing off. Wouldn’t try either, who cares if there are some bloodstains or noise? The group you were after could fight a quarter of the town guard to a standstill anyway, if you could handle them you could handle any response from the law. Might even benefit by making a statement.
So there was no motive, no method, and no clues, which in itself is a clue. It meant they knew what they were doing and that meant leaving nothing to chance, so I would start with the guard. Even if they were no real threat it wouldn’t be left to dumb luck if they wandered into the area when the plan took place, which implied someone was influenced. That person was going to be die in short order (nothing left to chance) so I would need to move quickly, getting to them first before their “accidental” death could be arranged.
Luckily I could narrow down the search. Guardsmen with healthy family relationships were highest on the list, as threats against their lives were the best leverage to ensure compliance. Knowing that it had worked in the past meant that capturing their family and torturing them in front of the guard would certainly get the information I was after, but it also meant that there was no other option. Just grabbing the guard would likely mean they kept silent to protect their loved ones. Involving the family was necessary, and unless I somehow chose the right guard from the start it would mean torturing and disposing of several guards and their immediate family as quickly as possible. Once that many families started being killed off whoever was behind my party’s disappearance was bound to figure out what was happening, devoting more resources to the coverup.
Best case scenario I found the right guard and got some other information to go on. Even in that case my opponents would be killing several guards off as well, because if somehow my interrogation hadn’t worked they would need to imply that I had not picked the right one. Considering it was already obvious someone was looking for them they would also need to expand their killings to leave some ambiguity as to which one had actually been influenced, to hopefully waste time and throw me off their trail. Once the serial killings became known the guard families would become harder to access, perhaps being moved into the garrison, so in short order there would be an absolute bloodbath taking place.
But maybe I could use some of my experience to my advantage. If I was in their shoes and a clever assassin I might be a compulsive liar. Even my lies might be lies, and all those guards I killed weren’t my man at all. Innocent guards would react differently than the one who had been threatened, that one would probably try to rabbit immediately. To keep attention off of them he might even be allowed to flee long enough for me to catch up with them. In any case it was going to be a long few nights ahead of me. | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | He took them. He took the only three people who were really willing to give me a chance. The only people who didn't abandon me after seeing me torture someone for information. They made me promise never to go that far again, and I agreed, because having them with me was worth it. He fucking took them, and he was going to suffer for it.
I knew the location that he took them from. We were in an inn. we were going to fight them. It is time to get some fucking information.
I walked down the stairs and looked around the room. The bartender was standing there looking tired, a party of adventurers were there drinking and having a "good time", and some towns people were still here.
I started to channel.
Suddenly dark magic swirled around me, like black serpents. I pointed at the guy I assumed was the adventurer's tank, and he fell to ash. Then I cleared my throat.
"I am not here to fuck around. I need information and I will end anyone who doesn't-"
"Holy SHIT! You killed Gheregg!" This was from some fool in full armor. He started to get up from his stool but I wasn't in the mood. I pointed at him and he started coughing up smoke. Soon he fell backwards off his stool.
"I will repeat my self only one more time. I am not here to deal with your petty bullshit. I will kill everyone in this god damn room and resurrect you fuckers until I get the information I need. Now listen closely. Who. The fuck. Took my friends."
The room fell silent and I put out a circle of truth big enough to surround the town.
Suddenly a small child ran for the door. I made a lifting motion with my hands and summoned a demon from the ground. "Catch him and drag him back here."
The creature that could be described as a traditional demon but with an octopus with 8 foot long testicles for a head charged after the child.
"My first question is for you barkeep. Who came up those stairs while I was gone, and I expected names"
She was as pale as a ghost and blubbering incoherently. I walked up to her and put my hand under her head.
"I know you know something, and I need you to talk. Relax and tell the truth and you will walk out of here. Keep panicking and I may need to 'modify' you to make you more accommodating."
"I... I. Um. I saw..." This wasn't going to work, she was clearly too terrified to speak.
I took out my knife and rammed it into her heart. A terrified shriek came from the crowd. I then touched her corpse and she stood up.
"Minion, I need to know who went up to those room while I was gone."
"yes master. Gheregg and Steern went up, but I believe they went to their room. Those two would be the two who you killed earlier. The child that ran from here, Rikkard went there to clean the room. He was in the room for a while." She pointed to a priest and a mage. the priest was crying over the two corpses. "They went up as well. again their rooms are also up those stairs."
At this point I heard screaming coming from the door. "No! Please let me go! Someone help me!"
I walked over to the armored corpse and caste a reanimation spell on it. "Warrior, interrogate the child. See what he knows happened in the room. and find out where my party is."
"Yes master." it said in a raspy voice, smoke still billowing out of its mouth.
I turned back to the barkeep, "Go on.".
"Yes, that was all who went up to the 2nd story."
"And who in this town is affiliated with the mage Rrhekoette."
"None openly. At least none who I know of. He is hated here, and causes much suffering."
Screaming from the other room was growing louder.
"I'll be right back." I walked into the room where the child was. When I walked in he was missing an eye and had the a dagger through his right foot. I walked up to the warrior and motioned for him to guard the front.
"Listen boy, I can make this pain go away. I just need to know why you ran away."
"I. I got scared sir. You killed those two men, and... and I thought... I thought I might be able to hide."
"ah yes. I get that a lot. I know I look old, but I assure you, I can not be escaped. So tell me... Rikkard was it?"
He looked at me startled. "Yes sir?"
"Why were you in my room talking to my friends?"
"I was tasked with changing the sheets."
"And why did you take so long?"
"They was talking to me."
"And tell me, what did they have to say?"
"They was trying to ask how I ended up working here."
"I see, now this next part is very crucial Rikkard. I need you to give me a clue. Something that will direct me to where by friends were taken. If you can't do that then I fear your pain will become so much worse before it gets better. Tell me something I can use and your pain will end quickly."
"When I left their room, I heard a crash and looked back in the room and they were gone. I found ash around the room. I had to clean it and that was what took me so long."
The kid was a wreck by this point, and I knew he would never recover from this turmoil. So I held up my end of the bargain. "Behlzikin, end the child's suffering." The child couldn't even react before the demon sucked the child into it's mouth.
I walked past the bar patrons and back up to the room. I sat down and started meditating. Soon I found what the child alerted me to. I felt the spell, a teleportation spell. I knew now how to track it and I set up my own spell to take me to where they were taken. I felt the spell activate and soon I was there. A prison cell with the only people is this terrible world I cared about. I could start acting how I they expected me to again. We were going to be OK. | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. |
He was afraid, I could smell it on him. Who wouldn’t be.
“You don’t know what you’re dooming me to.” He said pathetically, struggling with his bonds. I looked up from the dagger I was sharpening and smiled.
“Yes I do.”
That got a reaction out of him. A funny little squeal of fear. I nearly chuckled but kept my composure.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked pleadingly. I rolled my eyes.
“Why do you care? Will it hurt less if you know why I’m pulling your intestines out through your belly button?
“Oh shit.” He spluttered, starting to sob now. I chuckled. Couldn’t help myself. Neither could he, judging by the dark stain growing on the front of his pants. I tossed the dagger up in the air and caught it by the hilt and stood up with a satisfied grunt. I went around, double checking that everything was in place. This was a tricky business, no take backs. But hey, l like playing for keeps.
Without looking up from the circle of protection I said, “My friends, they’ve gone missing for a while now so I figure that they’ve gone and got themselves killed.” I stood and inspected the various runes carved into the ground, filled with goat’s blood. “They’re the good-guy types, always going around, trying to fix shit.” He let out a groan and I nodded appreciatively. “Heh, yeah, it can be pretty annoying at times.” I flipped through the book until I found the right summoning spells.
“H-h-how do you know if this is even going to work? What if decides to drag you into the Pit as well?” He said, trying to reason his way out this one. I grinned.
“You think this is my first time? What about me says ‘virginal’ to you? No, this isn’t the only time I’ve had to bring them back from the abyss because of some cockeyed good-guy bullshit that went badly.” I let out a short laugh, “One time I did this ritual when I thought they had got themselves killed by some very nasty Orc fellows but it turned out we just got separated. Hilarious. I would’ve told them but they wouldn’t have appreciated the humor.”
“How could they be good if they cavort with the likes of you?” He spat venomously. This question took me aback and I paused for a moment, thinking it over.
“Well, I don’t know if they’re actually good or not. They seem like good-guys to me but maybe my standard is a bit off from regulation. They don’t know about this though, or some of the other stuff I do. But I’m willing to do anything to pretty much anyone if it get’s me what I want. Maybe that makes me a bad guy.”
The preparations were finished. I was ready to begin. I stood over him and raised the dagger above his chest. I looked down, directly in his eyes and smiled.
“But who says the bad guy can’t have friends?”
And in a swift motion, I brought the knife down. | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "You know, when they asked me to join them, they made me swear I had never broken any laws." I looked down at the half-elf staked spread eagle to the floor. "That was actually true. But they didn't think to ask if I had ever done anything, hmm. Morally questionable." I checked the ropes and my supplies. All was well, of course, but one never could be too careful.
"They never asked me what it was I actually did in the king's service."
The petty noble's eyes widened as he thrashed about in impotent rage. I stepped on his neck, just enough to remind him of his vulnerable position. He stopped struggling, but glared at me with hatred in his eyes.
"I am now going to remove your gag, my friend. We are going to have a conversation. Well, in truth, I fear it will be a bit one sided. You will tell me all you know." I knelt down behind his head and removed the gag. He spat at me, but I had chosen my position carefully and was easily able to move out of the way. Long experience stood me in good stead.
"Do you know who I am! How dare you lay your filthy hands on me. I will have you flogged! No, I will have you flayed!
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes was difficult. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on making that happen, Cirloc?" He fell silent, and I almost laughed at his expression. "Raising your voice is usually enough for you, isn't it?"
He looked at me, bewildered and angry. He began screaming "Guards, guards! Help!" over and over again, until I put a foot in his ribs.
"Please save your voice. I'm afraid you were unconscious longer than you think. If you had taken a moment to examine your surroundings, you would have perhaps noticed the fresh air. The deep woods at night are quite pleasant to the nose, I find. Much different than the stink of the city, is it not? Ah. I see the true nature of your situation is beginning to dawn on you. No one is coming for you. It is simply you," I said, tapping his forehead for emphasis, "and me." I stood up slowly, turning my back on him and gazing into the fire. "I want names, affiliations, relationships, locations, passwords, lock combinations. Their fucking shoe sizes." The venom in my voice took me by surprise. I took a deep breath. "You will tell me everything."
"I'll tell you nothing! Flaying is too good for you! I'll have my servants tear"
I raised a hand. "No doubt you were about to say something very creative, but time presses." My flat interruption shocked him into silence. "As for me, I prefer methods less theatrical. Tonight, for example, I have an iron bucket, a rope, and some rats." I nodded to the corner. "Shall we begin, then?"
Some time later, as the echoes of his screams died with him, I doused the body and the cabin liberally with lantern oil, and as I exited into the cool night air, I capped the leather flask and tossed it into the fireplace. With practiced speed, I closed the door and walked up a nearby hill. I heard a muffled thump as the flask exploded, and as I gazed down into the rising blaze, I reflected back on my time with Cirloc. I had watched his eyes progress through each stage: Anger. Fear. Pain. Agony. Gibbering madness. And the look of acceptance, just before the end. Just like all the others.
And now I had the information I needed.
(Picture this performed by, say, Jeffrey Coombs. Let me know what you think.) | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | The portal sparked into life as my last movement completed its arc. You'd think that an energy portal would illuminate the oppressive darkness of the battlefield, but you'd be someone not born of hell. Anyone local would know what to expect. That dank greenness that dampens light instead of emitting it, that unmistakable void that makes hope no longer even a memory is easily recognized by anyone who's done some time in the pit.
As the first lower level demons came through I was starting to feel the old twinges of bloodlust lapping at the carefully built up facade of humanity. I watched the demons shiver in excitement at the thrill of upcoming slaughter. I felt that shiver myself and I reveled in it.
The gesture that started the slaughter came so naturally I didn't even notice making it. All these years of suppressing what I am. Of contstraining the inferno that is I. Limiting it to what is "human", did not make me forget anything. Instead, each action that awoke one of the parts of my true self now felt as an additional thrill.
As the initial wave of demons crashed over the trolls protecting the entrance to the cave that swallowed my companions no more than an hour ago, I made another movement. The demons having felled the giant forest trolls that seemed impossibly strong to a mere human, fell back. Like well trained puppies, they waited for the command that would allow them to have some fun with the orcish inhabitants of the village that surrounded the entrance of the cave that was the only thing that mattered to me now.
Asmodeth stepped through the portal first. If you've never seen a knight of hell entering a room before, you'd be forgiven for invoulntarily abandoning any pretense that what you up until that moment thought of as a meaningful life was in fact an empty existence, devoid of purpose. You would come to that realization for many reasons. Highest among them would likely be the absolute perfection of her form as a destroyer. She stands seven feet tall, unless she's feeling underappreciated, at which point she stretches herself to the full nine. All of that is muscle and venomous spikes, constructed to be the ultimate in sheer battlefield domination. She's entered battles before and emerged unscathed as the lone survivor, both sides of the battle consigned to ignominy of not being in the written histories. That's the thing about Asmodeth, she doesn't care about the sides. She does what I desire, and I didn't used to care about either side of the battle. All that mattered was the fallen.
I cared now...
Jared, with that jagged scar running across his face that made him look fearsome until you spent some time with him at a campfire and listened to the stories full of love, loss and longing.
Ariel, of the pointed ears and the tinkling laugh. He made your heart skip a beat just looking at him, even as he sliced through the throngs of enemies we faced together throughout this past year.
Ot'eth, of the Southern Forge, the hardest mage ever produced by the unique conditions of that terrible place that was designed to melt away anything that was not in the service of making the spells sing with power. The poems that she muttered under her breath were like the most beautiful perls of soul in word form. She would share them with you once you'd spent enough nights together drinking Hivish elixir.
They were all in that cave.
Now as Bradthfet slithered across the Portal, I finally took off the mask. As my horns came free, time paused momentarily and the world had to adjust to the horns now being part of it. A few islands far in the ocean sank to equalize the energy differential that the horns created. The knights, now lined up in an attack pattern, visibly shook. It was a shake of anticipation. They knew what was coming next. I did not make them wait.
With a slight movement of the head, the horns now pointed to the cave.
I roared... | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | In the muted light of the room, Lakme's 'Flower Duet' played. It almost made for a romantic atmosphere.
Almost.
"You see... Marcus... here's the thing. I'm not what you would call a *good* person."
Marcus O'Reilly sneered up at me from the chair to which I'd tied him. When he came in the door to his palatial estate home, I'd surprised him from behind with chloroform and a rag. He struggled for a few seconds, but even a man of his size and physical fitness couldn't resist the sweet siren call of slumber under those circumstances.
I'd handcuffed him to the chair, positioned him in the middle of his massive living room, and waited patiently for him to wake up. I'd already been waiting hours for him to come home, so a couple more wasn't a huge deal at this point.
When he finally awoke, blinking away the confusion and disorientation, he didn't notice me at first in the muted light. But once he did, his attention snapped to me and he grinned his trademark sadistic grin. He told me I was a dead man, that I didn't even know it yet. Then he asked me just what the hell I was trying to pull off, that he *had* to know before I died, so he could satisfy his curiosity.
I just sat there in my chair, staring at him, expressionless. What seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again.
"Well asshole? What's your game plan here? I gotta know. You better talk quick, my security will be doing their sweeps any minute now, and when they do, you're as good as dead."
I blinked, then adopted a concerned expression. "Security?"
"Jesus," he said smugly. "You didn't think I'd have security? Who do you think you're dealing with?"
"Oh, I know you had security," I said, reaching out with one booted foot and tipping over the large Rubbermaid bin, spilling its contents over the polished hardwood floor. "I just don't think they're going to be much help, is all."
Marcus blanched as he saw eight severed heads roll onto the living room floor, leaving a coagulated blood trail behind them.
"Jeff put up the biggest fight, in case you were wondering. His widow should get some kind of bonus."
O'Reilly's eyes slowly lifted from the decapitated heads up to meet my eyes.
"You think someone won't notice there's a problem? You'll never make it out of here alive," he said, but with less bravado this time. "Someone will notice I'm missing, and they'll come to check what happened. You're as good as dead."
"By the time they do," I replied flatly, "They'll find nothing but a charred skeleton of your former house. There will be nothing left for them to use to track me down. I've made sure of that."
Marcus lost his cool then, and struggled violently against his handcuffs, trying to escape. In his attempts, he flopped over onto his side, knocking his head against the floor. He groaned as I moved over and lifted him back up into a sitting position.
"Here's the thing, Marcus. As I mentioned, I'm not a good person. You ordered my friends captured. I want them back. So I'm going to make you a very simple deal, one that you won't want to refuse."
"Fuck you," he sputtered hatefully.
I walked to the wall, switching on the rest of the lights in the room for the first time. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates.
"As you can see," I said coldly, "I also have your wife, two daughters and son here tonight."
Behind me, the wife and children also struggled against their bonds, their muffled cries now barely audible over the classical music, which had now changed to Tchaikovsky's 'Slave March'.
"I'm going to give you a choice, Marcus. You die tonight, regardless. I just can't leave you alive, it's simply too risky. But I *will* give you the opportunity to let your wife and kids live."
I slowly walked over to them, and began caressing the hair of his wife as she frantically struggled.
"You tell me where my friends are. If I find them alive and unharmed, I will release your wife and kids. They will not have to share your fate, burning and suffocating in a horrifying house fire 'accident'."
I moved, now caressing his older daughter's head as she cried soundlessly.
"If you refuse, I will burn this place to the ground and move on to your senior lieutenant next. I'm pretty sure he'll talk, but even if he doesn't... I have plenty of chances to get this information from *someone* under your employ, so don't think for one second that I'm bluffing. You aren't the only option available to me. You have no cards to play here."
His eyes moved from his family to the disembodied heads of his trusted guards, then back to me. I saw the look of resignation on his face as he realized I was correct.
"You promise you'll let them go?" he asked quietly.
"You have my word," I replied. "They don't know who I am."
"You know," Marcus said with sad amusement, "You would have made an excellent addition to my organization."
I smiled, coldly.
"You have no idea how right you are." | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "The child, save the child." Henshaw called out to you in if rough Half-Orc voice. Lynanna left her Half-Elf form and shaped changed into her bear formand charged into the enemy, Lejus charged with her. Amun was next you, but he was healing them and holding open the portal. You could see how much this use of magic was draining him. Save the child? The child is small, even for a child, some weird smaller goblin, no one knows what it was, but you all get paid to save it. The only problem is it's still almost the size of you. You throw it on your back drop to all fours and run as fast as your scaly legs can carry you. The portal is smaller than any of your allies already. It's now or never. As you run you here Amun say "Be Safe."
The portal closed as soon as you went through. You are not talkative, you are not a caregiver, and now you have a child of an unknown species to take care of. Also, where are you? Okay, it looks you are on your world. Do you know this place? If only you were better at directions.
In the distance you see a town, Stoneridge. It's where you met your friends. It's where you took this stupid job. All you want is to get strong enough to kill the dragon who leads your Kobold tribe. But these were the only people who have tolerated you. On the road you see a supply wagon coming from town. You block their path. They ask you to move. You motion for them to turn around. When it appeared that they were going to go around you started generating electricity. Then you had a ride back to town.
After getting off the wagon you head toward town. The guards look at peculiar creature strapped to your back. It's the most attention they've paid to you since you joined your friends. Then you hear the people from the wagon talking to the guards. You scurry into town and back to the Guildhall. They seemed surprised to see you, and ask where the rest of the party is. They then ask you to hand over the child. You stand to your proud three foot height in a posture that says no. One member comes towards you. They get jolted with electricity for their trouble. They are upset at you. You just want help getting your friends back then they can have the kid. You jolt two more as they move to attack you. You won't be able to dodge the third.
You are outside. How? Why? You don't know. But the door to the Guildhall is in front of you. You hear voices above you and you see a portal, into the Guildhall. It's coming from your back. The baby. It has powerful magic, maybe it can get you back to your friends. Then you see a small partol of guards, one from the entrance to the town is with them. They have spotted you.
You hate walking, you hate running, it's why you normally traveled in Henshaw's bag. You especially hate running with an unknown magic child on you back. Running through the crowd, trying not to get trampled. You know all the buildings but not where to go. The downside to not walking anywhere yourself. There's less of a crowd this way so you run that way, it's unfamiliar. Then you realize you are headed towards the manor. Guards in front of the manor, guards chasing behind you.
You create a wall of electricity on top the guards in front of you. They all fo down. You open the manor door and quickly shut it and lock it behind you. Done. There are two guards looking at you puzzled. They have guards inside too? The one guard tells you to hold, while the other opens the door, the two groups of guards, and the members of the guild are outside. You take the child off your back. They are circling you, telling you to put the child down. It's so hard to talk common. "Back! Friends!" You say to the child. Hands are going for you and more hands are reaching for the child.
This time you see the floor beneath you open up. So do the guards and guild members. It opens beneath everyone. Your back. Where your friends were. Creatures around you are startled. But then they start attacking the guards. The guild and the guards fight back. You run, looking for your friends. Only Henshaw remains standing, he's guarding your wounded friends. You jolt your way to him. You hold up the child, "Take! Back!" you growl.
The six of you are back outside town. You go into everyone's bag, take out a potion and give it to them. It seems with them being hurt, and all the fighting, no one saw all the people you brought with you. They are asking a lot of questions. Maybe you should have left them. Lyanna starts to head to Stoneridge. "No! They no pay, we keep." you growl as you pat the child. | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | *On some level, I probably care about them. Gods, I need to stop. They don't matter to me. It doesn't matter who they are. They are objectively useful to me. They've helped me achieve my goals and that's all that matters. They're good fighters and I like to have them around in a pinch.*
These thoughts had been plagueing me for days. I know who I am. I'm a monster. I've killed bad men for crossing me, and better men for nothing. That is, until I started traveling with them.
Târz was a decent orc. Big and brutish as he looked with his bare chest and double axes, he was actually a very thoughtful and intelligent creature. Funny. I guess my prejudices made me think he'd be a bit more like me when he recruited me to go with him and two other travelers to dispatch a gang of bandits. I figured it was just a good day's slaughter for a good days pay, but they actually cared enough to save the hostages and slaves. I'd never seen that before.
It was Aelindriel who first mentioned saving them. Aelindriel? Aelindariel? Gods, I hate elvish names. *Aelindel,* that's it! Regardless, this elf actually went out of his way, damn near taking a bolt to the chest, just to save one slave. Wasn't a particularly useful maneuver. Could've gotten him killed, and it wasn't like the slave could fight. He was only a kid.
I've still, to this very day, never seen someone take as many hits and keep getting up as he did that day. An axe wound to the shoulder didn't even stop him from carrying that kid back to the nearest town. Emotional, Elvish bastard. Probably wrote another one of his gods-damned poems about it. Still. I hope I get to hear one or two of them again. Well, I'd put up with hearing it if it meant I had his sword by my side. So I keep telling myself.
I'm going to get them back. Whatever it takes. Gods damn that treacherous bastard. After a year of sticking around with these two and myself, the one human has to go and mess everything up. We'd traveled the plains of the west, the northern mountains where I grew up, and the lava fields to the south and shared many a feast over spoils from victory. I miss those times. It was just as profitable as being a bandit, and I never had to skip town over some band of "heroes" coming after me.
Now look at me. My horse is, quite literally, covered in the blood of my enemies. I need to find a river or a lake or something. I can't let them zee me like this. Hell, I've got flesh in my teeth. They'd never let it fly that I tortured someone to find out where they were. On top of that, even I think that taking a chunk out of his calf might've been too far. There's no time for those thoughts now, though. I'll come to terms with who and what I am later. For now, I've got two heroes to save, a plot to expose, and a newly crowned prince to kill. Gods, I hope they never found out what I did to save them. I hope they never find out what I'm going to do.
Edit: yo this is the first time I've gotten upvotes in this sub, I love you guys lmao | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | After my parents died early on in my life, I wasn't the same cheerful person I always was. I started taking dangerous missions and fighting monsters I could barely beat on my own. I was aimless, without a purpose, trying to fill an endless void with mere adrenaline.
It didn't work. But I was lucky, because it was at my lowest point where I found them. The void in my soul was filled, even overflowing! Five unique people, friendly, adventurous, exciting... loving.
I had- correction, they had found me, and we became a tight knit family.
And one day they were gone. Like they vanished out of the face of the earth, without a notice, without a word. I panicked, wondered if they left me...
But I knew them, I trusted myself in what I knew about them, and I knew they wouldn't had just gone and left, without a word, without a sound.
I was always my best self when around them, didn't even need to try, they were just that important to me that I wouldn't even think of anything hurtful.
But they weren't here now. They were gone, something was up and they couldn't see what I was going to do to get them back.
First I broke into the office of the city's leader, killed a few of his guards and interrogated him. If he knew nothing about my friends, sorry, goodbye, you never saw me.
But he knew, he lied to me because he knew the people I was talking about. For each lie I cut a finger... and he lied a lot. It was too bad I had gotten used to being lied to, lying and in consequence knowing when someone was lying.
After losing three of his fingers he knew I wasn't easily fooled. Then he tried to misdirect me, which also didn't work. When he finally decided it wasn't worth the pain, he let out most of what he knew. He claimed it was all, but I knew it wasn't. It didn't matter though, so I didn't comment.
The five had actually gotten into a large debt before meeting me. It wasn't a simple debt either, not with how much the governor tried to cover it up.
Adventuring is an expensive habit for beginners. The only reason I was able to begin a solo path in it was from my parents money in the first place. My family on the other hand had no choice but to borrow a large amount of money, for equipment, consumables, magic scrolls, etc.
Their large need of money was also what led them to be more... reckless, than others. Well, it wasn't a difference from my previous activities, if anything it was safer, but it was also our first common ground.
Shaking my head, I focused on the task at hand. Before they got sold off or killed for their bodies I had to get them back.
Where and what would I do to get them? Well, for starters the city had to go, too hard with it in place. Thus my starting point was in an alchemist's alcove... well, former alchemist's alcove, now it was mine.
Poison this, poison that... that's just stupid, just fuck up with the water and you're done.
Due to not knowing if my friends would also be affected by the poison, I chose something non-lethal. Well, if everyone is on the toilet it's hard to defend against a monster rampage, isn't it?
My thoughts exactly! Located near the outskirts of the city, the stronghold which was most likely holding my friends was hit first and was hit hard. Of course, I had to do a lot of work to lure a few hundred monsters to a specific part of the city, but I had dealt with worse.
The gates were broken down in mere minuted without anyone to hold position and the stronghold was much the same. I continued inside what should have been my grave if I went on my own, trying to find my friends.
It was hard to believe this was city sanctioned, but alas, the city needs that one more extra income source!
Well, it wasn't about to continue being a source for much longer, but it still made me annoyed.
Weakened people tried to fight off monsters that were in general stronger than a average adventurer. It didn't work.
The city wasn't that badly affected, not many innocent individuals died, while also not many guards died. The exception was my point of focus, which barely had a door standing at the end of my stroll.
The prisoners were protected in the metal cages, all weakened by my poison, but a few certain five wouldn't be for much longer.
Of course, they made me share my remaining antidote with a few of the other people they made me free.
This whole situation made me feel weird about myself. Would they assume I had just gone up and saved them, or would they ask? And if they asked, would I say the truth?
As I stared at the beaten and rugged figures of my friends, I thought I really shouldn't had left everyone off that easily. At least I had killed off the city's leader whom seemed to be guy behind all of this.
Thankfully no one was dead, I dreaded to even think of what I would had done to this poor city if that had happened...
Well, to be honest, it isn't something hard to imagine. That alchemist wasn't a friendly person, I wasn't a friendly person, and when you combine the willingness of a madman with the seriousness of a scared alchemist you get really bad results. | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Steel City Stalwarts, unite!"
Comet Lad flew in and landed on Sergeant Static's right side. Nightshade Assassin swung down on one of her vines. Silver Cypher's armor hissed and clicked as the cooling systems compensated for the afterburners he'd used to get here. The Gray Gorrilla took the rear, his massive body throwing a shade over all of them.
The team all looked ready to take on the entire force of Eric Nasty's henchman, collectively and individually. Except for one.
Coming standing behind one of the Gorrilla's legs was Tigerlily, her uniform barely dusty from the fighting. She looked, as she always did, just a little like she was about to run.
The Sergeant didn't seem to notice her fear. His eyes were on the tactical situation as his mind ran through strategies at lightning speed.
He said, "There's no way we can find the Mayor in time as a group. We need to split up. Gray G, you clear this floor and start working up. Nightshade, you and me work our way down to the parking garage. Comet, start on the roof and meet Gray G in the middle. Cypher, hack into their cameras and find the mayor and find that bomb!"
As their leader lifted Static Staff to give the call to action, Tigerlily said, "What do you need me to do boss?"
Sergeant turned around and said, "Just stay here. Hold up in the courtroom over there. We'll bring the wounded to you. Heal them, then get them out. Can you handle that."
The tiny lass said, "Yes sir! I won't let you down!"
Sergeant Static reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately.
"That's my girl. Everyone, to the rescue!"
They all shouted in unison, "To the rescue!"
They flew away. The Sergeant looked over his shoulder and made sure that Tigerlily made it to the courtroom where she'd wait.
When they got to the door to the stairs, Nightshade Princess said, "You have to stop treating her like a kid. She's one of us. She's a superhero."
Sergeant said, "She's a kid who can heal people. I'm tired of sending kids into battle, Shade."
The princess of poisonous plants rolled her eyes, which contrasted with the proud smile.
In the courtroom, though, Tigerlily was not smiling.
Eric Nasty and fifteen of his Nastymen were standing, their weapons drawn. Eric stood over the bomb, his hands on the panel to enter the password, the last step to arming it. When he saw the white-clad healer, he drew his pistol and pointed at her.
"Look what we got here! The mascot!"
Tigerlily said, "You'll never defeat the Stalwarts! Just give up!"
Eric stood, laughing. "Will I? And how will they defeat me, brat, without their powers?"
She shook her head. "What?"
Eric pointed to the bomb.
"You super dummy's are all the same. I don't just mean that sickening sense of self righteousness. I mean that I figured it out. Every superhero, every one I could get a DNA sample for, you all derive your power from the same source. Would you like to know what it is? Get ready... it's aliens."
The girl balled up her fists, "You're crazy."
"No, I'm brilliant. I may not fly or shoot lightning or juggle sedans, but I have a power. I've got a mind sharp enough to split atoms. I also have money and I paid a lot for the remains of a very special ship recently brought up from the ocean. Atlantis was real! Aliens are real! The great pulse that turned people into superfreaks came from their technology. In a few minutes, I'm going to demosntrate all that, and unless you're wearing a countermeasure charm, like I am, say goodbye to your abilities and hello to the reign of Nasty!"
Eric cackled. His men laughed and raised their blasters. And then one exploded.
The room went dead. Tigerlily wasn't by the door anymore. She was standing within arms reach of where the ex-Nastyman had stood, his body now a spray of red chunks and foul smells.
Eric said, "What the...?"
Tigerlilly's body moved so fast that all you could see was a white blur. Her hands fell on two more. They detonated, the same way that their teammate had.
She said, "No."
Eric screamed, "Fire!"
Tigerlily jumped as numerous bolts of light scorched the floor. She landed on the shoulders of another Nastyman. She twisted his head in a circle. Before he could fall, she leapt to another; his comrades cut him down trying to shoot her, along with the two on either side of him.
Eric stopped firing. He dove for the bomb.
Tigerlilly did a backflip and landed on ballet point on the top of another henchman's head. He splattered downward, his splattering like it had been dropped from the 50th floor. Tigerlilly's eyes were glass marbles, her mouth a small and straight line. She glided from soldier to soldier, each one either being ended with a quick and efficent blow or turned to vapor.
Eric tapped out the password, but nerves and shaking fingers got him a "DENIED" on the screen. He tried it again. Same result. He tried to ignore the screams of his personal guard as they died all around him.
"C'mon, c'mon... oh, crap that's the wrong password."
He started to type in the right one, but he found he did not have a hand. He stared at the stump, weaping blood, and screamed. He looked up and saw tigerlilly, holding his hand like it was attached to an invisible crossing guard.
"You don't get to speak about Atlantis," she said. "They were kind people, before the earthquake. They showed my people the first kindness we'd seen in a thousand worlds. That is, except for one. He was like you."
Tigerlilly dropped the hand. Behind her, Eric could see a few corpses, but mostly he saw human sized stains. Somehow, the girl's clothes were still pristine.
"He built weapons. We shared our tech at first. But then we saw what your kind might do with with it. We saw the darkness in your hearts, only too late. It sank the greatest city in your short history into the ocean. Your kind and my kind were both lost, save for a very few. We made a promise that day, one you're trying to undo."
"Get away from me!" Eric shouted, trying to tie his belt around his arm stump.
"For ten thousand years, I've given powers to your people. Manipulating your flesh is so easy.
Eric stammered, "You... you what? But I-"
"So many use them well. A few, not so much. Either way, it keeps you fighting amongst yourselves. The few of great power in an internal struggle while the rest of the world is content to wait and see what you do.
"I will not see you reveal us. I will not see you try to undo ten millenia of guidance and nurturing. You, Eric, are the worst of your kind. While I will do anything it takes to see that your infant race not only remaisn thinking you're the greatest, fiercest, most dangerous creatures in the universe, but that you never advance so far that find out what really holds that title. Lucky for you that it was us, their little cousins that found you.
"Now die."
The doors burst open. The Sergeant and Nightshade were first. Silver Cypher flew in and said, "I knew it! This room was the only one with the cameras blocked out it had to be here!"
The Sargeant yelled, "Where's Tigerlily?"
A small voice said, "Here."
They all turned and found her hugging her knees on the floor.
Nightshade dashed, wrapping her leafy arms around the girl like a mother.
"Oh T.L., did they hurt you?"
The girl shook her head. "I found them like this. I think the bomb backfired."
Sargeant Static said, "We should have found it faster."
Cypher said, "It's okay. We all missed it."
The Sargeant looked around the room.
"Doesn't matter now. Let's get Tigerlilly and ourselves the hell out of here."
Nightshade covered the girl's ears.
"Language!"
Tigerlilly giggled. "It's okay, Shade. I'm a big girl. I can take it." | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] | |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | I am a necromancer. My party knows this. Skorndrick Gristle, the Lost, at your service.
In fact, the way I've worked myself out, my spells and my fighting capabilities, I'm probably the strongest member of our party. Do any of them suspect this? No. As far as they're concerned, I'm a good person who just.... helps the dead ease into the afterlife. And if that means telling them the dead wish to help, then that's what I've done. They've even got a joke excuse for me and my enchanted shovel- it's for digging "trenches".
One time I bullshitted some suspicious librarians that didn't want to loan me a necromancy book with "The dead know the truth. There is meaning behind their existence. We all die, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. They need help, and I'm here for them." Another time I told a guard I was resurrecting a dead man because he'd requested being allowed to help protect the town he'd so loved in life. That was a lie, as well.
And my party believed me. Of course they did. Naturally they've had their suspicions, of course. They've even been suspicious of our Oathbreaker Paladin, but he's a paladin so he can't be *that* suspicious. And to help that, I've always been cautious around them. Always. I've never had a reason to make them question me, more or less. Doing bad things for the right reasons is still doing something with good intentions for the benefit of more than just yourself. I've always told myself they didn't need to see the side of me that was kicked out of the dwarven cities for my actions, that they didn't deserve to experience what those who knew me back at home did.
Until now. Until that awful man took them and threatened them and hurt them and hid them away. I wasn't there with them when they need me to be. I was away, teasing bones out of the teeth of the dragon I had raised from the grave with the Oathbreaker. Each time Heskan, my dragon, consumes a living being, he becomes a little more alive, a little less skeletal, flesh and sinew regenerating into place from rotting tendrils of death magic I amplified with the Oathbreaker to bring back. We'd been recovering in the privacy of a forest grove outside of the city when it happened, and I didn't find out until the next day. I always sleep with Heskan- his ribcage has hammocks of burlap for our stuff, and it's free real estate, so why not? Some of our party jokes he's the "Bone Bus", and I'll be the first to admit that's what he's mostly for.
But now that man- the general of this shit kingdom's tiny, half-assed army- has my *friends.* He's locked them up, lied and said they were invaders or demons or spies or whatever nonsense befit each of them in his mind. All so he could power trip over visitors.
And I will *not* permit that. Heskan and I are outside of a three hundred year old graveyard that's housed every dead member of this city since its founding, all closely buried together to save space. That's quite a bit of fodder for me to abuse, and Heskan agrees.
It won't take me long, most of the night maybe, but missing a night's worth of sleep in exchange for an undying army is well worth the cost to save my party.
They're good people. And they deserve me. | All these years of hiding the monster. This was how it finally came out.
I kicked in the door, solid wood timbers, but the magic flowing through me made it seem like a flimsy wooden door.
Usually I refrain from using my magic in a violent purpose. Making do through all these years as a healer. Now it flowed through me, ecstatic, and hungry.
Five knights stood in the room. All wore holy armour. I smirked brandishing my axes, glowing bright with power.
They charged.
I side stepped the first swing, raised one axe and shot a molten hot burst of power into the face of the following knight. Then with an enhanced kick sent my first attacker flying across the room.
Third and fourth simultaneously swung, one going for my head, the other my torso. I batted both aside by the blade of my axes and struck them in the chests hard in the chests with the end. Then I chopped the one on my right in the collar bone between the cracks in his armour. The other was a simple strike across the face plate.
The fifth one stood back and watched as his comrades died. He’d frozen up. The emblem on his shoulder signified he was an officer. Laughable.
I took one step, and to him somehow crossed the ten foot space between us and appeared inside his swinging range. He then tried to swing, stupidly, and with a fiery axe head cut off his arm. He screamed. Magical enhancements. God, how I missed this.
Shocked the captain clutched his arm I knelt down and used my magic to seal the wound. Wasn’t a proper job, but I was in a hurry.
“Where is Peter and his party?”
He took gulps of air. “What?”
Shock, maybe I was too hasty to cut off a limb. I flicked him in the forehead. “Peter’s group, the respected adventurer. You were the ones who captured him and his party. Where are they?”
“I don’t know-“ his screams cut him off as I poked my forefinger into his shoulder, I pierced flesh. I felt my bones crack and I too resisted the urge to scream. This is why I need to use wands, or bladed weapons.
“I remember you distinctly being there giving the orders to your squad! If you don’t know tell me who does!”
“Madison!” He breathed, gritting his teeth as I pulled out my poor finger. “He took charge of the prisoners. We were all sent home.”
“Where is he?”
“Mayland. The ship port to the south.”
I made a show of cracking my knuckles. “Anything else?”
[break] |
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