《The L10Ns》 Prologue-Chapter 0 Craiston, a village situated in the far northern reaches of the Annoldi Kingdom. It is a relatively quite village in a sense, with little political strifes due its location; far from other civilization and its position as a pioneer village. However it is also a centre of activity as parties of adventurers horde the streets and crowd the nearby dungeons. It is, as of this moment, the highest level area that is reachable for the adventurers of the highest level. Even the famous ones such as; Ankorr, the Water Warrior and Yisra, the priestess of Harmony. These two are just a few of the many famous adventurers that have come to Craiston. Of course there are a number of unrecognized and unvalued player, which are below the top 100, but they are still high enough level to be in Craiston; an achievement only held by a few thousand at most. Usually, all would keep to their own business, but due to the infestation of dungeons, parties and even small raid groups are formed daily to combat together. Thus many adventurers in Craiston got what every adventurer wishes; lucrative coin and xp... Life in Craiston was as usual for the adventurers; bustling around for equipment and finding members for raids and everything was calm. All except for one small anomaly which shuffled slowly through the village streets, wearing only a torn white robe; smudged with dirt. "How''d the noob get up here?" "That''s impossible, if he''d gotten hit by anything in this mountain range, he should be dead" "Damn, that priest noob has got some balls" "Making it all the way up here, phew, he must be one lucky bastard" "What kind of hell did he go through?" Similar exclamations of confusion and mild awe are directed towards the individual, who continues shuffling through the village, unnoticing or uncaring of the whispering crowds. But even though many of these exclamations are passed around, they all have a single thought: ''He does not seem strong, nor quick. His eyes do not show intelligence or wisdom. But something, some feeling says that this many is more than what he seems, much much more...just who is he?'' "STOP RIGHT THERE" A burly balding man with a cross shaped scar under his left eye steps out the crowd and menacingly places himself in front of the newcomer. The newcomer stops shuffling and slowly moves his gaze towards the man ''C...rai...ston?" He drops to the floor and healers from the crowd jump out casting healing spells on the newcomer. A particularly well figured elven priestess kneels down by the fallen newcomer, gently placing her hands on his temples and on his wrists. "He''s just exhausted" She gives a relieved smile to everyone They all give a small sigh of relief that the newcomer won''t die from his efforts. As powerful they might be, they still have a certain respect for the ''noob'' who made it to Craiston in one piece. The newcomer was set up in an inn and while he rested the day continued on the same. The newcomers arrival was quickly told around the adventurers and it soon became a widespread gossip and speculation upon how he was able to make it up. Some found it impressive however it was done, while more were scared about the possibility of others following up and beginning to take away their lucrative hunting spots. But no more followed; only this strange newcomer with no name and the only understanding of him is the tattered white robes of a priest that he wore. Day fell and night rose. Returning from their daily delves, all of the adventurers met up in the village centre, to look upon Wretched Ones; the 4th strongest guild in this world. The guild leader; Mallark the Black, and his two advisors; Krea and Thallard. All stood on a small hastily constructed platform, so that all may see them. The crowd is whispering many things, but all is silenced with the single wave of Mallark''s Black-steel gauntlets. "Adventurers. Tomorrow, Wretched Ones shall raid the Wyrm Spires Cavern and we have 13 spots available in our raid. This is open to any and all who are present. Though we will decide based on your class mostly" Krea takes a quill from behind her pointed ear and produces a blank vellum from the pouch around her thin waist. A flurry of activity and many are in a line slowly filling in their names and class, along with their guilds if applicable. The process is relatively quick, and after some minutes, dozens of adventurers have signed up, but the line is a few hundred long. The line could be a few thousand, but most who do not try sign up are from the other major guilds. Though Wretched Ones are the 4th strongest, they have the least number of high level guild members by far. Their strength relies on their gargantuan number of guild members composed of lower level adventurers. Within the better part of an hour, only a few people remain to sign up. However, one more joins to the end of the queue: The mysterious newcomer exits from a closeby inn and makes his way, tattered robe and all, to the back of the queue. Quite a few chuckle at the sight of a ''noob'' trying to sign up for a high level raid, but most keep quiet from shock or respect for one who made it up here as a ''noob''. Soon it is his turn and there is little reaction with Krea, as she passes him the quill and he writes his name and class, before returning quietly to the inn he came from. "They''re not going to let that noob in the raid group right?" "You never know, maybe he''s actually really high level" ""They seriously can''t be considering choosing the noob?" "Man has my respect, but I don''t think letting him join the raid will be any use to anyone" Similar thoughts are voiced throughout the crowd, but their opinion doesn''t matter. What matters is Mallark, who has returned to his room at an inn. He sits by a desk and starts gazing down the list of given names and classes. He flicks through page after pages, ticking a box here and there, before arriving at the final sheet a short while later. He muses, thinks, contemplates on the idea of dragging the ''noob'' along. Firstly, the ''noob'' made it here, so he is of some value, due to his unrecognized skills...furthermore, the ''noob'' is apparently a priest, as his class says...but that doesn''t help explain how he survived getting here. Priests are known for their squishiness and so in all honesty, only a rogue would possibly make it to this mountain, through stealth. A priest would have no chance, unless he buffed his stamina so much his health pool wouldn''t run out from attacks or he had some extremely high level healing skills. Either way, this ''noob'' might be quite an interesting find for Mallark. Although, he seems to be affiliated with a guild already; The L1ONs. Mallark has never heard or seen such a strange guild name, but if he doesn''t know its name, he''s sure he can convince them to be absorbed by his own guild. With a sigh, mixed with relief and worry, he ticks the name, Lionel... Mallark smirks...even if he may seem like the guild leader of The L1ONs, Mallark is sure he can still absorb the guild. ... ... "Alright everyone, MOVE OUT" A cheer raises from the small crowd of 40 players as they follow Mallark out of town. Most of the 40 carry the insignia of Wretched Ones on their pauldrons, while 13 hold different insignias or none at all. Mallark looks back as they walk, spotting Lionel in his tattered robes walking alongside the others. Who pay him much heed. He does not pay the others much heed either as his head is pointed to the ground, hood covering his face. Turning back, Mallark continues leading the way. Reaching the Wyrm Spires Cavern is simple enough, only having to kill a few adolescent along the way; a simple enough task for the many level 90 adventurers present. The location isn''t secret anyways, so many know the direction they''re going and didn''t get frustrated when they follow seemingly dead ends and dangerous ridges; as it is the right way. With a few minutes break to make sure everything is packed and ready, they all enter the dungeon, through a large cavernous hole in the side of the mountain. Entering the cavern, the party stops at a dead end. Mallark takes out a small key made from frost but not brittle as one might think, and places it into a small hatch in the wall of the dead end. Opening the doors, they all enter the dungeon. Due to information scouting, they know the dungeon itself is simple; a 20 floored dungeon going up in a spiral fashion with more dangerous creatures each level. The raid group power their way through the frost arachnids on the first level and charge through the ice trolls on the second. Blazing through minor frost elementals on the third and smashing through hordes of glacial goblins on the fourth. The raid group reaches the 5th floor. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. The 5th floor was slightly different from the others, as it was one huge room, covered in ice and a young frost wyrm rests in the center of the room. The boss battle commences and everyone fights to the fullest unleashing barrages of arrows and fire upon the waking beast. Mallark leads the front with his scaled black-steel shield and longsword. He and many of the frontliners collide with the wyrms tail, stopping it completely with their shield and high strength. Lionel, is left behind, at the back of the room, watching the battle unfold. Mallark believes mostly because the wyrm is quite terrifying for a ''noob'' like himself. The battle does not continue on for much longer, as under the brutal firepower of many mages and archers, the wyrm falls dead. Cheers come up from the raid party and after a short break, they continue moving. Elated as none of them died in the first boss battle, they continue grinding through the floors. The dungeon is recommended level 85+ and these adventurers are having no problem with the monsters in the slightest. They do slow down however, after killing a pair of giant ice golem bosses on the 10th floor, because of the upgrade in difficulty from the new level monsters. Each level only contained one, or maybe 2 types of monsters, uncoordinated and feral. However for the next 5 floors, there is a semblance of hierarchy, of command from the monsters and the usual one sided massacre becomes a true battle against organizing forces. Within hours, the group makes it to the 15th floor, with only a few casualties and they take a rest to recuperate mana and breath. Once buffed, the party charges into the 15th floor boss room and fight a bloody battle against a triplet of frost wielding wyrms, first in their human form, but later in the fight transform into their wyrm form and wreak havoc with their claws and frost breath. This was the most brutal fight so far, causing a double digit of deaths through ice, claws and bite. However, the party still won after 3 hours of constant battling, dying and chugging of potions of all kind. After Mallark wrenches his sword out the last wyrm triplet''s gullet, he lets her die and has everyone set up camp. The remaining party members are 24 for the moment, however almost all of those are members of Wretched Ones. The exception to that are Lionel and a lanky human archer with dirty blonde hair, Rick. Rick is simply alive because he was the only non-frontliner out of the chosen 13, thus the aggro on his was minimum. Lionel is alive because he has been far away from the combats staying hidden in the corners. Mallark feels annoyance flash across his mind as he looks at Lionel, because the ''noob'' has perfectly shown he was just that. Throughout the entirety of the raid, he did nothing to help, no healing, no fighting. He only remained in the back and watched. Mallark silently curses his curiosity and wasting a spot where a valuable tank could be. Looking at his forces, only 3 tanks remain. The rest are; 2 priests(not including Lionel), 13 mages and 5 archers. The lack of frontliners are worrying but the amount of firepower the mages deal should help lighten the load somewhat. Everyone catches some sleep on the icy floor, all shivering in their tents...all except Lionel, who falls to sleep immediately, uncaring that he''s lying on bare ice. Many raise their eyebrows, but after today, many would let him die without a second thought; since he''s just a worthless ''noob''. Once rested, they all travel up the next few floors. These floors are different from the last as all are joined together by one large spiral ice staircase all the way to the ceiling. Around the staircase, are numerous alcoves, with heaps of wyrm tails swishing out sleepily. Starting to walk up the spiral ice stairs, the wyrms wake up and angrily head towards the party. Luckily they are just younglings, so they are somewhat easily taken down by the mass of mages. However as the party rises up the stairs, the wyrms get higher leveled and turn from younglings into juvenile and then into adolescents. The mages getting dangerously low on mana by holding the wyrms back causes everyone to start charging full on up the stairs, causing more and more wyrms to appear from their alcoves. A wyrm slips in through the mass barricade of explosions from the numerous fireballs and arrows. This causes all the mages to blast it collectively, and it upon its death, rams into the staircase separating a portion of the party to the lower section of the stairs. The party, almost split in half, continues to charge up the stairs, while the remaining few fight to their last drop of mana as the wyrms converge on the easier prey. Hearing the screams of being overwhelmed a few minutes later, the rest of the party reaches the top of the staircase and enter the 20th floor through a small entrance, stopping any wyrms from making their way through due to its small size. Exhausted. The remaining 16 members drop to the floor and pant. After a short while, they''re all rested and Mallark checks what he has left to work with; 3 warriors, 8 mages, 2 priest, 3 archers. Mallark curses lightly under his breath for various reasons; one being that he lost a third of his party going through this floor, and the other was the fact that the ''noob'' wasn''t here further adding insult to injury about his choice on choosing him. He curses himself a few more times before everyone is sufficiently rested and walks into the boss room ... ... (Lionel''s POV) Lying in a small crater, surrounded by wyrms biting at him, Lionel mildly regrets his choice of signing up for this. His experience of those nasty mountain tigers should have been deterrent enough, but nooo he just had to see frost wyrms with his own eyes. One particular wyrm opens its mouth extremely wide and begins dragging itself up Lionel''s lower body. Well, now he''s going to see the inside of them so he isn''t counting himself lucky. ... ... (Mallark''s Pov) "AAAAAA-" The other warrior''s scream is cut off as the adult wyrm swallows him whole SHIT "TANDOR, CHERAK!" Immediately the two priests focus on Mallark and constantly pump healing spells onto Mallark as he taunts and faces the adult wyrm shield raised. While the mages burn through their mana and the archers shoot a rain of arrows, Mallark is flung into a wall, before being healed and rushes the wyrm once more, only to be blasted to the wall again. The wyrm, constantly aggroed onto Mallark, who is living thanks to his above average armor and crazy defense, keeps batting the man away with its tail while taking a long deep breath. "BREATH" Someone screams. Suddenly, the spells and arrows stop as everyone dives out the way, or try to at least. The breath attack comes in the form of a wave of ice spikes that impale 3 of the mages and one of the archers, immediately killing them. The wyrm stays still recovering for half a minute, but the others all spend that time regaining their footing. The wyrm looks somewhat damaged, but somewhat is in the form of a few scratches on its tail and a few small burn marks on its shining blue scales. The party, down to 10 members, is in a sorry state; with only Mallark as tank, the wyrm continuously beats him for a few minutes before he inevitably dies. After that, the mages, archers and clerics try to run, getting a small distance before the wyrm leaps and lands on them massacring survivors with claw, bite and tail. Within 10 minutes of that battle starting, the entire party is wiped out. ... After the fiasco, Mallark revives in Craiston a minute later. With a heavy heart upon failing the raid and losing potential glory, he gives entrance key to the third strongest guild; Sovereign. As this is what all the major guild leaders agreed upon. They collect their strongest members and move out, with a party consisting of 2 tanks, 6 priests and 32 mages. A bizarrely huge amount of mages for a raid, but the firepower would be tremendous. They all begin moving out, but stop as a system message pops up in front of everyone on the village, and for everyone else in the world. The L1ONs guild has conquered the Wyrm Spire Caverns Everyone in that village look completely flabbergasted, because no one knows who the hell the L1ONs guild is... All but one person. That little shit! Just how the fuck did he pull that off? ... ... (Lionel''s POV) "Eugh, I''m going to have to get a new robe now" Walking out of the dead adult wyrm''s mouth, Lionel places the still beating heart in his inventory. "Now...what else do I want to explore?" Chapter 1- The Beginning A cacophony of sounds resound through the once quiet village and following the sound is a great number of humans, all of different shapes and sizes, which appear spontaneously. A few thousand pairs of eyes look around in amazement and many people gasp in excitement at the thought of adventure. Almost simultaneously, the horde of people scatter in all directions; some run for the nearest house, while a larger number dash off to the outskirts of the village with a bloodthirsty look in their eyes. The ones that rush to the outskirts quickly party up with one another; to fight the seemingly harmless rabbits that munch cheerfully on the grass. Some remain alone fighting for their lives and some even ignore the rabbits altogether and charge into the forest that is nearby. Only a few dozen decide to do so, and many of those are killed within the first few minutes of entering by wolves. Most stop there, either running away or fighting a deadly battle against the wolves. The once quite village has turned into a whirlpool of activity but the NPC¡¯s that reside there do not seem to be bothered by the sudden horde of newcomers. Though, the local clergyman does shake his head at the constant stream of newcomers that walk out of his chapel, looking vengefully towards the dangerous outsides. After about thirty minutes, everyone stops re-entering the forest due to the dangerous wolves. Though, one young man does keep charging in. This man gets the attention of others who begin to nickname him ¡®Suicide Joe¡¯ due to him repeatedly running into the maws of death for no apparent reason. Death at this level has little penalties; as it was stated that newbies until level 15 would have protection from lowered stats, drops and would only lose a level. An hour quickly passes, and then another, but Suicide Joe doesn¡¯t stop reviving and running into the forest, staying in there for longer and longer. Almost five minutes this time. In the space of almost three hours quite a number of them have leveled twice and believe they are strong enough to take on the wolves. Though trial quickly teaches them they cannot do it alone. As a number of quickly bonding parties duke it out against wolves, Suicide Joe runs past them and deeper into the forest. Only to be killed by another wolf again. Though it is now a normal occurrence; the thought of Suicide Joe being slightly insane is on everyone¡¯s minds. He continues running again and again for another two hours and by then hundreds of people are in the forest slowly massacring wolves. Because of that, only around fifty people see Suicide Joe on a regular basis; running off in the depths of the forest and passing by after ten minutes. The sixth hour comes and passes and the man, along with many of the people have a long rest to recuperate satiety and general breath. Although they are strong in this world, they still need a break after some time. A good twenty minutes break and Suicide Joe is back again running through the forest. Fifteen minutes later, he runs out the chapel grinning. And nobody knows why. No one knows why he keeps running suicidally into the forest and no one knows why he is grinning. He charges through the forest and this time the parties who saw him unconsciously note that he hasn¡¯t reappeared for almost half an hour this time. He does finally reappear however; after about forty five minutes. This time, the man sits down, eats a piece of rye bread and gulps down some water. To the surprise of others who are milling about in the village for various reasons; he begins stretching and limbering himself up. Most take this as the sign that he¡¯s planning to run to wherever he is going to run this time and not die. After a good 10 minutes of stretching, the man charges out of the village and into the forest once more. Three more hours pass and those who are fighting double their efforts to kill as many wolves as they can before night falls. The sun is reaching a lowish point, about three hours away from sunset at most. A few people ended up reaching level seven, while a larger majority reached level six. About an hour ago they reached the part of the forest infested with level seven lynxes, perfect for almost everyone. Constant streams of people go in and out of the village completing quests and cashing them in for xp and coin. Though a few remain inside; to explore more if they had not done so earlier, or remain outside; to kill more monsters before night falls. Suicide Joe finally exits the chapel, much to the surprise of those inside the village. This was because he had disappeared for the past three hours and they had genuinely though he had made it to wherever he was going. He makes his way over to the central fountain in the village and lies by it looking quite out of breath. The onlookers just leave him be, partially because he¡¯s still grinning and partially because they¡¯re busy leveling up themselves. After an hour, Suicide Joe finally gets back up from the floor and begins running¡­in the opposite direction. This is much to everyone¡¯s surprise since till now he had only run in the same direction each time; to the North. The rest of the day is no different, and once night falls, everyone retreats to the safety of the village. To their knowledge, the night makes monsters more dangerous. It sure does, and those who stay fighting quickly find that out once the monsters they¡¯re battling become way stronger than they can handle. Suicide Joe is one of the people who return to the safety of the village via the chapel and he, like many others around him, stay on and try to venture out and fight again. Parties merge to form bigger ones and Suicide Joe takes a good chunk of an hour break before running west this time. Everyone raises their eyebrow at the odd man, but at least they somewhat understand he is looking for something. Six hours pass in a flash, and almost everyone takes a long rest at an inn or on the streets; due to inns being booked out. This rest lasts until the morning sun rises. Oddly enough, and many of them there think so; Suicide Joe hadn¡¯t returned since he last left. Some bid the memory of him good riddance, but some felt a slight loss from not seeing the supposedly crazy man constantly dying and reviving, all the while keeping a grin plastered on his face. Sparing a moment to speculate as to where Suicide Joe had gone, they then go back to grinding xp. ¡­ The City of Darton; One of the 4 major cities in the Annoldi Kingdom. A vast fortress of a place with seven rings of walls separating the city into its famous Eight Rings. Ring of Grass: the farming area located just outside the city walls. Ring of Blood: Full of those unfortunate enough to not have place in the city. They reside here until the city is attacked, then the Ring of Blood becomes its infamously named kill zone. A branch of the Warriors Guild resides here. Ring of Adventure: Home to many taverns, branches of Guilds and the Adventurers Hall. Also the main Warriors Guild resides here. Ring of Coin: The Market part of the city where all shop owners reside and all types are separated in their own zones. The Merchants Guild resides here. Ring of Craft: Forges, Tanneries and workshops of all kinds are situated here and all appropriate guilds of crafting kind are here too. Ring of Nobility: As the name states, it is where all noble class live and is home to certain luxurious shops, a privilege only available to few. Ring of Power: The Cathedral and The Mage¡¯s Spire reside here as well as the city¡¯s library. Ring of Rule: The last wall is the castle wall itself so the entire ring is the home of the city¡¯s ruler. Each ring after the Ring of Grass gets progressively smaller and so the castle itself is not that grand in size. Compared to other castles in the empire it is one of the smallest. However to siege this castle is an almost impossible feat due to it being a multilayered impregnable fortress. This is the basic information the gate guard gave to some haggard looking country bumpkin with severely torn clothes who was looking to enter the city a bit before the break of dawn. All travelers are allowed into the city after inspection, and this man who barely has a strip of cloth passing for a shirt and ripped shorts certainly doesn''t have much to hide in the guards eyes. He had told him that only those registered in the Adventurers Hall or were registered citizens could enter further into the city. To enter the Ring of Nobility one would need to be sent an invitation, however one can go to the Ring of Power through the passage on the south gate as it does not directly step in the Ring of Nobility due to walls being built either side of the passage. The Ring of Rule is also only accessed through invitation. Thanking him, the man ran off into the city a lot less near death than he seemed. Shrugging his shoulders, he goes back to his duties. ¡­ Moren steps out of the large oaken doors of the cathedral and, taking his broom, starts sweeping the slightly dusty stairs. *Sigh* As a lowly disciple he is not given much freedom and thus spends most of his day on the whims of his instructors. Much to his disappointment, they do not teach him much. And what they have taught only helped him on his daily menial tasks. *Sigh* The one slight sparkle to his life is the fact that from these steps he can see a large amount of the bustling city, even so much as to see the mass of figures milling about in the Ring of Coin. Seeing the sun rise and wash light over the city is a calming sight for Moren, one that helps him survive the boredom that come with his tasks. After all, he is doing this to get closer to Helia, Goddess of Light. He sweeps peacefully for a short while, focusing on his duties diligently, as Helia is watching over him. Soon, he spots a crowd of people walking through the south passage. The usual he presumes. Most who come up to the Ring of Power are here for services in the Cathedral or for the Library. No one really comes up here for the Mage¡¯s Spire. A few people split off from the crowd and head towards the library. The rest, head towards the Cathedral. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Moren quickly scans their faces as they rise the forty two steps. Most, he recognizes as usual visitors but a few look new or he simply has not seen them before. One particularly stands out; a country bumpkin with no shirt and ripped shorts, is looking at the Cathedral with an awestruck expression, almost tripping on each stair as he slowly climbs as if to have more time to take in the sight. Those sort do somehow make it up here, and are usually the more fervent of worshippers; mostly due to their chapels back home being quite forceful. *Sigh* He doesn¡¯t like to remember the near past that used to be his village life. If only he¡¯d stayed, he wouldn¡¯t have had to have the menial hardships that are his so called ¡®adventure¡¯. The bumpkin does finally make it up to the fortieth step, where Moren is, and almost collides into him. The bumpkin stops himself in time and gives a bow of apology ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I was just so overwhelmed by this Cathedral¡­it¡¯s actually amazing!¡± His voice is gentle, but not womanly as one may so coincide. ¡°It is alright, you are not the first to be awestruck¡± Moren internally rolls his eyes, but does understand the man somewhat, as he too was once a country bumpkin walking up these steps in awe. The man continues walking after giving another quick apology, but then stops and as Moren gets back to cleaning, taps his shoulder. Moren turns round to the man ¡°I have a question; could you tell me how to join the clergy?¡± Moren raises his eyebrow, mostly out of surprise but then again people from the country are fervently religious, so to try join the clergy isn¡¯t that uncommon. ¡°You must ask one of the priests themselves. You can spot them with their white robes¡± Internally sighing, he glances down at his dirty brown robe, which he wishes is a nice white robe. ¡°Thanks¡± the man bounds up the rest of the stairs and dashes inside. Shaking his head, Moren gets back to work. Though he does consider that he may not be alone cleaning when he comes out here next time. With that semi-happy thought, the stairs slowly become dustless with his effort. ¡­ *Phew* Moren, letting out a sigh of relief, finishes dusting off last stair. Giving a short bow to Helia, he returns to the inside of the Cathedral, to begin his other daily tasks. As he walks through the vast corridors lit by natural light from the huge colored windows, he passes a large number of people; both priests and local populace. He diverts towards the kitchen as the morning breakfast is over and he has still to eat. Moving to less and less crowded corridors, soon there is no one in sight but a rare priest or a fellow disciple hurrying to do something. None acknowledge Moren in the slightest as he greets them with a bow or a wave. Sighing slightly at the fact that he¡¯s so low in the hierarchy even his fellow disciples don¡¯t acknowledge him when passing, he continues down the slight maze of corridors. ¡°I¡¯ve told you before and I tell you again, you cannot become one of us¡± An angry voice fills the corridor, Brother Sian. Moren quickly stops and hides, for he knows not to greet Brother Sian when in a mood. ¡°Why not sir?¡± The gentle voice from before echoes in the corridor. This immediately fills in whatever details Moren might be missing because he gets the gist of what is going on: The man asked to join and is being refused. ¡°Because you do not feel strong enough¡± ¡°What does that mean? Why do I need to be strong to be a priest?¡± The man sounds quite confused and Moren is slightly confused too, but more curious about this need for strength, for he has not heard of this before. ¡°Physical strength is unnecessary, but you lack the inner strength to hold the blessings of the Gods. So you must first increase that before I can accept you into the priesthood¡± With that, Moren begins to hear angry footsteps stomp towards him ¡°A question sir!¡± The man beckons after him. The footsteps stop, much to Moren¡¯s relief. ¡°Yes, boy?¡± ¡°Can you show me the statue of Aegi so that I may pray to her?¡± ¡°That I can do¡± Two pairs of footsteps start off in another direction and after a minute, Moren is once again left alone. Wiping his sweaty palms on his robe, he¡¯s thankful he wasn¡¯t seen by Brother Sian. Also, that man is a strange one indeed¡­to worship the Immortal Goddess isn¡¯t the most common thing, and even then only those who pursue the secrets of immortality such as alchemists pray to her. To his knowledge, no brother in this Cathedral worships her, in public anyway. he knows that the Immortal Goddess is also known by another title; she is better known to the public as the Goddess of Undeath, a deity to the sentient undead. Moren is curious as to why the man chose her, but right now his mind is being filled with the thought of food. Restarting his journey, he quickly makes it to the kitchen, greets the cooks and digs in to his warm soup. He is thankful that the cooks are nice to him at least. Finishing his morning meal, he heads to the prayer room to give a morning prayer to his Goddess before continuing with his chores. Though when he arrives there, he sees something definitely out of the ordinary¡­ ¡°OH GREAT GODDESS AEGI, PLEASE HEAR THIS ONE¡¯S PLIGHT!¡± The strange man has now gone full bizarre in Moren¡¯s mind as he¡¯s kneeling in front of the faceless statue that depicts Aegi. Moren thought the shouting was bizarre since prayers are calm and through inner thoughts, but what happened next really took him off his feet: The man began to rake his fingers across his own arms leaving bloody streaks and began praying once more while visibly stopping his wincing. ¡°YOU SEE THIS BODY, FRAGILE, KILLABLE! I DO NOT LIKE PAIN. I DETEST DEATH! BUT I DO NOT ASK YOU TO GIVE ME IMMORTALITY. I ONLY BEESEECH YOU TO BLESS MY ENDEVOUR TO UNCOVER THE SECRETS MYSELF¡± He silently stands up, picks up the offering bowl with its chinking coins, and tips the contents to the floor much to everyone¡¯s horror. ¡°COINS ARE BUT TRIVAIL OFFERINGS. FOR YOU MY GODDESS, I OFFER MY LIFE¡± The bowl does not have a smooth edge due to its rough clay make, and the man uses that to his advantage as he slices it across his neck and fills the bowl to spilling with his own blood, which spurts from the gash in his neck. A second later, he slumps onto the floor, the bowl landing upright and sloshing with fresh blood. ¡­ .. . The room remains silent¡­as no one knows what to do. They can¡¯t clean up the body immediately for it will be a slight upon the man¡¯s offering and to Aegi herself. But the local populace look terrified at the devotion, well everyone looks terrified of the fanatical devotion of the man, and to remove the body will help the rest of the room cope better with what just happened. Though, while the priests debated on what to do, the body disappeared in a pillar of light and everyone in that room took it as a sign of an accepted offering. A scary thought to those who know her as the Goddess of Undeath. But also a scary thought to the more knowledgeable priests themselves. To kill one self as an offering is barbaric yet something no one here would do to show their utter devotion. Once the body had disappeared, the priests cleaned the blood around the bowl and picked up the coins, now covered in blood too. In a few minutes, all that¡¯s left is a sloshing bowl of blood that no priest dares to touch, out of disgust or uncertainty as to whether the Goddess liked to keep the offering. Moren, extremely shaken by this act, runs from the prayer room, charges through the corridors and bursts out the doors of the Cathedral, only to sit on the forty second stair, looking up at the sun. Never before has he felt this useless, this undevoted to his Goddess. All he has done to worship her has been diligent work in her presence and some small prayers throughout the days. Compared to the strange man, Moren and probably any priest within that Cathedral feel like fakes. Cupping his head in his hands, he thinks, he ponders, he wonders what he can do to show his devotion to his Goddess, truly sacrifice something for her. Can he sacrifice an arm, or a leg? Can he give away his speech or his sight? The brutal thoughts of all kind of horrific and painful sacrifices he could make to show just a small amount of devotion to his Goddess, if only something to make him feel worthy of calling himself a follower of Helia. ¡°Don¡¯t try something stupid¡± Moren whips his head out of his hands and looks to the bottom of the stairs, where the same man who had just killed himself is walking up. His mind goes blank, just for a second before thousands, no millions of questions burst into his head. All of them based around one question. ¡°H-How are you alive?¡± The man smirks as he walks up the steps ¡°I never died, I was just killed¡± ¡°B-b-but then you¡¯re immortal!?¡± Moran¡¯s mind is further packed with burning questions ¡°No, because what can be killed can still die in the end. At this moment, I am just one who does not die easily¡± With that, the man walks up to Moren, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before walking off into the Cathedral. Moren remains sitting for a few minutes, slowly compressing the typhoon of questions and thoughts. As he does so, he can feel the warmth of the sun¡¯s rays upon his head and looking up, he can see clouds hiding most of the sun, leaving on a large ray of light to beam towards him. For an instinctive reason, he looks back, to see a line of light going from him to the Cathedral doorway. Moren has many questions trying to spill from his mind and the only one who can answer is the one his Goddess points to. *Sigh* Bowing gratefully to the sun as it is once again free from the clouds, Moren goes back into the Cathedral, in search of that strange man. Chapter 2-A Bishops Bad Day Bishop Yan was having a very bad day. He had first woken up to find his bed inexplicably soiled and when he g out of his bed, he fell onto the floor. Counting himself lucky, he had taken his sheets down to the washers. His day took a turn for the worse when he was scrubbing the sheets as a large hole tore into it, effectively ripping his sheets in two. Yan had not had much experience of bad omens, but he had certainly taken this situation as a mass of them. Not knowing what the omen was trying to say, he had rushed back to his room and donned his pale white robe which he tripped on and tore a chunk off within the first step. He had then spent a small amount of time praying to Repleh, the Aiding god, before changing clothes. He had chosen the itchy straw coloured robe that disciples usually wear and wore it in hopes that other misfortunate omens don¡¯t befall his humble self. Collapsing down a set of stairs momentarily after, he deemed that there will be no such luck. He had mended his broken leg with his priestly powers and after recovering had continued about his day. Yan thought at that point, he would be wise to just lie in bed and do nothing for the rest of the day. However he had continued on in hopes that it would get better. Having to be saved by a fellow brother at breakfast from a fishbone in the gullet, Yan had decided it will not. He had slowly traveled to each of the rooms of prayer within his chapel, catching himself often on the curtains after being inexplicably tripped by nothing along the way. He prayed forgiveness and an answer to whatever these omens meant to each and every deity that he knelt before, but the only answer he had got was the slight cracking of Kraow¡¯s, god of Allsight, statue. The before omens had been bad yes, but the cracking of a holy statue was a terrible one indeed. Not a moment after that had registered into Yan¡¯s mind did the screaming come. The screaming of one seemingly mad man with no shirt and ripped shorts who was praying at Aegi, next to him. He¡¯d screamed his desire to worship and his desire of immortality before ripping his throat with the offering bowl, and splattered blood all over the place. Blood had found its way to Yan¡¯s face and had soaked into the hems of his robe. Yan knew not what to do, so he had fled the room along with some others. Rushing back to his room, smashing his face upon the steps along the way, he had rushed inside, only to vomit on the floor. After he had recovered from that strange bout of sickness, not one caused by the blood for he had seen worse on the battlefields, he changes his robe to a dirty cream coloured one. He had retched once clothed again, and covered his new robe. Today was not a good day for Bishop Yan. Quickly clothing once more after he had cleaned himself with his water basin, he had gone down to the main Hall and had seen that many of his brothers and others who had been in that prayer room had rushed to the stone pews to pray. He had walked up the aisle hearing locals who were not busy praying forgiveness at their lack of faith, speculate as to why he was wearing his torn white robe. Ignoring the speculations of the unshaken, he had made his way to the podium at the center of the room and had taken out the calming scripture of Arethius and opened it to the two hundredth and forty second page. However the gods did not seem finished with him since the mad man from before, now fully clothed in peasants garb, had walked through the hall and towards him. From his grasp the book had dropped and landed in a mess on the floor, but Yan had not cared about that; all he had cared in that moment was the thought of this man being immortal. And that thought had terrified him to his core. Yan knew that his day had gotten worse. ¡­ ¡°Sir, you look important, could you please allow me to become a brother in this great cathedral?¡± His surprisingly gentle voice reaches Yan¡¯s ears easily The mad man kneels on the floor and everyone in the room is confused, while many are shocked, as they have knowledge others do not. Yan is in a horrible bind, because this man is weak. He does not know how he can feel that, but to him it¡¯s almost instinctive. He knows that this man cannot become a brother with how weak he is. But neither can he deny him and his fanatical devotion to Aegi, mostly because he would be offending her as well as everyone else who views his devotion as just that. His minds gears twist and turn, cranking up thoughts and disassembling ideas on how to deal with this situation. The man remains kneeling, waiting for an answer, and everyone in the room remains with bated breath. Yan sighs lightly. To him there is no other choice. How bad can allowing him to join be? He has a feeling that he will regret that thought soon enough. Placing a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder, Yan gives in to fate. ¡°Ok my son, you needed but to ask. Arise and become a brother of this holy domain where our deities of old and new reside. We shall begin with the ceremony momentarily, until then, quietly pray to whomever you please as they will be the ones to truly choose whether you can join us¡± Most around seem happy, but some brothers, such as Brother Sian, look less pleased about the sudden gain of a new disciple; One more fervent in prayer and sacrifice then they are. Yan gives a slight smirk at that, as this incident may help all his brothers gain a new sense of faith. The room quickly clears up as the younger priests aid the locals out of the hall, while the elder priests set up the ceremony. Yan, returns to his room in that time but he encounters no bad omens for some strange reason. However he does not feel happy as this strange sense of terror is firmly placed in the back of his mind. Just thinking of the man gives Yan a slight shiver down his spine. He does not know why, maybe because of his fanatical devotion, or maybe something else... Grabbing his crimson robe and hat from the dresser, he skirts the slightly damp spot on the floor and returns downstairs. Re-entering the hall it is all set up. The pews have been moved to either side of the room, leaving a large space for all the priests to gather round. Usually for a ceremony of disciple induction to take place, either the Bishop or three elder priests must be present. However for this ceremony, a few dozen priests are present as well as Bishop Yan himself. One could say that it is quite a unique moment for a disciple to be watched over by so many of his elders upon his induction. Yan, noticing a tense atmosphere, walks over to the podium and claps his hands. The tension dissipates instantly and everyone turns round to look at Yan. ¡°Let us begin the ceremony¡± ¡­ .. . Where is he? Yan looks questioningly at the mass of priests and soon enough an elder priest gets the message. Pointing to the man, Yan realizes why he had felt a tense atmosphere. The man was sitting by the kneeling statue of Aegi taking a nap. Many present did not take kindly to the fact that he used her lap as a pillow for his head. Or maybe just the fact that he fell to sleep in such a holy place at such a time. Such a disciple is not going to be liked in this Cathedral. And Yan believes in such a thought too¡­but he also believes that the man will be fine nonetheless for some inexplicable reason. He makes an almost imperceptible nod to one of the elder priests and one walks to the man to shake him roughly awake. ¡°Ah that was a nice nap¡± One could swear they heard the popping of veins around the room. The man rubs his eyes as he stands up and walks over to Yan, who is looking mildly unamused at the man, yet still holds some disintegrating respect towards the holily devoted man. ¡°Ahem, let us proceed with the ceremony. All of you here today, are here to witness the birth of a new brother to our priesthood. He is one who has shown his devotion and faith and thus, I, Bishop of this Cathedral give my blessing upon his priesthood.¡± The man kneels as Yan places a hand on his head. ¡°Does anyone in this room deny this blessing? Or give their own?¡± Looking around the room, Yan sees that not many of them look happy and definitely don¡¯t look like they are going to give a blessing. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°I will give my blessing¡± A young voice from the doorways makes Yan and many others turn their heads, to see the youngest disciple; Moren standing by the doorway. ¡°You cann-¡° Brother Sian starts up Yan quickly waves a hand in front of him silencing the brother. The rules do state that disciples can still give their blessing, although usually disciples are not present in the ceremonies. ¡°Then come¡± Moren walks over and places a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. A few of the elder brothers shuffle forward and place their hands upon the man, giving a silent blessing. A couple more, a bit more half-hearted than the previous brothers, come up and give their blessing. And finally, after some deliberation a good number of the younger brothers decide to join with the majority of the room and give their blessing. ¡°Welcome to the brotherhood¡± All chant synchronously. After many moments of silence, the horde of hands that cover the man¡¯s body release him and their owners all start dispersing to do their own thing. Yan delegates Moren to take the man to his new room. Before he leaves, the man quickly kneels down to Aegi. A sight well taken by the brothers, as the man does at least show his faithfulness. Yan is not sure that he has made the right choice, as his palms are shaking for a reason he does not comprehend. But he has a feeling that something will happen soon that will make him regret this decision. ¡­ The rest of the day had gone by as per usual, without the strange omens haunting Yan. However even though he prayed, ate and talked with brothers. He did not get rid of this ominous feeling that scratched at the back of his mind. Watching the sun fall down into the bowels of the earth leaving nothing but shadows in its demise, Yan sighs in mild relief at the end of this strange day. However, someone knocks on the door to his room. Not a heavy knock of command, or a light weak knock of quiet interruption. It was a curt three knocks, stating purpose and intent sending shivers down Yan¡¯s spine. ¡°Who is it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s me Bishop Yan¡± A gentle voice comes from the other side of the door. He ponders on what to do; to let the man in, or to talk to him through the door, or even dismiss him since he¡¯s just a disciple. Yan silently debates for a few more seconds before he gets up from his window-side chair and goes to open the door. The new disciple walks in, now dressed in a shoddy straw-colored robe. ¡°Bishop Yan, is there any way you could teach me the arts of healing?¡± He did not expect that, though truly he did not know what to expect anyways. This is but a frivolous situation to Yan. ¡°You are but a disciple, so until you join the priesthood then you cannot be taught the divine ways of healing¡± ¡°I believe you misunderstood Bishop, I merely want to learn how to bandage, treat burns, and disinfect scars and the like¡± The man had not missed a beat with his explanation. Yan raises his eyebrow for a second before furrowing it in thought once again. Before he could deny him teaching him divine spells, however first aid is not something he can really deny giving without a paramount excuse. ¡°Very well, but instead of asking me, you should speak with your elder brothers. Brother Chosat knows much upon the subject¡± ¡°Thank you Bishop Yan¡± he sounds happy and he gives a curt bow before he walks off ¡°Its brother Yan to you now¡± Yan calls out after him ¡°I will not forget, brother Yan¡± the answer comes echoing back from the stairwell. Closing the door, Yan goes back to looking at the now moon-light city. To him it¡¯s a beautiful and calming sight, but this time he is distracted with a strange feeling; a feeling of familiarity. However bizarre the new disciple is...he swears he has heard of something similar. Somewhere, but he does not remember where or when he heard of this. Or maybe it was his own imagination at play. Before he realizes it, he has already procured some historical and religious scriptures from his personal library and has begun reading through them. He reads through them for hours, looking for a sign that connects this man to these scriptures. But time seems to run out for him as he is interrupted by a series of urgent knocks. Yan, stifling a yawn, goes once more to the door. Opening it up, brother Sian almost stumbles in, wheezing and out of breath ¡°What happened dear brother?¡± Yan watches brother Sian take in deep breathes to try regulate his breathing once more. After a few seconds he calms down enough to speak ¡°That man¡­he¡¯s a monster!¡± Sian visibly shivers and Yan does too, because Yan knows which man is being mentioned and he can imagine all his worst fears come true. It was those omens; they had warned him this would happen. And he had not prayed for guidance hard enough and now, this has happened. ¡°What has he done?¡± Yan asks with more than a twinge of fear in his eyes. ¡°He¡­he breaks his own bones. He shatters his fingers and snaps his leg. But that¡¯s not the worst of it, no. The worst is that he was mending them! He was using cloth and splints of wood to create casts for the broken parts. He was teaching himself how to do first aid! He was teaching himself by breaking himself! But even that isn¡¯t the worst! No! even worse is that I saw it; I saw his bones repair, just suddenly start working again. No human could do that without magic! HE¡¯S ISN¡¯T HUMAN I TELL YOU, HE¡¯S MONSTER!¡± Brother Sian got more hectic as he told the story and by the look in his eyes he was having a vivid imagination of what he had seen. He had grabbed onto Yan¡¯s robes and tugged at them with terrified fervor. ¡°Brother stop!¡± Yan places a hand on each of the trembling shoulders, causing Sian to lessen the tugging at his robes. ¡°He is not a monster; he is just a normal human like us, although strange in many ways¡± ¡°Stra-¡° Brother Sian goes slack-jawed slightly ¡°Yes, he is human but he is also different, so he will have his own way of doing things¡± Yan says with more knowledge than he previously thought he had. It was because he remembered now. He remembered that these ¡®humans¡¯ had come to this world in the beginning of the first age. Quickly commanding brother Sian to get some rest, he watches the mentally exhausted and confused brother Sian stumble out the room. Yan rushes to his pile of scriptures and within a few seconds, finds the one he was looking for. Settling down to read it, he quickly remembers and learns things about these ¡®humans¡¯ or foreigners as the people of the first age called them. They are rumored to be immortal, but not unkillable. They grow stronger than any human ever could, and the theory of the scripture is that they can continually grow until they can defeat the gods themselves. He read through the whole thing, slowly absorbing all the information he could get about these foreigners and that they are in essentiality the physical embodiment of potential. The first age came to be because of them, and it also ceased to be because of them. Reading this did not improve his mood, and neither did it improve that niggling thought of horror that clawed in the back of his mind. This new disciple was a foreigner and where one comes, many will follow. And if they are all as crazy as this one, Yan knows the world will become a chaotic place. As he read through the section where it dealt with the learning capabilities of the foreigners, the dawn sun rose, slowly drawing away the black curtain that was over the city. With a sigh at his lost sleep, Yan looks out into the city. And sees quite a peculiar sight: A small mass of people are coming out from the forests and are walking towards the city. He can only see the mass due to it being a decent size, as well as having a very good viewpoint. Though their figures are not distinct. And upon seeing them, he can only think of one word Foreigners. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Sorry but this chappie is a bit short but that means that the next one will seem longer :P(cause it will be i promise :D) Hope you enjoyed it and review/comment/tellmethings Chapter 3-The Day of Rest ¡°My Lord!¡± A guard wearing banded mail armor bursts through the heavy oaken doors and hurriedly runs towards Lord Perregoth, who is seated on his throne listening to a petition. Stepping up, he silences the guard with a wave and refocuses his attention on the scruffy haired man kneeling in front. ¡°M¡¯lord, the forests around our homes has become far too populated with wolves, bears and other predatory beasts of the like. Not only have they become numerous, they also have gotten more aggressive, even going so far as to attack a family within the Ring of Grass¡± ¡°And would you recommend me to do?¡± Perregoth voice is deep with a commanding tone ¡°I beg the lord to send troops to cull the growing herds of beasts at our borders¡± Perregoth muses for a second before clapping a hand to the man¡¯s shoulder ¡°There are only a few I can spare at the moment but these will be sent your way to help what they can¡± The man looks quite happy and thanks Perregoth profusely before being escorted out. Sitting back on his throne, he gestures to his personal guards, who escort the rest of the petitioners out, and then gestures to the guard. He walks up to Perregoth and kneels down in front of him ¡°My lord, some strange people have come to our front gates. They appeared but a few minutes ago holding old swords and wearing battered armor¡± ¡°And what does this have to do with me? If you deem them as a threat you disregard them from entering¡± He motions for the guard to rise so that he may project his voice better ¡°That is exactly what we did, and they have begun to cause a ruckus outside, saying they demand to meet our lord to explain why they cannot enter¡± ¡°I have already told you what do to about it, so why is there a need to tell me about this so urgently, what information are you withholding?¡± Perregoth raises an eyebrow ¡°They-¡± ¡°They¡¯re called Foreigners¡± A familiar voice reaches Perregoths ears. Perregoth looks behind the guard and sees the familiar face of Bishop Yan entering through the oaken doors. ¡°Foreigners?¡± Perregoth is confused as to how his Bishop knows about these strange people yet the guard who came from the outer gate does not ¡°Precisely. They mean you no harm so I recommend you allow them in¡± Yan gave a strange grin; the devious grin that Perregoth knew his trusted advisor to show whenever a plan was at hand. Perregoth turns to the guard and waves him out, giving him the corresponding orders. Sitting back on his throne, he looks inquisitively at Yan. ¡°So, tell me more about these¡­Foreigners¡± ¡­ ¡°Now come this way Disciples. Your new quarters are this way¡± Brother Chad guides a small group of five new disciples down the stairwell and quickly they see the grand inside of the cathedral vanish and be replaced with a more dull appearance. The stairs aren¡¯t dark, even though they seem to be underground as some strange blue light pulses from the slits in the walls. All of them are bubbly and excited at the prospect of becoming priests and priestesses. Already they are chatting about which god they will choose to favour and who they¡¯re going to party with when they become fully fledged. Stopping at a well kept wooden door at the bottom of the stairs, Brother Chad opens it up and gestures for a bubbly brunette, with curly hair stopping just past the shoulders, to enter. She walks inside and Brother Chad walks off with the remaining four to their own quarters. Upon entering, she notices that the room is a lot brighter than the stairs and three very disturbing things: The first is that all in her room are men. All three are lying still breathing deeply, one snoring. All but one are wearing the straw-coloured robes that she herself has been given to wear. The one who sticks out is wearing a small layer of white, which upon closer inspection; are a mass of bandages wrapped around the man. He is related to the second disturbing thing: The only free bed in the room seems to be between the injured man¡¯s and another disciple¡¯s. However that is a miniscule problem compared to the third disturbing thing: She has nowhere to change clothes. Stressing silently over these things for a couple of minutes, she finally works up the courage to quickly change into her robe after checking that they¡¯re all sleeping. Donning her new and slightly itchy robe, she sighs in relief that they¡¯re all still sleeping. Stifling a yawn, she decides to head to her new bed. Rolling around the uncomfortable mattress, she tries her best to find a spot where the insides don¡¯t seem to pinch at her. ¡°You know that if you keep rolling around you¡¯ll wake the others. They won¡¯t be happy about that¡± A voice comes from her right, the non-injured disciple *CRACK* Reacting to the sudden sound, she sits up and looks at the man, who lazily rubs his eyes as he sits up too. *Sigh* ¡°Nevermind, it seems he¡¯s awake already¡± The young man, his face hidden by the dim light of the room and his hood gives a yawn before glancing to the man on her left. He is still lying on his back, covered in bandages, but his hands are slowly moving with accompanying cracking sounds. Turning quickly back to the other disciple she points confusedly at the injured one. ¡°Who is he?¡± Her voice is light and serene, with a tinge of poshness. ¡°New guy, don¡¯t mind him though, actually, don¡¯t look at him if you can ¡± The disciple looks serious about that and she shivers inconceivably. ¡°Ok? And who are you?¡± ¡°Oh, right. I¡¯m Moren. The guy snoring behind me is Jacob and he¡¯s been here a little bit longer than me. That guy, I don¡¯t know his name either, but that¡¯s because his jaw is broken.¡± He gives a small bow from his seated position. ¡°I¡¯m Yisra. A pleasure to meet my fellow disciples¡± She bows slightly, copying his manner. though she seems distracted by other thoughts when she says those words ¡°Just so you know, today is our rest day so we will spend most of today sleeping. We disciples need it so you may want to rest up too¡± With that, Moren lays back down and starts to breathe in a controlled manner. Yisra, feeling slightly downtrodden that the conversation only spanned to names, lies back down and carefully tries to find a comfortable spot on the bed. She hears Moren turn around and grins a little, because she knows at least she¡¯s not the only one with a bad bed. Little known to her, Moren turned round to try quieten the pounding of his heart from encountering such a beauty for the first time in his life. Unlike her, he was accustomed to the dim light of the room and could see her crystal blue eyes, along with thin pink lips and a small nose. Not to mention her long brown curls falling over some of her face. He suffered the relentless pounding for a few minutes, before he quietly got off the bed and started to leave the room. ¡°Where are you going?¡± Her serene voice reaches his ears. ¡°I¡¯m just going to talk a walk¡± ¡°Can I come with?¡± She cocks her head in question ¡°No, no, I¡¯m fine, I just want to walk by myself that¡¯s all¡± ¡°Oh, okay then¡± Moren leaves the room and immediately after Yisra hears a strange banging sound on the walls outside, as if someone was banging their head on the wall. Shrugging the strange sound off, she continued to try find a good place to sleep. Her struggle continues for another ten or so minutes, before she hears the bandaged man on her left get up and walk off the bed no longer with accompanying cracks Lying still on her back, she watches the man walk to the center of the room and slowly unbandage himself. She blushes slightly at the sight of nicely formed v-lines, as well as a growing four pack. His pecks aren¡¯t bad either, and his arms and legs hold some toned muscle. *CRACK* She was eying the decent body quite a bit and almost missed the reason behind the resounding crack. With a gasp, she covers her mouth and watches in horror as the man bites down on a rag before snapping his toes backwards. Doing the same for his other foot, Yisra cowers in her bed visibly shaken at what the man is doing. Her terror only increased, when the man sat down and began to wrap the toes and try to set them back in place. She had thought he was crazy to do such a thing, but to her; this man is insane. Watching the man slowly make his way up his legs, breaking them with audible cracks and then slowly re-setting them through splints and bandages, she feels quite light-headed from the view and soon falls unconscious through watching this horrifying scene. ¡­ A short while later, Moren re-enters the room clutching his head slightly in pain and almost trips onto the man with broken legs. *Sigh* ¡°Do you need me to carry you back to your bed?¡± Moren asks, not for the first time since last night. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. He is not a heavy sleeper and the sound of cracking woke him up multiple times in the night. He was scared at first but due to Helia¡¯s guidance to follow him for answers, his faith and curiousity soon won out over the terror of the man breaking himself. He had observed the man throughout the night, although not in the literal sense; as Moren could not handle more than the sounds. And because of that he learnt that although miniscule, there was a difference in the man¡¯s bone repair. The first time the man broke his own bones, Moren did faint but after experiencing it many times he was able to notice that the time it took to repair his bones lessened if only by a few seconds. He only noticed it last two times it happened though, as on some strange whim he decided to count the seconds it took for the man to regenerate after applying first aid. Moren waited for about a minute before he actually remembered that the man had begun breaking his own eardrums since this morning. *Sigh* Lifting the man up, Moren looks away from the man¡¯s eyeless gaze towards him. Letting out a thankful groan between his own gag, the man is placed back on his bed, and continues the breaking of himself. Moren watches the man break his jaw and begins counting as he goes to his bed and lies facing away. It may be the rest day, but he won¡¯t be getting any rest today. ¡­ ¡°Hey, fellow disciple buddy¡± the oddly gentle voice interrupted the silence after so very long ¡°It¡¯s Moren¡± Moren is quite surprised since it is the first time the man has spoken since he had come to this room. ¡°Right. Moren, could you help me out here?¡± ¡°What do you need help with?¡± His voice had a tinge of dread, since it is probably something horrifying. ¡°I need you to help break my spine¡± ¡­ .. . ¡°No thank you, don¡¯t involve me in any of that please¡± shaking slightly under his robe, he tries to forget the almost now white-noise sounds of cracking that he has had to endure for half this day. ¡°Please, I can¡¯t break it myself¡± his voice sounds almost pleading, but the context is very worrying for Moren. *Sigh* ¡°Ok, I¡¯ll do it for you if you promise me something¡± ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± ¡°I will be the only one you shall ask to do these kind of things, ok?¡± ¡°Sure, fine by me¡± ... .. . Moren looks at the ceiling, half confused as to why he said that. Although he doesn''t find the answer to that, he feels as though he''s being guided by something to follow this strange path he just put himself on. In truth, he is now curious about the man because when he was counting he noticed something quite peculiar. Something that makes Moren want to watch this man grow and learn off of him for a reason he does not fully understand himself. Getting out of bed, he makes his way over to the mans and almost jumps back in shock; the man has his eyes, can hear and his tongue has regrown too. The man rolls over to his front ¡°Ok, now grab my chest and legs, and keep pulling them towards eachother. Doing as the man asks, Moren slowly makes a U shape of the man and feels the pressure on his hands and also the release of it with a thunderous crack. Lying the man back down on his back, he sees the man spit out part of his pillow. ¡°Now can you break the other parts of my body please, since I can¡¯t¡± Moren is used to the sounds, not the sight. Though since he put himself in this situation, he knows this is only the beginning. *Sigh* Steadying his shaking hands, he begins with a finger. Grabbing the man¡¯s index finger sternly with one hand, he holds the wrist with the other. Pulling it backwards, it¡¯s slightly harder than Moren thought it would be. Taking a deep breath, he looks at the awkwardly bent finger and slowly gets used to the fact that it doesn¡¯t look as bad as he thought¡­just quite strange since it¡¯s unusual. ¡°You don¡¯t need to wait for the pain to dull down, because I have none thanks to my broken spine¡± *Shiver* Moren, trying best to ignore the man¡¯s crazy sounding words, continues breaking the bones of the man¡¯s body. After a good hour, Moren stands decently sweaty since he had to put in quite a lot of effort to break some of the bones. Decently horrified at the man, who looks like he¡¯s just lying down normally, but in reality has every bone except for his neck broken, Moren walks away and returns to his own bed. He realizes that he had already started counting since long ago. Shivering to that fact, he tries his best to sleep for the next twenty four minutes and thirteen seconds, when his final bone will be repaired. ¡­ Yisra, had finally woken up after what seemed like seconds of being unconscious. However, she wished that she had stayed unconscious. She had just witnessed Moren helping the strange man break himself. Luckily the view was blocked by Moren, but she could still hear the abnormally normal toned conversation between the two as well as the cracking sounds. Not the faintest of heart, she still felt quite lightheaded throughout the ordeal. But as a priestess in the making she steeled her heart to remain conscious throughout as this will be things she will have to encounter. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to her, the cracking noises stopped and Moren returned to his bed leaving the man lying on his back looking no different than before. Although this time he was not bandaged. She may be quite terrified of the man but she is still decently amazed that he looks little different with all his bones broken which is a disturbing fact to her as well. ¡°Hey Moren¡± ¡°Yes?¡± She can hear the slight twinge of terror in his voice, but she doesn¡¯t know exactly why. Moren however, knows exactly why. ¡°You missed a couple of places¡± *Gulp* Yisra heard the audible gulp come from Moren. What places? She hears and then sees Moren walk back to the man. *Squelch* Unbeknownst to her, Moren drops the eye onto the bed. ¡°Now the other one¡± Moren has just two questions; How does he live through this and why? These are the two questions that are driving him even though the path is horrifying and disgusting to the point of feeling vomit rise up his throat. Though he deson¡¯t feel all that horrified or disgusted if truth be told. Those questions, although seemingly insignificant even to him, still hold an unconscious meaning that he doesn¡¯t quite understand. All he knows is that he needs to know, no matter what. He continues on the rest of the bits that need to be broken and removed. Yisra, wondering what Moren is doing, quickly regrets it as he leaves the man in plain sight of her. *BLaaargh* Smelling the slightly sour smell of her own vomit, she falls back into blackness, just like the sockets where his eyes used to be. Moren notices the situation and shakes his head as he helps clean up Yisra as modestly as he can. ¡°I told her to not look at him directly¡± *Sigh* Finishing cleaning, he places her gently on her bed before lying down on his own. Moments later, he feels that he just snapped out of a daze of some sort and fully realizes what he¡¯s been doing. *Blaaargh* A thought suddenly sprung into his mind; how was he not affected till this moment? His question is only answered by darkness as he falls unconscious in his own vomit. ¡­ Seven disciples are standing in the breakfast hall with Brother Danfey. One looks physically exhausted, another shakes visibly in her recently cleaned robes and stays far away from the first. A third sighs in his still damp robes and the rest just look strangely at the three who stand out somewhat. *Clap* *Clap* ¡°Now, lets us begin with our morning duties shall we, disciples? But before we do that...Would anyone mind telling me where the eighth is?¡± Chapter 4-One Month Later Upon entering the lecture hall, the students momentarily quieten upon seeing Yulia¡¯s botched face. Her lipstick makeup was lazily done leaving edges on either side and her concealer was overdone giving her a slightly orange tinge to her skin. Though, this did not hide the black skin from underneath her eyes; the tiredness of one who has had little to no sleep for a while now. The chatter soon resumes after her entrance, as in University, to look like such is not uncommon. Spotting a familiar figure waving to her, she starts walking the opposite direction. She quickly finds a seat next to an acquaintance and exhaustedly melds into her chair. Ramira, the girl next to her, pays her little attention before she pushes up her square glasses and resumes writing notes. Yulia¡¯s eyes only barely close when a loud swishing noise of cloth on wood races towards her. Groaning slightly, she opens her eyes to see Marcus, with his spiky brown hair, wiggle his eyebrows in excitement ¡°Soo-¡± ¡°Go away¡± She replies instantly, cutting off all means of conversation between the two Marcus stands up, walks out of the row and then walks back in, sitting down in the same seat ¡°Now tell m-¡± ¡°I said go away¡± She once again cuts him off angrily ¡°I have, and I came back again¡± His voice is cheeky, the voice of a prankster one could say. ¡°Go away to the ends of the earth and never come back¡± Satisfied with her details, she closes her eyes. *Scribble* Curious, she opens her eyes and sees that Marcus had written something on a piece of paper, placed it on the wood table, that stretches along the whole row, and inched towards it ¡°It¡¯s the end of the earth¡± He gives her a cheeky grin Marcus is one of those beings that eventually get what they want through wearing out whoever opposes them. ¡°Ugh fine, ONE question¡± Finally giving in because she is too tired to play word games with him. He muses for a few seconds before he gives his iconic cheeky grin ¡°What exactly did you do this week in LEO?¡± Groaning, she regrets giving him the chance of one question, because only he could ask such a vague yet annoyingly precise question. Thinking about it for a minute or so, she thinks on how to get back at him. Grinning, she finds her answer ¡°I puked, I worked. I puked, I worked. I puked, I worked. I puked, I worked. I puked, I worked. I puked, I worked. I puked, I puked. All of this repeated four times¡± ¡°The hell have you been doing?¡± He exclaims worriedly ¡°You already had your question. So. Go. Away¡± ¡°Tch, well damn you got me¡± The lecturer enters the hall ¡°I¡¯ll have to ask you another time then Daaarling¡± He gives a last cheeky grin before disappearing off to his own seat The class quiets down and the lecturer begins his lecture. Yulia however, doesn¡¯t bother listening to him and slowly drifts off into slumber. *Crack* Snapping her eyes open she jumps out of her seat to the merriment of others. Breathing raggedly, she grips onto the table with her sweaty palms and she clenches her stomach and throat in effort to keep the rising vomit down. The lecturer, noticing Yulia¡¯s behaviour briefly, continues with his lecture. After a minute or so, she calms down enough to sit back down on her seat and gulps down whatever acidic substance that got into her mouth before closing her eyes in an effort to sleep once more. ¡°Hey Yulia, you alright?¡± Ramira¡¯s soft voice penetrates the darkness that was about to overwhelm her. Opening one eye, she looks at Ramira, who is looking concernedly at her. ¡°I am¡­alright. Just a bad week¡± ¡°Ok, would you like a grape to make it better?¡± Ramira opens a small box, which is filled with grapes, and moves it towards her ¡°N-¡± *Grumble* Her stomach grumbles and with that, she can¡¯t really deny food. Grabbing a grape she pops it in her mouth and bites into it creating a small squishing sound ¡°BLaaaaaaargh!¡± ¡°WOAH¡± The whole lecture hall erupts into a frenzy of activity as Ramira bursts out of her chair, protecting her laptop from the vomit with her own petite body, while everyone else jumps up and look surprised at what is happening. ¡°Somebody take her to the nurse. NOW¡± The lecturer shouts after quickly recovering. The shout brought people out of their daze and some boys near Yulia grabbed onto her and helped her out of the room. Some girls helped Ramira, who is drenched, go to the bathroom to clean up. Once she was out, the lecturer cancelled the rest of the lecture and let everyone escape the pungent smelling room. Soon the class dispersed and the room was empty. ¡­ *Clack* Locking her door, Yulia stumbled to her bed and collapsed, shivering but not from the cold. She had just been to the nurse, which just told her to eat more since her body had a reaction to eating food after not doing so for long. The nurse didn¡¯t even ask her about the circumstances behind it. This is a shame in the case of Yulia since she has been traumatized to the point of eliciting a vomital response. However this was also because Yulia didn¡¯t want to talk about her trauma, she didn¡¯t want to think about it at all. To her, it was a daily horror; waking up to see it over and over again. Nothing she could do to stop it, nothing at all. Even closing her eyes would only cause a vivid image of it if she heard the noise. But the worst part was; she was getting use to it. She was expecting the daily cracks and the horrifying squishes and however horrifying they were, they only elicited physical responses. She was feeling less horrified of it now; only a feeling of disgust remained in the most part. Trying to distract herself, she turns on the television which she thankfully brought up from home [And now ladies and gentlemen, we have our famous duo; Larry and Barry talking all about Legenda Eternium Online, or better known to you game lovers out there; LEO. Heeeey there folks, Larry ready for action! And Barry¡¯s ready to co-cast Well well well, Barry, you really didn¡¯t sound very enthusiastic there Good you picked up on that Larry, because I¡¯m not Care to tell our lovely viewers out there why? Well, Aa you¡¯d suspect, I¡¯ve been playing LEO since it first came out; last week. Ooh, so do we get an insider on how things are going? Well of course. The game is fantastically real in so many ways and that is also the slight pain. A pain in it being real Barry? You mean physical pain? No no no. there is some of that but it is quite miniscule, thankfully. The pain I¡¯m talking about is the fact that you have to work for your class. Oh! That sounds quite interesting indeed as if I recall correctly, in MMO¡¯s one would get their basic class quite easily no? Please do go on Barry. You are correct Larry. However in LEO, to get a basic class you need to complete a specific route. A good example of this would be my Warrior class. Oho, going for a musclehead are you Barry? Larry, please don¡¯t get on the wrong side of us lovely meatshields, or you won¡¯t have any. Haha, duly noted. Anyways, each class path has three stages; the first being the trainee stage; where you¡¯re taught basic skills and live the life of your class which incorporates you into your class¡¯ society. As a warrior, you become a rookie who trains in the training hall all day. Not the most exciting of lives I must say Larry. Well, that is unlike you Barry; you do get excited over everything. Now what aare you saying Larry, I didn¡¯t get excited that time a bus ran over my foot You¡¯re telling me you didn¡¯t look at me and yell ¡®HEY LARRY LOOOK!! LOOOK!¡¯ Ok ok¡­I confess it was a ¡®oh my god this happened!¡¯ moment. Aaanyways. After passing the first level through dedication you go onto the apprentice level. This is the stage where you will focus on training rather than incorporating yourself into the class¡¯ society and will be given class specific quests. For us Warriors it was basic subjugation quests. Ooh, so what stage are you at? I am still going through the first stage, since it takes a lot of time to make those mean trainers of ours happy. For all you warriors out there, I feel for you brothers and sisters of mine. Ok, enough with the sentimentality. Tell us more about this second and third stage. Well, at the end of the second stage, you will be given the option to choose the warrior class, however if you deny it, you can work to the third stage. Oh, don¡¯t leave us on a cliffhanger here Barry. The third stage is when you do different quests to get a more specific, or rare class. Only one man has gotten through to the third level as of yet and it is the perfectly named Spartacus. Perfectly named you say? Spartacus was able to get to the third stage within 3 in game weeks, which as a remind to you folks is a bit over five real life days since the time ratio is 4:1. Also, just yesterday in fact was he able to become the Gladiator Class. Gladiator? Wow, I do see the perfect naming of the avatar there Barry. Yes, after reaching the third stage, he went to the coliseum to fight and after multiple victories became a gladiator. Well if all he did was go to the coliseum, couldn¡¯t anyone just go there and do it? A good point Larry, yes they can. However I¡¯m actually learning how to swing a sword going the normal path so skipping the first two stages is actually a bad idea for most. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.I see, so it¡¯s possible but the first and second stages are training to allow people to gain necessary skills and knowledge to be able to use their class efficiently. Precisely. This is also one of the reasons why the new player restriction doesn¡¯t end till level fifteen. Yes I was quite estranged by that Barry. You see Larry, I am still level ten and for the people I know who are coming close to finishing the second stage are barely level thirteen. So the new player restriction allows us to learn without too much worry about the consequences of failing through trial. I see. So Barry, let us move on to Crafting. Ah Crafting. I pers-] Turning the TV off, Yulia finally feels a lot less shaky, albeit quite hungry. Making a quick sandwich for herself, she has a little think about her current path. She is only at the first stage of her path but the way it is going, she is not sure when it will end for her. Sighing slightly, she finishes her sandwich and looks towards the large chrome capsule that resides in the center of her room. Time to log back in. ¡­ Her eyes opening to the dim light of the room, Yisra immediately sees Moren and that man doing something in the middle of the room. Before she has time to react and move away, she sees the glint of a butcher¡¯s knife as it slices down through an outstretched finger. *Bang* Banging his fist on the floor while only a small amount of noise comes from his gagged mouth, the man isolates another of his fingers. ¡°BLaaaargh¡± Moren stops the knife and looks up to see Yisra bent double retching out her insides once again. ¡°Oh Yisra, you were gone all day. We were starting to think you ran away¡± Moren talks lightheartedly even though he¡¯s holding a bloodied knife. She retches a few more times before no more comes out. ¡°What¡­what are you doing?¡± She weakly gasps out ¡°Well, since we can¡¯t crack his bones any longer, not even with the two of us, he decided to move onto regeneration¡± Moren states ¡®matter of factly¡¯. Yisra, stumbles across the room and to the door ¡°At least find another room to do it in please¡± She says weakly before she disappears out the room¡± Moren feels more than a twinge of pity for her, since he knows that she can¡¯t handle the sight well. Evidence of that is the now permanent slightly acidic smell that encompasses the room from daily vomiting of Yisra, and sometimes Moren. Moren is a bit more used to it since he has been the helper for the month. To him, this month has been a strange yet oddly fulfilling one. Every morning, he would break every bone in the man¡¯s body. Then every twenty minutes he would come back to the room and break the man¡¯s bones once again. However there was once a day where he would go with the man to pray to their respective goddesses. Because of this, Moren got quite used to the sound and feeling of breaking bones, and he also noticed that he felt quite a bit stronger than before. However about a week ago, he was not able to break the bones alone anymore and the man had to help break himself. Hearing the man¡¯s muffled screams as well as constant tears down his eyes, Moren had questioned the man¡¯s sanity. But his him for going through with the constant pain made Moren continue helping. Then, this morning, both were unable to break any of the man¡¯s bones. So the man decided to move onto regeneration of limbs. This is why Moren had a bucket next to him; he had filled it a couple of times with his vomit at the sight of blood and a partially limbless man. He is still getting use to it, however for some reason he feels oddly calm when doing this. It is only after he is finished that his body fully realizes and reacts. Slicing off a few more fingers the man¡¯s beating of his fists on the floor causes the finger bones to crack. Moren has a deep respect for this man who is willing to suffer this much pain for his own ambitions. *Knock Knock* ¡°Come in¡± Bishop Yan walks in and upon seeing the duo doing the usual, although altered in a gruesome way, shakes his head at the two. The two stop what they¡¯re doing and kneel down in the growing pool of blood ¡°You two are terrors to the whole Cathedral. However, I come here on a slightly different note¡± ¡°What is it brother Yan?¡± Moren asks confused as to why they are being talked to ¡°You both have been skipping duties and in your case¡± He looks at the man ¡°You have not ever shown up¡± ¡°We are truly sorry about that Brother Yan¡± ¡°Yes, I know, however you have no need to be sorry. In fact, you have made some strange progress which I do not disagree is worth the time¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± Moren looks confusedly at Yan ¡°It is difficult to break his bones now is it not? Well that alone shows the fruit of your labour¡± ¡°Thank you Brother Yan, but may I ask why this has to do with you coming here? Are you here to berate us or to congratulate us?¡± ¡°In a way both. Firstly I am here to berate you for skipping on your duties and I am here to tell you that you will not need to do them anymore¡± ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Both look incredulously at Yan ¡°Simple, I have told Danfey and Chad that you are both to be exempt from normal duties and are allowed free reign as disciples¡± Moren¡¯s face lights up in glee since he knows that this means his boring duties are gone. Though he stops himself with jumping from joy at the odd reward ¡°However you are given the task of helping him as much as you are able to do. Also do not forget the ceremony in three months time. Even as the Bishop of this place, I cannot permanently keep you as special disciples so you must pass the ceremony and become brothers or be excommunicated from the cathedral¡± With that, Bishop Yan left the room, wrinkling his nose slightly as he exits. Moren and the man are both on the spot looking wide-eyed to the ceiling, both for slightly different reasons. Ungagging himself the man looks at Moren ¡°What do we have to do for the ceremony?¡± ¡°In the ceremony, we disciples are put to court with all the brothers of the Cathedral present. Then they will personally judge whether we are able to become fellow brothers or whether we are to be excommunicated¡± ¡°But that¡¯s basically a popularity contest¡± The man¡¯s eyes widen further as he realizes the significance of his words ¡°Yes, hence why we will be excommunicated in three months time¡± Moren let the words hang in the air, looming over both like an executioners axe. ¡°B-but there must be another way to be accepted¡± ¡°None that I know¡± Both look to the blood covered floor. ¡°Then we will find a way¡± The man looks determinedly at Moren ¡°For I¡¯m sure there are brothers who others did not like throughout history, so they must have found a way, a loophole¡± ¡°But that is them and we are in a different age¡± ¡°We are yes, but I believe we still have a chance¡± ¡°What makes you believe that?¡± ¡°Why did he tell us that we must pass the ceremony before being excommunicated?¡± ¡°Because it is tradition¡± ¡°That is true, but tells us who passes and who does not?¡± ¡°The brothers¡± ¡°No¡­it is the gods and goddesses who determine our worthiness in being in this church¡± A deeper voice comes through the opening door, revealing it to come from Jacob, the other disciple who lives in this room. Both the man and Moren look in shock at Jacob at what he is saying. "How do you know that Jacob?" Moren asks curiously "Well if you ever went to a talk by Brother Paul you would''ve heard him say it" Both quickly accept that as truth and gain a new light of hope in their eyes. ¡°I was going to say we have the bishop on our side already, but that too I suppose¡± The man scratches the back of his head as he chuckles. ¡°So, we are supposed to hope our goddesses send a divine signal in our ceremony?¡± Moren asks Jacob with a raised eyebrow ¡°Well, Aegi certainly cannot be displeased with him¡± He points at the man ¡°Because, I¡¯ve witnessed him praying daily. Well praying is a light word for what you do¡± All three of them nod at that. One of the reasons why the brothers don¡¯t really like them is because when they go pray, the man shows his progress to Aegi, with Moren¡¯s help of course. A traumatizing experience to present brothers¡¯ faith and stomachs. ¡°So all we need to do is continue as we are?¡± Both ask Jacob simultaneously ¡°Well that seems like the case, nothing more you two can do to catch your goddesses¡¯ eyes¡± With that, Jacob goes to his bed and lies down to sleep ¡°Though, could you please keep the noise to a minimum while I¡¯m trying to get to sleep? A couple of minutes after and you can go back to whatever you¡¯re doing¡± Both of them consent to that, and quickly bandage the man¡¯s cut fingers, which both forgot to do and thus caused quite a blood loss in the man. Looking quite pale, the man takes a quick nap on his bed while Moren makes his way to the exit of the Cathedral. Kneeling on the forty second step towards the dying sun, he gives a quick prayer before heading back inside. Going to the washroom, he picks up a filled bucket of water and a mop. Returning to the room, the floor in the middle of the room is cleaned up within a short period of time. Checking that Jacob is asleep, Moren wakes the man up, prepares bandages on the side and makes sure he has his vomit bucket closeby. Grabbing the butcher¡¯s knife, he aims towards the isolated index finger. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Quick update today :D I guess i had the brains to do it today yaaay Also, ot all you lovely people who comment (even if it is like thanks for chap) :* :* :* Kisses to alllllll of you :D Chapter 5-A Warriors Days ¡°LISTEN UP YOU MAGGOTS. TODAY IS THE DAY YOU RISE FROM THE LITTLE SHITS YOU ARE AND BECOME WARRIORS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?¡± Sergeant Grills bellowed to the mass of recruits in the training hall. ¡°SIR YES SIR¡± They all shout in unison ¡°GOOD. YOU PISS POOR EXCUSES FOR WARRIORS WILL BE THROWN INTO THE DEEP FOREST FOR SIXTEEN DAYS, DO YOU HEAR ME, SIXTEEN.¡± Everyone gulps at the Sergeant¡¯s plan, but no one questions why it is sixteen days. ¡°YOU SHALL LIVE ON WHAT YOU CAN CATCH, WHETHER IT BE MEAT OR BARK FROM THE TREES. I DO NOT CARE! ALL YOU MUST DO IS SURVIVE ALL SIXTEEN DAYS AND THEN COME BACK WITH A TROPHY DEEMING YOU WORTHY OF BEING A WARRIOR. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?¡± ¡°SIR YES SIR¡± Slight trickles of sweat run down many of their nervous faces. All glance around at their fellows, seeing that they too look and feel nervous at the final trial that is the test of the second stage. They all know that if they fail this, they must go through the first stage again, wasting precious time. Ankorr looked down at his battered hide shield and used wooden sword. He felt that he was in deep trouble, for he did not have enough money to buy better weapons than the free ones they give for training. If only he hadn¡¯t lost his weapons in the last raid they were sent off to. Unlike everyone present, he is the only one who has wooden weapons. This is due to his weapons breaking in a raid on a goblin cave that him and other warriors in training were sent off to. Thus he feels the despair of his situation; surviving sixteen days in a dangerous forest with only wooden weapons. With a clap from the Sergeant, the group starts moving out of the training hall and towards the deep forest. ¡­ Day three, he has found something of interest. Breathing as silently as he can, Ankorr observed the large black beast roam around in a wide circle, scratching at trees in apparent boredom and, when spotting something in the close distance, races after it before coming back into view with its prey a few minutes later. Hiding in the copse of the tree, he watches the random movements of the beast slowly form a pattern in his mind. He watched and waited with bated breath as it stomps around a small circle of trees, watching, waiting for prey. Ankorr takes his time and watches with patience, for he knows that he won¡¯t be able to win by normal methods. Not with the blunt wooden sword that he wields. The hours tick by and Ankorr ignores the thirst in his parched gullet and the grumbles of a hungry stomach. All he focuses on is this beast. It had spotted a feral elk earlier and had dragged it back, dead, to feast on it . He watches as the beast dug into the dead elk¡¯s belly and rips out its steaming entrails. Rolling in bloody innards, it seems to be enjoying itself, much to Ankorr¡¯s disgust. Though, he knows he is going to be having the same experience, he both hopes and dreads. Soon his watch ends as the morning light begun to peek through the dense copse and the beast circled round a small area for a few minutes before laying down to sleep. Grinning, Ankorr looks straight down; seeing it dozing off right underneath him. Taking a calming breath, he let his body slip around the branch and drop like a bullet towards the beast, sword pointed down. It never woke again as a long piece of wood that one may call a sword, rammed into its skull and through its brain due to gravity and Ankorr¡¯s weight. Rubbing the top of his head, he feels a slight bruise growing. Waving away all the pop-up windows, he stands back up. After recovering from the fall damage, rolled off the beast and finally got a better look at what it was. Although he had been observing it for the better part of a day, he was unable to fully see what exactly it was due to the dark. He would call it a wolf; however its jaw is wide, pan-like. Also its fur is abnormally bristly, like a hard brush. A last thing he notices is the tail is stubby. However even though the beast is dead, he still notes it''s blood red eyes still shine menacingly with the morning light. After walking round the body a few times, he decides it¡¯s more like a dog than a wolf, a mixture of species possibly. Though, that is of little concern to him. All he cares about is whether it is edible. Grimacing, he rips out one of the beast¡¯s claws and makes his way to its underbelly. ¡­ Day six, Ankorr feels like he can barely stand. He lies on a thick branch, huddling in his thin blankets to keep as warm as he can. The slight rancid smell of old vomit wafts in his small bubble that he hides in. However he does not gag much at the smell that has been clinging to him for the past few days. Ever since that beast, any food he eats tastes spoiled and his body forces it back out, no matter how much he needs the sustenance. Six days, but not a single meal that has been able to keep down, apart from the strange dog-like beast. He is thankful and sorrowful that this game is highly realistic. For even though he has not eaten for six days, he is still alive: his satiety drop had decreased as it went below twenty five percent, to the point where it barely moved. Although he has not eaten for six days, he does not feel hungry. Rather he feels empty, due to regurgitating all that was inside him. With this feeling of emptiness however, comes a lack of strength through a lack of energy. Thus he has been able to do little but sit on the branch and slowly drink his quickly diminishing canteen. He drips a few droplets into his mouth, for he knows he must conserve his water; the only thing that his body does not reject. Clenching though a wave of hunger, he punches his stomach¡¯s growling into submission once more. ¡­ Day eight, hunger gnaws at his insides, only temporarily quenched by the water he drinks. However he feels as though something else gnaws, expands and fills him with a dark feeling. Although it too, is repressed by the drinking of water. Pouring the last droplets of water into his parched mouth, he sighs and grimaces with his cracked and bleeding lips. With effort, he hangs the now empty canteen on his belt and then continues to sit on the branch, back against the trunk. It is once again night, but he does not cover up like the previous nights as the cool winds caress his face and cools the numbing heat that pulses and distorts his vision. The fever had come yesterday. However he is still fully conscious and fully aware of the numbing heat that pounded in his head and pulsated down his throat. Alone in this forest, a small thought of death lingers in the recess of his mind. However he wants to become a warrior, not be forced back to the beginning because of one small mistake, so that thought remains lingering in the background. Gritting his teeth, he tries to focus on the cooling winds rather than the numbing heats and starts to move for the first time in many days. Vomiting blood down the side of his caked gear, he successfully moves to his side and gets both hands onto the branch. Sliding off, he feels his arms contract to suspend him, but strength leaves his unfed body and he crashes down onto the forest floor. With a groan, he rolls in a pool of blood and upon failing to stand up, decides to slowly crawl along the ground. Dragging himself across the grassy floor, his arm strength falters and he ends up using his chin and stomach to pull himself and almost comically wiggle his way, inches at a time across the ground. His first priority; Water. ¡­ Day nine, he died. It was not the hunger, nor the thirst. His end came from the single swipe of a large black bear. With tears of regret and joy, he respawns in the training hall. Drillmaster Tong glances his way and shakes his head solemnly. ¡°So you are not worthy to becoming a warrior yet¡± He says with a solemn face Ankorr responds in silence, only lowering his head in shame ¡°But do not fret; this time around I shall train you properly!¡± Tong declares to the downtrodden Ankorr. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Tong takes him to the weapon rack and has him grab his weapons of choice. Taking his trusted sword and shield, he moves to the training dummy and begins training once more. However, he does not feel as strong as before, nor as quick. Checking his stats, he sees that he has lost one of everything and his level had dropped by one as well, placing him at level sixteen. Level sixteen? To him this was a surprise, since that meant the beast he had killed had given him a whole two levels. It also meant that he had lost new player protection, so that explains to him why he lost stats and a level when he died. Also, the last vestiges of money he had, disappeared with his death too. Cursing his bad luck, he attacks the dummy with a vengeance. The dummy¡¯s beat-down only lasts for a few hours as Ankorr soon feels the effect of hunger. Taking a break, he sits down, still fuming slightly from his losses and tears a chunk from a free piece of bread trainees are given. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°BLaaaaaaarggh¡± The sounds of wood on wood stop as everyone looks towards Ankorr, who is retching violently. To onlookers, it seemed as though he had just retched from eating a perfectly fine piece of bread. They did not know how it tasted. To Ankorr, it felt like he had put a soggy piece of mold that was pungent with rot. The smell alone was enough to make him gag. Drillmaster Tong quickly made his way over and helped Ankorr to his feet. Shuddering slightly as he swore that Ankorr¡¯s eyes were red. However when Tong looked properly, the boy had his usual blue eyes. ¡°What is wrong trainee?¡± His voice is not full of worry, but it is not without worry either ¡°The bread, it is fouled¡± Raising an eyebrow, Tong takes a bite out of the tasteless bread and this further raises his curiosity ¡°I recommend you go to the Cathedral and seek help, for I am no physician¡± Nodding slightly, Ankorr begins to make his way out of the training hall. Tong, watchign him go, stealthily leaves through a back door. ¡­ ¡°Good morning Moren¡± ¡°Good morning to you too¡± Quickly gagging himself, the man looks expectantly at Moren *Whoosh* *Rip* ¡°Blaaaargh¡± Three eyes turn towards Yisra, who is heaving her insides to the floor. She had logged on at an unsightly moment and even though this has been going on for the past month, she could not handle the more gruesome sights. ¡°Whoops, sorry Yisra¡± ¡°Mghrmmmrggh¡± ¡°What¡­Did I¡­tell you¡± She gasps as she recovers her breath ¡°Not between eight and nine in the morning on Tuesdays. Yeah we know¡± Moren replies knowledgeably. ¡°Then why¡­are you doing this?¡± She says sounding a bit more like she has gotten over the wave of sick Both Moren and the man scratch their heads with an awkward chuckle ¡°We kind of lost track of time¡± *Sigh* She sighs and, after cleaning the vomit from her robe as best as she can, exits the room, leaving the two weirdoes to their own thing. Turning back to each-other, the man nods and Moren grabs onto his remaining eye. ... .. . After many grisly sounds, blood, muffled cries of pain and much banging on the floor, the man lay on the floor completed. Moren takes a quick swig of water and watches the man lying still, because of his broken spine, feeling oddly calm. To him, even though he has been doing this for two months now he really doesn¡¯t feel like he should be so comfortable to seeing what most would describe as a most gruesome sight: The man had no eyes, broken eardrums and chopped off ears. His nose was broken this time and his tongue was ripped out, as well as his teeth all removed. His jaw was ripped off, so only the upper jaw remained on the man, but the neck was left alone. His hands were cut off at the wrist and his arms were broken in multiple places. Though the broken places are mostly random due to them being done by a sledgehammer. Feet and legs went through the same process too. Shoulders are destroyed and ribs are all cracked, along with the sternum. Spine was snapped in every section and pelvis was cracked in two. In short, the only place in the body that isn¡¯t broken is the neck While Moren gazed impassively at the man making slight whimpering noises through the somehow still working gag, he notices an eye re-grow and a tooth on the upper jaw too. Sighing, Moren begins his work once more. ¡­ The wooden door to the laundry room opens and Moren and the man walk out looking abnormally normal. Both walk nonchalantly in slightly damp robes that no longer distinctly smell of blood and urine in the man¡¯s case. Making their way to the praying room, they find their respective statues and begin with a silent prayer. All the priests in the room notice the two praying and immediately start hastily guiding locals and themselves out the door. However many do not make it out. ¡°OH AEGI, THE ONE WHO DOES NOT DIE, TODAY AS OF ALL DAYS, I OFFER YOU MYSELF, IN FULL¡± Fervently, the priests guide the locals out, though many are unsuccessful at first, due to the more na?ve locals being curious. Their curiosity is soon replaced with horror as Moren goes behind the man and removes the man¡¯s ears, dropping them in the offering bowl, thus marking the beginning. A river of vomit ensues and all but three flee to a less pungent place. ¡­ Ankorr had gone to the cathedral to ask why food tasted horrible to him. The priests there said that it is possible he was cursed and that to be freed, he would need to pay five gold to be cured. Gagging at the exorbitant price, he walks away from the priests as quickly as he possibly can and goes to the prayer room. He cannot pay for a cure, the least he can do is pray that this strange curse he obtained from eating that strange beast is dispelled. To him there are no doubts that he is cursed somewhat. Walking around the prayer room, he spots a statue of a faceless woman wearing priestess¡¯s robes. She seems impassive in her standing, but her hands are hidden inside the folds of her robe which Ankorr oddly notes for no particular reason but some strange hint of curiosity. Kneeling down by the statue, he begins praying, however he does not get far. ¡°OH AEGI, THE ONE WHO DOES NOT DIE, TODAY AS OF ALL DAYS, I OFFER YOU MYSELF, IN FULL¡± Opening his eyes, he looks to his left to see a man in straw-colored robes having his ears removed by a similarly dressed man. The ears drop into the offering bowl a few inches away from him. Sounds of vomit and shrieks of horror assail his ears. However from his mouth comes something different: drool. The ears look¡­tasty too him, as if they were small morsels for him to snack on. And the blood, the blood smelled sweet, almost sugary and very intoxicating. Lightly drooling at first, it gets heavier along with his breath as eyes pop into the bowl, along with fingers, toes and tongue, each eliciting a happy growl from his stomach. Looking down at himself, he notices his white shirt is covered in drool and in horror he jumps up, tripping and tumbling past the bowl. Racing to the door in ragged breathes, a clammy grey hand with sharp claws opens the doors for him and he bursts through into an empty corridor, the strange hand still in front of him. Raising his right hand, he notices it¡¯s the same and it is holding a bowl full of food. Gagging at the intoxicatingly nice smell, he throws the bowl away in horror and sprints through the corridor screaming at his own hands and actions. He sprints past a crowd of worse for wear people and out of the cathedral as fast as he can. ¡°WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON???¡± Screaming to the sun, Ankorr runs as fast as he can away from the cathedral to no particular location. Those who saw him, shook their heads in pity at the young man who saw the ¡®offering¡¯. All they saw was a normal young human man running away. ¡­ Back in the prayer room, Moren had stopped the ¡®offering¡¯ for a moment when he watched a young man with messy black hair and blue eyes¡­''turn'' as Moren would put it. The young man¡¯s hands had gone clammy and grey as well as the nails had grown into claws. He had also started drooling heavily and his eyes, they had turned red like the color of blood. Though Moren had been surprised, he was more surprised when the thing stopped drooling and ran out as fast as he could, as if terrified. Stealing the offering in the process however. Also, he could hear the screams of the man as he ran down the corridor and out of sight, after flinging the bowl away for some reason that confused Moren when he tried to think of one. Moren had a feeling he had witnessed something very unique and strange, however he put it out of his mind for now as he already has something unique and strange to contend with. After gathering all the scattered offerings, he returns inside to finish the job. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Thanks for reading :D Sorry about it taking a while, but you know how Christmas is with, food, family, food, shopping and more food. Anyways, Please review and gives some random comments/things wrong/doubts of reality/stuff in general you want to say -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 6-A first stage Magicians Life Fadrim walked along the silent bookshelves carrying two heavy tomes. His sharp green eyes flitter up and down the tiers of bookshelves quickly reading the books and making split second decisions on whether they will be useful reads. Ten hours pass and he¡¯s found eighty six books within the second floor of the library. Slowly transferring the books to his personal table, in the twenty second alcove on the second floor, he finally sits down in the cushioned chair within. Flicking through the first few pages of each book, he quickly lowers the number of useful books to a mere sixteen. Analyzing the remaining sixteen for a few hours, sorts them into either historical, theoretical or mythological books. Placing the mythological and historical books to one side, he begins to read through the theoretical books. ¡­ .. . He lets out a sad sigh after a few days since only one of the six theoretical books have information that he has not already discovered, albeit it does not pertain much information. For over three days of reading he has only been rewarded with the further iteration of effects and reasons of using chants for spells. He does not feel it is much of a time waster; however after seeing the negatives far outweigh the positives for him he will not be using it personally. Though to him, all forms of information are useful. Rubbing his sore eyes, he begins the long process of placing the books back where he found them. Like all users of the library he is responsible for the books he reads and like all users, he fears the consequences with vivid dread. ¡°GET OUT¡± The shrill voice of Head Librarian penetrates through the silent air and Fadrim shivers with a nervous sweat running down his face. The seventh time in three months. It is only the seventh time he has heard that loud, seemingly magically amplified yet not voice that says but two simple words. But if those words were to be uttered to him, his life as he knows it would be over. His dreams to wield magic would be naught. So he dreads the voice with a passion as fervent as the other one hundred and eighty two residents of the one hundred and eighty eight alcoves on the second floor. Though the voice seems to be coming from downstairs, so Fadrim¡¯s fear abates somewhat. However he is still a bit shaken by the sudden voice as always, so he decides to take a momentary break. Spending a quick four hours to return all the books to the relevant place, he then walks down the stairs, scanning his silver card along the way to the first floor. Luckily, it is night so his eyes, so used to seeing the words on a page in a well lit alcove, don¡¯t get attacked by the light of the sun. The night is cool, and it wakes him up somewhat. He stands by the steps of the library looking down at the city, which is still quite lively even though the moon is high in the sky. Thanks to the players, the town seems to be active almost all twenty four hours of the day, though he does not care much about that since he hasn¡¯t been outside the library much. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, the first one in two months, he starts to walk towards the small fountain which is between the library and Mage¡¯s Spire. Licking his lips, he sits down by the fountain-side and fills his canteen with some fresh fountain water. Taking some light gulps, he lets the cool water flow down his parched throat. While he is sitting down on the cold stone side taking sips of water, he takes out a small vellum of paper covered in neat scribbles. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Types of elements: ¡¤ Fire ¡¤ Water ¡¤ Air ¡¤ Earth ¡¤ Light ¡¤ Dark ¡¤ Force- intangible substance ¡¤ Blood-tangible substance ¡¤ Life ¡¤ Death ¡¤ Nature ¡¤ Metals ¡¤ Divine ¡¤ Chaos Level 15: first element Level 100: second element Level 200: third element When get second element they become one of three types: ¡¤ Bound mage ¡¤ Destructive mage ¡¤ Unbound mage Bound mages: second element that can be used in combination with the first (i.e. Fire & Earth) -> allows certain spells when used in combination. Unbound mages: second element does not work well with first (i.e. Fire & Nature) -> allows unconventional spells when used in combination, however spells are mostly trial and error and situational Destructive mages: second element is direct opposite of first, however both elements have to be non-primal (i.e. Chaos & Divine) -> when used in combination causes void magic which is a pure destructive force. Primal elements: Fire, Earth, Air, Water Non-primal elements are all others. Mages are named after the elements they use. So a fire mage uses fire, whereas a nature and life using mage are called druids. Mana is the lifeblood of mages and comes from the mana fountain or the ¡®soul¡¯ of a living being. It will naturally regenerate, however may do so slower in some and faster in others. If someone runs out of mana due to using it then they will feel exhausted until a tenth of their mana has been restored. All living beings use their mana fountain in one way or another. However mana comes in slightly changed forms: Some call it rage, others energy and some even call it Chi. They are not as pure as mana however and thus are not as powerful in terms of pure power. Also, there are being that do not possess mana, however there is no mention what are such beings. All beings have mana pores throughout their body and are in similar positions to where nerves are. Casting a spell comes in three stages: 1. Moving your mana to outside your body through the mana pores 2. Shaping your mana and maintaining it outside using the bubble analogy 3. Releasing the spell in a controlled fashion, or it will release as its pure element. --- The bubble analogy: Imagine a spell as a bubble blower, mana as the bubble and element as the breath. One creates a bubble and blows air into it slowly to increase its size. If one blows too fast it will pop. Breath may be of varying temperatures, depending on how one shapes their mouth. How one shapes their mouth is what element one uses. So using a small o shaped mouth causes cold air while a wide mouth causes hot air, both producing different results. Once it has reached the desired size, one slowly directs it and lets it loose. If one lets it go too fast, it will pop. If one doesn¡¯t direct it properly it will pop. This is essentially how to cast a spell. --- Spell analogy is a good analogy when related to a spell that requires the release of the element itself. However more complicated spells will require further shaping and use of mana to layer the ¡®bubble¡¯ so that it can hold the element one ¡®blows¡¯ in, for example. Every mage must know six basic things to be able to cast any spell: This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡¤ Mana manipulation ¡¤ Mana understanding ¡¤ Mana gathering ¡¤ Element understanding ¡¤ Element manipulation ¡¤ Element gathering Mana threading: Creating a mana thread that will act as a mana pore, allowing the spell to originate a distance from the mage, however it is a thread and can be easily disrupted if not strengthened in many different ways. Mana manipulation: Mana manipulation is the re-shaping of the ¡®bubble¡¯ so that it may provide a different use that just the release of the chosen element. Mana gathering: The ability to gather mana from the mana fountain or ¡®rock¡¯ as stated in the rock analogy. Element understanding: It is the understanding of the element the mage is using. This is gained through use and study of the element. Some elements such as Fire are easier to understand than an element such as Chaos. Element manipulation: It is the manipulation of the chosen element so that it does not simply release when the ¡®bubble pops¡¯. Examples would be for the element to remain or to go higher than normal, or to follow a direction. Element gathering: The ability to gather the specific element from the mana fountain or ¡®rock¡¯ as stated in the rock analogy. --- The rock analogy: Imagine the mana fountain is a rock. To get mana one has to break a chunk off the rock. This ¡®chunk¡¯ is the gathered mana. The process of mentally cracking the rock and pulling the chunk shows the difficulty of gathering mana. However there are such things to help loosen the chunks such as chants. In these ¡®chunks¡¯ of mana there are minerals, which are the element of the mage. The ¡®minerals¡¯ need to be once again removed from the chunk with difficulty. One who is experienced can directly take the minerals from the rock; however that is very difficult to do. However, the more pure the mineral, the better quality the component is. And thus the more effective the spell will be cast. --- Spells can be cast with lots of mana, however the less pure the spell the less effective it will be, as mana in itself is not harming. Only mana-less beings are affected by pure mana as it is the equivalent of holy light is to the undead. Only the element will harm beings with mana. There are two types of spells: ¡¤ Porical ¡¤ Non-porical Porical spells: Spells that originate from the mana pore in the body. They allow easier manipulation, however may be limited in range. Non-porical spells: Spells that originate a distance from the mage¡¯s pores, conventionally through use of a mana thread. They are more difficult to manipulate, however allow a wider range of spells in further proximity. Spells that do not originate from a pore in the body require mana threading, mana manipulation, Element understanding and Element manipulation to be learnt at a good level before one should try doing a non-porical spell. Chants are used for most spells: This is because chants will vibrate the voice box which causes slight tremors in the mana fountain, or ¡®soul¡¯. This loosens the mana making it easier to be taken and used. Chanting has both positives and negatives. The positive is that if the mage is more distressed the vibrating is usually more violent and thus releases mana easier. However the negatives are that if the mage cannot chant for some reason then they will not reliably be able to gather mana due to their reliance on chanting to aid the release. Chants are not specific, however usually voicing the element that the mage is casting helps release that element, which is invaluable when a mage commands more than one element. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- After reciting his decently precise notes on all the magic theory he has learnt, he rolls the vellum and places it back in his inventory. He has spent three months, or more specifically a bit over two thousand hours in that library. Taking his memory back he goes through his past three months, quite uneventful but very useful. After getting out his starting village, he and his party had gotten to Darton. He had split off and gone to the Mage¡¯s Spire. However, the first stage of becoming a mage is theory. The thing that he has spent the past two thousand plus hours on. In all fairness, he knows that he could move to the second stage as the entry is an exam on the basic theory of magic. However like all one hundred and eighty one other players have not taken the exam, because even Fadrim who knows he is a fast reader has only read twenty three books and even those have limited information. And out of those twenty three, he has only learnt basic knowledge and even less explanation of that knowledge. One of the reasons why he has only come across basic theory is that he is only allowed to the second floor of the library, even though it has seven floors. Shivering due to the cool winds, he decides to go back in and find a few more books, scour the library one last time. One of the biggest problems in finding relevant books is the fact that there are one hundred and eighty one other players trying to find the same books. So even though there are tens of thousands of books in the second floor, it¡¯s still difficult to find the right book. With a sigh, he begins to head back towards the library. Walking through the dark cobbled streets, he reaches the library, hearing a small sound off to the side of the library. Curious, he stops and slowly walks back down the stairs, listening intently for the sound again. It comes once more and he thinks it¡¯s a sound of pain, faint as if dying. His pace quickens and he turns round the corner to see someone sitting huddled at the edge of the building, shivering greatly. ¡°Wa¡­¡­.te¡­.r¡± the person croaks Their face is concealed by a mass of wet hair and they only wear a short white shirt and loose brown trousers. A man, Fadrim believes. ¡°Are you ok there?¡± Fadrim asks with a tinge of nervousness ¡°Wa¡­¡­te¡­.r¡± The man doesn¡¯t seem to have registered Fadrim. With a slight gulp, he inches towards the man. ¡°Here, have some if you need it¡± Stopping in front of the huddled man, he takes out his canteen and fiddles with the cap which is a lot harder since his fingers are cold. ¡°Dammit. Give me a second¡± For some reason, he is shaking uncontrollably. ¡°Wa¡­¡­te¡­-¡± He finally opens the cap, albeit catching his finger between the cap and the bottle, drawing a drop of blood. ¡°BLOOD¡± The last thing Fadrim sees is a pair of blood red eyes. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Authors Corner: Second Chapter for today cause I looove you all!! (plus i kind of wanted to get the magic outta my head. SORRY for everyone who has mild brain-hurt after trying to figure out the basic f''d upness that is magic. (I am soo going to love my mage characters from now on, ohh my). Anyways, thanks for reading and for commenting :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 7-The day has come In a dark, empty land she stood, surrounded by nothing but darkness. Taking a step, she hears a thick *Shlop* noise and looks down. She is standing in a still quagmire of thick blood, all the way up to her knees. In utter fear she tries to jump but the blood suddenly springs to live, clinging, holding, clutching at her legs, keeping her unmoving. But it does not stop there; the blood starts to pull, drag, sink her deeper into itself and she frantically claws at the blood only to vomit as her hand sifts through the coagulating swamp. The droplets, forming small hands, inch their way up her legs and inevitably drag her down. Unable to stop the living blood, all she can do is bend double and heave her insides onto the trembling blood. But she does not empty her stomach and just keeps heaving and heaving as she is slowly dragged down to her upper thighs. Her heaving finally falters but as soon as there is a small gasp of air, blood spew into it and claws its way down her throat. Within seconds she has another bout of vomiting and starts of vomit out her insides, literally. Her guts spill continuously from her mouth in one long string and she tries to scream but is blocked by her liver squeezing through her throat and out her mouth in a squishy lump. With a small gasp of air, she tries to scream, but blood enters her mouth once more as it drags her head under, drowning her in crimson. ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH¡± Opening her eyes with a scream, her vision is now black once more. But this time she can just about see the shrouded outline of her room. Jumping out of bed, she crosses the distance to her sink and begins splashing ice-cold water on her face. Her face decently iced, she strips off her sticky t-shirt and dumps it on the floor. Taking a towel, she quickly exits her room and runs to her hall¡¯s shower. Shivering in the cold shower but not due to the cold, she takes many deep breaths to calm her furiously pumping heart. ¡°It¡¯s not real, it¡¯s not real. It was just a nightmare¡± She repeats the words over and over again like a mantra. However she knows that it is not just a nightmare, for it has come to haunt her sleeping hours many times. Feeling the numbness spread across her entire body, she finally exits the shower. Drying herself, she makes it back to her room, slightly calmer than before. Entering, she stops at the visage reflected in her mirror: Her face is slightly gaunt and partially hidden by the long, wet locks of brown hair giving her an ominous look, while her ribs are beginning to poke out of her slightly underfed body. Sighing, she opens a drawer and starts munching on a piece of crisp bread. Due to her new trauma, the number of foods she can safely eat has decreased to a few. To her, bread is one of the few things that she can safely eat without being reminded of the vivid images that haunt both her waking and sleeping hours. After munching on what her stomach can take, which is not much, she goes to her capsule, to return to that horrible yet calming place. She doesn¡¯t really understand why she keeps on returning there even though it is giving her nightmares. As she is getting into the gel-like substance inside the capsule, someone knocks on her door. ¡°Ms Sunderland, please may I come in?¡± A light, feminine voice comes from No, please go away. ¡°Sure, just give me a moment¡± Yulia replies with a slightly bitter tone Getting quickly dressed, she opens the door to reveal a dark skinned woman wearing a business suit. ¡°Ah, Ms Sunderland, you look¡­underfed¡± the woman speaks in an analytical tone ¡°And? I am an adult so I can feed myself¡± She replies with a twinge of anger ¡°Sure you can. However I¡¯m not here to talk about your eating habits. I¡¯d like you to tell me why you haven¡¯t gone to lectures lately¡± her tone is more than condescending Yulia just stared at the woman who she knows as her hall warden, Cheryl, in mild anger. ¡°Look dear, I know university life can be difficult but you must still go to lectures, or you will never learn what you need to learn for your course¡± Cheryl places an imprisoning hand on Yulia¡¯s shoulder. Wordlessly, Yulia opens her bottom drawer, takes out a file and hands it to Cheryl Raising her eyebrow, Cheryl opens the file. After a few moments of looking through the entire year¡¯s worth of notes, she closes the file ¡°You need to go to your lectures to learn things about your lecturers¡± With all the might in the world, Yuila stops herself from rolling her eyeballs at the moronically pushy woman. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll sign in to my lectures ok¡± She sighs slightly at the persistent for no good reason warden. In her experience, her lecturers hinder learning more than they help. With a fake smile, Cheryl leaves the room satisfied she¡¯s done her duty. Closing the door after her, Yulia grabs her phone and sends a quick text to Marcus. He replies with an ¡®you owe me one¡¯. Happy with that, she undresses and slides into her capsule. Letting darkness take her, she finally remembers why she keeps going to this horror; because it is less horrible than the reality around her in a different way. ¡­ .. . The darkness is replaced with a dim room that has permanently pungent air. Rolling out of her bed, she quietly glances around and sees that thankfully, she hasn¡¯t appeared at the wrong time: Moren is nowhere to be seen; so she guesses he¡¯s probably sweeping the Cathedral steps. The man however is sleeping beneath thin covers, but she notices the sheet is a lot flatter than it is supposed to be. It is almost as if the man isn''t there, though she sees his head shape underneath the sheet. Dwelling little on the curiosity of the situation, she quickly gets up. Looking away from that general direction, she walks out the room, skirting around the edge to give the well-used center a wide berth. Exiting the room, she heads upstairs to the dining room where she and her fellow disciples take breakfast. Chase, the short-haired redhead with a growing goatee, gives her a wave and a smile as she enters the room. The other three follow suit quickly. Sitting down, she stares at her fried, crispy and crunchy fish. ¡°So, have you heard that ''It'' struck again?¡± Nyah, the short blonde with cat-like eyes and a slightly overgrown canine spouts excitedly. ¡°Yes, victim was literally ripped to pieces after being killed¡± Janus, a spectacled man, with a balding head and defined jaw replies as one would if they were reading tiredly from a newspaper. ¡°Whatever ''It'' is, It is really quite the monster; ripping people apart after death for no foreseen reason¡± Chase shivers at his own voiced thoughts ¡°True, but there may be no reason¡± Janus speaks with his slow and sagely voice ¡°Guys, you¡¯re getting off topic again¡± Nyah pipes up since the attention is away from her ¡°Do you want to hear who the victim was this time?¡± ¡°Well Its kills seem to be random so who ''It'' killed doesn¡¯t make much of a difference does it?¡± Chase asks with a tinge of fear ¡°That may be so, however even though ''It'' may have no order in its killing, whom he killed may make a difference¡± Janus looks at Nyah in confirmation She nods rapidly a few times ¡°Exactly! This time someone of some importance was killed so the Lord has ordered a large search party to find ''It'' and kill it¡± Nyah exclaims ¡°That¡¯s great¡­but why didn¡¯t they do that when this whole thing started; a month ago?¡± Chase looks at Janus, looking for an answer ¡°Well there are three factors at play; the first being the progressive violence of the kills, which begun as a ripped throat to the victim looking like they had a bomb explode inside them. The second factor is the type of people killed. When us foreigners die, we talk to other foreigners about it. However, that talk doesn¡¯t reach the Lord. Only deaths with corpses that remain were found. So even though the death toll the Lord has been notified of is only six people, the actual death toll is closer to two dozen. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The last factor is the class of people killed. The Lord was not informed about the deaths of farmers and homeless people, only a death of an important person like a mage, noble or priest would cause the Lord to be notified and thus have him take action¡± Janus gladly answers in full. Everyone takes in that information silently for a few minutes, letting the conversation die before Nyah jumpstarts it back to life ¡°Well we don¡¯t need to mind about that, since it¡¯s going to be sorted. All we need to care about iiiiiiiiis¡­¡± She drum-rolls on the table while looking at Chase ¡°The Ceremony?¡± He answers slightly unsure ¡°Corrrrect!¡± Nyah gives a clap ¡°Almost four months of our life swiftly goes by in discipleship, however we are now moving on to another stage¡± Janus nods All take a deep breath when remembering the quite uneventful past almost four months as disciples. However Jacob catches Yisra¡¯s eye and they both know what the other is thinking. After a few moments of blissful silence, Chase shivers, along with Nyah and Janus, as they all seem to be thinking the same thing. ¡°What¡¯s happening with them?¡± Chase asks with vivid fear in his voice. A few weeks ago, he finally experienced Moren and the other man doing their daily ritual. Chase had been praying next to them at the time, and has been skittish ever since. All of them think at that, because none of them actually know, except for Jacob. ¡°They do the ceremony too¡¯ He says nonchalantly, much to the slight horror of the others. Most of them send prayers to their chosen deities but all soon stop as the doors to the eating hall open. Turning round expectantly, they all narrow their eyes at the fact that Brother Chad has come through and not Brother Danfey ¡°Disciples, it is time¡± With the scraping of chairs, the disciples stand up and begin to make their way out the door. ¡°Where¡¯s Danfey?¡± Nyah points out curiously ¡°Since I was the one to bring you in, I will be the one to take you to the place that may be your beginning or your end¡± Everyone shrugs and takes that as an answer. Everyone but Janus, who makes eye contact with Chad and slowly nods. Leaving the room, the six of them begin their way to the ceremony hall. Yisra''s fish, remains behind, untouched. ¡­ Guard Captain Cannith growls as his lieutenant finishes the report. Taking a side road, he hears the clanking of metal from his dozen bodyguards and lieutenant as they keep a protective yet safe distance from the visibly angry man. Stomping through the alley, he quickly reaches the gate and marches with his bodyguards to the Ring of Coin. His lieutenant, good at his job like always, had already ordered men to secure the perimeter and divert the people away from the scene. Slowing his pace to a slow walk, he looks around to see a large zone in the middle of the street which his guards are keeping clear. The zone is filled with reddish chunks of flesh, innards and bones, all strewn about the place looking as though the body was ripped apart by a pack of wild dogs. However Cannith knows better. The intestines seem to be ripped open so the pungent smell of undigested food wafts in the air. Wrinkling his nose, he keeps walking towards a visibly larger piece; the head possibly. Kneeling down with a squelch, he takes the roundish chunk of flesh in his hands and turns it round, to see a single right eye drooping and dripping its punctured insides. The only visible thing to make the person recognizable is the fact that there is the very distinct mark of Deeatun on what Cannith believes is the lower jaw. ¡°Lieutenant¡± He calls out gruffly The lieutenant is next to Cannith within seconds ¡°Yes sir?¡± ¡°Inform Bishop Yan and our Lord that ¡®Its¡¯ victim is Brother Danfey. And have your men collect the pieces, for the search party to analyze and for burial.¡± With a salute, the Lieutanant finds soldiers to relay the orders. Cannith shrouds the head of his priestly friend with his cloak before standing up, leaving the head there. Holding back his tears with anger, he storms off down the street, with his lieutenant stalking close behind. ¡­ ¡®Wakey wakey sleepyhead, we have a Ceremony to attend¡± Moren taps the man lightly on his covered shoulder. ¡°MMMGH¡± He screams through the gag while trying to keep as still as possible ¡°Whoops, sorry, I forgot you still had a minute or two¡± Moren lightly removes the sheet, with much muffled screaming, revealing the man¡¯s internal organs to the cool air in the room. Making sure the sheet doesn¡¯t touch the man¡¯s skinless arms or legs, he fully removes the sheet from the bed and folds it to one side. Keeping an eye on the man for another minute, he sees the miraculous process that is the man¡¯s body. The bones regrow quickly all over the body, causing the man to balloon up somewhat as his ribcage reappears along with several other bones. Then the skin is regrown at a lightning fast pace. Within the minute, the man is once again normal looking and he removes the gag from his mouth. Taking a few deep breaths, the man stabilises somewhat and stands up, wiping the pouring sweat from his forehead. Moren claps the man¡¯s shoulder giving a wide smile ¡°Today¡¯s the day¡± Moren exclaims happily ¡°Oh I can¡¯t wait till we¡¯re priests¡± the man grins deviously ¡°I have a few ideas on what do to once we are¡± Moren reciprocates the grin Both chuckle at the thoughts swimming in their head. ¡°I am going to miss the room though¡± the man looks around at the small space that was their living quarters for the past four months, or in Moren¡¯s case quite a bit longer. ¡°What will you miss about this room?¡± Moren asks genuinely ¡°Well apart from the constant stench of vomit and blood¡­¡± ¡°What are you talking about; we will be dragging those things along with us¡± Both chuckle darkly at that little piece of truth. ¡°I¡¯ll miss Yisra¡± the man sighs deeply, not with love, but more with the tone of one who watches a friend leave ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll miss her too¡± Moren sighs with a heavy heart, for he never got to really spend time with her or get to know her better ¡°Though, all she did was make this place smell as grand as this¡± The man adds on with a lighter tone Both shake their heads as they chuckle. They both know that apart from trying to set ground rules with them, Yisra didn''t spend any time with them. After-all, about ninety percent of the time she saw them, her insides greeted the floor soon after. ¡°Well who knows, maybe we will all fail the ceremony and end up as disciples again¡± the man speaks with a mischievous grin ¡°We will be excommunicated if we fail remember¡± Moren wags his finger at the man ¡°¡­I actually forgot about that. Oh well, if we fail, we can just visit the church for the twenty three hours that it is open¡± The man shrugs his shoulders noncommittally They both chuckle heartily at that. With that final chuckle, the two of them exit the room, clothed in their slightly damp straw-colored robes for one last time. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Hello my lovely readers! Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it. If you have queries/questions/likes/hates/random things to say, comment or message me, because I always love and need feedback :D just so you know-> The end of the Church disciple arc( I mean yeah i guess it''s supposedly the main part of the story(?)) is nigh!! So look forward to it :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 8-It ¡°He¡¯s over here!¡± A voice relays to the others and the clanking sounds of hurried footsteps soon break the silent atmosphere. Lightly panting, a figure races to the noise to find the owner to be a man wearing light mail armor, his face smeared with blood. The man tries to raise his longsword but a clawed hand reaches his throat first, ripping it with a gout of blood. Gurgling, the man collapses on the floor dead. The figure holds the chunk of flesh in its clawed hands, before chucking it away and racing down the street once more out of fear. Within seconds, more similarly dressed men appear at the scene, all smeared with blood and begin charging after the figure. ''It'' flees by climbing the wall of a house and smashes through a window. Inside are a family of four, who get small cuts from the glass that flew their way. A single tear escapes from the figures crimson eyes before the claws take action, eviscerating the family within seconds. Intestines burst out, hanging from the rafters. Eyes squished between two clawed fingers, are dropped in the soup the family were eating. Blood colours the once brown wooden room and innards decorate the chairs the family once sat on. Each scrap of being the figure rips away with his claws, passes over his mouth before it chucks it away in apparent disgust. A loud crash sound comes from the door and seven men spill out, swords raised to kill. The figure leaps out an unbroken window and climbs to the roof, sinking its claws into the clay walls to provide hold. Reaching the roof, the figure is attacked by three men and their sword dig deep into its flesh. No sound comes from the figure, but a hungry growl as it charges through the swords and murders the three with three clawed swipes. Mutilating their corpses with the sword still hanging in, it raises one man¡¯s liver to its mouth and opens, baring its sharp teeth to the thing. The head, shaking violently, moves slowly towards the liver, slowly fitting part of it within the mouth. Shouts come from a nearby roof causes the figure to move the liver out of its mouth and chuck it away, spitting as it jumped to another roof. Jumping from roof to roof, the pursuit soon falls behind and the figure, covered in blood and tears, jumps down into an alley. The alley is filled with two men beating the other; all three covered in the beaten one¡¯s blood. The sounds of beating and taunting soon stop and are replaced with a ripping and sobbing sound. ¡­ ¡°DAMMIT GAROND, I TOLD YOUR MEN NOT TO TRY DEAL WITH HIM TILL THEY¡¯RE SEVEN TO ONE!¡± Chief inspector Maricius jabs his subordinate both verbally and physically ¡°Sorry sir, but there was no more time to surround the building as ¡®It¡¯ tried to escape¡± Garond bows slightly, hiding his embarrassed flush. Maricius sighs and stops jabbing Garond in the chest with his index finger. ¡°There was nothing more we could do...For now, let¡¯s focus on reparations for the dead and how to catch this bloody thing¡± He waves Garond off, and the man hurriedly relays orders to his out of breath men. ¡°Sir, one of the men gave us a new piece of information we could use¡± A younger voice fills the room full of battle-hardened men Maricius turns round to see junior inspector Horath clasping his hands in thought ¡°What is it?¡± he too clasps his hand in thought ¡°According to one of the men, ¡®It¡¯ tried to eat a liver before it saw us and ran away¡± A mostly useless piece information, however I may still find some use for it ¡°I see, but how do you think that would help our investigation?¡± he gives a question to his junior thinking of a response himself ¡°Well I believe we could use liver as bait to bring ¡®It¡¯ towards us¡± his junior concludes after a short think. ¡°We could, however we already are using that tactic¡± Maricius points to the men, who have fresh pig¡¯s blood smeared on their faces and vests. This deflates Horath somewhat and clasps his hands once more in thought. Maricius places a hand on Horath¡¯s shoulder turning the boy towards the open door, which a man is guarding. ¡°Before you try think, how about we gather some more evidence?¡± He gestures towards the door. Both move past the guard and enter the room where four people once ate dinner: Intestines hang off the rafters like decorations, along with bones littering the floor. A child¡¯s head lay at the foot of the table, while the mother¡¯s seemed to have entered the fireplace. Hearing Horath gulp audibly to keep the vomit back, he moves inside for a better inspection. Treading lightly through the scene, he sees innards missing from the remains that are still on the chair, as well as the crushed eyes floating in the soup. A good ten minutes later, he finished inspecting the place and calls for Horath¡¯s attention. ¡°So, what clues did you find?¡± He once again questions his junior ¡°Like all other murders, it is akin to a dog digging through sand. The body being the sand of course¡± ¡°Yes, that much is obvious, but what else do we know?¡± Maricius prompts his junior in hopes that he will answer correctly. ¡°Um¡­all their livers¡¯ are intact¡± ¡°Which means?¡± ¡°¡®It¡¯ wasn¡¯t hungry?¡± ¡°No, we already know that it tried to eat a liver, so why didn¡¯t it eat any of these?¡± Maricius sighs slightly at his junior¡¯s incompetence ¡°Well, maybe it was something in the liver that it could smell?¡± ¡°Possibly, however the liver is not important. Could you tell me what is?¡± once again the prompt comes, desperately trying to wring the correct information out of the junior ¡°Um¡­.¡± And this one is supposed to be my successor huh? ¡°The fact that ¡®It¡¯ has not eaten a single time it has killed. Nor has it drunk their blood as their arteries remain mostly intact and looking around the room, we can see that there is a large amount of blood. Thus we can assume that ¡®It¡¯ is not killing for food. Well we could assume that till the information you gave me came around. Your information told us that actually ¡®It¡¯ is hungry. However using that new assumption, why is it that ¡®It¡¯ didn¡¯t eat anything before? Well one theory would be the fact that its killing behaviour is in fact to search for something specific, such as a correct liver to eat. Or it may be the fact that it is not trying to eat¡± Maricius thinks out-loud for the benefit of his junior ¡°But sir, I thought you said we could assume that ¡®It¡¯ is killing to eat?¡± Horath exclaims in confusion ¡°Yes, hence why the theory that it is not trying to eat may hold more truth than the other theory¡± He moves towards the corpse of the father, his stomach opened up, and completely emptied in a wide arc around him. ¡°If I put myself in its shoes, then I can say that when I¡¯m ripping this man apart, if I am just throwing things away like a dog does with sand when digging, then the spread of carnage should be in an arc from my sides to behind. However, looking at the arc, it is the other way, thus we can assume that it stopped at every piece before willingly throwing it away rather than unconsciously chucking it. Using that assumption, we can say that it is both trying to eat and stopping itself from eating. We don¡¯t know what it is, as the only description we were able to get was red eyes, clawed hands and a grayish skin with a human appearance. So therefore it may be one of two things; A newly born undead, or a cursed human of some sort¡± ¡°But how does that help us with the investigation¡± Horath naively answers ¡°Well you see, if it is a newly born undead, we must quickly capture it and kill it. However if it is a cursed human, it will have a sense of honor or a need for help. Thus we could lure it with the rumor of help to be free from the curse and work from there¡± ¡°But how will we know which it is?¡± once again the na?ve words flow out his junior¡¯s mouth Sighing, Maricius stops himself from shaking his head at the naivety ¡°Well if we look at the fact that the only priest to leave the cathedral in this past month was killed, and much more so in the middle of the street, we see it is different from all the past murders which were in mostly deserted alleyways. Thus we can assume that ¡®It¡¯ met the priest and tried to get help. Though it seems as though the priest probably did something to make ¡®It¡¯ attack him. So we can conclude that it¡¯s highly likely ¡®It¡¯ is a cursed human¡± Maricius concludes with a stroke of his light beard. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Horath spends a few minutes in silence letting the information sink in ¡°So, all we need to do is tell the city that we can lift curses?¡± ¡°In a way; we have the Cathedral cooperate and tell everyone that they can be relieved of curses for free today¡± ¡°But there is little reason to justify such a thing; that¡¯d look suspicious wouldn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Not really, for it is the day of the ceremony¡± he tries his best not to roll his eyes at his uninformed junior. Not waiting for a response, Maricius strolls out the room, giving an order to clean the room up to the guard as he leaves. Leaving the house, Maricius has a slight grin. Time to see whether I am right or just out of my mind ¡­ ¡°Sir, pacing down these alleyways aren¡¯t going to help you find ¡®It¡¯¡± the Lieutenant stalks after his superior, his words falling on deaf ears. It had been half a day since they had discovered the dead body of Brother Danfey, and it has been half a day of walking through the many alleyways in the Ring of Coin passing by shady dealers and urchins without a care. Cannith only had eyes for one thing: ¡®It¡¯. He was oblivious to the fact that ¡®It¡¯ had just lost the pursuit of the search party in the Ring of Craft and so he kept stomping through the alleyways in search of a crimson-eyed monster. Those who had discovered the victim told of a monster with blood red eyes and sharp claws disappearing from the scene, and now he looks for such a thing in the alleyways. And so he storms through looking for just that. His lieutenant however, does have a better scope on things and spots the many shady dealers, taking mental note of their locations for later arrests, as well as the numerous urchins and the homeless that somehow make it past the Ring of Blood. A few stay in his mind; a child with a badly hidden knife, a toothless old beggar with overly bulky arms for one so old, and in particular one man that resides alone in the alley they just walked into. This man, face covered by a mass of black hair, is huddled, shivering uncontrollably by a broken barrel in a white shirt and ripped brown shorts. Immediately the lieutenant knows why no one else is in this alley: The man exudes a presence that even makes a drop of sweat roll down the back of his neck. Such an aura is typical of one who has killed often and one who is very strong. Cannith however, doesn¡¯t seem to notice, or doesn¡¯t seem to care as the lieutenant spots his face quickly turn towards the man before looking away uninterested. ¡°He¡­lp¡± The groaning, exhausted and parched voice of the man permeates through the air, making him seem oddly vulnerable. Cannith however, stops in front of the man and looks at him with a piercing gaze. The man groans once more, raises his head and looks at Cannith with clouded blue eyes. Soundlessly, Cannith turns and walks away, quickly followed by the lieutenant, who looks back at the man once more with slight fear in his eyes. Unbeknownst to the two of them, the man Cannith just ignored was the one he was looking for. ¡­ Ankorr, shivered uncontrollably as the memories of those children¡¯s faces seep into his mind, accusing him, crying at him, silently screaming in terror at him. His clothes were free of the memories due to the system cleaning them, however his mind was not. He couldn¡¯t stop himself, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn¡¯t stop his hands tearing at their throats, squishing their eyes, ripping out their guts. All he could do was shed a tear or two before ''It'' took over. He couldn¡¯t help himself as he saw the blood, that intoxicating thing that smelled deliciously sweet and caused¡­something in him to be unleashed. Something hungry, something voracious that desired nothing but to suckle the blood off their exposed arteries. At least on that, he was able to retain some form of sanity, some primitive desire to not give this hungering desire to be fulfilled. Though he trembles at that thought, as the memory of his pointed teeth dragging themselves across liver, ready to dig into that juicy morsel, seeps into his brain. Sickened, he tries to vomit, but no such action happens as such a disgusting thought is but trivial to his mind. Over this month, he has killed dozens of people in the most horrible way possible and the memories are not innately disgusting to him. To him such memories have a sweet taste to them, which he despises to the utmost. So his body does not react to such disgusting memories and situations in a humane way and thus even though he has been through so much, the vomit does not come. The only thing that comes is the nightmares, the horror of watching his body massacre people without his own will and the desire. The desire to kill and drench himself with the innards of those he kills and feast on their flesh lavishing the pink meats with blood. All he can do to show his humanity is tremble in fear of himself, and ask strangers for help, whether it is death through release or a cure, even he does not know. He had tried speaking to a priest a bit before dawn, but the man told him he was demon spawn and tripped when trying to flee causing him to scrape his legs. Then, ¡®It¡¯ had taken over and all he could do was watch in disgust and bliss as the priest was dismembered before him. He despises himself for letting such a thing happen. He has little power over his body, and when ¡®It¡¯ leaves him, all strength seems to drain from him, as if it were never there. Even trembling takes such strength that blissful unconsciousness treads at the recess of his mind. He had not eaten for almost two months, but he did not die as he would have expected. All he felt was an intense hunger that was temporarily drowned by the large amounts of water he took. However, he had run out of water a month ago, when his body was so weak that he could barely move it, much less go to the fountain and refill his canteen. He should have died, should have felt the cold stone on his face as life left him. But someone found him, gave him water, which he repaid with his claws. The wave of hunger, of desire, was tremendous when he smelled that mans blood. However there had been water to dissuade ¡®It¡¯ from drinking its bloody fill. He should have died there but something in him had snapped. ''It'' had truly awoken. Any blood that was spilled awoke it and made it crave for the delicious crimson liquid. ''It'' had strength, fueled by hunger and he could only combat it with the strength he gained from fear of losing his last vestiges of humanity. ''It'' killed over and over again and this strength, used to keep his last vestiges of humanity dwindles. But somehow, every time he killed, someone had been there, someone had screamed bringing him back to his senses and to run, not from them but from himself. This doesn¡¯t give hope to him though, as he knows that it might be next time or the one after when he finally gives in, when his teeth finally sink into the juicy flesh of another. His strength has faded and the desire to eat has grown. ¡®It¡¯ complains more and has more of a hold on him, so much so that there are memories missing from when he kills, only the beginning and the end does he remember. A human should be dead from not eating within a month. He has not eaten in two. All he knows is that he isn¡¯t human anymore, he can¡¯t be: He lost his humanity when he killed that first man, and this past month he knows he has degenerated into something inhuman, something monstrous. While he trembles at himself in the lonely alleyway, a soft sound of bare feet on cobbled stone permeates the air. ¡°He¡­lp¡± Ankorr¡¯s voice comes reflexively as it is his last human desire, need even, to get help; to stop ¡®It¡¯ from killing anyone else. The footsteps stop in front of him and a familiarly gentle sounding voice assails his ears. ¡°I can help you, but tell me, what do you need?¡± Raising his head, he sees a man dressed in the beginner white shirt and brown trousers. ¡°Wa¡­te¡­r¡± ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Thank you all for reading. Hooow did you like it? Also thank you anonymous reviewer! many bloody kisses from Ankorr!! Chapter 9-The Ceremony part 1 ¡°Everyone, please quieten down. The ceremony shall begin momentarily¡± Bishop Yan gestures calmly for the audience of Brothers to stop talking about the disciples and concentrate on the heavy oaken doors that hide their disciples. Once they quiet down, Yan slams the wooden altar three times, sending echoing waves across the room. Slowly, the doors open and in walk Brother Chad, followed by fifty three disciples. Many of the brothers look happy at the large number of disciples, as previous years only numbered in the dozens. Although many are foreigners. The disciples form a crude shape in front of Yan and look up expectantly to him; for they do not know what to do. ¡°Disciples of this Cathedral, welcome to your ceremony where your fates shall be decided by god and by man. Today is the day, when your devotion to the divinities is shown in full due to godly acts and to Brother¡¯s votes. Do not fret if you are not yet worthy to become a Brother, for that time is merely delayed to the next ceremony. You shall have your chance once more. And for those that become Brothers; do not forget the ties you have with your fellow disciples, aid them, show them the way to devotion and set them on the path to Brotherhood as you may be moving onto now¡± Yan makes eye contact with each and every one of the disciples, however he remains looking at a particular few that interested him mightily. Moren, a once quiet boy doing little but sighing, had become loud, energetic and full of life. Although some part of madness had seem to join in with the change. Yisra, a young woman, although looking worse for wear, is still attuned to life even with facing the horrors that Moren and that man give every day. And finally, that man. The man that shook the entire Brotherhood and continues to shake both them and the locals daily with offerings which bring him to the brink of death. He is a wondrous and terrifying being. Of course there are other disciples that are interesting, hard-working and lovable. However, they lack a certain something, a certain devotion that these three have fought for in both mind and body. As interested as he is to see the fate of these three, he has a more important matter to begin with ¡°Disciples and Brothers, before we begin I would like us all to have a minute of silence and prayer for Brother Danfey, who lost his life this morn¡± All the disciples look somewhat shocked at hearing a priest die, however only a few have a look of sadness in their eyes. The young red-haired man and the short blonde with cat-like eyes both have tears glistening in their eyes. He knows that Danfey and Chad are the Brothers in charge of the first few foreigners to come as well as Moren and that boy Jacob. And he knows that only they among the disciples knew Danfey personally. Sighing, he lets the minute pass and when it is over, begins the ceremony in full. ¡°Now, let the bravest of you stand forth and beckon your fate¡± A young man with long and shiny blond hair and some blond stubble walks forward gallantly ¡°I ask for my fate to be decided¡± He says with his smooth voice The brothers all look upon the man, but they do not respond at first. Not until Sian raises his hand and then a majority of them comply with the decision. Stopping himself from smirking, Yan feels happy about the new system he implemented for the ceremony: The Brother who takes care of the disciple choose whether he is worthy and then unless the other Brothers feel certainly against the disciple becoming a Brother, they vote with the first Brother. Of course he has a choice too; however he must be careful when voting as he cannot show any discord with the Brother¡¯s opinion and his. The young man, who never introduced his name becomes a Brother, and after lighting a red candle at the altar of his choice; Deiran the laughing god, he is presented the cream colored robe of a Brother by Sian and then sits down with the other brothers. The ceremony proceeded as such and out of fifty, all had been approved as Brothers. All find that a bit strange, however each Brother found their disciples to be worthy and Yan has heard of the foreigners being hardworkers going for as much as half a month with little to no rest. Thus he does not see it as a strange coincidence, but rather as good luck as now the Cathedral has another fifty Brothers in its halls. Finally, only three disciples remain standing: The three that had caught Yan¡¯s eyes. The first to step forward was Yisra ¡°I, am Yisra and I hope you allow me into the brotherhood¡± Her voice is shaky, out of anxiety and of slight fear as if she knows her fate. Sure enough, neither Brothers nor Sisters raise their hand, not a single one. Odd for Yan to think Sisters, but sure enough it is the first time in a century that the Cathedral once again has Sisters. Yan felt a tear in his eye as seeing such a woman devoted to becoming a disciple, enough to endure the daily horrors that many only saw once a day while she slept in their room and watched throughout the night and day. However he also heard that she is the laziest among the disciples, and when she does turn up to do chores, she does them badly. But he cannot sow discord among him and his Brothers so all he can do for her cause is sigh. ¡°Disciple Yisra, it is not your fate to become a Sister this year. But do not worry, for you have time to better yourself in the eyes of your Brothers and Sisters for next year.¡± She bows, trying futilely to wipe off the embarrassed flush on her face, before she goes to the corner of the room, still in a straw-colored robe. The next one up is Moren. He looks at the Brothers and Sisters for a second before walking past them to the statue of Helia, much to the Brothers and Sisters'' annoyance at being blatantly ignored. ¡°Helia, Heed my call and bless this one who devotes their mind and body to follow your will. I care not for the opinion of the human¡¯s around me. I only care about your opinion. If it is your choice to cast me to the streets then I shall willingly go to the street. However, I do like living in the Cathedral, so please allow me the human pleasure of becoming a Brother¡± His voice is loud and filled with energy, not like the boy the Brothers knew a barely a few months ago and this speech, almost informal to the goddess of light is quite shocking to the audience. No Brother or Sister raises their hand because Moren had not given them the option to. Yan conceals a smirk behind a raised sleeve. But the smirk soon dies as no divine answer comes. ¡°Disciple Moren, your goddess shows no sign of accepting you, so her answer is clear; you are to be excommunicated from the Cathedral¡± Yan says with a hint of refreshment but also a hint of loss. Choruses of relieved sighs come from the pews in which all the Brothers and Sisters sit. Though, many look confused as it is customary for there to be two chances for the disciples. However the elder Brothers do not seem that confused as they know that the disciple is not seen as worthy by his goddess so he has no right to be even a disciple for that goddess. However only Bishop Yan knew of the excommunication by first trial challenge that he gave both of them, as he had high hopes for both. At this point, Yan doubts his quite reckless decision was the right one. Moren remains kneeling at Helia¡¯s statue for another minute, eyes closed as if in deep concentration, before finally standing up. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. He bows to Helia and then to Bishop Yan before stripping himself of his straw-colored robe, leaving his well toned bare body exposed to a number of shocked people. Walking past the man he spent almost four months with, he shares a devious grin with him and whispers some inaudible words in his ear before walking out the doors. The people remaining inside are rubbing their eyes from the strange, yet pleasing to some, spectacle. But their minds now focus on the last remaining disciple who stands with a devious grin. He stares up at the ceiling and begins a speech which everyone present dreads ¡°Aegi, I have not come today to offer my life, as I have done so many times before. Today, I am here to offer you something eternally more valuable; a ticket to watch me gain immortality. All I ask is that you bless my path and allow me the tools necessary to grow strong, strong enough to meet you in person¡± Everyone looks at this man, shocked beyond belief at the hugely informal tone of the man and also the most bizarre offering. None in the room know what to say, and none forget the most delusional comment of the disciple saying that he will meet Aegi in person. Many can¡¯t accept this man in any fiber of their being and growl angrily in their seats. The man just ignores them and stares at the ceiling for a minute or two. ¡°I see..then I guess I shall gain immortality without your guidance. I will still be seeing you in person though, so prepare something savory will you?¡± He ends with a cheeky grin The man strips his robe, this time having a white shirt and brown trousers on, and begins walking out the door. ¡°BLASPHEMER! HOW DARE YOU SPITTLE ON A GODDESS WITH THAT TONE OF INFORMALITY AND CHEEKY WORDS. YOU ARE NOT A DISCIPLE, YOU ARE BUT SCUM OF THE EARTH AND SHOULD BE-¡± Brother Sian stands up red-faced, veins popping. ¡°ENOUGH¡± Yan shouts Sian down with a single word and then turns his attention to the man; he had ignored Brother Sian and had walked out the doors without missing a single step. Yan grimaces at the loss of two dreadful yet interesting men due to his own reckless decision, and with a heavy sigh, concludes the ceremony. ¡­ ¡°And so after leaving the Cathedral, I walked around a bit and ended up here somehow¡± The man concludes his story. Ankorr takes in the story along with a long gulp of water for the fourth time refilled canteen. ¡°How are you feeling there¡­¡± The man leaves the sentence hanging in expectation with his gentle voice. ¡°Ankorr¡± His voice is much more deep than the man¡¯s¡¯ and no longer rasps from being parched. However Ankorr is still very thirsty. Finishing off the canteen he gives it back to the man who grins with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Wow, you are seriously thirsty. This¡¯ll be the fifth time in like two hours¡± The man looks slightly concerned but more curious. ¡°Tell me more about why you are drinking so much, there must be a reason¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been killing people lately because they seem delicious to me¡± Ankorr says without hesitation. Normally one wouldn¡¯t say such an absurd thing, for their sake mostly. However Ankorr decided not to lie to this person; the only one who has been able to help him thus far. ¡°Oh¡­well I didn¡¯t expect that. I expected something more along the lines of I can¡¯t eat¡­¡± The man takes the confession with a grin on his face ¡°That too but¡­you don¡¯t want to ask why I¡¯ve been killing people?¡± Ankorr asks confused at how the man hadn¡¯t reacted like he expected; with horror and fear ¡°I don¡¯t really care about your problems. But you don¡¯t look like you¡¯re psychotic or evil so I¡¯m just guessing you didn¡¯t have much of a choice when it came to killing them and that makes you an alright kind of guy¡± He replies with a noncommittal shrug Ankorr doesn¡¯t know if the man fully understands or not, but he still feels tears of gratitude well up in his eyes. For the first time in a month, someone hadn¡¯t looked at him with fear and only responded to him with screams and shouts filled with anger and terror. ¡°Er¡­there there buddy¡± The man gives him an awkward hug as tears stream down his face accompanied with small sobs The situation remains for a short while as Ankorr lets out the stream of emotion that he has been lacking in the past month, both in tears and in sobs. The man not really knowing what to do in such a situation, just hugs and pats Ankorr on the head to try make him feel better. Eventually, the tears stop and Ankorr gains a hold on his emotions once more. ¡°Sorry¡­about that¡± His eyes are puffy from tears and his nose runs slightly ¡°Nah, don¡¯t worry. You¡¯ve had a hard day and not everyone can cope with it so well. Maybe it¡¯d make you feel better talking about it?¡± the man¡¯s gentle tone is so very soothing to Ankorr¡¯s ears. Ankorr nods as the man releases him from the hug. The tale since that first day two months ago soon slips out of Ankorr willingly. ¡­ ¡°Right, I¡¯ve heard enough¡­it¡¯s time we go and get you cured¡± The man stops Ankorr mid way through his story with a hand to his mouth. ¡°But how do we get in?¡± Ankorr lowers the man¡¯s hand and asks curiously ¡°I heard some useful things along the way¡± The man answers as he stands up and begins to walk away. Ankorr, fully trusting in the man that has not shunned him, quickly downs the ninth time refilled canteen before following the man. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think it wasn¡¯t a coincidence we met¡± Ankorr barely hears the man¡¯s thoughtful whisper. ¡°How is it not coincidence?¡± Ankorr asks confused ¡°Let¡¯s just say¡­ah damn this is the wrong way, turn around it¡¯s the other way¡± he turns round and Ankorr quickly turns around to walk the other way, now in-front. ¡°Let¡¯s just say what?¡± ¡°Oh. Let¡¯s just say, I have a feeling¡± If Ankorr had looked back then and there he would have seen something game-changing to him. But he was busy walking in front, leading the two of them out of the maze of alleyways. Thus he missed the man looking to the sky with a most devious grin, along with blood welling on the man''s pricked finger. Both turned the corner and begun walking in earnest to their goal. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: MY LOVELIES THANK YOU FOR READING If you have anything nice/horrible/something to say, please doo :D This arc concludes next chapter so be on the lookout for it :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 10-Plans at the Cathedral *Bang* A door bursts open and in stomps, Cannith ignoring the large group of men that jump up brandishing their swords in surprise before recognizing him and sheathing their weapons. He stomps past them and slams a hand on the table placed strategically at the centre of the room. ¡°Tell me where the bastard is, Inspector¡± He growls the words lavished with anger Inspector Maricius stops his pensive thinking and looks up at Cannith with surprise, as if he just registered Cannith¡¯s appearance, and quickly hides his surprise with a fa?ade of recognition. ¡°I don¡¯t know that as of yet, Captain.¡± He says calculating every word ¡°THEN WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT SITING ON YOUR ASS? PEOPLE ARE DYING OUT THERE, SO GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER AND FIND THE BASTARD¡± Cannith roars into Maricius¡¯ face, spittle splashing his cheeks. The men, jump in surprise at the roar from the captain and inch away from him. However Maricius seems unaffected by being battered by spittle. ¡°I am playing a game, would you like to join?¡± Maricius explains with a smirk and gestures to a neatly set up war game over to one side of the table. Cannith bores into Maricius¡¯ eyes and he returns the look without falter. After seconds Cannith frowns. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll play your silly little game. But if I win, you tell me where he is¡± he goes to sit down without breaking eye contact with a smirking Maricius ¡°And what if I win?¡± ¡°I¡¯m playing your game aren¡¯t I?¡± He frowns knowledgeably as he knows he¡¯s already dancing to Maricius¡¯ fiddle Maricius just grins to that and sits down on his side of the board The first move is an attack ¡­ An enormous crowd stand in a gaggle in front of the Cathedral all conversing to ones around them, seemingly dissipating the invisible lines of class and society. At the steps of the Cathedral are a line of priests all serving the horde with dabs of water and incoherent words. Away from this crowd, peeking from a wall in the alleyway are two figures, wearing nothing but a white shirt and brown shorts. ¡°So this is what you are talking about¡± Ankorr observes the huge crowd feeling terror at seeing such a large crowd especially since he can feel ¡®It¡¯ awaken with a slight pang of hunger. ¡°Yeah, apparently the priests are giving out free healing so everyone in the city is coming at one point¡± ¡°Free healing? There¡¯s got to be a scam somewhere¡± His eyes narrow with experience as he tries to take in as much information with his eyes. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s the day of the ceremony, so it doesn¡¯t seem that scammy¡± The man shrugs Ankorr smirks at the man¡¯s na?ve sentence. The man, full of confidence strides into the crowd and Ankorr follows closely behind with much less confidence. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, if you start acting up, attack me first¡± The man somehow knows Ankorr¡¯s thoughts and reassures him. However the words are a bit less reassuring when Ankorr realizes what he said¡± ¡°Wha-¡± His words die in his mouth as he remembers the trust he has in the man. The two of them walk to the back of the crowd and stand trying to ignore everything. However the world does not want to ignore them ¡°Heh, look at the newbies over there¡± One leather-armored man with a large metal sword strapped on his back points out to his friend ¡°The hell are they doing here? They look like they should be thwacking wolves back at the starting villages¡± A man with a bow looks at the two with a raised eyebrow. One man; a wobbly well dressed man with a triple chin and much too much fat on his hips, waddles behind the two and bumps into them looking rather alarmed at how he has been stopped. ¡°WHO dares to stop ME, Lord Grentoth the fith? His piggy eyes leave the sky and look down towards the two men who look back at him with raised eyebrows ¡°I don¡¯t know, who could it be?¡± The man says in a most confused expression puts on a devious grin as he looks at Ankorr ¡°It¡¯s us¡± Ankorr looks at the man confused at the situation ¡°THAT¡¯S RIGHT. So tell me why you still bother to stand in MY way¡± He sneers down at the two who look back with a mix of emotions. ¡°Because you¡¯re a fat bastard¡± Ankorr spits out, angrier than one would normally be, however Lord Grentoth reminds him of a bad memory from days past. There is a collective gasp from the crowd and the blue veins show upon the reddening face of Lord Grentoth. ¡°HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY FIGURE YOU PUTRID SCUM¡± ¡°Not to be offensive or-, nevermind; you really should get some decency in you, like the forty eight meals you ate last night¡± The man grins cheekily at the red-faced noble who grits his teeth audibly as he swerves around, for he cannot make more of a scene lest his reputation is ruined. However that hope flitters out his mind as he trips on the hem of the long purple cloak he wears and slams into the ground with a thundering sound. The observing crowd muffle their snickers at the man¡¯s demise and soon turn into full blown laughter as he tries to stand up, but is only successful in waddling like a turtle on its back. One person isn¡¯t laughing though. Soon no one is laughing as a grey-skinned being with sharp claws, messy black hair and crimson eyes leaps at the Lord Grentoth and gouges its claws into his back. Screams and shouts fill the air as all hell breaks loose. ¡­ ¡°-UAD EIGHT, BLOCK THE EASTERN ALLEYWAYS. SQUAD NINE GUARD THE GATE. EVERYONE ELSE WITH ME!¡± Cannith roars lightning fast his orders at the men, who burst out of their resting spots within the house and start to charge out the door ¡°MEN!¡± Maricius shouts drawing all attention to him The men stop what they¡¯re doing and look at the Inspector, realization that they just instinctively took orders filled their eyes. ¡°Go about as planned¡± He says in a much calmer voice. Nodding, the dozen or so men fill out the house calmly Cannith scrapes his chair as he stands up and puts a hand threatening on his hilt as he prepares to leave ¡°And where are you going, Captain?¡± Maricius asks with feigned confusion ¡°To kill the bastard¡± He growls back ¡°We haven¡¯t finished our game yet, or have you forgotten?¡± Cannith looks longingly at the door for a second before spitting on the ground and slamming himself back on the seat ¡°The game¡¯s already over, we both know that¡± his spittle litters the board, covered in the crimson colours of Cannith¡¯s country. ¡°Maricius smirks ¡°Yes it is. A shame but you weren¡¯t even close¡± He moves an infantry squad out of Carussia Forest, cutting supplies to the board dominating army of Cannith in the middle of a blizzardy winter. The army disbands and Cannith is left wiped out before he can do anything about it. Growling, Cannith leans back on his chair, folding his arms. ¡°So, now that you¡¯ve finished playing around with me ho-¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t finished playing with you yet. We still have another game to play, Captain¡± He smirks, remaining calm and collected, pissing off Cannith to a vein-popping standard. ¡°I hate being your playing piece, Inspector¡± He spits out each word in contempt ¡°But you are just invaluable¡± ¡°Don¡¯t start with me, I¡¯m just a pawn and we both know it¡± ¡°True, but I believe you¡¯re in for an upgrade¡± His smirk remains plastered on his face and Cannith can¡¯t do anything but squint his eyes trying to figure out that man¡¯s devious plan. ¡­ ¡°ANKORR GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF¡± The man screams at Ankorr, slapping him full in the face with a loud smacking sound which is drowned out by the mass of screams and shouts. The crimson dies slightly in Ankorr¡¯s eyes and he looks at the man in horror, tears in his eyes and hands inside Lord Grentoth¡¯s back. The man slaps Ankorr once more for good measure before he pushes him towards a slight gap in the crowd. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Men and women, mostly foreigners charge at the pair, slashing, slicing and shooting at the two. They run, both uncaring about the swings of swords and rain of arrows that come their way. Ankorr bursts forth causing the stop of many righteous followers as they gape in awe at his ridiculous speed, easily beating the crowd who run on foot. Everyone avoids him like the monster he is and so he easily reaches an alleyway with his pursuers far behind. He goes to turn into it when a man smeared with blood steps out of the shadows followed by a few more similarly dressed men. Cursing, Ankorr swiftly turns and darts towards another alley which he reaches within seconds. Turning into another alleyway he ducks as a sword darts out of the shadow almost impaling him. Without stopping, he charges past the wielder and runs into three more blades, two of which slice into him. But he doesn¡¯t care and barrels past them, knocking all three over and continues through the alleyway. Clambering up a building, he races across the rooftops quickly jumping on the stronghold walls and off into the Ring of Nobility. Looking at his hands, he spots they¡¯re still clawed and covered in fresh blood. Ripping his attention away from the deliciously intoxicating smell, he runs through the rings, hearing shouts from the guards and screams from onlookers but none are able to do much more as he whizzes past them out of sight. A short while later, he stands drenched but clean of blood from diving into a fountain, and back next to the broken barrel the man found him at. Panting heavily, he sits down next to the barrel and clutches his legs in fear. He had done it again. He had ripped his claws into the back of a man, an fat bastardly asshole like his last boss but still a human being. For all he knows he killed Lord Grentoth and he couldn¡¯t do anything to stop it. Slowly drowning in the bloody memories and horrible screams that echoed both inside and outside his head, he almost misses the light sound of cloth footsteps on stone. ¡°Ah, I have finally found you, Blood Drinker¡± ¡­ ¡°Ok ok, you caught me, no need to tie me up like this¡± The man sighs as his captors, all wearing leather armor with blood smeared all over, bind his wrists together. ¡°Cooperate and this will be easier for us¡± Renold, with his thick black moustache quivering, eyes the man over Renold had never seen anything like this man that stood before him; cuts littered his body, enough to tatter all his clothes and his face is cut in parts as well as him missing an entire arm. However the fact that the man is damaged greatly is not that amazing a thing for Renold. The fact that the man seems to care little about such wounds interests him deeply. Making sure the man¡¯s hands are firmly bound, he leads the way while four companions surround the bound man. ¡­ ¡°Sir we report that squad six has captured a companion of ¡®It¡¯¡± a messenger reports to Maricius looking haggard from running ¡°Good, bring him to me¡± ¡°SIR¡± Horath bursts into the house covered in blood, although Maricius mildly hopes it isn¡¯t his own ¡°Marcus, Kyle, Daina, Rorath and Chaine are all dead¡± Horath gasps out of breath The messenger looks at Horath in disbelief ¡°That can¡¯t be possible; I saw them just a few minutes ago¡± Maricius¡¯s chair scrapes loudly as he jumps up ¡°FIND THEM NOW¡± He roars at the messenger, losing all composure he had Startled the messenger sprints out the door ¡°So who are this ¡®squad six¡¯ then?¡± Cannith asks smirking slightly at seeing Maricius lose his cool. ¡°They¡¯re an unknown third party probably. I t was all so perfect all so FUCKING PERFECT! SHIT, DAMMIT, FUCK DAMNFUCKINGSHITASSHOLES AAAAAAAAARRRRRGHGHGHGH¡± He kicks the wall and then begins to punch it in furious anger causing small craters with each punch. Cannith just sits back and watches the show with a wide grin. For him, it has been a while since he had seen Maricius¡¯ more emotional side; thanks to his bezerkers blood. Though the grin doesn¡¯t last long as the wall soon gives way and Cannith jumps up to stop Maricius from tearing down the whole house, since last time that happened it was a castle and they were both inside it. He grabs onto Maricius¡¯ shoulder and resists being thrown to the ground by the man, but just barely. Unable to throw Cannith, Maricius roars in incomprehensible rage with frothy spittle splattering onto Cannith¡¯s face. Cannith pulls Maricius¡¯ shoulder, wrenching him to the floor and punches him square on the nose. A few more of those and Maricius has calmed down by becoming unconscious. Slapping him awake, Maricius opens his eyes groggily a moment later surveying the destruction. ¡°I did again didn¡¯t I?¡± He frowns slightly ¡°Yeah, but you are weaker than last time, and we weren¡¯t on the edge of a mountain either so no biggy¡± Cannith grins at him offering a helping hand. ¡°So, as I was saying before I raged; it¡¯s an unknown third party. And this my little pawn, is where you come in¡± ¡°And my job?¡± ¡°I got you fired this morning, hence why your Lieutenant left once you two rejoined civilization¡± ¡°I hate you, Inspector¡± ¡°I believe we are even, Captain, now get to work¡± ¡­ ¡°So mind telling me where we are going?¡± The man, curious as to why they are stopping next to a cellar, asks Renold. ¡°I¡¯m taking you to Hell¡± He responds with an evil grin ¡°Oh¡­do I get to go with a friend or?¡± ¡°Be careful what you wish for¡± A figure, wearing a black robe walks towards the group and Renold looks toward the newcomer before he moves out the way ¡°Because you just might get your wish¡± Behind the man is Ankorr trembling slightly, but the minute he sees the bound man he grins ¡°I see you¡¯re going to Hell too¡± Ankorr¡¯s grin turns devious ¡°Well can¡¯t let you go alone now can I. Since I have a feeling we¡¯re meant to be together¡± He returns the devious grin ¡°Even in Hell?¡± ¡°Dammit, I hate fate¡± The two of them sigh with their grins. The bound man turns back to Renold. ¡°Before I go, can you itch my back please because I¡¯ve got a real bad itch like something¡¯s there¡± Renold just grins ¡°Daiord could you do the honors?¡± The robed figure hesitates but for a second before stepping towards the man and turning him around, only to chuckle. Ripping out the arrow from in-between the shoulder blades, the man yelps and Ankorr jumps back in slight horror. ¡°Damn, how the hell do you itc-¡± the man turns round stopping when he sees the bloody arrow tip that had been jutting out ¡°Well; I think I¡¯ll go to Hell now¡± The man walks down the cellar steps, his pensive face disappearing. Ankorr soon follows through, eyes crimson and looking deeply at the wounds on his ally¡¯s body in both fear, and in disgust. ¡°I see you¡¯ve brought a Blood Drinker¡± Roland whistles deeply and the robed figure nods ¡°Yes, but yours is quite¡­unique¡± Both nod and look at the bloody arrow tip curiously. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: THANK YOU ALL FOR READING End of the arc so woohoo? ALSO, Thank you to everyone(MILAROKA whooo, 4SAI the best! SLEPNIR :* and TagDaReaper! and ANUBBISK OMG ALMOST FORGOT YOU BUT I REMEMBERED SO :* :* DON''T BE MAD PLLLZZZZ) who has commented/reviewed/read :D :D :D Also also, HAPPPPPPPY NEW YEEEAR On a more sadder note; i will be HIATUS, for a few weeks (a month is around the most time (CAUSE REFRESHERS WOO!)) however i''ll be back for this second arc and I hope you will do too! First Arc Epilogue The dawn rises on the City of Darton illuminating the early rises milling about in their morning activities. No one really looks up at the sizzling sun except one man; naked as the day he was born but not hiding in shame. He sits upon the forty second stair of the Cathedral, his eyes burning the memory of a beautiful orange sunrise. The heavy door opens behind him and out comes a woman, her long brunette hair curling down her shoulders. He stands up and she hands him a broom, her crystal blue eyes fixated to his, before she takes seat on the stairs a lesser distance from where she sat a month ago. ¡°Six months and five days¡± she says wistfully to the man as he sweeps the stairs ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s been a while¡± He comments thoughtfully as he sweeps. ¡°Will he ever come back?¡± ¡°I trust that he will¡± he stops sweeping for a second, looking up at the sun and smiling ever so slightly. ¡°Hm, well I hope he gets here later than sooner; I¡¯m actually able to eat again and I don''t mind the peace¡± She smiles too but for a different purpose. She sits while he sweeps and they maintain this peaceful silence for a short while, letting the sun bask them in its light. However the sun soon rises and she stands up to leave. Stopping at the doorway, she looks back at Moren. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.¡°Hey, could you tell me what you said to him that day?¡± ¡°Well it wouldn¡¯t be a secret if I told you now would it?¡± He responds with a devilish grin ¡°Tsch¡± she walks away to go begin her morning duties. Moren continues sweeping for a short while before stopping suddenly, whipping his head to the right. A small smile creeps on his face finally taking the form of a full beaming smile. ¡°Welcome back into the light of Helia, friend¡± ............................................................................................................................................................................. IMPORTANT!! Poll stuff! Well you see i want to write the six months in between the first arc and what i''m thinking is going to be my second arc. However i''m not sure whether you as readers would prefer it to be part of this fiction, or to be a standalone. THE REASON is because those six months are going to be a proper gorefest. So, i don''t think everyone will appreciate the graphicness. Plus it''ll be able to stand alone as a terror gore fiction by itself so for those that wan''t to read the goretastic fiction can Just tell me what you think I should do and i''ll try to make everyone happy (including myself :D) Chapter 11-Blood in the Sand WARNING! This arc will be goretastic and horrible in so many inhumane ways. So i implore you to think whether you can deal with it and if you can''t have a bucket nearby (I don''t know, maybe you''ve got an over-imaginative brain!?) if you don''t want to read this then you''ll just miss important info characters and an interesting and gory story, so nothing important (I joke, do it for Ankorr''s sake) Hope you enjoy and survive/love the gore. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The clacking of studded boots drowns out the quiet sound of cloth shoes sweeping along the stone floor in a small, dark corridor. The two wearers walk one after the other in silence, focused solely on the small dot of light that flickers in the distance. As they walk closer and closer to this light, heat begins to writhe around their cool bodies and far away sounds quietly whisper in their ear. Their pace quickens, as if sped by the growing cheers, the growing guttural roars of crazed men and women and beasts all pleading for blood and death. The two figures burst out of the corridor and are battered by a wall of roars from a crowd of spectators all focused on a small sand ring. The frontmost figure, Renold, says something with a relieved face to the black hooded figure behind him, but the words are lost in the crowds bloodthirsty chanting. The black hooded figure moves up next to Renold and looks down at the spectacle that all are screaming towards: Inside a small sand ring, caged and barred from the public, are two figures. The first a black goblin with red veins plastered all over its bare body, pulsating along with its crimson eyes. The other figure is a Gnoll, although on four feet and mouth frothing with wild rage. The two clash once more rolling on the ground, biting, slashing, gnawing, clawing. Blood gushes to the sand and spatters the near crowd causing them to roar, uncaring of the crimson sliding down their faces. The Gnoll, having gotten the upper hand, tears into the goblins arm wrenching it out. Bone and flesh is dumped on the ground and the crowd screams their glee in chorus to the pained wails of the goblin. Desperation in its eyes, it tries to bite the Gnoll and the Gnoll quickly wrenches its head towards the goblin for a bite as well. Locked in a bloody kiss, both clench their jaws and dig their teeth into the other¡¯s jaw in feral passion. Both fight with razor teeth to grab hold of the lower jaw. The Gnoll finally gets hold of the lower jaw, encases it with teeth and whips away. The goblin¡¯s lower jaw slides on the sand a distance away before stopping in front of a frenzied crowd, frothing at the mouth in anger or pleasure. The goblin, its tongue loosely whipping around in a jawless scream is not given a quick death as the Gnoll shreds its other arm in savage pleasure. Looking at the crowd, the Gnoll stomps around on all fours yipping in pleasure and the crowd responds with roars, the Gnolls yipping back with devilish grins. The roars grow louder and more fervent as the Gnoll turns back to the still alive goblin which crawls along the ground crying crimson tears in pure fear, wailing with its tongue flapping out. A paw on the goblin¡¯s back stops its movement and the Gnoll begins to feast on the living being to both its screams and the crowds. Renold smirks at the crude display and watches the Gnoll¡¯s surpervisor, a young man with scars littering its face, probably from the Gnoll itself, wave from the stand of victory as its Gnoll feasts on the weakly wailing goblin below. ¡°Disgusting little battle¡± His robed friend says in obvious disgust ¡°Ha, and you¡¯re the one who is bringing that Blood Drinker¡± Renold gives his friend a pat on the shoulder with a chuckle His friend goes to retort but a man, dressed in black livery, spattered with fresh blood, runs into the stage and the crowd grows quiet in anticipation. ¡®Guess it¡¯s my turn now¡± Renold sighs and begins to move forward, towards the edge of the raised platform the two are on. ¡°HOW ARE YOU MONSTERS DOING?¡± The man screams to the crowd and they voice their pleasure gutturally ¡°ARE YOU READY FOR MORE BLOOD?¡± He raises a bloody fist ¡°YES¡± They chorus with pumped fists ¡°ARE YOU READY FOR GUTS TO BE SPILLED?¡± his other bloody fist is raised ¡°YES¡± A rain of spittle drenches the man and he just grins ¡°ARE YOU REAAAAAADDDY?¡± he points to the crowds turning in a circle ¡°YES¡± The crowd chants war cries while they make themselves go into a frothing frenzy, waiting for blood, for death, ¡°THEN WELCOME AN OGRE LORD FROM KARIAXUS¡¯ SEED ITSELF. RONKAFTOR!¡± The frenzied roars of the crowd cause the rock ceiling to tremble violently and the crowd all push one another, spilling blood to see a descendant of a blood soaked ancestor. The ogre comes out; its single horn chipped, its pale skin covered in tattoos marking its deeds. The stone hammer it wields is layered with countless notches and his grin has countable teeth. ¡°AND ITS OPPONENT IS A SPECIAL TREAT FOR ALL EYES HERE! IT IS ONE OF THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE; REAPERS OF THE BATTLEFIELD, THE IMMORTAL DEMONS OF BLOOD AND DESTRUCTION. THE BLOOOOOOOOD DRINKER!!¡± The sound that came from the crowd could not be deemed as human sounds anymore, even if a large portion of the crowd were sentient monsters of all kinds. The sound caused the cave to shake vigorously causing stalactites to fall onto the crowd, but they do not care as blood soaked faces are turned towards only one thing; the open gate where this ¡®Blood Drinker¡¯ the demon all monsters fear and revere will come out. Out of the gates comes a clammy grey humanoid figure, with crimson eyes, unkempt black hair and wicked claws. The frenzy dies down somewhat as they see the mundaneness of the being, however the passionate fire in their eyes blazes once more as the Blood Drinker charges across the field, ripping out the throat of the commentator. Screams of delight and laughter come from the crowd as they see the commentator die with a look of shock on his eyes. Ronkaftor grins maliciously and swings his hammer in a wide arc towards the Blood Drinker. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He roars angrily as its enemy dodges it and his hammer uselessly bashes the dead commentator¡¯s head into smithereens, brain spattering over the sand. Before its large body can react, the Blood Drinker appears next to him and begins tearing through his leg in a frenzy. Swinging his hammer back, the blood drinker dodges by ripping through the leg flesh and sidling past the bone. An audible crack is heard in the ring and the crowd laughs at the ogre smashing his own leg off. Thumping into the ground, the ogre wails in immense pain as something sharp tears into his back, slowly ripping his skin away and digging through his soft insides. Writhing in pain, he rolls over in a last ditch effort, feeling its enemies claws embed themselves deeper in him as he crushes his foe with his own body weight. The crowd, look silently, frothing at the mouth in anticipation at whether they will lose the money they gambled. Renold looks excitedly at the show, immersed with the fight and the Blood Drinker. His friend however looks down, almost uninterested. ¡°So, that is all the host was able to do?¡± His pensive voice is caught by Renold¡¯s ears. Renold goes to comfort his friend for the loss when suddenly the ogre¡¯s wails of pain echo through the ring and the crowd watch silently as it twitches and wails and finally it cries crimson tears as the crowd watch in silence at the strange behaviour. It is soon explained however; bursting out of the ogre¡¯s chest, part of the rib cage in hand, is the Blood Drinker, covered in blood from head to toe. The crowd screams in glee and start stomping their feet chanting as the Blood Drinker wades through the ogre, kneed deep in its body, tearing and ripping apart the body, flinging bones, innards and flesh around in a wild fashion. Some raise their hands to try catch some and when they do, the raise it in the air with a guttural cry of victory, before another attacks them for the souvenir. A river of blood spills both inside and outside the ring. The crowd watch in savage pleasure as the dead ogre is further mutilated, to the point of no recognition: it had become simple many pieces of flesh, innard and bone scattered around the ring in no particular pattern. The Blood Drinker, roams wildly ripping the throats of spectators that get to close to the caged ring, drenching it in their blood. Though it soon stops doing so for some reason as it looks towards the now open gate and runs towards that in a hungered frenzy. ¡°I prepared something just in case¡± Renold¡¯s friend answered with a shrug seemingly non-interested by the win. However Renold knew better; he knew that his friend was grinning ear to ear in maddened glee at the victory that is inadvertently his. Another man, wearing the same black livery and drenched in blood charges out into the sand ring, as helpers collect the dead bodies. ¡°HOW DID YOU LIKE THAT?¡± He screams in the fervor of one who loves such matches The crowd responds with guttural glee which shakes the cave tremendously ¡°WELL PREPARE YOUR THROATS FOR THIS NEXT ROUND; BECAUSE IT WILL BE FILLED WITH BLOOD AND GUTS!¡± The crowd roars ¡°ROAR YOUR WELCOMES TO A SUICIDAL HUMAN WHO¡¯S COME TO BATTLE IN THE RING OF MONSTERS!¡± The crowd laughs insanely as a man, wearing a white shirt and brown shorts saunters in looking mildly confused. ¡°So this is Hell huh? This isn''t so bad¡± his gentle voice pierces through the crowd and the look at him stupefied for a second before almost dying with mad laughter. ¡°AND WELCOME HIS OPPONENT, A CURSED BEING AWOKEN FROM THE DEPTHS OF ANURA SWAMP! A BOG BODY!¡± The crowd screams their approval and cries of battle as a metallic tinged man slumps into the arena. Though the screaming of battle lessen as the man turns away from his shuffling opponent and looks towards a raised platform; towards Renold. ¡°Um, guy who brought me here, I don¡¯t really like to fight¡± The crowd goes deathly silent but the rind is submerged in a sea of murderous intent, all directed towards the man. The only thing that can be heard is the shuffling of the bog body as it moves its stiff legs across the sand. Renold feels a cold sweat down rolling down his back at being called out like this, much so in front of a very blood thirsty crowd. Though he still moves forward for all to lay their eyes upon. ¡°Fight or I will personally torture you to the brink of your life in front of the crowd¡± He raises his voice to a commanding tone showing no fear in view of the spectators. The crowd responds with bloodthirsty growls and the man nods ¡°Sure, go ahead, I¡¯d prefer that¡± He grins The crowd goes berserk in wonder, laughter and anger at the crazy man who is asking to be tortured rather than fight a bog body. Renold¡¯s black moustache twitches slightly in annoyance, but the fact that he can spot a few influential people in the crowd he decides this endeavor would be worth it. Jumping down towards the cage, he safely makes it through the large hole at the center of its caged roof and onto the sand. He looks into the eyes of the man but sees no hint of madness; only determination and pride fills those eyes. He half hopes those eyes remain determined, however he also desires to break the man for the pleasure of it. ¡°Bring me a chain¡± He says to a nearby attendee as he remains looking into the fearless eyes of the man. However he notices the slight trembling of the man¡¯s legs, the trembling of one who is trying their hardest to control their terrors. He wonders at the strange man and his odd decision while an attendee brings a long piece of chain and begins setting it up, hanging from the top of the caged ring. ¡°And my wrists were so close to losing those rope marks¡± He says with a relaxed grin that doesn¡¯t reach the rest of his body. ¡°Shall we get started?¡± ............................................................................................................................................................................. Author''s Corner: It''s begun. Also Thank you for the review Jefferypendragon. Yeah, i hope(?) most of you noticed the lack of information from the mc becuase well now you know how all our lovely side characters feel like :D But thanks for the 3.5 star review T_T Means i gotta work better! and even better to make you happy !!!! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 12 - Entrance to Hellderworld Four figures walk into a dark cave, filling it with the dim light of their torch. The cave has only two things within it: a mirror the size of large double doors; standing in the center held up by a small brass stand of some sort, and a large pile of decomposing skin in one corner of the room. All noses twitch to the pungent stench of rotting flesh. Two of the figures, the ones in front, walk unhesitatingly towards the mirror, causing the other two to follow through the tautening of their chains. Stopping next to the mirror, the figure in the black robe looks towards Ankorr, who is trembling with slight fear. Pulling him closer with the chain, the figure grabs onto the neck ring and cracks it open with bare hands. ¡°Strip¡± The words are a forceful command With a little hesitation Ankorr obeys. The black robed figure strips as well, revealing a pale man with an underfed body; shown by the prominent ribs and sunken cheeks. ¡°Do not stop moving¡± He says in a serious tone With a nod, the man walks into the mirror and through it, causing small ripples to form around the outskirts of his body as he slowly passes through. Ankorr, eyes wide with surprise follows suit. Stepping into the mirror, he immediately feels the gloopy substance surround him noiselessly. Taking another step, he notices the difficulty in simply moving; the substance seems to thicken as he pushes it with his leg becoming akin to custard. Also akin to custard, it seems to harden on his steps and loosen in a short time after. Fearfully, he pushes his body slowly inch by inch, letting the strange substance surround him and layer onto him until it sticks to him just like his own skin would. Once his body is fully covered, it starts to burn as if acid has been poured and lathered onto him. Unable to withstand the sudden pain, he screams and the substance invades his mouth gagging the noise and coursing painfully through his mouth. Startled, Ankorr tries to spit it out; however it has already melded with his mouth, burning away at it. The substance doesn¡¯t stop at his mouth though; it continues down his throat and into his stomach, melding and burning away till he feels like nothing is left, just a void where his insides used to be. But the pain sitll resides. Continuing moving, he wades slowly through the substance, letting it wash over him with increasing ease to the point where it is as if it weren¡¯t there to block him at all. And then it wasn¡¯t. With a ripping noise the pain stops and his view changes. ¡­ Renold watched the two strip and walk through the portal. Curious as to how it looks, he walks around it and sees the two figures; covered in the portal, jutting out, making their way in slow motion. The silvery figures slowly turn skin coloured and with a ripping sound, the men disappear and their skin drops unceremoniously on the floor. He picks up the skins and tosses them on the pile before turning back to the other man, who is looking wondrously at the portal. However the man soon notices Renold¡¯s gaze and backs off slightly. ¡°So¡­is it our turn yet?¡± He asks with a calm voice, betrayed by his shaking legs. ¡°No, you and I are to stay here a little while¡± Renold says with a hint of a grin as he opens his coat, revealing a mass of small torture equipment The gulp of the man echoes throughout the cave as Renold walks towards him with a pleasured grin on his face. ¡­ ¡°Where are we?¡± Ankorr with a voice he does not recognize as his own. It is like the moaning of wind. ¡°Welcome to Hellderworld¡± Another voice, ghost-like and eerie comes from his right. He turns away from the mass of monsters, all milling about the rural street covered in blood, and looks towards the voice to see the usual black robed figure, albeit the robe is more tattered. However the man is hovering slightly off the ground and in the hood of his robe, only red eyes are visible. The man Ankorr is looking at does not give any warmth of life in the slightest. ¡°Wha-¡± ¡°I am a wraith¡± He interrupts sensing the question ¡°Ho-¡± Eyes wide in confusion he tries to ask another question ¡°The portal; when we went through it, it shed us of our humanoid disguise and gave us back our true form¡± ¡°True form?¡± He asks to nobody in particular ¡°Yes, and you are formless as the tales tell¡± The wraith sounds almost impressed Ankorr, wide eyed with fear and confusion looks down at himself, only to see a shadow. Terrified, he runs, only to feel no feet touching the ground, but still he moves, as if he is flying. Stopping in front of a house, he looks at the window and sees in its reflection a shadow; a black formless thing that one could say is a floating shadow with crimson eyes that hovered in the air. ¡°Wha-¡± the words come from the mouthless being reflected in the window ¡°Ah right, this is the first time you have been in your formless form hasn¡¯t it?¡± The wraith says curiously from behind Whipping round, Ankorr looks at the wraith, pleading with his eyes for explanation but unsure the feeling comes across ¡°Just think of a body¡± the wraith says somehow catching his drift He closes his eyes and instinctively tries to remember his own, but the memories of his own body are minimal, flooded with bloody thoughts and memories of him murdering and killing without will. Instead, his mind begins to wander towards a sweeter memory, about Lucille; a girl, the girl he had once loved. He remembers her face easily; chocolate brown eyes, short brown hair bobbing just above her shoulders, along with a small nose and a dimple on the left side of her mouth. The face was round, young, cute and innocent. The face of a child as she was the girl he met in his tweens. Somehow, he remembers her petite body, even her slightly puffed stomach and knobbly knees and within seconds, sees her in full; clothed in a long checked green and white skirt reaching just past her knees along with a grey pullover hiding most of her hands. He feels butterflies fly around him once more as he turns her image around, peering at every inch, making sure he remembers her as fully as possible. Losing himself in her cute smile, he tries to hear her voice, to remember the soft noise that tickled his ears and gave his heart the energy to pound upon his chest. After a short while, he finally remembers how it sounded like, and the few words that she ever spoke to him swirled around his mind making him shiver delightfully. Feeling happy with his recollection of her, he opens his eyes almost shouting in shock at remembering the situation at hand. ¡°What an interesting form¡± The wraith says with an amused tone. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Ankorr does not understand him but for a second. His large chocolate coloured eyes look at the petite body of a young girl with a round face and short brown hair that bobbed just above the shoulder. Even the checked skirt and pullover are there. The shock registers in his mind and that is all that registers while his mind explodes with thoughts of guilt, dread and regret. He feels both horrified and disgusted at himself, but at the same time he feels his heart pounding at his chest upon seeing her in the flesh once more and in the recess of his mind something is grateful for this. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t lose yourself in the window there. A cute girl indeed, a little sister perhaps?¡± Ankorr forces a smile on his face as he turns towards the wraith ¡°Of course she is¡± He is surprised by the voice; light and cheery like he remembers, and it rings so painfully in his ears. ¡°Oh, a shame. I thought I had found another fellow lover of the innocent¡± the wraith sounds almost dejected ¡°Another?¡± His small eyebrows raised in confusion ¡°Why yes, it¡¯s quite a common thing in Hellderworld and there are even markets for it here. Such a paradise and let me tell you why¡± Any small thought of strange comfort at finding others like him quickly disappears as the wraith gives a small explanation on the child swaps that are as common as greetings. ¡°-nd so really it¡¯s one of the most common things within Hellderworld as it is a surefire way for young monsters to survive the harvests¡± The wraith concludes almost analytically, as if he had researched upon such a thing. Meanwhile, Ankorr had turned away from the window and now curled up into a ball feeling elated and disgusted by the soft feeling of her skin. ¡°Are you alright there?¡± The wraith seems to have finally noticed Ankorr and asks with a rather caring tone Ankorr just shakes his head and focuses on not letting tears run down his cute round face ¡°Well I guess I should have warned you about forming your body, but alas I was interested to see what form you would desire to take. Not taking your own was something rather quite strange I must say but then again, I don¡¯t remember what my body looks like and I¡¯ve lived for hundreds of years, Ha!¡± He chuckles melancholically ¡°C-can I change?¡± Ankorr asks with a desperate plea ¡°Of course! You are a formless demon after all¡± He says as if it is obvious but then makes a thinking pose with a sleeve ¡°Right, you don¡¯t know what a formless demon is do you?¡± Ankorr shakes his head ¡°A formless demon is one that was artificially created without a specific form in mind. All forms they take are but containers of their true selves. However they are most vulnerable in those forms and killing their forms puts them into a temporary slumber. Formless demons can take any form they desire as long as they can picture it, however most will end up sticking to a single form, usually the original form of its host¡± The wraith speaks in an intellectual manner, almost as if he were reciting from a book. Immediately he tries to change form, but whatever person he thinks of, the memory is not that strong and in his mind they seem to melt and disappear replaced by Lucille, perfectly remembered to the dimple to the left of her lips. Sighing, his mind is then filled with questions at the brief yet oddly detailed explantation but one filled his mind urgently. ¡°Host?¡± The wraith¡¯s robes tremble slightly and unbeknownst to Ankorr, the wraith is coddling himself for saying such information. ¡°Formless demons are technically immortal, due to it being impossible to truly kill them. When they are put into slumber, they lose the form they are in and take over someone; their host so that they may begin the rebirth process¡± the wraith explains ¡°So¡­I am a host?¡± Ankorr says in dread at hearing that he may be the host to an immortal demon ¡°Yes¡± Ankorr takes in the information with pinch of doubt, because the wraith hadn¡¯t told him much all in all and he suspects there is a larger story behind this and many odd questions form in his mind. The wraith does not let Ankorr get answers as he pushes him to his feet and starts to float down the bloody street. Ankorr follows and quickly notices how he isn¡¯t reacting to the blood, and is fearful as to why/ The wraith notices the distress in Ankorr¡¯s chocolaty eyes. ¡°Since this is the Original realm for Blood Drinkers, they feed off its power and thus have no desires when in here¡± the answer just causes more questions to barrage Ankorr¡¯s already tired mind. He follows the wraith, seeing the common child swapping happen in broad daylight and is sickened by it yet oddly allured to it, for he is only human and such desires always creep at the recess of his mind. Distracting himself with bloody thoughts, he continues to follow the wraith, ignoring everything but the cries of a horned beast which flies along the crimson rocky ceiling way above. Looking around to the skies more, he notices that the entire place is within a giant, reddish cave, which is oddly lit even though he doesn''t see any source of light. Though he does not get far in his search as he is distracted by looks, by gazes that pierce his warm clothes and almost lick his body with desire. Shivering tenderly, he quickens his pace dramatically. Almost bumping into the wraith, he stops watching the flying beast and follows the wraith into a house. It turns out to be a tavern and like all taverns it is filled with beings. Although all beings here are monsters. Walking past the tables, he finds it quite odd to just be able to see the top of the tables but is thankful for that as he does not get to see the slightly lustful faces of those around as they watch his female form bob as he walks. However, none let the feeling persist as they notice the child following the wraith. ¡°Master Windshaw, been an age since I last saw you¡± The gruff orc barkeep lets out a meaty grin towards the wraith ¡°Yes, exactly two hundred and forty years since I last was in here¡± The orc hands the wraith a key, which floats in the air before sliding through his sleeve. Turning, the wraith floats upstairs and Ankorr follows; both in fear from the others and in mild intrigue at what seems like a very old being in front. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Sooo, yeah that''s happening. I honestly have little more to say about this chapter then Hellderworld is going to be one f''d up place. I can already feel it. Also, is it confusing still calling him a he? should I be using she? (its a bit confusing) Also Also, for some bizarre reason, like 600 people viewed my first arc and now like 1000 are viewing the second (what, 400 people don''t want to read the first arc or what? truly like what''s going on?) Anyways, hope you enjoyed? the chapter (thou tbh not much happened in this one did it?) -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 13 - Basics of Hellderworld Life Windshaw hovers into the room and heads over to the round table, almost sitting on the chair beside it. He watches the young girl form that the host had chosen to become, walk into the room with more than a hint of fear in her steps. This situation was intriguing to him, very much so since the Blood Drinker had been rebirthed due to crossing the portal. However, the host remained, which should be impossible since no non-monster can cross through the portal and survive the intense pain of having their skin literally sheared off to reveal their true form, as that is their true form. So to Windshaw, this being which is the host of the Blood Drinker is in fact slightly more interesting than the Blood Drinker itself, which seems to remain in slumber seemingly content with the situation. The host stops at the doorway looking unsure what to do. ¡°Sit down, I¡¯m sure you have many questions and it will be beneficial for the both of us to have them answered¡± He motions to the other chair, across the table. The host sits down and waits silently for Windshaw to begin. ¡°Let¡¯s begin with names shall we?¡± ¡°Ankorr¡± her voice is light and cheery and it has been a while since Windshaw had heard such a sweet and innocent voice, it almost thrilled him. ¡°Windshaw. Now I¡¯m sure you have questions, but I need to tell you a small bit about Hellderworld first, so that you know what is to come¡± Ankorr nods ¡°Hellderworld is one of the many dimensions created by the demon lords as safe havens for monsters like us. The lord that rules this dimension is Aethelx. As I just mentioned, this dimension was created and thus requires maintaining. This is where you must listen carefully because if you do not survive the harvest you will become a soulless. The harvest, is what we call the day each month where part of our soul will be taken y the dimension to ¡®feed¡¯ it and maintain it. If a being¡¯s soul runs out, then it will become soulless¡± Windshaw looks out the window and points down to the street. Ankorr looks down and sees a cart full of monsters all shuffling about, lifeless, trying to attack passersby through the bars. ¡°Explaining what the soul is would be time consuming and not all that useful¡­¡± He muses for a short while before continuing ¡°Hmm, sitting here and explaining to you about Hellderworld is much harder than I thought. Come, let me show you it¡± He stands up, opens the window and floats down. Ankorr follows, hitting the ground painlessly to his own surprise. Gliding down the street, he quickly finds himself at the door of his trusted blacksmith and goes through the door without hesitation. The rat-man, Jinkers, who is tending the stall comes out from behind the counter and peers towards him. ¡°Wiiiindshawww?¡± the voice is elderly and slow ¡°It is me Jinkers. I need some equipment¡± ¡°Chained swords?¡± The rat replies knowledgeably ¡°Not for me, for her¡± He points to Ankorr who just entered the shop Jinkers eyes Ankorr up and down, lifting an arm and sniffing it with a pensive look on his ratty face. ¡°This one smells like a beast¡± ¡°A Vampire¡¯s child¡± Ankorr¡¯s eyes grow massively and he looks at Windshaw with a confused expression at the blatant lie. ¡°Hmm, what is your weapon of choice mistress?¡± ¡°A longsword and a shield¡± Ankorr says unhesitatingly, mostly because the prospect of getting a weapon is very comforting to him. ¡°Give me but a minute¡± Jinkers runs off to the back and returns with a black, teethed longsword and a small shield bristling with spikes Windshaw takes the weapons and after inspecting them nods and hands them to Ankorr. ¡°That¡¯ll be four parts¡± Ankorr gives a confused look to Windshaw about the odd price. ¡°A part means a part of your soul¡± He says factually Ankorr looks horrified at such a prospect, giving away part of his soul for weapons. Windshaw just shrugs at the reaction ¡°The first way to gain soul is through soul transfer via a linker¡± Windshaw explains as Jinkers takes out two rings stuck together with runes pulsating on them. Jinkers places the ring on his finger and motions for Ankorr to do the same. Ankorr places his finger in and Windshaw notes the face of shock when the transfer happens. A shock because it transferred twelve parts instead of six, as the linker is inefficient, only transferring half. But unbeknownst to Windshaw, Ankorr had received a window telling him that he lost twelve levels. Nodding thanks to Jinkers, Windshaw half drags Ankorr out the shop and begins hovering down the street once more. While hovering, he notices a familiar looking grell in an alleyway, selling information as per usual. Taking note of where he is, Windshaw continues on, deciding to come back later for a chat about a certain Mistress Van Krelich. Before he knows it, he is at the door of the soul watcher and ushers Ankorr inside. The room is a dingy as he remembers and as usual, the white faceless woman is sitting cross-legged in the center of the room staring into empty space. She turns to look towards Windshaw with her white, blind eyes. ¡°Come in, come in¡± Her voice hoarse and cracked, fills the room He sits down in front of her, places a sleeve on the linker she wears and guiders her other hand to his hood. ¡°Your soul is strong, enough to last sixty three harvests¡± Windshaw feels happy about the number, as with that number he could probably last a few dozen years in here before he is forced back out into the Overworld. Transferring one part worth to the woman, he motions for Ankorr to do the same. He sits down and when the woman¡¯s hand is on his face, shock registers on hers as well as his. ¡°Your soul is divided. You can last four harvests, yet you can also last eighteen¡± Windshaw looks at Ankorr with a curious thought, because having two souls may mean that the harvest affects both. Ankorr did not look that shocked at the mention he could last four harvests, however he audibly gasped when he heard he could last eighteen too. Reluctantly, he gave a literal one quarter of his soul to the woman and departed. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.Wiser, the two leave knowing a slight more about each-other and more questions float in Windshaw¡¯s mind about Ankorr and the Blood Drinker. ¡°Now that is the first way to gain parts for the harvest. However it¡¯s really only limited to craftsmen and you can¡¯t do any crafts can you?¡± He starts his lecture on the rules of Hellderworld once more ¡°No¡± Ankorr answers timidly ¡°So then you need to gain parts another way¡± Windshaw stops in front of a small coliseum ¡°You have to fight and kill¡± ¡°I-is there another way?¡± Ankorr sounds almost desperate ¡°There is, but it is best you do not know and never try this way, for it corrupts your soul in a most horrible way¡± Windshaw tries to sound as serious as he can, for he knows what this third way can do and it will do nothing but ruin his plans. Ankorr sighs, somewhat resigned ¡°So I just have to go in there and kill monsters in battle?¡± ¡°Yes, that is the gist of it. Not much to it except the grades¡± ¡°Grades?¡± ¡°There are seven grades of monster in Hellderworld and you can only fight those of the same grade or one higher¡± Ankorr seems to understand the idea ¡°The grades are: Scum, Nuisance, Annoyance, Threat, Dangerous, Terror and Apocalypse. To give you an idea of the grades, I am at Annoyance grade¡± The look of shock on Ankorr¡¯s eyes makes Windshaw chuckle slightly. ¡°You are scum by the way¡± Windshaw finishes off, making Ankorr visible deflate. Windshaw chuckles darkly and makes his way back to the tavern. Returning upstairs, he hovers over the chair once more and motions for Ankorr to sit down. ¡°So, ask away, I¡¯ll try my best to answer¡± Ankorr looks confused, as if trying to decide which question is more important. ¡°Why did you lie back there?¡± His curiosity gets the better of him ¡°Simple. Your form is not suited for battle so I took the liberty of making it your disguise. You are about to enter a violent path, so hiding your face will become very important indeed¡± Ankorr opens his mouth to respond, but then stops and thinks upon the answer, finally relenting to the idea and nodding. ¡°Why did only us two go through?¡± He moves on to another burning question in his mind ¡°Well that is because your friend is human, or we suspect he is a monster but don¡¯t want to be wrong and have him die¡± ¡°Die? How?¡± Ankorr jumps up fearful for his ally ¡°Well the portal is designed to shed us of our humanoid disguises as I mentioned before. However, if a humanoid went through then they would be doing nothing but stripping their own skin. So if your friend is a human and he went through, he¡¯d be stripped to the bone¡± ¡°So if he¡¯s human he cannot go through?¡± ¡°Essentially yes. However your friend has some interesting regenerative abilities so it¡¯s possible he can survive going through¡± ¡°Oh, ok¡± Ankorr sounds dejected as he knows the chance of his ally surviving going through is close to zero if that. ¡°So, why did you bring me here? Was it just because I am a Blood Drinker?¡± ¡°Partially. Last time I was here, I found it to be simpler to have an ally with me so that if either of us are running low, we can transfer to one another prolonging our time somewhat¡± ¡°Ok, so am I not a slave then?¡± Originally you were supposed to be, but since you are sentient you¡¯d come in much handier as an ally ¡°You are an aide¡± Ankorr nods in understanding ¡°So what do I have to do?¡± He doesn¡¯t seem convinced about being an aide to Windshaw ¡°You will fight in the arena and transfer parts¡± ¡°And what do I get in turn, since I am your¡­aide¡± He says with a business like tone, which is unbecoming of the cute, small girl form he wears ¡°I will give you information, about this world, about the monsters, about yourself¡± Windshaw could see the eyes widen in need, in desire to know. ¡°Each time you transfer enough parts to help strengthen my soul, I will try grant you something you want, as best as I can, even a way out¡± His words are not empty but Windshaw knows Ankorr won¡¯t wish to leave first thing since he needs answers and soon there will be another bargaining chip to keep him here. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t that be simple since it¡¯s only two of my parts to give you one?¡± His face isn¡¯t elated for one who was told they could get free, as he knows he must stay for answers. ¡°If I was Scum like you, then yes. However, since I am an Annoyance, I require four times what you need. So eight of your parts will give me one in the normal circumstance. But due to other things, around sixteen of your parts should give me one¡± The number seems overwhelming to Windshaw and Ankorr looks inclined to agree. ¡°So you better get fighting, because you need enough parts to last your harvest and mine¡± he motions for Ankorr to get going ¡°And what if I don¡¯t want to?¡± he replies deviously since to Ankorr, sixteen levels in a month is no easy feat. Windshaw just chuckles ¡°Did you see those eyes on the street? Staying with me gives you protection from them¡± He notices Ankorr shivering slightly at the mention of the roaming eyes on the street. Windshaw knows those kinds of people well, since it was because of them that he and Renold first met. Ankorr sullenly nods and begins to head outside, before stopping and turning around with a pensive expression "Can you teach me how to change form, because this is my disguise right?" "Sure" He tosses a blood apple, from the bowl on the table, to Ankorr. "Let''s begin with this" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Note: Heeeeeey! thank you for reading! Also, seriously, a lot of view on this new arc for some reason, which is a bit bizarre since the first arc has like half the amount???? Also Also, hope you enjoyed it(even though it was quite a nothing much happened but still necessary for the story to proceed chapter))!! Also Also Also, don''t forget to comment your love/hate/random things! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 14- The other Pair enters A figure, bent over with cackling glee, licks his lips as he removes the last piece of bone carefully. Renold shudders momentarily as he looks at his work, both in fear that he may have overdone it and in ecstatic pleasure. The figure, dissected to only a mass of veins, arteries and capillaries strewn in a human shape, lies limp on the floor. Though Renold¡¯s worries are dispersed when he hears a small thump; which he takes to be the beating of a heart but is actually the man¡¯s still heart slipping off the lungs and onto the floor. However he had thought wrong and didn¡¯t realize that actually the man was dead, unbeknownst to him. With new fervor, he skirts around the body checking for flaws, for undisected pieces. But he finds none and with a tinge of sadness leaves his impeccable work alone. He doesn¡¯t understand how it is possible for he has never seen such a phenomena before. He does not understand why the man hasn¡¯t died, why he hasn¡¯t given into to the lull that baited the rest of his subjects as he slowly dissected through their muscles and bone. Shaking the thoughts out of his mind as they are not going to be answered by a pile of veins, heart, brain and a partial respiratory system, he stops skirting around the man. Grabbing the many jars of eyes, tongues, lips, ears, fingers, toes and other small body pieces along with a crateful of bones and muscles, he takes them over to the piles of crates he has and begins sorting them out. Finishing the job within a dozen minutes, he has one last look at the piles of crates that contain many dozens of each body part the man had. He has muscles by the hundreds, from triceps to thighs. Bones, piled high all sorted into respective crates due to the number of them. Jars, overflowing with eyeballs, tongues and other small body parts come by the dozens. The crates are only stacked three high, however they stretch from one corner of the room to another, eight rows deep. Grinning from ear to ear, he wastes his time counting each one, ending with four hundred and eighty six crates. Though, by the time he finishes counting them, his grin turned sour because he knows that he cannot take any of this with him due to the way the portal works. Sighing deeply, he finally turns back around to see the man has regrown once more. Renold is amazed, thrilled by this man: His organs and tissue show signs of nothing but an ordinary human; however no ordinary human can live when reduced to a pile of veins, heart, lungs and brain. And no ordinary human can regrow their entire body in a ridiculously short span of twenty two minutes and six seconds. Though if he had looked back beforehand, he would¡¯ve seen the man revive and lie there taking much needed rest. He had skinned the man, slowly dissecting him to this point over and over and over again for the past month. Since it only took him about three hours to do so and the man regrew in twenty two he had much time to practice and to play. Getting to that stage with his subject still living, stirred the loins of Renold in such a way that he¡¯d almost forgotten the feelings that lustily crawl through his skin as he watches them writhe in his hands. It had been a long time since Renold had gotten to play and never had he found such a rare, unique even, treat. It had been such a long time since his hands carved through flesh digging into the raw juicy underneath with savage yet controlled pleasure. The man is already conscious, and his eyes look fearfully towards Renold. Fearful yes, but never has the man taken action upon that fear, not once. That always makes Renold wander what is going through that man¡¯s brain; why the man does not complain or try to run away but faces this hell with a determined look in his eyes. However, it is always just a passing thought for him as he prefers to concentrate on the memories of eliciting the most bloodcurdling screams from his subjects. With a desiring sigh, he puts away the memory of the man, bloody tears pouring out his eye sockets while screams splurge out his mouth as Renold pricked the soft fleshy tissue of the man¡¯s soles and walks up to the man. ¡°Come, it¡¯s time we go¡± He says to the man, offering a hand, grinning maliciously as the man rolls away to his feet, sweat already drenching his naked body. Removing his own clothes, he motions towards the portal and watches the man unhesitatingly dive towards the portal, still na?ve to its actual purpose. Renold gulps as he watches the man slowly meld with the portal. To Renold, this is a gamble which could make him join the ranks of the Apocalypse. That man is a gold mine to Renold; due to his never ending source of body parts and astounding regenerative powers, Everyone will want to have control for both income and pleasure. Swallowing his nervousness one last time, he follows the possible human through the portal, giving prayers to Aegi to keep him alive, if only barely. Walking into the portal, it begins to meld with him. ¡­ Gravekeeper Aelus hears the moan of another one waking up and stands up, grabbing his shovel. Shuffling over to the grave, he spots a hand, raw from the clawing of dirt yet still fresh looking, sport out of the ground. Leaning on his shovel, he watches a man claw his way out, spitting dirt out of his mouth. The man wore a white shirt and brown trousers but what caught Aelus¡¯ eye was the fact that this zombie was looking extremely fresh, in prime condition even. Though he shrugs it off as the man being a newborn, which is not common to see rising from the graveyard but still plausible. ¡°Good awakening brother¡± one of his rotting teeth fall out onto the dirt The man looks around curiously ignoring Aelus for a small while and he waits patiently. Finally, the man seems to register Aelus ¡°Forgive me, but where am I?¡± His voice is gentle, almost calming Aelus can¡¯t help but chuckle as he thinks of the possibility of the man¡¯s insides being rotted away while his outside is fine. ¡°We are in Hellderworld, and you¡¯ve woken up a couple of hours before the harvest, brother¡± ¡°Harvest?¡± The man cocks his head and Aelus is assured the man¡¯s brain has rotted considerably. ¡°I will tell you over food, because you should be hungry no?¡± Aelus offers a small bowl of dead maggots, almost looking like brown rice to the unobservant or uncaring eye. The man takes the bowl and gulps down the maggots with the fervor of one who hasn¡¯t eaten for very long. ¡°more¡± Chuckling at the man¡¯s ravenous demeanor, he produces a few more bowls, watching the man ravish each bowl clean before throwing it all back up due to shoving too much down there at once. The grin that was plastered on his face wipes off as the man vomits up the maggots because zombies do not vomit due to lack of gag reflex. Though Aelus does not immediately act as Hellderworld is filled with strange demons aplenty. He just observes the strange being with his deteriorating eyes. ¡°Say, what are you?¡± The curiousity gets the better of him ¡°A priest¡± The man wipes off some lingering vomit from his mouth and grins Aelus grins back, not full of malicious intent, like one would suppose would happen, but a grin due to the fact that he took the response as a joke. ¡°Very well, if you don¡¯t want to say I¡¯m not one to push¡± Aelus stops leaning on his shovel and walks back to his cabin ¡°Um, could you tell me what this Harvest is?¡± the man calls after him, causing him to remember what he had promised. ¡°The harvest is the day when all residents must pay the world with part of our soul¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Part of our soul?¡± Aelus turns around, slightly in worry for the man ¡°Have you killed many things in your past?¡± he asks curiously ¡°No, not a single thing¡± ¡°Have you ever used a linker before?¡± He begins shuffling towards the man with more than a tinge of worry in his voice ¡°Linker?¡± ¡°Did you drink the blood?¡± Aelus grabs the man by the shoulders and shakes him slightly ¡°I¡¯ve thrown up blood not drunk it¡± Aelus backs away from the man and shakes his head, wondering how many parts the man has if he has not done any of the three ways to gain them. ¡°Go see the Soul Watcher, she will help you¡± Aelus points towards the east, where the soul watcher lives. The man bows gratefully and starts walking off in the general direction. Aelus just shakes his head at the man who is most likely going to turn into a soulless in a few hours. He wonders whether he should have just used his shovel to spare him becoming one, but he is neither merciful nor kind. Perishing the thought, he shuffles away to continue his duties ¡­ Renold walks briskly through the street, his bony feet clattering on the cobblestone floor. Cursing violently, he ignores the masses of people which flit about their own business, for he is focused on solely one thing; the man. There was no sign of his death at the portal exit, so he could assume the man was alive. But somehow the man had escaped within seconds of being out his sight. Of course finding him won¡¯t be hard due to him still looking like a human, but if any learn of the man¡¯s abilities they will take him for themselves. However his worries are for naught as some strange fate causes him to turn down a street and hear something going down in an alleyway. Walking closer, he hears the angered voice more clearly ¡°THYOU THUNY LITTLE STHCUM! THOW THARE YOU WASTHTE MY TIME THY THALKING AROUND THOWN LIKE YOU THUCKING OWN IT¡± A large, spittling, troll with a heavy lisp looks down at the human looking man in furious anger ¡°I was jus-¡± he beings gently ¡°STHTOP WATSHTING MY THIME WITH EXHCUTSHETSH YOU LITTLE STHHIT! I STHEE YOU IN THIS THUMAN THORM WALTZHING AROUND, I SHEE YOU. THWHAT ARE YOU DOING? THWHAT THHE THUCK ARE YOU THLAYING AT? BECAUSTHE THWHEN I LOOK AT THYOU I KNOW YOU¡¯RE UP TO STHOMETHHING. SO THUCKING THELL ME AND STHTOP WASHTING MY THIME¡± He roars at the man, cutting him off with masses of spittle launched from its slimy, thick tongue. ¡°I came to find a friend¡± The man quickly interjects as the troll takes a much needed breath ¡°BULLSTHIT! YOU¡¯RE THUCKING WASTHING MY THIME!¡± The troll swings a meaty fist at the man, connecting with the chest and sending him crashing into the alley wall with multiple audible cracks. It does not stop there as it lets the man drop to the floor before stomping on the man a few times cracking and snapping sounds of breaking bones accompanying each stomp. Finally satisfied, he turns and walks out the alley screaming ¡°THUCK YOU, I¡¯M OUTH OF HERE!¡± towards the man as he leaves. Renold waits outside the alley way, letting the quite insane troll leave and walk into the distance. Once satisfied the troll is gone, he slips into the alleyway and sees the literally smashed body of the man on the floor. Feeling a wave of anger direct towards the troll due to his prized income being beaten so badly, he quickly runs out into the street, but alas the troll has disappeared. Gritting his teeth till the anger abates, he then moves back into the alley and carries the man over his bony shoulder. Setting off to his original destination, he notices quite a few stares head towards his way, though most turn uninterested as human looking monsters are not common but they are still a thing. However, he notices the eyes of a small brunette human-looking girl with large chocolate brown eyes observe them and follow them somewhat until he dodges into an alleyway and through a few of his better known routes. Still somewhat thoughtful on the strange girl, he finally arrives at his destination and walks inside, dropping the man unceremoniously on the desk. The clerk, an ash, grey skinned woman with spiky grey hair and wearing a black corset, looks quite shocked by the sudden action and skitterd back a step in surprise. ¡°H-How may I help you sir?¡± She quickly composes herself with the air of a professional ¡°I have a gift for the Mistress¡± The clerk grins deviously and Renold tries to replicate the grin with his jaw and teeth as best as possible. They both know only two kinds of people call a certain woman here by that name: those who were taught and those who were trained. She quickly looks over the ¡®gift¡¯, twirling him around with two legs while two more hold him up. After the inspection, she nods towards Renold and skitters out the back, giving him a good view of her large black spider lower body. A few minutes later, the clerk comes back with a pale skinned woman with sleek black hair, a prominent collarbone, a small nose, plump red lips and two intelligent and cunning crimson eyes. She wears a black corset, lowering intensely at the large bust and peaking off in the shape of a bat¡¯s wing at either side. Her hands are bound in tight black leather gloves while her lower body is covered by tight black leather trousers. To finish off the outfit, she seems to have a black choker ringed around her neck. ¡°Ah Renold, my dear¡± He accent, thickly Transylvanian, permeates the air with a lustful hint of sensuality. She walks up to the skeleton of a man and gives him a kiss on his neck cartilage with a small ¡°hgaaa¡± sound while she hugs him. ¡°Mistress, it has been too long¡± He remains still, letting Mistress finish her long hug ¡°Yes my dear, but I see you¡¯ve brought me a gift¡± She becomes almost uninterested in him as she lets go and walks up to the man, who is lying still on the counter. She looks him up at down, raising an arm and letting it drop before she turns back to Renold. ¡°Dear, it¡¯s broken¡± She pouts, sticking out her lower lip slightly. ¡°Ah, you see, this is the fun thing about this toy¡± Renold, mentally finishes the countdown and points back towards the man. She turns back round, a thin eyebrow raised. She soon gasps in wonder as the man starts to move, sit up and look fearfully at everyone around him. ¡°Twenty vials¡± She directs to Renold while she stares intensely at the man, a soft tongue sliding over the edges of her mouth hungrily ¡°Twenty five¡± Renold answers back ¡°Deal¡± She grins lustily at the man, revealing a pair of pointed teeth ¡°W-Where am I?¡± He manages to let out after he finishes gawking at the spider body of the clerk and the beauty of Mistress. ¡°You are at the House of Sin, dear¡± Mistress licks her lips sensually, distracting the man from the clerks stinger. Unconscious, the man does not feel being wrapped around in spiderwebs and then being taken out of the room. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Heyyyy guys! Hope you enjoyed this bit of mc which you all seem to be craving for :'') Anyways, How did you find it? And hope that you''ll keep on reading :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 15 - The Day of Harvest, Part 1 ¡°MY FELLOW MONSTERS. WELCOME OUR BLOODY ENTERTAINMENT OF SCUM FOR THIS GLORIOUS DAY OF HARVEST¡± A skeleton in long black robes swings round, using his necromantic staff as a microphone, his other bony hand clenched in the air ¡°OAHH!!¡± the crowd roars in anticipation ¡°WE HAVE¡­THE CARNIVOROUS EATER¡± A bugbear, scarred in many locations walks out onto the blood soaked sand licking his blood soaked gauntlets. ¡°YAAAAHHH¡± ¡°THE SLITHERING CHOKER¡± A naga slithers out, its turquoise scales glinting in the torchlight, with no weapons in sight. ¡°OOAAAAHHHH¡± ¡°THE CRIMSON ORC¡± A normal green orc walks on with a standard double-edged axe ¡°BOOOOO¡± the crowd mostly boo, except for the orcs; who cheer at their brethren entering the blood soaked arena ¡°THE BODY SMASHER¡± A large troll lumbers out, eyeing his opponents with a crazed look in his eye ¡°OOOOHH¡± ¡°THE POISON THORN¡± A leaves Dryad with wicked nails and filed sharp teeth walks out with a malicious grin ¡°WOOOO¡± some avid fans wolf whistle at her ¡°THE SCOURGING SEDUCTRESS¡± A pale succubus, scantily clad in just covering leather saunters out into the field, whip dragging along behind her. ¡°YEAAHHHHH¡± Wolf whistles thunder the arena and an almost visible killing intent leaks out of the dryad, directed to the succubus ¡°THE IMMORTAL BITCH¡± A young, human looking man but with grey clammy skin walks in wearing nothing but a white shirt and brown shorts, looking quite nervous but his eyes glint with steeled determination. ¡°HAHHAAAAH!¡± The crowd roars in both confusion and anticipation at this new entertainment of a sort ¡°AND LAST, BUT NOT LEAST BY NO MEANS! THE COOOOORPSE FUUUCKERRRRRRRRR!¡± The host thrusts his hips into the air eliciting a tremendous roar from the crowd who scream in joy at a young mindflayer walking out, her tentacles wiggling around impatiently. The host throws his hands into the air causing the arena to go quiet and let the participants peer at one another, sizing each up. ¡°LET THE BLOODBATH¡­BEGIN¡± He sprints out of the arena along with an ecstatic roar from the crowd as they watch the participants fly at each other with eyes crazed and clouded. ¡­ -Earlier that day- Ankorr suddenly bursts out of his head jumping into the sky with glee while Windshaw observes silently from his chair. ¡°Oho, looks like you¡¯ve finally sorted it out¡± Although no smile could be seen, the pleasure in his voice is apparent. Ankorr smirks slightly but doesn¡¯t feel too happy about his accomplishment; because it took up an entire month. Though, he knows that now he can finally go to the arena. ¡°Windshaw, I need you to get me in to the Harvest match¡± Although Ankorr had spent his month perfecting himself, he did spend some time going to the arena to watch the matches, and in a way was looking forward to do something as normal as fight. And now that he can, he does not want to waste time in gathering levels to be paid in the harvest, since today is the day of the harvest. And because it is the day of the harvest there is a special celebratory match reserved for the most promising of individuals of each grade. ¡°Already done¡± The shock on Ankorr¡¯s face is not missed ¡°I thought it would be a good debut for you¡± His sleeves go up and down in a shrug Nodding his thanks, Ankorr closes his eyes and lets the bittersweet memories of Lucille wash over him. Opening his eyes a minute later, he finds himself looking up at Windshaw once more from the tiny body of Lucille. With an excited shiver, he grabs his weapons and heads outside. Skipping merrily down the street in his petite body, the small spike buckler and saw-like sword jangle on his thighs. His skipping gets a lot less merry as once again the stares of lust and desire, or just simple curiosity, from onlookers, snake their way to his flesh, crawling over the ruffles of his lengthy skirt and almost penetrating the thick woolen pullover he wears. Though Ankorr is quite used to the looks; to the feeling of his skin crawling and thus it does not turn him into the nervous wreck as he temporarily became in this situation. Somewhat tolerating it, he presses on leaving the stares to roll down his back like a sole finger brushing down his spine. To keep his calm, he fingers his sword focusing on its dark, bristly leather wrapped around its hilt. That helps somewhat. Quickly turning the street a new wave of stares replaces the old ones, causing a slight sickly feeling churn in his stomach as he walks through focusing on the blood stained cobbles in front. He was so focused that he almost did not register a huge putrid leg of a troll swing towards him. Diving out the way, he is narrowly missed by the leg. Rolling back to his feet he turns around to glimpse his assailant storming off in a vent of fury, leaving Ankorr, anger seeping out his mouth due to being almost kicked without reason. Suppressing a growl, he swivels round to continue his way, but soon finds another obstacle in his path; a skeleton carrying a familiar figure out of an alleyway. Catching the gasp that escapes from his mouth, he quickly observes the pair; the skeleton he has no idea who it is but the man is the one who had come here with him, who had been split up at the portal. He almost jumps up in glee if not for the fact that the man seems a lot flatter than before, as if every bone in his body had been crushed and the unnatural rattling sound that echoed from his body as he bounced upon the skeletons shoulder gave Ankorr nothing but worry. The skeleton moves swiftly, almost sliding through the growing crowd unhindered and Ankorr soon realizes he¡¯s going to lose sight of them. Dashing towards them, he ducks through the legs of many and sidles past others, ignoring the bypassing hands that brushed ever so slightly against him, almost innocently, almost. Soon, the duo are back in sight and he keeps his eyes glued on them, ignoring the crowds that he passes and the hungering stares that bear down upon him as he squeezes past them. For some reason, the skeleton starts to move faster and he fears that he has been discovered or something of the sort. Terrified, he begins fully chasing them, knocking into monsters to quickly move past them, causing more damage to himself than to them but maintaining enough speed to keep up with the duo. He sees the skeleton slide into an alleyway and he follows, bursting out of the crowd, racing into the dark. However when reaching there, only darkness can be found; neither the skeleton nor the man he carried upon his back is there. Terrified by the mental images, of what could be happening to the man now that he has lost him, that bombarded his mind, he swiftly rand back to the tavern bursting into their room a short while later. Windshaw remains hovering on his chair as usual and the hood swerves towards Ankorr as he enters. ¡°Help me find my friend¡± Ankorr hurriedly spits out the words ¡°Who?¡± Windshaw sounds confused ¡°My friend; the one who was supposed to be on the other side of the portal!¡± Ankorr loses his composure further ¡°Ah. Why do you need help? Did you see him here or something?¡± his voice remains impassive ¡°Yes, some skeleton was taking him away!¡± ¡°A skeleton huh¡­I could look into who he is if you want¡± Windshaw replies calmly, with a hint of elation leaking from his impassive tone. However Ankorr does not hear it as his mind is filled with nothing but worry for his friend. ¡°But¡± He holds out a sleeve to silence Ankorr ¡°I shall only tell you once you have given me parts¡± Ankorr shuts his mouth as he begins to speak, his business sense finally quelling emotion. He muses, replaying the small conversation they just had in his mind. ¡°I want you to find out where my friend is¡± Ankorr grins slightly as he had noticed and avoided the trap Windshaw had lain out ¡°Ah damn, and I thought I could get a free part. Well nevermind, guess you¡¯re not that stupid so as to just say yes to the terms without thinking¡± Windshaw sighs and nods his consent. Relieved, Ankorr rushes out the door, his mind on the levels that he needs to make and on the possible fates of his friend. His run to the large coliseum is quick and he arrives there feeling a yawn creep up his gullet. Pushing it back down, he dashes through the entrance and towards a snot-coloured creature with a mouth raised to the sky and a third arm on the back of its pudgy body, which stands on a crate, surrounded by monsters; their killing intent seeping out in clustered waves. Walking up, he stops himself as he notices that everything is still too tall for him. Swallowing a curse, he walks outside, darts into an alley and sits down after checking that he is alone. Crossing his legs, he thinks of ¡®It¡¯. He lets the fresh, bloody memories of ¡®It¡¯ fill his mind and one particular memory stays thickly at the forefront; one where he looks into the still waters of the fountain by the Library back in the City of Darton; one where he is covered in the fresh blood of the first person he killed. He looks into the waters, seeing the clammy grey skin of his with crimson eyes and a look of hunger spread on his mouth. Letting the images flow away one by one, he finally opens his eyes as the last one disappears from his mind. Standing up, he inspects his hands; seeing they are once again the wicked clammy grey claws that are ¡®It¡¯¡¯s hands. Hiding his sword and shield in his inventory, he steps on the bloody cobblestones, exiting the alley from a different path and makes his way towards the coliseum once more. ¡­.. Ankorr walks into a large cylindrical room lined with pillars and filled with monsters of all shapes and sizes. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Immediately, many eyes glance his way, but none out of desire. Each look holds a fierce intent to kill, causing an involuntary shiver down his spine as the wave of killing intent stabs him like knives. All plans of him trying to make allies flies away as to him, everyone looks like they would rather rip him to shreds than work together. Rubbing his hands nervously, he skirts around the room trying to reach an unfilled corner, but he finds no such thing. Doing his best to ignore the few stares that remain fixed on him; trying to analyze all they can or just out of desire to target him, he goes to the sparse centre of the room. A few other unlucky individuals; A strange lanky brown being with an almost human shape stands to his right, opening and closing the starfish-like hands with a soft suction sound at every clench. To his left is a wolf, although larger, blacker and with a hint of intelligence in its eyes. There are others in the centre; such as an orc, multiple kobolds, some strange cockroach like creature but the size of a horse and a few other monsters that Ankorr truly has no idea what they are. However Ankorr does not pay them any mind as they do not to him. Only these two to either side of him kept their eyes on him for longer than a glance, thus raised alarms in his mind. Although there are close to a hundred monsters here, the room is deathly quiet with everyone sharing stares and silently picking their targets. This silence is soon broken by a skeleton in long black robes as it walks in, banging his staff on the stone floor. ¡°Scum¡± He almost spits out the word ¡°Warm up because your fight will be in a short while¡± He leaves as quickly as he enters and the silence returns once more covering all like a blanket. However a thought enters Ankorr¡¯s mind. Kill everyone here The thought blares out in his mind as important and necessary to act upon, but the words he distinguishes not as his own thus breaking the illusionary desire. Immediately he swerves around to see who was trying to implant such a horrible thought in his mind, but the only thing he sees is a crude axe slicing its way towards him. Shocked, he loses precious time to back away but somehow the axe misses as he is knocked into the ground by something heavy. Slobber plasters his face as the worg bites towards his neck, but stops midway as a scythe spurts through the back of its head, piercing just below Ankorr¡¯s collarbone. The wielder, a skeleton, rips the scythe away, taking the now dead worg along with a large chunk of Ankorr¡¯s flesh. Scrambling up, his left side is clipped by a dog like creature with its head facing the sky, maybe naturally as it whines in pain when it crashes into the far wall. Unbalanced, he stumbles into a lizardman¡¯s scimitar who cackles in glee before its head is smashed to a pulp by an ogre¡¯s maul. Retreating back a step to let the scimitar slide out, he trips over a heavily bleeding gnoll, narrowly dodging the bloody maul. With a roar, the ogre smashes the maul downwards and Ankorr rolls to the side, albeit too slowly as he hears the crack of his right leg, accompanied by the gnoll¡¯s entire chest being crumpled. Panicking, Ankorr pushes on the floor with his remaining leg, sliding on the blood-slick floor and between a pair of legs, surrounded by chains. Looking up towards a being covered in chains, he raises his arms protectively as a pair of spiked chains come crashing down. His arms are immediately constricted. A heavy foot holds his stomach down while the chains are raised; squeezing his arms with a loud squelch as blood spurts and rains on his face. Suddenly he gets forcefully lifted as a lance impales the chained being¡¯s stomach; raising it from the ground, bringing Ankorr along with him. The black blood rains down drenching him as the lance wielder, an orc sized frost coloured ant with crimson eyes wriggles his spear, sawing from stomach to groin. It *chit*¡¯s gleefully with its pincers for half a second, before it is engulfed in flame quickly scorching it to a burnt husk. Feet touching the ground, he desperately tries to snake his hands out of the chains, but they¡¯re embedded deeply in his arm. The only thing he gets from his effort is more blood seeping out of the fresh wounds. His efforts aren¡¯t ignored, as a bluish troll smashes his fist into Ankorr, grinning evilly as the audible crack of his victims left shoulder adds to the throes of battle in the room. Flying away, Ankorr smacks into something a few feet away, letting out a grunt in echo of the thing he smacked into. Crashing on the floor, his body immerses in a river of sweet tasting blood and a mass of eviscerated bodies, barely recognizable as kobolds. Immediately rolling to the side, he sees a large purplish foot splash where his head was half a second ago. Looking up, he sees a large humanoid figure with four arms wielding swords looking down at him with visible anger. Four swords slash down towards Ankorr¡¯s head but are blocked by the chains with a loud screech. The troll charges into view and the second attack doesn¡¯t come as expected as the four sword monster diverts three swords towards the troll and one towards him. Blocking the sword with grunting effort, Ankorr is given a shower of turquoise blood as the troll is sliced with a flurry of blades. Fingers, toes and flesh scatter around the floor within a second but the troll continues its charge, bashing Ankorr¡¯s side with its foot, tripping it and making it crash into the purple being as if tackling. The two crash into the floor in a bloody mess as two sword impale the trolls front and two more hack away at its disfigured face. Roaring, the troll spread both spittle and blood on the purple being as it holds its two free arms down and it smashes its thick skull onto the purple being producing a squelch as the head becomes pulp. In these few seconds, Ankorr had pushed himself up and as brain matter explosively splatters onto the floor, he dives onto the troll¡¯s back, raking his chained arm along the troll¡¯s face. Blood and viscous eye juice spurts out and the troll wails in pain, flailing its fists towards Ankorr, who pushes off and rolls unceremoniously in the river of blood. He stops rolling at a spearhead with a few broken inches of shattered wood on the end. Picking that up, he unsteadily stands, only to get an arrow in his eye. Ducking the second shot, his depth perception goes haywire, causing him to ram the floor with his face, blasting the arrow through the back of his head. Lying still, he quickly hears the sound of heels as they wade through the river of blood and as they stop, he feels another two arrows pierce the back of his head. He lies there as his ¡®killer¡¯ runs off and he listens to the brutal fight quickly die down as the number of massacring monsters substantially decreases. Within another minute and after a heavy foot stepped on his pelvis, cracking it, the throes of battle stop and only the dripping of fresh blood remains; intoxicating the air with an orgasmic smell. Standing up, Ankorr is immediately noticed by the drow archer who stands, heel dug into the skull of an ogre, reveling in the sweet smell pervading the air. Before he can steady himself, she notices and her malignant red eyes grow in shock before she licks her lips with devious pleasure ¡°I guess three arrows weren¡¯t enough. How about I stick you with mmm a hundred¡± her silky voice is nothing but frightening for Ankorr. Dodging clumsily to the left, her first arrow whistles past ¡°Now now don¡¯t be like that¡± She fires off a second one, penetrating Ankorr¡¯s lower leg with a thud. She deftly removes her heel from the ogre¡¯s head and begins to jog towards him firing off arrow after arrow which she collects from dead bodies along the way. Ankorr moves back as quickly as he can, stumbling over the mass of bodies and splashing through large puddles of blood. But the drow is quicker, shortening the distance, making the next shot feel more powerful than the last. Soon his body is covered in cuts and tears from arrows that grazed or were forcibly ripped out by the stumbling through corpses. She seemingly aimed only towards his legs and the effect was becoming definite as Ankorr could barely shuffle now. The storm of arrows ends with a last arrow in his thigh and the drow, almost lapping up the spurting blood with her eyes, struts towards him ¡°Ah, it seems I¡¯m out of arrows. Guess I¡¯m going to have to do it the skinning way again¡± She pulls out a jagged knife, pristine and shining wickedly and holds it in her free hand. Ankorr backs off as fast as he can but he reaches a wall and she quickly reaches him. With a swift motion, she catches his still chained hands with her bow and raises them to the ceiling. ¡°Mmm, how shall I play today?¡± She caresses his right side trailing the knife along the neck leaving a thin red line. She grins as her knife reaches the back of his neck as her hand brushes past an arrow. ¡°Oh, I¡¯d almost forgotten about these¡± She grips the arrow along with a chunk of hair ¡°May I have them?¡± she tries to pout cutely but her face is plastered with brutal thoughts of what she was about to do. ¡°Sure¡± Ankorr rams his head back causing the arrows to smack against the wall and pierce through him while it pulls the drow towards him due to her hand being pulled away violently by the back of his head. ¡°You can have your arrows back¡­bitch¡± Ankorr growls out as two arrowheads pierce her skull and a nock rams into a shocked eye. She slowly slides off the arrows, collapsing on the floor with a face full of shock, dead. *Clap Clap Clap* The slow clap sounds from the other side of the room and Ankorr sees the door open, revealing the skeleton in the black robes clapping monotonously. ¡°Well done, Blood Drinker. I hope you¡¯ve warmed up, because the real show is about to start soon¡± The skeleton cackles and motions to follow as he walks away. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: HEY EVERYONE! ITS BEEN A WHILE I KNOW, MY GOD AND I HAVE THE NEED TO WRITE SHOUTY CAPITALS TO TRY MAKE UP FOR THE SILENCE THAT HAS BEEN MY FICTION FOR THE PAST COUPLE OF WEEKS. NOW I DO ACTUALLY HAVE A REASON: EXAMMMMMMS!!!! THOSE DASTARDLY THINGS. BUT THEY ARE COMPLETE NOW SO WOOO! FICTION CAN GET BACK ON TRACK! HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT AND PLEASE COMMENT/REVIEW/SAY STUFF -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 16- The Day of Harvest, Part 2 Ankorr sat on a small bench, deep in thought about what had just occurred. Only a few minutes ago had he been in the center of that bloodbath, being sliced, pummeled and pierced by many weapons¡­.yet he remained alive. He had checked his health bar when he followed the skeleton in black robes, only to find that he had eighty seven percent remaining. That information alone was enough to bring him into a state of shock. All that fighting and he only took thirteen percent damage, something had felt very off to him, especially with the things that happened to him. He now thinks upon that, pondering as to how he did not die, even though he had been a victim of three arrows through his skull. That should have killed him, but somehow it didn¡¯t affect him. Nothing seemed to affect him in the long term. Even though his leg was smashed to a pulp, it had somehow been fine after barely a minute. Even though his arm was ripped by the chains, it had started working again terrifyingly soon. Even though his body was pierced like a porcupine, he still walked as if nothing had happened. To him, this was a situation far beyond bizarre, because the amount of damage he sustained was not human, yet he came out barely scathed for some reason unknown to him. He fears as to what he truly is; Windshaw told him he was a formless demon, but Ankorr has no idea what that really means. All he knows is that he might have gotten a small glimpse at why these Blood Drinkers are called immortal. He replayed the bloodbath over and over again, finding an oddity which was terribly strange and frightening to him. Jumping up, he smashes his fist against the wall as hard as he can, hearing the resounding crack of his knuckles breaking. Looking at his broken knuckles, he feels a small grin sneak upon his face which he erases upon noticing. He feels no pain, not even a little, which is both a godsend and terrifying to him. Being able to feel no pain would surely give him an advantage in battle, but feeling no pain made him feel empty, less human. Sitting back down, he rubbed his broken knuckles thoughtfully. With this, he fully knew, or in reality, accepted the fact that he wasn¡¯t human anymore. He felt no pain and he could not be killed by normal methods. What he was, he didn¡¯t know. A cuss lightly seeps out his mouth as he remembers that Windshaw knew what he was and that he¡¯d have to remain here for longer than he suspected. Windshaw was a real bastard to him, seeing as though he offered a way out but in return Ankorr would not be able to learn about himself, or his ally. And since he had already made a deal to find where his ally was, he couldn¡¯t gain the answers he was looking for about himself until next month at least. While he silently cursed Windshaw, he begins to formulate a plan of questions he required answering as he knew nothing and knowledge about himself would prove invaluable, especially if he ever wanted to leave this place. After a while his eye grew back and his knuckles regenerated too. Within moments, a goblin sauntered down the corridor towards him ¡°You¡¯re up¡± It squeaked out before disappearing off Ankorr stood up and began to walk towards the thick iron gate that was the entrance to his battle. ¡­. ¡°THE IMMORTAL BITCH¡± The skeleton in long black robes screams to the crowd while Ankorr walks out, made nervous by the sheer amount of monsters roaring from blood but he steeled his determination. ¡°OOOAAAAAAHHHH!¡± The crowd roars in both confusion and anticipation at this new entertainment. ¡°AND LAST, BUT NOT LEAST BY NO MEANS! THE COOOOORPSE FUUUCKERRRRRRRRR!¡± The host thrusts his hips into the air eliciting a tremendous roar from the crowd who scream in joy at a young mindflayer walking out, her tentacles wiggling around impatiently. The host throws his hands into the air causing the arena to go quiet and let the participants peer at one another, sizing each up. Kill Kill KILL The voice once again penetrates Ankorr¡¯s mind, but it has no effect on him, rather it is a nuisance to him. ¡°LET THE BLOODBATH¡­BEGIN¡± The host sprints out of the arena along with an ecstatic roar from the crowd. The participants all charge at eachother, eyes crazed and some clouded as if in a trance. Ankorr¡¯s first opponent is the troll, who lumbers towards him swinging a meaty fist. To the surprise of the crowd, he doesn¡¯t fully dodge the crude swing completely; he leaves an arm in the way, causing it to take the blow with a painful shattering sound. The force of the blow is too much for Ankorr, as he is blasted back and collapses onto the floor. Rolling away from the stomp of the troll, he jumps back up and charges the troll, ducking under a heavy swing. His clawed hand punctures into the stomach and ripping it open slightly, the sound echoes with the screams of the troll and the chanting of the crowd. Blood splashes out; drenching his arm and most of his face and before the troll can recover from the pain, his other hand punctures in and rips open the stomach further. Guts plop onto the floor and the troll bashes his fists onto Ankorr¡¯s back, sending him flying into the troll. With a grin, he concludes his experiment as a success, but he is still in wonder as to how it works. Inside the troll, he has no problems slicing away at the innards, drenching himself with acid, bile, blood and all other bodily fluids. The troll, can do nothing but wail in pain as it is literally ripped to pieces from the inside. Within half a minute, the troll smashes into the ground, dead. Ripping out the back of the troll, Ankorr wipes away some liver from his eyes and spots the battle raging fiercely in all parts of the arena: The dryad and succubus are duking it out; the Succubus is hopping back, slicing the dryad with her whip while laughing daintily. The dryad is gritting her teeth as she tries to close the distance, yet fails to do so. The naga has constricted the orc, slowly crushing it while holding the gauntlets of the bugbear, blood spurting from its unprotected hands. The mindflayer is behind the bugbear, watching the three fight calmly. Quickly taking action, he digs his way out of the troll¡¯s corpse and runs towards the mindflayer. A few feet away from the mindflayer, the bugbear suddenly turns around sending a bloody gauntlet to Ankorr. Shocked at the sudden attack, he doesn¡¯t dodge it fast enough and hears his jaw cracking from the blow. Immediately, he is tripped by a scaly tail and the heavy bugbear lands on him, pinning him to the floor. A wave of steel fists rain down, soon turning his head into a bloody pulp. But the darkness that took him disappears within a second as opens his eyes, seeing a still heart resting on his hand, covered in blood.But worse still is that he is straddling the remains of something, so destroyed he can¡¯t even recognize what it used to be. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. In utter horror, he chucks the heart away and mumps up turning away from the sight. However, he spots an armless bugbear and a naga without a tail, both seemingly dead from the shock. Also a headless body, of the mind flayer Ankorr believes, lies on the ground, no blood dripping from it. The frothing roars of the crowd blasts in his ears and he breaks from his horrified trance, hearing everyone almost screaming their heads off chanting ¡®Immortal Bitch¡¯ to the sky. Ankorr, just looks down at his blood covered hand, the back of his mind wondering where the other one is. What did I do? ¡­. H?rttthlysh?e wiggled her tentacles delightedly upon seeing the corpse of the one the host called ¡®Immortal Bitch¡¯. She was very pleased with herself, successfully controlling those three dumb monsters to her left and now she has a most delicious corpse to play with. Sending a command to the naga, it tightens its grip on the orc, causing bones to audibly crack, while it cries from its hands being further ripped by the bugbears gauntlets. Having them kill themselves, or let themselves be killed was a much more difficult task than she could handle and she does enjoy watching them struggle. She saunters towards the headless being, grinning at the brutality at the death. Leaning down, she first drags her tentacles among his feet sliding them between the crevices in sheer delight. Feet are one of her favorite things and the toes were especially scrumptious for her. So she suckled upon each, taking a nice bite out of the big toe since she was feeling a bit peckish. But as her teeth dug into the toe, she felt the body twitch on her tentacles, sending shivers down her spine. Before she can react, the foot blasts upwards smacking the back of her throat causing vomit to fly up her gullet and squeeze past the foot. Jumping up, vomit spews out over the floor and before she can recover, the headless body bounces up, clawed hands swiftly puncturing her throat. No thought has time to enter her mind before her throat is ripped out and she is decapitated. The three who were controlled, immediately stop fighting each other and turn in fear to see the headless being lifting up the dead mind flayer, pouring her blood down its open top. They may be trying to kill eachother, but all three of them can feel the need to kill the most dangerous first. Charging, the orc slams its axe on the shoulder, embedding it deeply while the naga constricts it and the bugbear smashes a gauntlet into its chest, breaking some ribs. Bones crack on both arms of the headless being and the naga suddenly wails in pain as its tail is clawed into three. Blood spurting out the open end, it falls back revealing the headless being¡¯s arms to be at an impossible angle, its fingers bent backwards as if they were forward. The orc, slices an arm off, getting a spurt of fresh blood for its effort, while the bugbear lands a punch on the other arm. However the arm suddenly rises up, claws piercing the bugbears arm and with a slice, a gauntleted arm plops onto the floor. Blood spatters the sky as the bugbear screams in horror and anger, attacking with the other arm. The screams increase tenfold as headless being¡¯s the arm snakes to the other side and slices off the bugbears other arm. The orc, terror wild in his eyes starts running away, leaving the naga and bugbear to scream on the floor over their missing limbs. He turns back, seeing that the headless being just stand there without moving, covered in blood and wounds. Tears in his eyes, he tries his best to ignore the assault of displeasure from the crowd at his cowardice, but he wants to live and not end up like those other two. He soon reaches the remaining two fighters in the arena: The dryad and the Succubus, who have continued to fight despite what just transpired as they had not noticed The orc rushes in between the two of them, eyes pleading for help, but receives a slicing whip around his neck and sees the drayd rush past him in glee Blood gushes from his throat as the sharp whip is jerked back towards its owner and the orc dies gurgling on his own blood. The dryad used that momentary distraction to close the distance and by the time the succubus had brought her whip back, she had been punctured by a set of wicked nails and before she could react to that, a pair of filed sharp teeth bit at her throat. The crowds roared as the dryad tore out the Succubus¡¯ throat and chucked it to the crowd. She turned towards the remaining living beings to see that a headless being was standing there, unmoving. Raising her eyebrows in confusion and fear at the strange being, she saw the two monsters screaming weakly on the floor while the headless body stood there. She felt truly terrified at what remained in the arena. But still, a grin spread across her face as an idea formed in her mind. Grabbing the sharp whip off the floor, she saunters over and cracks the whip towards the headless being. It coils round but the being immediately charges her way loosening the whip to the point where she couldn¡¯t bring it back to slice the being up. Dropping the whip, the being slows down and stops as the coiled whip plops to the floor. Just inches away from her it stands, covered in blood, puke and other bodily fluids. Gulping, she backs off slightly, only to trip upon her own feet. Her feet fly to the air and graze the lower leg of the being. It immediately rushes forward, claws screeching along her leg, now spurting blood. The claws embed in her stomach and her last sight is seeing the hand glide up towards her face, bisecting her body on the way. Even though she died, the being did not stop and to the chuckling of the crowd and to some of their delight, it kept dissecting the body; ripping and chucking pieces of it all around the arena, making it look like a bomb had exploded inside her. This spectacle lasts for a good half an hour before the head regenerates in front of the public, to which the look in awe. They truly feel special coming to watch this harvest match. At once, they begin chanting ¡®Immortal Bitch¡¯ to the sky with a dedicated frenzy as the Immortal Bitch looks down at his hand silently ¡­. Windshaw clapped from the stands, disguised in the clothes of a common ghost. He was truly interested by this new development; the Blood Drinker could be unleashed even if just temporarily. Feeling elated, he hovered off back to the tavern, plans already circling in his mind. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author''s Corner: HELLO MY LOVELIES! HOPE YOU ENJOYED(?) IT. ALSO, YEAH THIS MIGHT GET CREEPY SOON, SO I MAAY PUT SOME WARNING ON THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS SO THAT YOU ARE FAIRLY WARNED OF BEING TRAUMATIZED ANYWAYS, THANKS FOR READING AND PLEASE TELL ME THINGS!! -TRUENORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 17- Mistress and her pet part 1 The slight rattling of chains permeates the air of an otherwise silent room. The sound echoes off the blood stained cobble floor and the pristinely polished metal and wood. Suddenly, a thick metal door swings open, revealing Mistress, a girlish grin seeping onto her face. ¡°Mmm my darling, vat vould you have me do to you today?¡± She giggles slightly as she saunters into the room, high heels clacking across the floor. Chained up to the ceiling is the man; ribs poking out from lack of food and cracked lips, lined with blood from lack of drink, who looks up wearily at Mistress. ¡°¡­Iron maiden¡± He decides after a short moment of thought. Her grin grows wider as the sweet memories of his screams come to mind. She definitely enjoyed his voice when in such a device, plus, the after effects were exquisite for her lips. Sauntering around the room, she opens up her ¡®little madch?n¡¯ as she liked to call it, and gave a quick look at how clean the insides were. Feeling happy with the pristineness, she loosens the chains on the man, dropping him to the floor. He stands up, and with a resigned yet slightly defiant look, walks into ¡®little madch?n¡¯. With a slightly confused look at him, she slowly closes the spiked door, hearing loud screams rise from the inside. She is confused because even though it has been a month, she still doesn¡¯t understand this person in the slightest; he screams and cries and wails, but never does he say stop. To her it is almost as if he enjoys it, but the screams of pleasure and the screams of pain are very distinct in her well trained ears. While the wails of pure pain fill the room, she ponders silently about why the man still had that determined look in his eyes, as if his reason to stay so was not to escape, but rather something else she did not understand. Shaking the thoughts out of her mind, she reprimands herself for wasting time thinking about her pets, for that is all he is to her; a pet for her to play with as she pleases. The screams lessen, to the point of silence and Mistress stands up, looking for a bucket. Finding one in the corner, she places it at the side of the door and then swings it open. Deftly moving the bucket towards the man, it is quickly filled with his sweet smelling blood that poured from hundreds of holes. The man, impaled on the spikes, remains motionless, his chest pumping slightly with life. She very much enjoyed this part of him; he was nigh upon unkillable and she made sure to keep him at an inch of his life; so that he recovers within a miraculous twenty minutes. No matter what she did to him, within twenty minutes he would be good as new. A toy that she could keep breaking? It is a wet dream come true to her. Slowly taking the man out of little madch?n, she places him on a rack and ties him up. Heating up a small strip of steel at a small fire elemental powered forge, she places the bright white sizzling steel onto one of the man¡¯s many fresh wounds. The sizzling accompanies the screams of the man and delightfully, she slaps the steel on the other wounds as if playing a game. Soon, many are sealed and she unties the man, to which he turns over, and ties him once more. Repeating the process, pained screams bounce around the room, bringing her much joy. The process is quickly finished and the man lies panting on the rack while a slight heavy breath comes from her, mostly from the slight ecstasy from hearing pained moans escape the man¡¯s lips. Not wanting her enjoyment to end, she walks up to the wheel and turns it a small bit; stretching the man and opening up every wound she just sealed . Reheating the steel, she repeats the process with much joy. However she remains vigilant on how much she stretches the man, mostly due to the fact that last time she over-stretched him, he had burst into two and she had feared his death. That was one of the few moments this month when she had brought him to the brink of death, and had been amazed and aroused by his virility to cling to life. The process of re-sealing his wounds lasted a few more times, till she recognized he would burst apart if she stretched him anymore. Taking a gleaming knife from her ample bosom, she begins to slowly drag the knife on his skin, towards her. His skin curled up into a little roll as she sliced the knife towards her, and with a small pang of hunger, she nibbles on the strip of skin, licking her lips at the entrancing taste. Beginning with his arms, she soon reveals his hard muscles but leaves them along for the time being. His wails fill her ear and with that kind of verbal motivation, she skins him with renewed fervor. She shows her skills by skinning him in long, unbroken strips; which she dips into the bucket of blood, snacking on them as she works, as well as trying to feed him, which he stubbornly denies. Soon, she has cut off his nipples accompanied with a scream, and sliced her way down his chest, revealing the wet pink muscle underneath. Stopping at his shorts, she moves back to his face, slowly cutting up the neck and around his jaw, almost peeling off his skin as if it were a mask. His screams did make the process harder, and so the skinning was not as clean as other places; cuts littered his face and she even slipped and sliced open an eye, its viscous fluid now drips down the side of his face muscles. Also, as she finishes with his face, a slightly acrid stench attacks her nostrils, ripping her from her delighted trance. Turning the man round, she notices his brown trousers are soaked with urine. With a ¡°tut¡±, she hovers the sizzling steel over the trousers quickly drying them out. As she does so, she looks up at the man: He is biting his teeth together, trying to hold the winces of pain and more over to not scream form the coming pain that he just sealed for himself. Suppressing a chuckle at his futile effort to stay strong, she slowly unzips his shorts, dragging them down to his ankles. ¡°Hmm, I thought you¡¯d be a little more excited about this¡± She playfully pouts as she notices his small, soft being. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°I¡­¡¯m in too¡­much pain to think about such things¡± He answers back as politely as he can, to which she chuckles. She remembers when he cursed her the first time; because that was the day she tried slowly impaling him with a sharp spiral drill. Shaking the delicious memories away, she looks away from the man. Finding what she was looking for, she saunters over to a small box. Picking a small contraption that is akin to a closed umbrella but without the flaps in between. She also grabs a small pill from her bosom and upon return, shoves it down his throat. Within a second, he is fully erect, against his own will. Finding the hole at the top, she places the umbrella in and pushes it down, causing tears along the hole, accompanied by pained screams from the man. Though the screams increase hundred fold as she presses the small button at the end, causing the contraption to open up; slicing cleanly through in multiple locations; the tip of each razor sharp blade jutting out. Cackling slightly at her just vengeance for him soiling her mood and her wooden rack, she rips the contraption out and his penis slaps onto his thighs in twelve different parts. With a slightly satisfied smile, she goes back to her small box of contraptions and takes two joined pieces of metal which make a spherical shape close to where they join together. Trying them out, she squeezes them together and sure enough the spherical shape decreases to the point of a dot. Unable to wipe the malignant grin on her face, she returns to the man and places one of his balls within the contraption. She still finds it confusing as to why the man never tries to plead forgiveness so as to stop her from doing such things, especially with such a painful thing. Quickly checking on the man, she notices he is barely conscious from the pain as his eyes rolls from view to the back of his head, lulling on the borderline. Chuckling darkly, she stands up and slaps the man, leaving a bloody claw mark on his cheek. Spitting out precious blood, the man gains focus once more, and immediately screams from the pain when remembering what just happened to him She helps increase those screams by using the contraption to squeeze the ball, soon making it pop delightfully, but she sadly doesn¡¯t hear the sound over the pained wails. Moving onto the second one, she notices urine trailing down onto her hand. Not pleased in the slightest, she squeezes fiercely and pulls, effectively popping and then ripping his other ball off. The screams die out as the man falls unconscious. Leaving the unconscious man where he is, she stands up with a slight huff. ¡°KARIAAAATH¡± The dungeon door slams open and a small brown skull with a green, pulsating gem for its right eye, floats into the room ¡°Yes Mistress?¡± Kariath clacks away ¡°Clean me¡± She holds out her acrid smelling hands ¡°Yes Mistress¡± The tone of dejection is covered well but still slips from the clacking teeth of Kariath. He floats over to her hands and starts spewing a black, putrid smoke that washes over her hands, sizzling in the air, yet not affecting her hands as it passes through. With a happier smile, she walks outside the room, warning Kariath to call for her when her ¡®pet¡¯ awakens. Kariath dejectedly sighs and floats towards the unconscious man, noticing that the man is actually just clenching his jaw to stop him from screaming. If he had eyebrows, he would have raised them. Instead Kariath floated around the man to try figure out why the man was not unconscious. Upon inspection, he deemed the man must have fortitude of a ridiculous level, to endure what happened to his nether region without falling unconscious. In his curiosity, he decided to speak to the man. ¡°Why do you try to stay conscious?¡± He clacks ¡°Because, I made a promise to meet someone and I¡¯ll keep it even if it kills me¡± He grunts through gritted teeth, not pretending to be unconscious anymore. Something warm, like a hug, spread over Kariath, enveloping him in a feeling he had long buried deep within the recess of his tortured mind. ¡°MISTRESS¡± The warmth recedes, disappointed and sending a painful pang into him, even though pain was something he had lost many years ago. Mistress flies into the room and immediately chuckles at the determined face of the ¡®newly conscious¡¯ man. She saunters up and leans into the man, causing him to look back determinedly, albeit with more than a hint of fear is mixed in his eyes. ¡°I won¡¯t be playing with you for a little while, so rest up and recover so I can rip you apart again later¡± She takes out a small vial of blood and pours it into her mouth, before kissing the man and forcing the blood down his throat with her tongue. Sputtering, the man convulses at the hellish taste of the blood as it literally burns its way down his throat, searing his heart and blazes through his bloodstream causing thunderous screams from the man. Happy he digested the blood, she motions for Kariath to follow, she disappears outside the door. Help him¡­Please Kariath stops for half a second at the doorway, looking back at the man, before wrenching himself away to follow Mistress, ignoring the pleading voice in his head with terrible anger. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: So, it''s an ok chapter by my standards...guess i wasn''t really in the mood to write torture, but ah well, there''ll hopefully be another chance later/ i should write the chapter in advance when i''ve got the feeling yadayada. Well anyways, hope you enjoyed(?) the chapter, and please comment things you''re thinking please :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 18- Mistress and her Pet part 2 The thin wooden door that is the doorway to their inn room slams open as Ankorr, in the form of Lucille, walks in dejectedly. Ignoring Windshaw, he plops down onto the bed with a loud sigh and hugs his tiny legs with small arms. ¡°You still haven¡¯t found a way?¡± Windshaw asks with curiousity. ¡°No¡­¡± His girlish voice permeates the air filled with sadness ¡°¡¯It¡¯ seems to take everything¡± In the month after that harvest battle, Ankorr had participated in numerous bloody fights, resulting in wins at the cost much pain with no gain. For a reason unknown to him, ¡®It¡¯ seems to gain all the xp he earns, while not losing any when the harvest comes. Thus he is only level two at the moment which is very worrying to both him and Windshaw. Windshaw stands up and with a ghostly sigh, walks out the room, stating ¡°You¡¯ll find a way¡± as he floats out the room. Pulling the cover over the cute head of Lucille, he looks into the darkness trying to think of a way. The room goes silent, deathly so as not even the sound of breathing permeates the air. ¡­. Windshaw floats across the alleyway, passing through the many individuals without care, causing many to shudder involuntarily at the touch of the ethereal. He soon finds the grell he is looking for; an old thing with a slight tuft of hair under its weathered beak. The grell leans against a wall in an alleyway; easily in view of the street, but only for those that are specifically looking for him. Windshaw floats towards the grell, waiting for him to finish the brisk conversation between a hooded kobold, before looking down at him. ¡°What is the news Girchus?¡± Windshaw asks with a tone of commandment ¡°The House of Skalor seems to have gained a sudden windfall; blood flows thickly within their House. Van Krelich has become quite obsessed with her new ¡®pet¡¯, so far as to miss the harvest meal of the Houses and there seems to be a sudden increase in deaths in the portals, due to adventurers as the monsters talk¡± Girchus speaks with a slight squawk as he recounts the more useful information for Windshaw. The two have known eachother for a while, so Girchus knows what information Windshaw would find worthy of his time. Transferring a part, Windshaw doesn¡¯t balk at the hefty price; since information is invaluable to him at this moment. Floating through the streets, he takes out two bronze coins with jagged edges and drops it towards a small rat with intelligent eyes. ¡°Renold from the House of Skelor¡± Windshaw says to the rat and he watches it scurry off to deliver the coin and keep one for itself. Continuing down the street, he soon reaches the dark, mysterious and quite alluring House of Sin, which has the odd customer walking in valiantly, or walking out in a deformed manner but with a happy grin on their face. Floating inside, he nods towards the Drider clerk and she lets out a small screech, ringing in Windshaw¡¯s head. Soon, a small skull with a single pulsating gem for an eye, floats into the room. ¡°What is it Dyara?¡± Kariath clacks towards her ¡°Mr Windshaw is here¡± She points towards Windshaw, who waves back with a sleeve. In a slight hurry, Kariath disappears, only to momentarily reappear with Mistress in tow. ¡°You¡± She spits out quite bitterly as she crosses her arms aggressively in front of her large bosom. ¡°Madame Krelich¡± Windshaw bows in mock politeness ¡°I knew vhen I saw my dear, you vould be coming round sometime soon¡± she looks and talks with a tone, less than pleased at seeing Windshaw ¡°Was two hundred and forty years not enough to forgive and forget?¡± ¡°Vorget, never. Vorgive, not in a million years¡± She stomps over to him and jabs a finger into his robe ¡°I hope you have a good reason to come here, or I will personally drive you out of Hellderworld this time¡± Her threat is almost visible in her body¡¯s aggressive positioning. ¡°Someone is coming for your pet in about an hour¡¯s time¡± he says nonchalantly Her eyes widen slightly in fear, before she gets hold of herself and grabs Windshaw¡¯s sleeves pulling him down an inch from her face ¡°ou?¡± All her bloodlust is poured into that single word ¡°A child from the house of Dacul¡± Mistress gulps audibly upon hearing that a noble vampire¡¯s child is coming to visit, since vampires are one of the major houses in this realm, far above her own and if she were to annoy them, she would be murdered brutally and without a second thought. ¡°How do I stop it from taking my pet? Please tell me for old time¡¯s sake¡± She almost begs Windshaw His hood shivers somewhat, as if he had twitched in annoyance ¡°Tell the child that it was transferred to the House of Skelor¡± Windshaw says after a small moment of thought ¡°Skelor?¡± She says almost shocked ¡°yes¡­that vould vork well¡± she strokes her chin thoughtfully at the plan Skelor, Dacul and Lith are the main three Houses in Hellderworld, and thus neither of the three can explicitly interfere with eachother¡¯s household business. This is something Windshaw knows can be abused in certain situations such as this. ¡°Yes, however it would be safer if you do take your ¡®pet¡¯ away from the House momentarily, in case the child decides to have a wander. Somewhere remote like the forest of tears should do¡± Windshaw adds ¡°Ok Vindshaw, I vill take your advice. like old time eh?¡± She gives him a small reminiscent smile before remembering her lasting hatred towards him and then walks away with a huffy goodbye effectively sending him out the door. Windshaw bows to the empty air and then floats outside, refraining from chuckling to himself till he is far away from the place. A small rat bounds up to him and spits out a small jagged bronze coin; split in two. Nodding thanks to the rat, Windshaw spots a familiar skeleton lounging a corner away from the House of Sin, wearing a long cloak. Chuckling slightly, Windshaw sends a backhand wave to his friend before floating down the street, towards the inn and towards the next stage of his plan. .... He soon opens the door to their room and spots Ankorr sitting passively on a chair, looking past what his eyes see, thinking deeply it seems. ¡°Ankorr¡± He doesn¡¯t respond, only focuses on the distance ¡°Ankorr¡± Windshaw says a bit louder Ankorr snaps out of his trance and looks towards Windshaw, a confused expression embedded on his face. ¡°What is it Windshaw?¡± ¡°I have a job for you¡± Ankorr raises a cute little eyebrow, questioningly. ¡°It will allow both of us to gain soul that can be harvested in the coming months, and with only a little work from you¡± Windshaw continues slowly dragging Ankorr into the idea It works as his small, round face looks up with renewed interest yet distrust seeps in too. ¡°What do I have to do?¡± ¡°Simple, you must go to the House of Sin and ask to see a friend¡± ¡°A friend?¡± Ankorr¡¯s tone seeps with hope ¡°An illithid princeling from the House of Lith. However he is hidden under a guise to his current host, as something else¡± ¡°What guise? And what¡¯s an illithid?¡± Ankorr questions the information scrutinously ¡°An illithid is an Abberation of some sort, like that¡­corpse fucker you fought last harvest match. They have superior mental capabilities and thus can disguise themselves among the monsters by filling their mind with an illusion of their form. However as a Blood Drinker, you are not affected¡± More like due to your dual soul situation, you are not controlled or maybe it¡¯s the fact that you could be undead, but that is not a detail you should know, for many reasons. Windshaw chuckles inwardly at the thought before continuing ¡°Thus, your job is to find this princeling and kill him¡± ¡°What for?¡± Ankorr asks, mildly shocked at the request This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Some reason or another, I do not really know as of yet. All I know is that a bounty has been placed on his head so killing him would reward us with quite a few parts¡± ¡°Oh, so it¡¯s a simple bounty hunt?¡± ¡°Not as simple as you think, since the princeling is in guise and will most likely be hiding in the various Houses, so beware¡± Ankorr looks down at the table pensively for a few minutes, before looking back up with a face filled with determination ¡°Tell me his name¡± ¡­. ¡°Mmm, bloody thing, why are you so heavy!?¡± Kariath rants with clenched teeth as he drags the tied up body of the man through the back door of the House of Sin. Luckily years of using nothing but his teeth to move things round plus the fact that he can use magic, has improved his strength to the point where he can effectively drag the man across the abandoned alleyways without too much of a problem. The man is conscious, grunting at the slight pain from being roughly tied and dragged unceremoniously on the cobbled, bloody street. But apart from that, he does look slightly relieved and happy at seeing the bright red sky and not the dim dungeon he spent the past month in. He is dragged for a good half an hour, through a mess of abandoned alley¡¯s, undisturbed by anyone else, until they reach the foot of a blood drenched mountain. More blood washes on the mountain as a sharp rock slices through the man¡¯s face while he is hefted along the ground. Dragging him up a small slope for a short while, the two finally reach a small plateau a few dozen feet off the ground. Kariath drops the rope and floats lazily in the air resting his tired jaw. He looks up towards the red sky, watching a horned demon gliding around in search of idiotic prey that try to fly in its territory. However he is soon distracted by the frantic wiggling of the man, who upon inspection, is trying to wiggle to a more comfortable position. Ignoring the man, Kariath goes back to watching the demon, as a bigger, more ferocious looking one flies up, rips off the smaller ones head and drinks from it like it would from a bottle. ¡°Hey¡­Kariath was it?¡± The man once again distracts him, with a peculiarly gentle voice, albeit cracked from lack of proper hydration. ¡°What is it?¡± He answers back without bothering to look towards him ¡°Could you untie me¡± ¡­ .. . Kariath slowly turns towards him ¡°Are¡­you the dumbest shit on this dimension?¡± He asks, quite amazed by this man¡¯s stupidity. ¡°Well, this is the best chance I¡¯m ever going to get, and no harm in trying right?¡± the man fights back with a logical argument ¡°So¡­you think I¡¯d just release you? Go against Mistress and release some ¡®pet¡¯?¡± The man tries his best to shrug while tied, then goes back to wiggling himself to comfort Kariath goes back to looking up in the sky, but another voice distracts him Help ¡°Dammit sto-¡± he stops ranting at the man when he notices it wasn¡¯t him who spoke The man just raises an eyebrow Help him please The soft, melancholic voice reverberates lightly in his mind and he feels forgotten warmth wash over him, almost cuddling his head lovingly. He ignores the warmth and the voice, looking up into the sky, though his single crystal eye doesn¡¯t seem to focus on anything. Don¡¯t let him be like that, like us ¡°GET OUT OF MY HEAD¡± He shouts into the air, making the man jump slightly into the air from the suddenness of it Oh sorry, did you not like being reminded? Remembering the pain that we endured and endure? The voice turns sour, almost angry, reproaching towards him and the warmth rips away from him in a huff. ¡±I DON¡¯T ENDURE ANYTHING, ONLY YOUR SILENCE! A HUNDRED YEARS, A HUNDRED. THAT IS HOW LONG I HAVE ENDURED YOUR SILENCE AND NOW, NOW YOU DECIDE TO TALK TO ME? FOR HIM? THAT¡­THAT ¡®PET¡¯!?¡± That is because our happiness is long gone, but his is still fresh and more importantly still living. ¡°AND WHAT OF IT, WHY SHOULD I FUCK UP MY EXISTENCE FOR A ¡®PET¡¯ LIKE HIM?¡± The shouting continues, uncaring of the wide-eyed man who looks on both curiously and with fear. Tell me, how did it feel to walk down that path? Would you want anyone else to walk down it again? The voice is once again sweet, caring, calming. It no longer accuses, but almost consoles him, worried about him even. ¡°AAAAAARGGH¡­¡± He screams to the sky opening his jaw as widely as he can ¡°FUCK IT¡± He rushes over to the man and tears away the ropes, releasing him. ¡°I¡¯M NOT DOING THIS BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU GET IT! NOW GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND!¡± Kariath shouts at the man and he quickly stands up, bows and starts running off in the distance, only stopping for a second to talk back. ¡°HEY KARIATH, WHOVER YOU¡¯RE ANGRY WITH, JUST FORGIVE AND FORGET. A HUNDRED YEARS IS LONG ENOUGH TO DO THAT¡± He then turns back round, trips, stands back up and then runs away. Kariath watches the man leave, running into the distance and feels the warmth encompass him once more, as if thanking him, before leaving once more. ¡°You gave me silence for a hundred years and I hate you for that, but dammit , hearing it again made me so happy¡± No sweet voice answers him and he chuckles sorrowfully to the wind ¡°I guess a hundred years is not long enough for you to forgive is it¡­¡± A slight crack appears on the gem on his eye, painless yet at the same time so painful. With the wistful words on the wind, Kariath starts floating down the mountain, back towards Mistress and the fate he gave into on the whim of sweet words and to his sudden state of madness and anger and bliss. He was so distracted; he missed a skeleton wearing a cloak watching from the distance. The skeleton shrugs at the scene and disappears off, a happy cackle accompanying him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Hey! new chapter out already! Guess i didn''t have much to do today, or I was just Sooooo excited to write this! Anyways, hope you enjoyed it and hope it was a nice fresh thing that cleared your mind after the last chapter . Apparently you males who read last chapter had problems.....*Bows deeply in regret* I''ll try to refrain from scarring you/making you lose appetite any further....but then again those reactions were perfect and kind of what i was looking for(plus 2 out of 5 comments were describing their pain so good?(or bad i''m not sure in this situation:P) Anyways, hope you''re looking forward to the next chapter because....So much stuff is beginning to happen, the plot is actually starting! (lol should not be saying this as the author but come on let''s face it...its been a bit slow in the past couple of chapters/nothing thaaat important has happened....but since Windshaw is starting, a whole hurricane of stuff is about to go down, huehuehue :P:P:P)) ALSO, for some reason the views have died down quite a bit (possibly due to the fiction but also because i kind of had that giant 3-4 week hiatus...damn those exams), so go advertise and spread the love of this fiction(or horror mind you, but you know it''s still a feeling :P) Please comment, review and give some general love/hate/wtf is going on (ALSO THANK YOU RANDOM REVIEWER :* :* :* MUCH KISSES) -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Side Story-Athos & Kari ¡°Athos¡± A sweet, honey filled voice tickles his ears lightly, causing him to turn away from the majestically calm view of the plains. He sees her skipping in the sunlight, skin glistening and the scent of her sweat permeates the air. It smells just a little bit like honey, sweet to his senses. Her golden brown hair dances with the wind and the grass as she skips towards him, grinning with fervent happiness along with a mischievous glint in her eyes which is reflected by the sun. Before he can react to the alluring sight or maybe he just cannot, she reaches him and tackles him with a force he did not expect. Crashing into the ground, he feels a jolt of pain that is soon washed away by the fragrant smell of her hair and the soft lips that touch his, lightly at first. His hands move around her thighs, resting at the small of her back, embracing her tightly as her soft lips part his; tongue lightly exploring his sensitive lips. She stops almost suddenly, drawing away to a seated position, straddling him and pinning him down with her arms. He knows he can break free but feels no need to do so, as her great grin and love entranced look tells him enough. Her face draws close once more; noses softly bumping against one another, eliciting a small giggle, before she gives him a deep long kiss. Eyes closed, he feels her tongue dripping in to his mouth, stroking lightly, almost teasing him. As their tongues entwine, he strokes his hands up her arms, ending at her face; lightly grabbing each side to pull her deeper into the kiss. Thunder rolls violently in the sky, ever so slightly registering in his otherwise occupied mind but that small thought throws him out of his trance. Ripping his eyes open, he sees the skies flash white and feels the sweet, honey-like taste in his mouth turn to ash. It takes him barely a second, but once that second passes a most inhumane scream of terror, anguish and anger bursts out from him. Sitting up while continuing this unearthly wail, the scenery immediately changes to the dark, dank room in which he resides. The soft sound of water dripping and alchemical equipment buzzing and fizzing fills the room and slowly, he regains his senses. ¡°Kari¡­¡± He clacks painfully as the memory, still fresh, burns into his mind. Standing up, his bony hand encounters the shattered vial he had just consumed from and with a fervent anger; he rushes to the rest of that concoction, destroying it wrathfully. After doing so, he heaves himself onto a chair, feeling exhausted, even though such a thing is truly not possible for an undead like him. Looking at his bony hands, he slowly recounts the time his body had been that way, for his flesh had left him a few dozen years ago when the experimentation began. A loud boiling sound brings him back to attention and he briskly makes his way over to a large contraption with a multitude of clear liquids transferring around; mixing and reacting with one another. Taking the boiling flask from the fire, a group of overworld beings burst into the room, bloodsoaked and slightly haggard. ¡°YOU DAMNED LICH, I, SIR BRAKWALL SHALL DECAPITATE YOU IN NAME OF-¡± His sentence is interrupted by the flask smashing into his face, firstly causing him to scream from the burns and secondly, making his flesh to quickly rot; until it literally oozed off of him in parts. The other members who ran in; a Dwarven warrior, two elven maidens with bows and a human with white robes, all look in horror at the quick rotting of the man. But their experience takes over causing them to begin dispersing around the room, beginning their attack. Athos takes arrows into his robes, slicing through the patched material. An axe slices a few ribs while holy light descends, burning him painfully. Moving swiftly, his robes flutter as he appears next to the priest, bony finger placed on the forehead. The priest stops moving altogether, only fearful eyes flickering. Swiftly turning around, he jumps to the dwarf¡¯s position paralyzing him with a touch and then runs after the elves; who at this point have decided to run away. Elves may be naturally fast, but he too was once an elf so his speed was no less than theirs. Running after them for the better part of half an hour, their speed drops just slightly, just enough for him to catch up and paralyze them with his touch. Dragging them back to his laboratory, he moves to a hidden wall, opening it and revealing a large group of various humanoids, all lying down, paralyzed, except for the eyes. Dropping everyone into the room, he closes it back up and goes over to the melted body of the warrior. Inspecting it, he notices that the mass of oozing flesh is still living; as it pulsates slightly with a low, pained moan. Killing the creature due to its inability to help him in his research while alive, he then took notes on the experiment and began changing liquids and contraptions around. Creating a liquid with a light pink hue, he pours the flask onto the dead mass of flesh, watching it absorb the liquid silently, before pulsating once more. Stepping on the flesh to kill it once more, he quickly disassembles every experiment but the one that created the pink liquid. Recreating the experiment dozens of times, he lets them run and gleefully hurries to the hidden room. Propping the wall open, he hurries over to the other side of the room and opens up another secret doorway, leading into a pitch black cavernous room. However the dark does not impair his vision, so the etched pattern on the floor is easily visible to him. Briskly, he transfers all the paralyzed beings to the cavernous room, and places them ceremoniously in a circle around the pattern, heads facing the center. Once that was completed, he headed over to a small stone table with three items placed upon it; A large coil of thin razor wire, an urn and a thick red tome with black pulsating lines. Grabbing the wire, he wraps it around the necks of each person, numbering two hundred and forty three. Next, he lightly takes the urn and almost lovingly hugs it as he takes it to the center of the pattern, placing it down. Slotting it in the center; open end into the ground, he finally goes back to the table and opens the large tome onto the first page. Pulling hard on the wire, the sound of blood gushing out fills the silent room. ¡°Keeper of the decrepit, the dead and the deceased, this humble soul beckons upon your undying phallus to release its being upon this earth, bringing life to the one who¡¯s ashes are in that jar. Please Lord Norac use this soiled stone as a platform for you bene-¡± ¡°PLEASE STOP¡± A booming voice fills the room drowning out Athos¡¯ words. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. He closes the book, quite surprised he had no need to read the entire four hundred and eighty six pages. Turning round, he sees a Scythe floating in mid-air/ ¡°I¡¯m Norac and yes I am a scythe¡± The voice, almost dejected appears from the Scythe. ¡°Give her to me¡± Athos does not waste time with trivial things such as the appearance of the keeper of the dead. ¡°Not going to?¡­huuu¡± The dejected tone becomes more apparent in his voice ¡°Give me a moment¡± Norac floats over to the blood-filled pattern; a zombie, a skeleton and a ghost all eating each-other in a circle, with a scythe slicing each one up. Tutting lightly ¡°You only needed two¡­¡± He leans the sharp head of his towards the urn, slicing it in two. Rising up to his normal floating position, a decrepit hand crawls out from the urn, quickly followed by the rest of its decrepit body. ¡°I¡¯ll be going now, since it doesn¡¯t seem like you want to talk¡­huuu¡± Norac spins around in the air, disappearing into black smoke. The zombie rises up and looks around with an intelligent glint in its otherwise dead eyes. Upon seeing Athos, it immediately charges towards him. Athos, stunned as to what the zombie is doing and fearing that he might hurt her if he does something, lets himself get tackled. Hitting the floor, he feels the meaty hands trying to break his skull. ¡°haha¡± He cackles as a fist mashes into his skull ¡°It¡¯s just like that time in the fields¡± The punching stops, for about half a second. Then the fists come with renewed fervor causing finger bones to break as the zombie seems extremely angry. Athos, much stronger than the zombie and worrying for its wellbeing, grabs its shoulders and rolls around forcing it to be straddled by him. Jumping up, he sprints to the laboratory, grabbing as many flasks of pink liquid as possible before the zombie catches up to him. Tripping the zombie onto its face, he winces as it falls down and then he pours the many litres of liquid over the body. The flesh, hardens, regrows and gains its old glistening luster. Long golden brown hair flows out of her shapely head and her small round buttocks shapes beautifully once more. ¡°Kari¡­¡± The words seep out of his mouth unwittingly as he sees her body becoming the young, fleshy luster that it used to be. She turns around revealing a half-covered bosom and her flat soft stomach. Her small, smooth hands cover her thighs. ¡°Who are you¡± Her soft, honey-like voice permeates the air, stinging sharply He should be happy, seeing her alive and well. But those words, they wracked him with unimaginable pain. ¡°It¡¯s me, Athos¡± He falls to his knees bringing his face closer to her. ¡°Athos¡­¡± She peers at him deeply ¡°You¡¯re not him¡± Her words bite towards him bitterly. His world crumbles as the one he loves does not recognize him. Even though his body may have changed, he still thought she would be able to recognize him as love looks further than the eye. ¡°B..bu..but-¡± ¡°The Athos I know is a sweet elven man who I frolicked on the plains of Duyeer for many summers. You are just a monster¡± As she says this, she stares at the single glistening gem in his eye socket. ¡°I¡¯m not a monster!¡± He grabs her shoulder violently, more out of shock and fear than anger. But the result is the same. Due to the violent force, the thin shoulder rips causing him to yelp in horror at what he just did. Kari kicks him in the jaw, pushing him back before trying to run away. Athos, desperate to show her that it is him, grabs her ankle. She trips and falls to the floor a lot more violently than she should have. He hears a crack and immediately scrambles towards her, only to see her head forced into her chest, causing her spine to crack, as well as part of the skull, in the fall. ¡°Let me go¡± The words seep out of her mouth with the last of her air. ¡°No, NO! I can¡¯t let you go, I WON¡¯T¡± Pulling her off the floor, her head bobs, hanging on the thin flesh around the neck. Placing her head in the right position, he quickly bites her soft lips almost wailing out painfully as he bites through them. Closing his eyes, trying to lower the frantic activity in his mind, he starts chanting in a foreign tongue, causing a white mist to flow from her mouth to his. Monster He hears her voice inside his head and upon the word, his body shatters, leaving just his skull, floating in the air. ¡°Athos¡± A sweet, honey filled voice tickles his ears lightly, causing him to turn away from the majestically calm view of the plains. I¡¯M SORRY MISTRESS, PLEASE HAVE MERCY!! He blares out in his mind, knowing that she can hear. The plains fade and he sees Mistress, tentacles leaving his skull momentarily to bring him out from his memories. ¡°Mercy? MERCY? WRETCHES LIKE YOU DESERVE NO MERCY!¡± Her tentacles latch onto his skull, flinging him back into the plains, watching from his body, unable to do anything as he watches Kari turn into dust from a lightning bolt before reviving her, killing her and trapping her soul within his phylactery. Repeating once again, she does not go back in for the deep kiss; rather her eyes gain a sudden sadness and she leans over to give a deep pain filled hug. I¡¯m sorry Athos, not even you should be put through this The hug lasts but for a second before the lightning hits and he is taken through the nightmarish memory once more. Although he keeps looping through the nightmare, he still has a small sense of happiness; because she had finally called him by his name¡­ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: VALENTINES DAY...The time of the year when you blare out your singleness in hopes that someone else is too. ANYWAYS, hope you enjoyed this little sneak peek and i guess romanticish story?(im not sure how romantic reviving and then forcible keeping their soul within you is, buut i guess that counts?) -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Side Story 2- Ray ¡°Hey Ray, want to go get some coffee?¡± A skeevish looking head of a man with spectacles pops over the cubicle, peering down at Ray. Not bothering to look away from the document he is producing, he shoos the other man. ¡°Fine, but Mary is coming and I swear she¡­¡± He wiggles his eyebrows ¡°Was asking for you to come¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like Mary, Josh¡± Ray speaks in a flustered voice, out of anger rather than embarrassment. ¡°Pah¡± Josh snorts haughtily ¡°I¡¯ve seen you looking out that window at her more than once my friend¡± He winks Ray¡¯s hand twitches slightly, as he looks up annoyed. ¡°Go¡­without me¡± He seethes slightly, containing himself as best as he can. Josh notices the barely reined anger and runs away with a sigh ¡°Ah, what happened to the good old you?¡± Grumpily, Ray returns to his work; monotonously typing words that are but meaningless letters to him. He writes page upon page, not really concentrating on what he is writing, as his mind wanders aimlessly in boredom. Stopping after he finished his eighth page, he stands up and goes for a quick walk around the office to stretch his legs. The office is in its lunch break, so most of the people have left to the coffee room, apart from a few work-minded individuals such as himself. He pays little attention to them as he grabs some water and sips it on the way back to his desk. Working for a few more hours, he takes another break; this time turning to the glass pane which his cubicle resides next to. Although he is on the twelfth, the people on the street are still somewhat recognizable and when he inspects closely; he spots the long, proud strides of one of his coworker¡¯s; Mary. He watches her stroll down the street, his breath quickening, out of fear. He feared what she would do if he was fount out to be watching her, or worse, found out the reason why. Reaching the middle of the street, she turns into a small old building with reddish bricks which has a small, well kept playground in its garden. Watching the entrance to the building, he soon sees Mary walk out followed by a small girl, causing his heart to pound upon his chest painfully. Her soft, small round face is crystal clear to him, even from this distance. The way her pullover is slightly too big for her made his heart pound faster. The way she smiled, gleaming through the cold, depressing weather of the country made his heart beat more furiously upon his chest. Time seemed to slow down as he watched her skip daintily with no worries to her young, innocent life. ¡°Caught you¡± Josh whispers into his ear ¡°FUCK¡± Ray jumps, causing some nearby typing to stop momentarily. Immediately feeling searing heat upon his cheeks, he tries to lull his pounding heart, instilled by fear. Fear of getting caught, truly caught. ¡°Oops, guess I shouldn¡¯t have distracted you¡± He grins cheekily ¡°Looks like you were well into spending the rest of the day staring at her¡± ¡°Josh stop¡± Ray answers through gritted teeth as his face heats up in embarrassment more. ¡°I would buuuut, it¡¯s Valentine¡¯s day soon so I¡¯m going to bug you till you make a move¡± He sticks out his tongue playfully, thoroughly annoying Ray. ¡°I..I can¡¯t¡± Ray spits out the words angrily, more at himself than at Josh. ¡°Nuh uh, no excuses! Especially when she¡¯s into you¡± ¡°I..-¡± ¡°I said no excuses. Find a restaurant, book at table and ask her out on a date¡± Josh jabs his finger on Ray¡¯s chest emphasizing the point. ¡°STOP IT JOSH¡± He slams the table causing his cup of pencils to fall over and the office goes silent for a second increasing the tension in the atmosphere. ¡°Ok ok¡± He raises his hands as if to plead innocence and walks away, leaving Ray seething at his desk. He grips his hands squeezing them tightly to calm down as he is thoroughly pissed at Josh, for being his usual na?ve, annoying, self-centered self. But he is more annoyed at the fact that Josh keeps pushing his sore spot without even realizing it. Ray doesn¡¯t know what he can do, how he can do anything without becoming something, vile, disgusting even, to society. What can he do but watch from a distance? He cannot talk to her, he cannot be near her or society will tear him apart like the wild beast it is. All he can do is watch from afar and let his heart beat painfully in his chest. Clutching his pain ridden chest, he turns back to his desk to finish his work. The day goes by quickly and within a short while he is finished. With his usual solemn face, he grabs his coat and begins to leave. As he exits the building, a hearty feminine voice from the street tells him to ¡°wait up¡±. Stopping, he turns around to see Mary slow down to a walk and produce her usual delicate smile. ¡°Hey Ray¡± She sounds happy, albeit slightly out of breath from running to catch up. ¡°Hey Mary¡± He on the other hand sounds as bored as usual, but she doesn¡¯t seem to notice, or to care. ¡°Would¡­would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow?¡± She asks, giving a gleaming smile that would make quite a few men feel faint. Ray however, is not one of those men. ¡°Sure¡± He says after a moment of thought, and with a very reluctant tone. He said yes, because he wants the pain to stop; he wants to move on. Even though his heart screams at him not to¡­and stay painfully beating day by day. But the more logical side of him, forces him to say yes, to fit back into society and forget the strong feelings that burn within his heart. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Happily, she tells him the restaurant and the time, before she walks off a slight swish in her hips. Ray spent the time walking home thinking of all the good things about Mary, to try gain that inkling of feeling one would call ¡®love¡¯. Such a feeling doesn¡¯t enter his heart on the way home through the cold, gloomy streets of town. Nor does it come in the solace of his small, but comfortable apartment. Cooking a simple meal of rice and chicken, he sits down at the sofa and opens up the small chess table his father gave to him a few years back. Slowly playing against himself, he quickly got bored, suicide his white kind and then headed off to bed. Sleep did not drift in nicely, since turbulent thoughts whizzed around his mind. Resigning to his fate, he stares up at the darkened ceiling wondering how to dull the painful beating of his heart. Morning took away those thoughts, and with a heavy heart, he went to work. Work was the same; Josh being his self-centered, annoying self, constantly pushing Ray¡¯s buttons till the point of bursting. He never really focused on work anymore, not truly. It was still completed, but there was some special ¡®element¡¯ that just did not exist within his documents. The hours ticked by, till he instinctively looked towards the outside; spotting Mary walking into the school. Unable to refrain from the primal desire, he stared at the entrance, waiting for her to reemerge with her daughter. Soon she did, and his heart gave him a painful pounding. Until they left his sight, he continued to watch them, longingly and with a hint of hate, directed at himself. Finishing off his work, he quickly heads home and begins to ready himself with much reluctance. Combing his hair, he brushes it back; revealing a small streak of scars on the side of his forehead. The scar was eight years old, but the memories it brought back made the scar feel new and fresh ¡°Don¡¯t you love me?¡± the words angrily echo in his head. The memory of the twenty three year old Lucille; tears glistening in her puffy eyes, fills his memory. He remembers that he had told her no only further increasing her tears ¡°Tell me why¡± She had begged him, distraught as any person would be if the one they had spent almost half their life around did not share the feelings. It was summer, on the eve of their graduation from the University of York. She had finally confessed to him, after being his best and closest friend for eleven years. Truthfully, he was happy that she had done so, mostly because he was infatuated with her since day one. But, when she confessed, those were the first words that came out his mouth. He had been shocked at himself, at first. But then he noticed his heart was calm, even though he had been nervously trying for eleven years to gather the courage to confess. But he had already suspected beforehand that he did not love her anymore. Only when she confessed, did he really confirm the lack of feelings. Even though he lacked ¡®love¡¯, he still loved her as a friend and tried to help her by telling her the truth. Her response was giving him the scar. He had told her his biggest secret, one he had even kept from her and his family. She had called him horrible things, slapped him with sharp nails that scratched and stopped talking to him since then. As far as he knew, no one else knows his secret. He had only really figured it out himself on his third year at the University, but he remembered spending time finding out that he had always been that way. ¡°Oh Lucille, if only you didn¡¯t grow up¡­¡± He whispers wistfully to the air, letting Lucille¡¯s twelve year old self dance around in his mind, before he regains control and smashes a fist into the mirror, breaking glass and skin. ¡°If only I wasn¡¯t so fucked up¡± Sobbing lightly, only partially because of the pain, he slumps to the floor. He had lost a valuable friend that day; his only one. Continuing to let the tears drop, he lost track of time till someone called him on his phone. Ignoring it, he let it go through to voicemail. ¡°Hey, Ray. Not to be uh dramatic or anything¡­but you¡¯re kind of late, and well it¡¯s a date and I hope you get here soon¡± Mary sounds rather angry, but her saddened tone is audible. Holding in the sobs, he calls her back. ¡°Hey Ray where are you?¡± She answers immediately ¡°I¡¯m sorry Mary, but I¡¯m going to have to call the date off, I just can¡¯t do it¡± ¡°¡­Oh¡­ok¡± She ends the call and Ray drags himself to his feet, grabbing the first aid kit from the cupboard above the sink. Sterilizing the cuts on his hand, he shuffles off to bed, still sobbing lightly from the pain that memory seared into him. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Well you can tell how happy I am that it is valentines day..... Funny how there is a valentines event, but i don''t think i can actually join it....oh my fiction, what am i doing to you. Ok, anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you read this on valentines day...My poor lonely heart hurts for you. -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Side Story 3- Moren & Yisra ¡°Two months, three days¡± Yisra wistfully says to the skies as she walks down the stairs and hands Moren the broom. ¡°Good morning Yisra¡± He begins to happily brush the stairs with his usual effort, while his face is scrunched up in thought. Sitting down on the fortieth step, she lets out a loud yawn. She takes her time in noticing it, as she first does some stretching and more yawning before actually looking at Moren sweep. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind today? She asks with mild curiosity as per usual ¡°Things¡± He quickly answers, immediately catching her attention. Moren always told her what he was thinking; whether it was about the man, the people who entered the church or about his goddess. But for him to not tell her something, even more so to leave it as vague as ¡®things¡¯ surely piped her interest. ¡°Things huh? Just what things?¡± She leaned slightly towards him, almost looking ready to pounce at him. ¡°Just thinking about Cherishment day¡± He spills the beans, continuing to sweep without pause, albeit slightly more fervently ¡°Cherishment day?¡± She cocks her head in confusion ¡°It¡¯s a day where many couples come to be. It is also regarded as Hert¡¯s Day, since he is the god of love¡­¡± He begins to talk about the festivities that happen in honor of Hert, pointing out how each race has different types. However he doesn¡¯t get far in his explanation as the sun hits the first step causing Yisra to stand up, as she has morning duties to try attend. Watching her leave, he sees a ray of light point towards her, covering part of her small back. Peeking towards the sun and then back at Yisra, the ray of light is somehow remaining on her. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Yisra¡± He calls out, causing her to swerve round with a raised eyebrow ¡°Would you like to have a wander around the market sometime later today?¡± His voice quavers slightly as he speaks, but he manages to hold on. ¡°That sounds like a good idea¡­but you¡¯re stuck to these stairs for a reason I still don¡¯t know...¡± She shrugs ¡°So I guess I¡¯ll just have to go to the market by myself¡± She turns back around and skips up the last few steps, stopping and turning once more at the door. ¡°Plus you¡¯re naked¡± She disappears back inside, hiding the slight smile that spread across her face. Meanwhile, Moren watched her leave and slowly walked up to the forty second step, sitting down with a sigh. Someone was giggling at him, he was sure of it. But he wasn¡¯t sure whether it was goddess or mortal. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Short and Sweet and kind of Sad too... At least it was kind of valentine''sy. Also, looking at these 3 side stories....this pretty much sums sup my valentines day pretty damn well...T_T Anyways, hope you enjoyed them and i will see you next week with more story!! Don''t forget to comment/review/say stuff ALSO Thank you Fieryblue for the review but i really don''t understand why you''re complaining about the lack of depth when you know its intentional....Just shh, sit down and read! :P -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 19 - A Religious Lesson ¡°Hey there. Could you plea-¡± *SMASH* With a growl, Aethelx brings his blood covered fist back to his chest, leaving the crimson imprint of his fist on the forest ground. Licking off the blood with an angry expression, he feels the sweet human taste he almost forgot whirl around inside. Mildly satisfied, he turns to his other side and wills himself back to sleep. ¡­ ¡°Seriously, do you know how l-¡± *SMASH* The speaker turns into a bloody pulp once more and Aethelx finally sits up, pissed off about being interrupted not once, but four times successively by the same being, possibly. It had started a few days back, when he was awoken from his deep slumber by someone tickling him under his chin. He hadn¡¯t bothered to open his eyes that time; just swung his fist in the vague direction. Most monsters in his dimension know that he is not to be disturbed when he slept, so only the most stupid or strongest would dare do such a thing. Luckily it didn¡¯t seem strong as he felt it become pulverized with his fist, so he didn¡¯t have to fully wake up. That would usually be the end of it; stupid being annoys him, he kills it, he goes back to sleep. However for some reason another stupid thing came up the next day asking whether he was awake. He too had killed that one mercilessly. The day after, a similar if not the same voice approached him and he had opened his eyes to see a human man looking at him with a cocked head. He killed the man out of annoyance and shock. Since then his sleep became truly troubled. For he swore he had killed the man before. Thinking it may have just been the trick of a damnable Illithid, he had put the thoughts away willing himself back to sleep. That is when this fourth disturbance happened, on the fourth day in a row. It had been the same voice, the same face. It had been the same person as before. Thus he now sits up waiting for ¡®it¡¯ to return. Although he may be one of the seventy two Demonic Divines, he can still be visited by pesky mortals, as is the consequence of allowing them to enter his dimension. Aethelx can count the number of things this man could be with one hand since not many beings can be seemingly pulverized and appear fine the next day. And out of those possibilities, most are ones that he would rather not meet, for his own safety. Sitting on the grassy forest for many hours, he finally spots ¡®it¡¯ traversing across a hill a few miles away. Being the size of a three story house gives Aethelx quite a good viewpoint and thus he watches the man make his way towards him, waving at him from a distance, since his large red body is quite easy to spot. Aethelx does not respond, only waits silently till the man reaches the large flattened area he mad for a makeshift bed. ¡°Hello there, you finally seem to be awake¡± The man speaks in a gentle voice, showing a slight hint of fear and awe in his voice. ¡°What are you?¡± Aethelx narrows his golden eyes ¡°Bit rude is-¡± The man doesn¡¯t get to finish his sentence as a fist comes flying down, smashing him into a pulp. Aethelx doesn¡¯t like people talking back to him, much less puny things like that man. Though he does regret his rash action as it means he has to spend another day waiting for this man. Luckily, a flying chimera foolishly makes its way past him, giving him much distraction as he slowly rips its skeleton whole from its body. He was quite into it that he almost missed the man arriving at his feet once more. ¡°You should really stop doing that, because it¡¯s quite tiring to walk back here¡± The man complains lightly ¡°Then learn some respect for the lord of this dimension¡± Aethelx growls back, puffing out his chest and leering over the man in obvious dominance The man¡¯s eyes widen ¡°Oh you must be¡­.¡± The man shakes his head ¡°Sorry have no idea wh-¡± Another fist shaped imprint litters the ground. Aethelx has always had little patience, but towards one who doesn¡¯t even know the lord of the dimension he is currently in, not even the Overworld Divines would tolerate such ignorance. ¡­ ¡°So this place is a dimension and not another world?¡± The man cocks his head towards the angry looking Aethelx after finally returning after another day passed. ¡°Yes¡± He answers back. He rarely hears of or sees individuals who don¡¯t even know such basic information. However such individuals are proof of the stupidity of some races in the world. ¡°What are you?¡± He squints analytically ¡°I¡¯m just a man looking to find the way out of this place¡± ¡°...So you woke ME, lord of this dimension, to ask me how to leave MY dimension?¡± He fumes towards the man, restraining his fist with all his might ¡°Pretty much¡± *Smash* ¡­ ¡°So are you going to tell me ho-¡± ¡­ ¡°Ok, please stop doing that¡± The man raises his arms defensively while Aethelx just looks down, his frustration somewhat abated. He was frustrated with the man, but every time he killed him he became more curious and fearful as to what the man actually is; because the man just wouldn''t die! ¡°If you answer all my questions, I shall tell you how to leave my dimension¡± He finally says after some internal debate ¡°Everything for one? I would prefer it if I could ask you a few more questions since I don¡¯t often get to speak with the lord of a dimension¡± Aethelx doesn¡¯t reply, just looks menacingly towards the man. The man keeps eye contact, albeit heavily sweating from doing so due to having to look into the golden eyes of a being hundreds of times bigger than himself. ¡°Fine¡± Aethelx finally spits out deciding that he could keep smashing this man to bits but he would rather gain some possibly useful information. ¡°Are you human?¡± He asks the most prominent question on his mind, because he had tasted the man¡¯s blood and it tasted just like a human¡¯s blood. However he knows that no human should be able to get past the portal that is the sole entrance to his dimension. ¡°Both yes and no¡± ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Aethelx growls annoyed at the beginning of the man¡¯s riddling ¡°Well I am a human but I am not a human from this world to put it simply¡± The information was both useful and worrying to him, since if this man was just one of many, his dimension was no longer safe from these ¡®humans¡¯. ¡°Are you the only one?¡± ¡°No, there are a few thousand of us in this world, but that¡¯ll soon turn into millions¡± The man answers back calmly ¡°So tell me about how dimensions work¡± ¡°Dimensions are the homes of divine beings, which are not necessary but mingling with the lower races is quite a nuisance to us¡± Aethelx answers willingly since he feels that this man can be squeezed for much useful information. Telling him something as valueless as religion is a trade to his benefit by all standards. ¡°So you¡¯re a divine being?¡± The man raises an eyebrow skeptically Aethelx chuckles darkly at the man¡¯s ignorance ¡°Divine beings are not limited to those Overworld ''gods'' of yours which you deem to be the only ones. There are many more divine beings which have just been labeled differently by the churches of the overworld¡± ¡°Such as demonic gods?¡± ¡°Yes; there are seventy eight major Demonic Divines which all possess a dimension for themselves. I Aethelx am one of them¡± He puffs out his chest proudly ¡°So which Divines do your ¡®humans¡¯ worship?¡± He asks casually, laying thick the threat of death if answered incorrectly. ¡°We are a varied bunch; some worship Overworld gods as you say while others would gladly worship Demonic Divines, which I guess is your word for gods?, such as yourself¡± He answers with a non-committal shrug ¡°Divines is the term we call each-other by and in the world of mortals it is used when addressing all of us. Gods is the word mortals use since calling us Demonic Divines seems morally wrong to then" Aethelx quickly confirms the man''s thought before leaning forward,baring his teeth "So who do you follow?¡± ¡°I am a devout follower of Aegi¡± He says standing proudly ¡°Aegi? I see¡­¡± Aethelx suddenly felt extremely intrigued with this man, since not only has he claimed to be a worshipper of the goddess of immortality and undeath, he has already proven to be blessed by her in some way; since he doesn¡¯t seem to stay dead. Also since the man worshipped Aegi out of all divine beings, he was an enemy of sorts, but he may also become most valuable asset. ¡°You seem to know her¡­could you tell me more about her?¡± The man asks a question which Aethelx finds quite strange for a follower to ask. A follower should know much about what they are following, but this man doesn¡¯t show that. ¡°Tell me what you know of Aegi¡± ¡°She¡¯s the goddess of Immortality¡± Aethelx looks towards the east peering at the air in wonder at what Aegi is playing at, blessing this quite ignorant man. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°Go to the Seventy sixth Demonic dimension, for that is her dimension¡± Aethelx decides not to tell the man about her since he really doesn''t feel the need to give her unnecessary praise. ¡°Demonic dimension?¡± The man asks sound confused. ¡°Ah, there are three types of dimensions; Demonic,Overworld and Tricksters. The Demonic Divines hold seventy eight dimensions. The Overworld Divines hold two hundred and fifty two dimensions while the Trickster Divines hold eighteen¡± ¡°Right, so I get the idea behind Demonic and Overworld, but who are the Tricksters¡­ are they just ¡®neutral¡¯ Divines?¡± The man asks questioningly. ¡°Both yes and no. By human terms: Trickster Divines are ones who either swing towards neither or both sides, or they are beings who tricked their way into becoming Divines, and thus have been outcast by the other Divines, who worked truthfully to gain their position¡± ¡°Wait, one can become a Divine?¡± The man cocks his head. Aethelx looks mildly dumbfounded at the man ¡°Just where have you been for your life in this world?¡± ¡°At a church mostly¡± ¡°¡­¡± Aethelx is speechless. Out of all the places, being in a church should have made this man more knowledgeable with religion. As a Divine, to see such an ignorant follower is an affront to his divinity. ¡°Sit down; I am going to teach you everything you need to know about religion¡± Aethelx commands with a growl to the man, who finally sits down cross-legged. As a Divine, Aethelx must teach this follower properly, for even though it is not his follower, he cannot let such ignorance continue to smear his fellow Divines. ¡°This will be different to whatever your ¡®church¡¯ has tried or failed to teach you, since this is the Divines way of religious categorization¡± The man nods in understanding. ¡°Firstly, there are three different types of Divines; Epitomicals, Tricksters and Elevated. Elevated Divines are the simplest to understand; they are beings who became Divines through the massive amount of worshippers they rally. For one to become an Elevated Divine, they require billions of worshipers, which doesn¡¯t happen very often. The more common type of Divine is an Epitomical; beings which are so outstanding in a singular thing that even the other Divines notice and with a majority vote between all of us, that being is granted divinity. In church terms, these are your minor gods, such as Dimi, goddess of Archery or Yaldor, the god of Drinking. There are a stupid amount of these Divines, but in terms of power they are the weakest and are usually servants of some form. Trickster gods are altogether different since they become Divines by either tricking mortals to worship them for elevation or they kill a Divine, taking their place¡± Aethelx speaks slowly, allowing the information to sink in for he won''t bother saying it a second time ¡°Kill a Divine? But isn¡¯t the point of being a Divine is that you¡¯re immortal?¡± ¡°That is what the churches tell you, however Divines are killable; Epitomicals die within a century or so of being granted divinity; usually through inner conflicts but sometimes through Tricksters. Elevated are unlikely to die, since they are much more powerful. However Tricksters have shown that it is possible before.¡± ¡°I still don¡¯t understand how Tricksters can become Divines through killing ones?¡± ¡°When being granted divinity, think of it as being given a set of clothes. When killed, your killer can take them. Thus giving them divinity¡± The man nods understanding somewhat. ¡°So those are the three types of Divines, which we base our hierarchies upon; Elevated are the major Divines, each ruling a dimension. Epitomical are the minor Divines, servants to the Elevated and are there to do their bidding, mostly because Elevated Divines are pretty much walking calamities. A demonstration would be placing us on a battlefield; Epitomicals could handle about thousands of enemies, while Elevated could handle millions. Tricksters are a force unto themselves and are outcasts of the Divines due to their malicious gaining of divinity, albeit they still have power within voting for Epitomical Divines. Though, we don¡¯t actively destroy them as they are a lot more dangerous than normal Divines. ¡°And why is that?¡± The man cocks his head ¡°Because they¡¯ve killed a Divine before, well most of them have. And it¡¯s not easy to kill us, almost impossible even, so they are a lot more dangerous than your average Divine¡± Aethelx shakes the fearful memories of meeting Ikol from his mind. ¡°Now that you understand our hierarchy, I shall tell you about the Demonic and Overworld belief mortals tend to have. That is flawed thinking, since we do not actively fight each-other. The only difference between Demonic and Overworld Divines are their worshiper base. Demonic¡¯s usually have monsters worshiping them while Overworlds have more ¡®light¡¯ races worshiping them. We do squabble often because our worshipers end up killing each-other and a Divines power is based upon their worshiper number: The more we have, the more powerful we get¡± ¡°So shouldn¡¯t that mean Tricksters are really weak since they shouldn¡¯t have many worshipers from killing Divines?¡± ¡°No, because mortals do not know of the affairs of the Divines and thus when a Trickster kills a Divine they take their place, taking their worshipers too. This is why we call them Tricksters; because they continue to trick mortals into giving them power by worshiping them unwittingly¡± ¡°So some Divines we worship may actually be another?¡± The man looks quite shocked at the idea ¡°You know of Repleh, the aiding god?¡± Aethelx asks The man shakes his head ¡°Well he is a decently large figure, worshiped by pharmacists and major clergies around the world. He¡¯s dead, and has been so for the past two hundred and forty three years¡± The man just raises his eyebrows ¡°The being who replaced him is Rerenum, Lord of the eighth Trickster dimension¡± ¡°But shouldn¡¯t us mortals know about that by now?¡± The man asks confused ¡°No, it¡¯s not hard for a Divine to continue giving blessings here and there to make sure they remain worshiped, Tricksters are usually a little more generous than the actual Divine; mostly because they do not have many if at all any Epitomical Divines in their service, thus they need a larger worshiper base¡± ¡°Because they need to be elected by the other Divines right?¡± The man scratches his chin in deep thought ¡°Correct, but we usually allow a few for sake of keeping balance as is necessary. Now let us begin on-¡± ¡°LORD¡± A screeching sound come from the forests and out runs a decrepit human who looks little different from a normal zombie, except golden eyes. ¡°Krith, what is it?¡± Aethelx turns towards the newcomer ¡°F??ron was killed recently and Mur has found a suitable replacement¡± ¡°An election huh? I will be there momentarily¡± He waves off Krith, who sprint out of sight. Turning back to the man, he sees him look very confused and yet excited about the situation. ¡°Krith, minor Divine of cannibalism¡± Aethelx points towards the forest ¡°He literally ate his way out his mother¡¯s womb and slowly throughout the years proceeded to each his family and his village. I needed a subordinate¡± Aethelx shrugs noncommittally at the quite brutal backstory. ¡°So he¡¯s an Epitomical huh¡­¡± The man muses ¡°Yes, and now I must be off. We shall meet again¡± Aethelx stands up and begins to leave ¡°Wait! You haven¡¯t told me how to leave your dimension yet!¡± The man shouts after him Stopping , he turns around and points to the east, past his giant volcano. ¡°Walk straight that way till you reach the edge and then simply jump off. It should take a good month to get there¡± He takes a step away, covering about a hundred metres. ¡°WAIT!¡± the man shouts after him, causing him to stop once more ¡°I need a drop of your blood or I might not live past the next harvest¡± Aethelx felt two emotions upon hearing those words; fear and a malicious sense of happiness. After a short moment of thought, he pricks his finger and places it above the man, letting a drop fall into his mouth. ¡°That should do you for the month, now begone and find your goddess!¡± With that Aethelx quickly sprinted off into the distance, whistling along the way. Soon a large eyeball swoops from the sky landing on his shoulder ¡°Yes Lord?¡± ¡°Send someone to follow him¡± Aethelx watches his subordinate disappear and he continues running, musing upon the fact that he just met what he thought was an Epitomical Divine to be, but now is sure is a Trickster Divine in the making. For those who have drunk the blood of a Divine can only grow stronger through the consumption of the blood and flesh of other Divines. Aethelx reaches the edge of his dimension and jumps off into the void, pondering about how to obtain and use this new tool for his benefit. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -Author''s Corner: Heeey, how''d you like the Religious overload :D Well hopefully you''ve got a little sense of how the religion is going to be because well this is a story about a priest...so you''re going to learn more about this in the future for sure! Anyways, hope you enjoyed the side stories and read themmmmm cause i guess they''re useful insiders?/fun. Also don''t hesitate to review, comment, say things!!! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 20 - Setting The Wheels Into Motion ¡°Mistress, you have a visitor¡± Dyara scuttles into the room, averting her black eyes from the unseemly sight of her mistress. ¡°And who may that be?¡± She stops the torturing of Kariath and turns round to look at Dyara with boiling anger. ¡°A young vampiress¡± Dyara says before scuttling away in fear of what her Mistress would do. True to that fear, she unleashes all her anger on Kariath, causing her to break his phylactery and kill him. But she does not care and grabs a large hammer, pulverizing his remains till her anger abates somewhat. Reining in her emotions, she lets herself reform; feeling her skin tighten and shape alluringly while her teeth shrunk to a fanged shape. Sauntering out of the room, she buries her anger deep within her and walks up to the desk, to find a small child with crimson eyes and a slightly fanged mouth. In other words: a child vampiress. ¡°And ou may you be?¡± She narrows her eyes suspiciously at the child, letting her accent roll off her tongue ¡°I¡¯m¡­Lucille¡± as high pitched as her voice may be, it does not hold the naivety of a child as Mistress suspected, since vampire children could well be hundreds of years old. ¡°And vat are you doing asking for me?¡± She asks impatiently yet with a tone of respect. She wants to throttle the girl for causing this trouble but if she harms a child from the House of Dacul, her life would be forfeit. ¡°Well I heard you were taking care of a friend?¡± Although the child asks in a questioning manner, it in no way sounds like a question; rather a confirmation of thought. ¡°Your friend is gone¡± She can feel hot tears springing beneath her eyes, since it was a most precious pet she had lost ¡°Where did my friend go to?¡± The child asks, with a hint of anxiousness and curiousity. ¡°To the House of Skelor¡± She replies without thought. She could have lied, but she owed Windshaw since he had warned her beforehand. It was her fault she lost her ¡®pet¡¯ this time. With a slight bow, the child suddenly exits, leaving Mistress pierce her small back with unleashed hate. Huffing, Mistress storms into her torture room, laid on her rack and cried. She cried for the loss of her pet, cried for the killing of Kariath and cried for her powerlessness over a child who had walked in here, demanded answers and then just left. ¡­. Asking directions, Ankorr quickly makes it to a gigantic crumbling castle which resides in the center of a dead plain. The plain is called dead due to the lack of grass, and any trees that dot around the area are withered and long rotted. Walking up to the castle, he quickly notes skeletons hanging off the castle walls. Shivering at some strange possibility, he stops moving and sits behind a tree, out of sight of those skeletons. Letting his suddenly stressed body calm down, he once again continues walking towards the castle, but once again the feeling that the skeletons are watching him haunt his thoughts and crawl on his skin. Trying his best to ignore the feeling, he continues on, till he reaches the broken down portcullis. Hanging from the portcullis is another skeleton; arms drooped by its side and a rope hanging from its neck. Taking a single step through causes a multitude of ¡°INTRUDER¡± to emerge from the hanging skeleton¡¯s mouth as it violently wiggles in the air. Jumping to the sudden sound, he races inside choosing a mausoleum that resides inside and dives into it, muffling the almost alarm-like sound of ¡°INTRUDER¡±. Hiding behind a sarcophagus, he hears the alarm stop and his heart returns back to normal pace. Until he hears the doors of the mausoleum creak open, accompanied by the sound of bone on stone. ¡°Hey, little vampire¡± A voice clacks roughly with a trying to be soothing tone, as if approaching a beast carefully. Ankorr doesn¡¯t move from his spot, wondering if the voice is just trying to trick him to move. ¡°I¡¯m here to help you, since we have a common enemy¡± The voice continues as it creeps its way towards Ankorr ¡°Who?¡± Ankorr answers back as he jumps away from the sarcophagus, leading him into full view of a skeleton wearing a black cloak. ¡°An illithid princeling¡± The skeleton doesn¡¯t flinch by the sudden appearance or response from Ankorr. Lowering his guard somewhat, he motions for the skeleton to continue. ¡°The princeling has just recently come here, disguised as a vampire of Dacul. He told us he was sent to marry the princess of this House, which we believed. That is until I saw him change to his true form. I asked around to who he was and soon found out he was running away from the House of Dacul. But as a servant of the house, I cannot harm him in fear of retribution even if I were correct as the Illithid is still a princeling.¡± The skeleton speaks in a rough manner, bequeathing his servant status Ankorr listens to the skeleton with a pinch of doubt. And the more the skeleton speaks, the more Ankorr is convinced by the situation and the doubtful convenience of his position. He suspects Windshaw may have something to do with all this help. Or it may just be coincidence, but he highly doubts that. However his quest updates, so he takes that as a sign. Feeling a bit like he is a piece in a game, he walks towards the skeleton. ¡°Show me where he is¡± ¡­. I??luth??r sits at a large desk, writing his daily events in his small black diary. For him, today was just another boring day at this decrepit castle with its decrepit gardens and decrepit inhabitants. He misses the sweet sounds of torture in the background and the lavish garden of bodies that he had spent years playing in. Though he knows he can return in just a few days, so he can handle the boredom a bit longer. After writing a few dull sentences, his eyes droop from re-reading such a languid storyline of events that was his day. Closing the book, he shuffles to his bed and lies down on the stale straw mattress. Silently cursing his hosts for their lack of proper beds, he turns to his side, willing himself to sleep. It is at this point when he hears the quiet sounds of his window creaking open. Jumping up, he sees the window slightly ajar, moaning wind passing through the small gap. Quickly looking around the room, he doesn¡¯t see any intruder putting his mind at ease. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Standing up, he goes to close the window, before returning to bed, lying uncomfortably once more. ¡­ Waking up in a sloth-like manner, I??luth??r stretches and yawns his tiredness away as best as his languid body can. Making his way to the closet, he grabs the long flowing robe that is coloured a regal purple. Donning it, he straightens out the spiky collar. Grooming his tentacles, he takes a deep sigh before turning towards the door. Opening it, he almost walks into a flamboyantly dressed skeleton ¡°Ah Dolan, I take it you are here to escort me?¡± ¡°Yes master princeling, you better hurry for your bride awaits¡± the skeleton, Dolan answers with a bow and gestures for him to follow Quickly making their way across the castle, they enter through a large set of iron doors; which lead to a great hall of sorts. This room is equally as decrepit, but there are signs of recent renovation in some places; for the occasion. Walking up the aisle, he quickly notes the gathering crowd and their decently disapproving comments reach his ears easily. He knows why they disapprove of him, and would laugh at them if not for the situation. To him, they are just jealous he can feel, touch, taste the flesh of both lovers and victims of torture. But he is marrying a skeleton; as dry as a woman can get, completely unfuckable in every which way. At least he has a friend back home who will help him with those needs. Reaching the top of the aisle, Dolan leaves him there and disappears off into the crowd. Closing his eyes, he tries to block out the world and bring back memories of a better wedding; the one he always dreamed of. He doesn¡¯t understand this annoying elaborateness of dressing up and giving the bride away; much like an overworld creature¡¯s wedding. Splitting a being in half, drenching the couple in blood and then locking them in a torture room till one dominates the other is the way to wed for him, not this fancy formal thing. Too soon, he hears the crowds quiet down and the sound of archaic instruments blare out. Opening his eyes, he sees his skeletal bride, covered in a thin white veil walk up the alleyway, supported by Skelor; a most imposing skeleton wearing a black suit, riddled with holes from age. Reaching him, the skeleton gives him his daughter¡¯s cold, bony hand, which he takes. Turning to a skeleton standing behind a draped table, wearing a large white sash around his neck, he begins to listen to the droning of ¡®happy couple¡¯ and ¡®may be blessed¡¯ for a good while. Seemingly finishing, the skeletal priest ties their hands together with a leather strip before continuing with ¡®eternal bonds¡¯ and other garble, which I??luth??r shuts out from his mind. ¡°ME¡± A voice shouts from close by, reeling I??luth??r away from his daydreaming. Looking down, he spots a glint of steel, before it slices into his neck and out the other side. The crowds start shouting in fury and terror at seeing a child vampiress burst out from underneath the draped table and kill the Illithid princeling. Guards quickly converge on the child as well as Skelor himself in furious anger and fear for his daughter¡¯s life, but she simply ducks back under the table disappearing from sight. Skelor smashes the table out the way, only to find one of the many hidden passages that riddle this castle. Ordering guards to pursue the vampiress, he turns back to the dead body, noticing the cries of shock from the crowds as they see his head had gone missing in the commotion. Having the princeling killed was bad enough, but to not have a full body for burial was truly an insult to his House. Mobilizing all his guards, he tries futilely to search for both the killer and the head. Sadly, both have well and truly disappeared within seconds, leaving Skelor empty handed and in a most perilous situation. At least his saving grace is his daughter¡¯s faint happiness at not being married. After a good hour of his guards searching fruitlessly, he orders them to stop and shouts for his scribe to come. He must try repair the situation before war breaks out. ¡­ Two beings stand in a dense copse of trees. One, a skeleton in a long black cloak, holds the head of I??luth??r, while the other, a child vampiress stands cross armed, impatient. ¡°Give me the head and I can be on my way¡± Ankorr speaks impatiently, as he has had to wait for the skeleton for over an hour and the skeleton himself had only just arrived. The skeleton passes the head over, before bowing thanks and leaving. Ankorr, places the head in his inventory and starts to walk back to the inn ¡­. ¡°Windshaw¡± Ankorr barges into the room and flings the head on the table, where it rolls and stops in the center. Looking away from the window slowly, Windshaw chuckles lightly. ¡°So you went through with it, well done¡± He makes a clapping motion with his sleeves ¡°Where do I give it in for the bounty?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got to take it to the House of Lith, since they are the ones who put up the bounty in the first place¡± Windshaw answers with a wave of his sleeve, as if to tell him to get going. ¡°I see¡­I¡¯ll be back with the reward¡± He grabs the head and marches out the door. Windshaw chuckles softly and goes back to watching the window. He soon opens the window, letting a small bat with a piece of parchment tied to its leg, come inside. Reading the small letter, he starts to cackle deviously. "It''s time to start a fire" --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -Author''s Corner: Sorry it''s been a verrrry busy week and i feel this chapter''s a litttle hectic with the time jumping. But alas, not every chapter can be awesome, just the next one! hopefully...(i might make the next chapter a proper marathon of a chapter just becausei will have much free tme and nothing better to do :D) ALSO i''ve got 91 followers! that''s almost 100 :D(i gotta write better and more!! SO don''t forget to give me some love by following and you''ll never miss out on the sneaky mid-week chapter(s) -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 21- Starting a Fire ¡°Hello there, how may I¡­oh Windshaw, give me a moment¡± Dyara begins her usual speech before noticing that she is talking to Windshaw and disappears out back. She returns a minute later with Mistress in tow. ¡°Ah, Windshaw, what do you want¡± She doesn¡¯t even bother using her accent and crosses her arms angrily, since his coming is usually bad news of some sort. ¡°Nothing, just coming to visit an old friend¡± His robe shrugs. Her eyes narrow, unconvinced. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m here to see how you¡¯re doing with your pet¡± He finally confesses his intentions. Digging her nails into her arms, deep enough to draw blood, she tries to control her overwhelming anger and sadness. ¡°He¡­He¡¯s gone¡± ¡°Oh? Did you take it too far or something?¡± He asks na?vely. ¡°No, my servant Kariath let him go when they went into hiding¡± ¡°That was only two weeks ago, you should¡¯ve come to me straight away for help¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to be in debt to a shark like you¡± She spits out bitterly, knowing just how terrifying it is to be in debt to that man. ¡°You better think again, because I¡¯ve been hearing rumors¡­about your pet¡± He begins to turn away to leave. ¡°STOP¡± She almost reflexively jumps at him upon hearing the possibility of news ¡°Tell me¡± ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t want to be in my deb-¡± ¡°Give me an offer and I¡¯ll take it¡± She interjects, almost panting with anxiousness. ¡°The key¡± Although Windshaw has no face, she would swear he is grinning evilly on the inside. ¡°Y-¡± Sobering up from the anxiousness immediately, she mentally berates herself for almost going along with such a ridiculous deal. If Windshaw got hold of the key again, hell will break loose once more. But then again, what does she care for her House. After a quick decision, she drops her illusion, not that Windshaw was affected by it anway, and grabs a knife. Slicing open one of her tentacles, it reveals a bloody chrome key hidden inside. ¡°A most perfect hiding spot, never would have guessed¡± Windshaw lays down a compliment as he is handed the bloody key. ¡°Tell me this rumour and it¡¯d better be worth loosing you on Hellderworld¡± She spits out complacently. ¡°I heard that the child vampiress found her friend and I thought it was just a rumour since I thought you had your pet¡­¡± Emotions swelled in her heart; anger, distraught, fury. She had taken lengths to hide her pet from this child, but still she somehow found him. And worst is, she can¡¯t deal with someone from the House of Dacul, not as she is. ¡°You¡¯re thinking about how to deal with her, right?¡± Windshaw speaks in a slow manner, dinstinctly hinting that he knows a way. ¡°How do I deal with her, go on tell me¡± She gets the hint, mostly because she is used to this subtle hinting from him. ¡°I heard that someone from Dacul killed an Illithid princeling and the House of Lith is preparing for war. You know what to do¡± He chuckles lightly and begins to float away. ¡°I HATE YOU WINDSHAW, HATE YOU¡± She screams at him furiously, because he just dropped her into a literal hell of a situation, which she can back out of, but then all she does is lose her entire life¡¯s work. Plus he has the key to her vaults and all blame will fall onto her if it is raided. ¡°Leave your anger for the vampires, Lith¡± He laughs merrily as he disappears, knowing full well how fucked she is. ¡°DYARA¡± She swivels round, screaming at her secretary ¡°GATHER THE COURT¡± Dyara scuttles away, leaving Lith to start smashing the place in a vengeful fury. While that is happening, Dyara comes out of a room, bringing an Illithid and then keeps scuttling through, going from room to room and bringing out the rest of the inhabitants. Soon everyone is present and Lith stops destroying things. Turning to the small crowd of twelve illithid and Dyara, she composes herself. ¡°Dyara, how long has it been since we built this House?¡± She asks oddly calmly. ¡°Eight hundred and thirty five years Mistress¡± She replies within seconds. ¡°Eight hundred and thirty five¡­I guess that was long enough of a break¡± She speaks wistfully, longing for more time and clenches a fist in wistful sadness. ¡°To be fair Lith, I was getting pretty bored. Having a war sounds quite exciting¡± One of the twelve illitid speaks up; a well built figure with fresh scars from whipping and chains. ¡°Mmm, war would be fun, just imagine all the blood¡± The illithid with a blue robe, to his left chimes in. ¡°Oh and the dead bodies¡± a female with a missing eye strokes her tentacles wistfully. ¡°And don¡¯t forget the living ones¡± a similar looking female, but with two working eyes, starts stroking her tentacles lustily. ¡°Plus they¡¯re vampires, they are all dead gorgeous¡± Two illitid speak in sync, and also wear the same green robes. ¡°And we all know how Lith loves her vampires¡± A posh sound Illithid voices his thoughts, sending a chuckle down the group. Lith snaps her fingers sending them all into attentive silence. ¡°So¡­do you want to fuck Dacul together, or pass him round one by one?¡± She laughs darkly, accompanied by everyone as they all roar in equally malignant laughter. ¡­ Eikth??r taps his finger on the throne impatiently while he listens to the arguing of his court. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, this is a ruse set up by Skelor to have us fight Dacul!¡± One illithid shouts angrily at another while pointing at the slowly rotting head of I??luth??r, which resides on a table in the center of the hall. ¡°Ruse? Ruse? How can you be so blind to the obvious?! A vampiress walked in here and threw this at our Master!¡± The other illithid points towards Eikth??r. Many similar arguments were taking place across all the room, clearly dividing the court into two. ¡°SHUT UP¡± Eikth??r jumps off of his throne thoroughly roaring into the air. They all quiet down upon hearing him and then shuffle to either side of the room; divided based on what they support. An older illithid walks up next to Eikth??r and coughs to clear his throat. ¡°We have sent a message to Dacul, asking why they did such a thing. We should get a reply in a week at most¡± His cracking voice fills the room. ¡°But R?ik, won¡¯t he just deny he did it and then just what would we do with that information?!¡± An illithid from the ¡®it¡¯s not a ruse¡¯ side speaks up. ¡°He should have no reason to deny it if he meant it, and if he does then we should check Skelor¡¯s loyalty¡± R?ik answers back deftly. ¡°They watched our prince be killed and they did nothing, NOTHING¡± A younger illithid from the opposite side walks out from the crowd, angrily pointing towards R?ik. ¡°Yes, it is a shame that our prince died almost two weeks ago on the midst of his wedding. However they are sending both the body and forty percent of their current blood to us and sent it immediately after the incident. If that does not prove their sincerity then nothing will¡± He retorts towards the speaker. ¡°How is the blood not already here? Did they not send it two weeks ago? To my knowledge it only takes three days ride from there to here¡± Another illthid from the ¡®ruse¡¯ group steps out, questioning. ¡°He first delivered a message, which as you say, took three days, stating that the carts of blood will arrive within two weeks due to the heavy load¡± ¡°So if the carts do not come by today, then Skelor is not to be trusted?¡± Another ¡®ruse¡¯ member joins in. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Yes, but if the carts arrive late, that just means he encountered other problems and therefore can still be trusted. Now are there any more useless questions to be asked or can we wait to see where the loyalties of our neighbours lie?¡± He scans the room, seeing no takers. Turning to Eikth??r he whispers ¡°Master it is over¡± to him. Almost jumping from being distracted from his daydream, he turns to his court ¡°Court dismissed¡± before sitting back down on the throne. They all start to file out, but the heavy iron doors of the hall smash open letting thirteen Illithid and a Drider storm in, to everyone¡¯s surprise. ¡°Who the hell are you!?¡± Many of the court shout in shock as they storm through the center, ignoring them all and towards Eikth??r. ¡°Stop where you are strangers, or I¡¯ll call the guards¡± R?ik shouts towards the strangers. The one in the center, wearing a black corset and tight black leather trousers, sends a gesture to the others, making them stop abruptly. She continues to storm forward. ¡°GUAR-¡± His head explodes mid-sentence, causing screams of shock to be heard from the court. Eikth??r watches dumbfounded from the throne as the stranger storms towards him, stopping just inches away. ¡°Get off of my throne and grovel for your life, child¡± She speaks with overpowering confidence, even though a large stream of hundreds of guards is coming from the doors, making the room about half filled as they surround the strangers. Eikth??r just looks up blankly, still shocked from R?ik¡¯s death. ¡°Ugh, who put this useless shit in charge?¡± She quickly grips his head before he can react and clenches, squishing part of it, letting eye juice and brain matter shlop onto her arm. Chucking the body toward the court, they all back away in fear and hide behind the circle of guards that surround the newcomers. Wiping her arm on the side of the throne, she sits down, crossing her legs and roaming her eyes over the court. One of them looks towards the guards, who are still moving to surround the strangers, while pointing towards her . ¡°What are you doing? She just killed our Master!¡± ¡°Kill that one please¡± she waves her hand lazily towards the illithid. The guard complies, turning round and ramming his sword through the court member, shocking the rest of them. ¡°Now, any more dissenters?¡± No one speaks a word, because they are all too shocked to. ¡°Good. Now tell me why the Fuck you¡¯re still pissing about holding court after That¡± She points towards the decrepit head that is on the table. ¡°Because it might be a ruse set up by Skelor¡± An illithid steps out from the crowd. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me that you¡¯ve done shit all for two weeks because of a¡­chance, that it¡¯s a ruse?¡± The illithid awkwardly nods. ¡°And who else here agrees with this one?¡± A good half of the court raise their hands. ¡°Kill them all¡± She says while rolling her eyes and shaking her head. A number of the guards, slightly shocked by the decision, hesitate for a second before massacring the weaponless court. The other half, watch in pure fear, at her command to kill half the court for doing nothing. In barely a few minutes, one side of the hall is dyed black with blood. ¡°Now, all guards who hesitated a second at my command, please take a step forward¡± A large portion of guards step forward, although a few hesitate in fear of punishment. ¡°Those who stepped forward, take twenty lashes. Those who hesitated, kill them¡± The ones, who hesitated, immediately start fighting but are quickly overwhelmed by numbers and fall dead. While the slaughter is happening, one of the guards leaves and returns with bundles of whips. Once the hesitant guards are dead, the whips are passed around and a line of two hundred guards strip and prepare themselves. Although most of them enjoy whips, those who become guards do not like being whipped as it is against their dominant nature. Thus it is a shameful punishment to them and effective as one. The whippings go by quickly and once they have re-donned their armor, they look once more towards her, ready for orders without hesitation. ¡°W-w-who are you?¡± A fearful court member finally regains enough courage to ask. ¡°I am Lith, the owner of this House¡± She answers immediately causing the remaining court members to balk in surprise. The guards however, just kneel as they had already been told by the Commander of the Gates who she is, hence why they obeyed her commands. The twelve illithid and Drider had already moved to sit on the steps beside her throne so they just smirk at the stupefied faces of the remaining court. ¡°Now, tell me what else has happened in these two weeks¡± Her eyes, cold and malignant pierce the souls of all the court members, who cower at her. The illithid who spoke up from before walks forward. ¡°W-we have c-c-contacted Dacul to see whether this was his intentions and Skelor is s-s-supposedly bringing us forty percent of his blood¡­It should be arriving today¡± He bows, shaking from head to toe, fearing he¡¯ll be killed. ¡°Supposedly? Why is he bringing blood and so much too?¡± She leans forward, slightly interested, causing rest of the court to tremble in fear. Somewhat surprised he wasn¡¯t immediately killed, the illithid looks up once more. ¡°Our prince was killed by a vampire yes, but it was in the House of Skelor and the vampire escaped unharmed, even brought the head on that table, to us¡± His voice gains a little more confidence as he speaks, no longer trembling uncontrollably. ¡°Ah Skelor, as generous as always¡± She wistfully speaks to no one ¡°Forget about the carts for the moment, we must focus on Dacul, who is our sworn enemy right now¡± She immediately dismisses the thought of Skelor wanting to fight her, especially with what she remembers of him.. The illithid bows two times before retreating back into the crowd. The one-eyed female leans towards Lith. ¡°Keep that one, the rest are useless¡± She whispers into her ear. Lith trusts, Iiila, her Talent scout and does not hesitate in giving the command. ¡°The one who just spoke, come here¡± She points to the foot of her throne. The illithid from before slowly walks up, almost tripping in fear as he makes his way past the numerous guards. ¡°Kill the others¡± She waves noncommittally towards the rest of the court. Without a single guard hesitating, they all cut down the court, leaving that single illithid alive and terrified. She looks to both sides, towards her own court. ¡°Now, shall we begin preparations for war?¡± All thirteen members of her court grin evilly, causing the poor remaining member of the old court to slowly let piss run down his robe. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -Author''s Corner: I have nothing better to do on a Sunday, so chapters yaaaaaay!!! The fire is starting and the world will soon burn!! I''m not sure how many chapters this''ll take but it''ll be hell of a ride :D Hope you enjoyed it!!! please comment, review, even send me a private message (It''s always nice :D) No promises, but be looking out for number 3 :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 22- A Small Inferno Begins ¡°OPEN THE GATES¡± An illithid guard wearing a full steel breastplate shouts down the wall to a duo, who begin rotating a larger wooden wheel. Slowly, the portcullis raises and walking under it is a battalion of skeletons, all wearing shiny breastplates and well sharpened weapons guarding a large line of crates. Marching in clattering sync, they reach a luscious garden composed of bodies and stop, standing in deathly silence. A skeleton wearing a plumed helmet steps out of the formation. ¡°MASTER OF THIS HOUSE, THE HOUSE OF SKELOR BRINGS GIFTS OF PEACE TO THEE¡± He shouts out towards the sky, since no ¡®master of the house¡¯ is currently visible. In response to the shout, the heavy iron doors of the castle entrance swing open, revealing fourteen illithids and a dryad peering down at the skeletons. The one which is dressed in a tight black leather corset, along with matching trousers and boots, saunters down towards the quite shocked skeletons. ¡°Who are you?¡± The skeletal leader gruffly says, since none have been informed in the change of leadership in the House that just recently occurred. ¡°I am Lith, the Mistress of this House¡± She says offhandedly as she walks past the skeleton and runs her fingers along a crate ¡°I see Skelor is as giving as ever¡± The battalion suddenly felt very scared of this ¡®Lith¡¯, partially because she seemed to know Skelor in person as well as her name being the same as the founder of the House of Lith. Ignoring the many looks, she rips open the crate with her bare hands, a shocking feat for both the skeletons and the watching illithid; since Illithid are well known for their physical weakness, and peers at the insides for a second. Turning back to the skeletal leader, with a wooden lid in hand, she gives him a faint smile. ¡°Tell Skelor¡­to go fuck himself¡± She swings the lid furiously towards the leader, smashing the lid and sending the skeletal leader to the ground. Suddenly, Illithid charged from the rear, jumped off the walls, sprung from the many bony bushes and dropped from the fleshy trees, surrounding the small battalion of skeletons. Not understanding why this happened, the skeletons begin to fight with the overwhelming horde of maces and hammers, killing one or two before they are overwhelmed and crushed. Lith, although beginning within the reach of many skeletal soldiers, is left unharmed, due to the fact that within seconds she became surrounded by her own kin, before the stunned skeletons were able to react and avenge their commander. Within a minute, the sounds of battle die down, leaving the entire battalion of skeletons in literal pieces along with a hundred or so illithid on the ground next to them. The commander, was spared, as Lith stood on his hands, pinning him down until the fight was over. Leaning down towards him she whispered into his ear: ¡°Go tell Skelor, how dare he insult me like that. Tell him, that once I am finished with Dacul, he will be next¡± Standing back up, she walks away, exposing her back to the skeleton, but he does not take the chance. Scrambling to his feet, he is roughly escorted out and thrown outside the gates, along with his weapon and helmet. Broiled in confused fear, he begins to run back to Skelor. Meanwhile, Lith begins overturning the carts, letting their contents smash into the ground, splints of wood littering everywhere. ¡°DOES EVERYONE HERE SEE WHAT THEY HAVE DONE?¡± She shouts to the small horde of illithid that stand around, mending their allies and cleaning the garden as she adds more trash to the floor. They look like they know, but no one answers in fear of getting it wrong. ¡°THEY HAVE TOYED WITH US, FUCKED WITH US! CAN YOU NOT SEE WHAT IS IN THE CRATES?¡± She points towards a guard who was wrapping the leg of another guard and he visibly begins sweating, profusely. ¡°Erm¡­n-n-nothing?¡± He sputters out after wildly looking around to see what was on the floor. ¡°EXACTLY, NOTHING! THEY PROMISED RECOMPENSE FOR THE DEATH OF OUR PRINCE AND GAVE US NOTHING! NOT ONLY THAT, THEY WENT SO FAR AS TO BRING US NOTHING! SO I ASK YOU NOW, WHAT SHALL WE TURN THEM INTO?¡± ¡°Nothing?¡± An illthid from the wall says half-confident She picks up a skull, crushing it in her bare hands ¡°NOTHING¡± Storming away, her court follows after her, leaving the guards shivering and sweating in both fear of Lith and what their life is about to come to. Shutting the doors to the main hall, she sits on her throne sighing deeply. ¡°I take it you¡¯re a bit shocked Skelor could do such a thing¡± The twins pipe up simultaneously, patting both of her shoulders in consolidation. ¡°No, she was just acting up for the crowds. Skelor was never like that and he would never do such a taunting thing with no reason¡± The posh sounding Illithid muses knowledgeably, as he too has met Skelor before. ¡°The only reason Skelor would provoke us like that would be to declare war, but wouldn¡¯t that be unfavourable for h-¡± The lusty female illithid in a crimson robe speaks up but is cut off by the one-eyed illithid. ¡°We are at war with Dacul, to Skelor this is the best moment for him to go to war with us, especially if they have joined hands¡± ¡°So if they¡¯ve joined hands then that is a sign they are working together to destroy our House?¡± Lith interjects, making the court look towards her once more. ¡°Yes Mistress, and if they have not joined hands then it was an internal matter in Skelor rather than an act of war¡± Dyara speaks her thoughts, confirming Lith¡¯s own. ¡°Send a spy to both Houses and give them a weapon in case they need to assassinate my old comrades¡± Lith speaks the order and the court scurry off to make it happen, all except one. The well muscled illithid stays cross-armed at the foot of her throne, as if wanting to speak. Gesturing for him to speak, he begins. ¡°We discussed in the war council earlier that if this was the case, I am to go recruiting yes?¡± ¡°You know that, so don¡¯t bother me about it Bariax¨¹s. Raise me an army worthy to bring down both Houses¡± ¡°Can I do it through any means?¡± ¡°As long as you recruit more than you kill and make sure to burn the corpses¡± She grins evilly ¡°With pleasure¡± His grin matches hers ¡­ Gromar was cleaning his pint glasses just a few minutes ago, now, he is walking through the streets in a crowd of monsters, most half-halfheartedly due to being forced into such a situation. He himself was just busy running his inn as usual when the doors had been smashed down by an ogre and the residents, all fearing the day this would come, obediently followed the ogre out. They had heard both the rumours and the screams of the ¡®recruitment¡¯ that had happened over the past few days. Of course no one was filled in with the events that transpired within the three main Houses, but they did know that war was breaking out; since they were all being forced into recruitment into the House of Lith. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Gromar had been there, just over two centuries ago; when the three Houses were at war with one another and this recruitment was no less brutal than the last. Shuffling through the streets, they pass many piles of burning corpses; the dissenters, the ones that didn¡¯t want to be recruited, the na?ve fools who were too wet behind the ears to have experienced the last war. Slowly, they reached a courtyard and waiting in line, were stripped from their tops and marked on their right shoulder with a hot iron in the shape of an Illithid¡¯s head. Sometimes, the illithid who were marking them had to stop and slice off some of the flesh on the shoulder, to remove the old mark that was still there. Peering on his shoulder, he smirks at the fading skull mark that recognized him as a soldier of Skelor. Although he smirked at it, he still shivers at the memory of the battlefield, of the mad screams of his allies turning upon one in a bloody frenzy. Shaking the horrific image of slaughter from his mind, he reaches first in the queue. ¡°Ah, a veteran, and an old one from Skelor, you must be either really lucky or really strong to still be alive¡± The illithid remarks as he brings a knife to the shoulder, slicing away the skin, leaving soft, pink muscle bulging in the open air. Without delay, the hot iron stamps into his shoulder burning away at his flesh. Letting out a roar of pain, he remains standing even as his muscle blazes torturously. Soon the pain subsides somewhat and he is directed away from the courtyard. Following the leaving crowd, most of which are rubbing their shoulder with winces, they soon arrive at the town center; a huge expansive area where a park of bones stood days before, but was now destroyed to allow more space. The place was filled with hordes of monsters, all with fresh burns on their shoulders, some looking somewhat scared as the humongous pile of burning corpses that resided in the center of the space. Gromar imagined that in the first day, many dissented at being recruited due to not wanting to join the great three Houses in their petty squabbles. But none here seem to want to dissent because they know just how powerful the members of the three Houses are. A bulky illithid stood on a small raised platform in front of the fire, its little eyes watching all enter. Soon the crowd stops moving and all silently look at him, in recognition that he may be important. ¡°I, am Bariax¨¹s, would anyone like to dissent about being recruited to the House of Lith?¡± He did not shout, but his voice still carried to the backs of the crowds with ease. He spoke with his arms crossed arrogantly and looked down upon them, as if he was better than all of them combined. The thing was, that he is and many of the monsters there knew that. The stories and screams of the first day had reached their ears; the stories about how the dissenters on the first day were as many as the monsters standing here right now, and about how he alone caused them to turn upon one another, murdering eachother till none stood standing. That humongous pile of still burning bodies are those monsters from that day. No one said a thing and the silence grew and grew, until Bariax¨¹s clapped his hands delightfully. ¡°Good now make you wa-¡± He stops suddenly as an Illithid, panting and out of breath sprints towards him and drops down on one knee offering a letter. Taking the letter, Bariax¨¹s reads it silently, leaving thousands of monsters waiting silently, none daring to breathe too loudly. Tearing the letter up, he turns back towards the crowd. ¡°Go to Skelor, and kill them all¡± He growls and points towards the east, where the House of Skelor resides. The crowd, not wishing to disobey, start to march towards the House of Skelor. ¡­ ¡°MY LORD SKELOR¡± A skeleton rushes in and bows before the war council ¡°there is an army of about thirty thousand making their way over to here as we speak¡± The council returns to their debate in a renewed frenzy, while Skelor sighs deeply. ¡°See my Lord, Kel¡¯kor¡¯s advice was sound; allying ourselves with Dacul will help us survive this war¡± Skelor sighs and nods. It was just a precaution, nothing more, but now look; it has brought an army to my doorstep. ¡°MY LORD¡± Another skeleton, Dolan this time, wearing his usual black head guardsman cape kneels before Skelor ¡°The escort for the convoy returned, only the commander returned and in deathly shape¡± Many gasps of breath were heard as all knew that they had sent their finest to escort the convoy and little could kill them to a single man. Skelor immediately stood up ¡°Take me to him¡± Dolan shook his head ¡°That is not possible my Lord, for he crumbled to ashes but a few minutes after delivering the news¡± he replied solemnly. Skelor nods his head solemnly ¡°What news did he bring?¡± ¡°They were attacked by the Dacul along the road. It seems they had gotten wind of our cargo and descended upon them with all their might. The commander had spent days shambling back with a useless leg to tell us this news¡± The council went silent, to ingest this new, worrying information. ¡°Gentlemen¡± Skelor breaks the silence ¡°It seems...as though Dacul was truly trying to sour our relations with the House of Lith. So...we must go to Dacul under impressions of defending their lands with them and murder them to reconstruct our relations with the House of Lith¡± ¡°But what about the army at our doorstep?¡± One of the council members spoke up ¡°We do not need to fight with them, merely escape. However if we must fight, do not hold back, for they are simply pawns¡± Skelor answers quickly after a small period of thought. The council members all ponder upon the thought for moment, before nodding their heads in agreement. Sending the order around, the entire House begins to move out. ¡­ ¡°Who goes there¡± A pale elven creature with fangs and crimson eyes looks down the wall at a young girl, as pale as him who is carrying a crate on her tiny back. ¡°I am Lucille, and I bring gifts to this House¡± She bows towards the man, producing a single crimson vial with one hand while pointing to the crate on her back with her other hand. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Heyyy! been a while, had a bit of long weekend with relatives so yeah, no time to write unfortunately! However here we are with another chapter, soooo enjoy! Review, rate, comment, tell me things cause i need the love(/hate, but i do prefer love :D) -TRUE NORRRRRD Chapter 23- A Night of Rest ¡°LORD DACUL¡± A slim man wearing a flowing black cape glides into the room, taking a knee towards an elderly vampire, who is busy donning crimson armor. ¡°Spill it¡± He grunts impatiently. ¡°Lord Skelor has arrived at the gates with what looks like his entire court and a few hundred soldiers¡± Dacul stops what he is doing and turns his head towards the messenger with apparent interest. ¡°hmm, let them in and bring them to the main hall¡± The messenger rushes off to carry out his orders. ¡°Only a few hundred eh? What a worthless ally¡± He spits on the floor in disgust. ¡­ Slowly, through a forest, a small army of Illithid and slaves march through. Though the illithid number barely a thousand, the slaves are close to eight thousand, making it quite a sight to behold. Some illithid are riding their slaves, while others a simply whipping the stragglers. It is common for Illithid to have slaves, expertly trained to carry out any and all orders from their masters. Such devotion would not be possible except for the fact that Illithid have the ability to both mentally and physically torture their slaves, wiping all memory and then melding them into what they want. On top of a freshly trained ogre, which slowly moves on all fours, is a group of four; three illithid and a drider. Lith sits on the ogre, holding its reins, with the twin illithid playing a game behind her and Dyara, lazily spinning with her web at the back. The scene would be almost dull on that ogres back, except for the fact that Lith is slowly seething in annoyance due to the childish laughter behind her. She almost regrets taking those two along, almost. Soon, the playing turns bloody as they poke a sharp needle into eachother¡¯s arms to see who screams first. ¡°Would you two please stop, it¡¯s really getting on my nerves¡± Lith finally cracks, voicing her annoyance with a low growl. The twin on the left, ?ll?tir, blows a kiss to Lith ¡°Sorry Lith honey, but it¡¯s just so boring out here, no killing to do¡± ¡°Yeah, I mean we¡¯ll be getting there in around fifteen minutes, so just hold in your anger till then, that¡¯s what we¡¯re doing¡± Her twin sister Rit?ll? follows up, blowing another kiss to Lith. Her face twitching slightly, Lith returns to driving the ogre the correct direction, feeling suddenly excited that she will be participating in a blood bath in just fifteen minutes. Just as Rit?ll? promised, they leave the forest within the next fifteen minutes and enter a wide plain containing a large black castle with well kept walls. Standing on the walls is an unbroken line of soldiers; mostly vampires dressed in shiny crimson steel and some skeletons wearing less well kept armor are dotted around. ¡°I see, so Skelor got here anyways¡± Lith muses. ¡°Well you did send Bariax¨¹s to hunt him down, what did you expect?¡± ?ll?tir wags her finger towards Lith. ¡°He probably just had his army charge Skelor with no form of subterfuge whatsoever making it easy for Skelor to escape¡± Rit?ll? continues. Lith raises her hands with a sigh ¡°Fine fine, next time I¡¯ll ask you guys to do it¡± ¡°Nah, talking to people isn¡¯t our speciality; I¡¯m sure he¡¯s done a better job at recruiting than us¡± Both respond synchronously. While they talk non-chalantly about Bariax¨¹s, the same man appears on the horizon, followed by an enormous mass of monsters and the rest of the illithids and all look quite tired and beaten by the numerous fresh scars on their bodies. Lith orders her people to meet up with Bariax¨¹s and quickly make their way over to him, asking a few logistical questions to the twins on the way. Stepping down from her ogre, she storms up to him and gives him a loud, bloody slap on his face. ¡°What did I tell you?¡± He looks back towards her, with no anger or defiance in his eyes ¡®To make sure I recruited more than half, which I did Lith¡± ¡°So why are there barely twenty thousand? To my knowledge there are about fifty thousand residents in the civilized bit of Hellderworld¡± He glances towards the twins, who are still on the ogre, to which they respond with sticking out their tongues playfully. ¡°I had managed to recruit about thirty five thousand of them, but we met heavy resistance when in pursuit¡± He begins to explain himself, before Lith stops him with a question. ¡°As far as I¡¯m away, Skelor should have around two thousand soldiers in their ranks, how could that be such heavy resistance?¡± ¡°Well it was only about a thousand soldiers, but they were supported by a Necromancer Lord¡± ¡°Hmm I see¡± She nods her head in understanding, since a Necromancer Lord is a powerful being due to their abilities to raise and control hundreds, if not thousands, of undead with ease. ¡°Did you kill him?¡± ¡°Yes, I ordered a full charge towards him at the beginning, ignoring everything else until he was killed. That caused quite a few casualties which were then raised and further caused casualties till we finally reached him. After he was dead, it was just simply destroying the few soldiers and the mindless undead¡± He explains his plan to which Lith nods. ¡°Wow Bariax¨¹s, you could¡¯ve just had your ogres and ettins throw some of the smaller monsters at the Necromancer Lord, while using all sorts of ranged attacks against him which would have killed him with a lot less casualties¡± Rit?ll? guffaws at him to which he grits his teeth in anger while still keeping his ear inclined towards the tactical advice, for he knows better than to ignore them on tactics. ¡°Ah no matter, he killed a Necromancer Lord, it could¡¯ve been worse casualties¡± Lith shushes the twins before they can berate him more and gives him a pat on the shoulder before telling him to go get some rest while huffing that she can''t begin a massacre today. The army of around thirty thousand all rest beneath the dying sun, being watched from a distance by the barely three thousand defenders, who all quake in their shoes at the terrifying sight. Although the army outside slept peacefully, the defenders took turns staying awake in case of an attack. Even Dacul and Skelor sat around a table with their ministers worrying about the news Skelor brought about his Necromancer Lord Kel''kor being killed as well as stressing over the latest news a spy finally told them but a few minutes ago: Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. It had been barely over a week since the ¡®recruitment¡¯ happened in the city. However due to all undead being massacred without reason, almost all of the spies were killed and thus no information was given to either Skelor or Dacul. Thus they had no idea about the recruitment, until this spy had told them of it. This spy was none other than Ankorr in the guise of Lucille. They had been told that only around thirty five thousand had been recruited, the others had fled from the city and are slowly gathering with the help of a zombie which he does not know the name of. Of course that is all complete lies, but both Skelor and Dacul take it as truth and a slight shimmer of hope appears in their eyes. They are told that if they could hold out for just a few weeks then help would arrive. Although there is a slight doubt in their minds about the truth of the report, believing it does no harm but give them necessary hope. After some quiet debate between themselves they finally call the spy back in. ¡°Your information is useful, enough to give us the necessary hope our men need to survive this war. Name your reward and if it is just we will deliver¡± Dacul speaks towards the small girl, a slight glint gathering in his eyes as she looks up at him with a innocent smile. ¡°I¡¯d like to spend a night with my Lord, since I¡¯d like to have the taste of an older man in me if I were to die on the morrow¡± Her cute, innocent face belittles the lusting words which shock quite a few members in the room, but cause others to salivate slightly at the sight and request. One of those entranced is Dacul himself, who quickly recovers and chuckles heartily. ¡°A bold request, one I shall not deny¡± With that, he walks out the room, taking the small girl gently by the hand. Dacul¡¯s right hand minister, Morkien, claps his hands to gather the attention of the room ¡°Let us follow his lead and get some rest for the night or we won¡¯t last these next few weeks¡± ¡­ Making their way to the bedroom, Dacul locks the door and slowly begins to take off his armor. Giving him puppy eyes, Ankorr asks him whether he can help speed up the process. Chuckling, Dacul allows it and Thus Ankorr begins to help take off the chestplate. ¡°Wah, you have such a nice neck my Lord¡± He licks his neck and then cutely giggles ¡°May I have a bite?¡± Dacul, one hand rubbing his crotch at the alluring childish voice saying such arousing things allows it and he feels a small pair of fangs bite into the back of his neck, on his spinal cord. He drops to the floor unmoving a few seconds later, the paralysis poison kicking in. Ankorr, standing over the collapsed body of Dacul, lets out a haughty laugh as his body transforms into his Blood Drinker self ¡°Did you really think I liked an old fart like you?¡± He spits on him ¡°Now Windhsaw told me you probably kept your key around here¡± Dacul, paralyzed from head to toe could to nothing but watch as Ankorr slowly sliced his torso open and like opening a door moved the skin and muscle out of the way, claws poking at the internal organs probingly. Soon, he reaches the decrepit, unbeating heart of Dacul, and slicing that open reveals an old yet still not rusty key. Taking the key, Ankorr steps on Dacul¡¯s face before dragging him to the bed, covering his open chest with the sheets, which soon soak with dead blood. Transforming back into Lucille, he walks out the room making a snarky remark ¡°I thought he¡¯d last longer¡± Which is heard by a nearby guard, much to his delight, before walking off towards the vault. Since most of the guards are on the walls, none remain on the lower floors guarding the vaults. Thus Ankorr makes it to them with ease and places the key into the hole. With a single turn, the door opens, revealing a wide room filled with crates upon crates. Looking through the crates, quite a few are found to be empty, but after barely a few hours of scouring the room, he fills over twelve slots in his inventory with Aethelx¡¯s blood making almost twelve thousand vials of blood. Quite shocked by the number, Ankorr wonders what is so special about this blood, since he was never told by anyone much less Windshaw what this blood is for. Shrugging his shoulders, he takes a vial and sip, spitting the scorching concoction out. He bends over double, screaming from the burning sensation that sears under his skin in an uncontrollable rage. Flailing around in pain, he quickly stumbles onto the floor and wriggles to try remove the spiking pain from his body, which is does quite abruptly. Letting the after effects of the pain recede, he stands up and places the vial back into his inventory like it was a bomb. Leaving the vault and closing it back up, he sneaks his way back up to the ground floor and taking out his weapons walks over to the guard manning the eastern gates. ¡°I¡¯m here to take over, get some rest¡± The guard, thankful for the shift change, doesn¡¯t question it and goes to get some rest. Making sure no one is around; he opens the portcullis a tiny amount, making little noise, before crawling under it and sneaking outside. Making his way to the forest, he soon disappears into the trees, making his way towards the House of Lith. ¡°Windshaw, I hope to god this helps get me a level before this next harvest¡± He mutters to himself as he runs through the forest, very aware of the single level he has and the one week that remains before the next harvest. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Hey! slowly but surely this arc is coming to a close! i know quite a few of you haven''t enjoyed it since lack of the MC as well as dunno you''re feeling confused about things? Well whatever, hope you''re sill enjoying the read and will continue to do so! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 24- An unexpected battle Gromar fell to sleep almost immediately after being told they were to set up camp. He was exhausted from the march and that suicidal battle he had been part of earlier; almost half the army was wiped out charging through lines towards a single skeleton. And when they finally killed him, they were encircled by the thousands of their raised, mindless comrades. He had to kill quite a few of his favorite patrons, though he doesn¡¯t really believe he¡¯ll survive this war, especially each battle is as brutal as the last. Sleep came easy to him, and haunted him with the jarring memories of slackjawed friends drooling for a piece of him. The vivid dreams of him hacking away at their skulls, brains splattering over him seemed almost real to him. He could feel blood spatter across his cheeks and seep into his mouth, tasting musty and fungal¡­like the blood of a troll. Blasting his eyes open, the black castle walls loom over him with arrows blotting out the crimson sun and a troll, headless and stumbling around almost knocks into him. Although his mind is shocked by the sudden reality of the situation, he roars and charges towards the walls with reckless abandon. His body is not his own, he is but a puppet charging into certain death. ¡­ Lith chuckles as she sees the mind controlled monsters charge towards the castle in their sleep. The rest of the camp, seeing the reckless charge is lured into joining it, with the help of a few more mind controlled idiots screaming to charge of course. Although the leading one thousand are all surely dead by now, they had the desired effect: The guards were unprepared as they saw the camp settle down for the night. No one was prepared for a thousand monsters to jump up from their sleep and start charging towards the walls. Much less for the rest of the camp to join in almost immediately. The shouting of the enemy and the tolling of their bells was quite the music to her ears. Soon the larger monsters reached the walls, bristling with arrows but charging all the same. A hydra uses its seven heads as ladders for the smaller ones while ogres start bashing on the walls with their trees. Thousands created ladders with their bodies and thousands more climbed up battling fiercely on the walls, dying and falling to the ground below with a thud. It all seemed to begin well, as she could spot numerous enemies dying, even if it was one death to twenty at the moment. Though Lith wasn¡¯t satisfied; she had too many allies left. Turning to the twins they both smile and tell her to have patience. Huffing she looks back at the battle and a wide sadistic smile spreads across her face. ¡­ A kobold with clammy grey skin lunges towards Gromar, who swipes his axe down, biting into its head splattering brains across the bloody ground. Wrenching his axe it, it meets a set of claws from another risen dhampir. Kicking it away slightly, his axe lobs the head off letting his enemy rest once more. This is what he was afraid of, what he knew would happen once that battle began; all who get to the walls will be bit before they are killed, and will rise again as dhampir. With a moments rest to glance around, he sees hundreds of dhampir pouncing upon unsuspecting allies and soon the ground beneath the walls run red. The hydra remains silent as its heads are stabbed and its body bitten by the multiple dhampir below, Gromar fears its dead, but it¡¯s pleading eyes tell a different story. Another dhampir attacks him from behind, only scratching him before he dispatches it too. Though at least eight more rear his way after ripping a lamia to pieces. Grimacing, he charges towards the hydra, jumping on the back and joining the slithering line of monsters that run across the heads towards the walls. He has a choice of dying below or dying above. At least he can kill enemies not undead allies this way. ¡­ Upon the mass dhampir rising a few start to retreat in face of the savage carnage below. But soon enough those who turn to run, turn back, jumping into the dhampir, and stand there as they are ripped to pieces. No more retreat after a few dozen die this way as they all understand the only way out of this nightmare is forwards. ¡°Seems motivation is high¡± ?ll?tir chuckles ¡°Well fear is the best motivator¡± Rit?ll? replies too with a chuckle ¡°Seems like we are losing now though¡± Lith analyses as she notes the dwindling number of forces The once twenty odd thousand large army had dwindled to around fourteen thousand. To think there would be close to six thousand casualties in less than an hour is a terrifying fact to most of the illithid who are watching the battle unfold. Although Lith can see the enemies on the walls are numerously less. She turns towards Bariax¨¹s with a hungry glint in her eyes ¡°Bariax¨¹s, shall we join in?¡± With a look as if he was given a present, he nods and unsheathes his battleaxe. Turning towards her newly trained ogre, she whispers in its ear. The roaring sound of the ogre as it charges on all fours with all abandon cause quite a few of the illithid to cheer and send their slaves out too. This ogre charges through the melee and into the wall, slamming a shoulder into it, causing the wall to shake. Quickly retreating, the ogre returns to Lith¡¯s side covered in arrow wounds and scratch marks. ¡°Again¡± She says to him Turning round, it bellows and charges again, this time as many bows as possible trained upon it but the small pricks of the arrows do not matter to the ogre as it pummels into and through the wall. A portion of the wall collapses and immediately a swarm of monsters pile through, stepping over the dead ogre. Lith and Bariax¨¹s begin charging along with the rest of the army. ¡­ ¡°MY LORD DACUL¡± his right hand minister Yeron barges into the room, spotting his lord lie in a blood soaked bed unmoving ¡°MY LORD¡± He rushes over ripping away the covers and sees the open chest of his lord. Crying profusely he leaves the room, feeling the heavy weight of authority and responsibility to keep his people alive. Yeron ran to the keep veranda to spot the once dire situation become a cesspit of doom; the wall collapsed in front of his eyes along with the intruding ogre. But thousands of monsters swarmed inside, rushed up the stairs and quickly boxed the defenders on the walls, slaughtering them mercilessly. ¡°Its all over¡­and I don¡¯t even understand how this came to be. I am a fool, a waste. Ah if only Windshaw was here, he could sort things out like he always used to. But I cannot, all I can do now is choose my own death¡± With tears streaming down his eyes, he leans over the veranda head first into the ground. ¡­ Lith breathed a sigh of relief as she wiped away the fresh blood of the many vampires she just slaughtered on the walls. Quickly following the bulk of the army, she makes it to the courtyard in front of the keep. Her army now swarms the courtyard, watching a pair of ogres use a tree as a battering ram against the doors. Walking into view, she commands the ogres to stop and immediately has the eyes of everyone in the courtyard on her. Not many seem friendly. Heading towards the veranda, she steps on a headless body with find garland robes. Chuckling to herself, she looks up towards the keep. ¡°I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME INSIDE THE KEEP. IF YOU SURRENDER, I PROMISE YOU YOUR LIVES. IF YOU DO NOT, YOU WILL BE CAPTURED, TORTURED AND SUCCINTELY KILLED WITHOUT MERCY.¡± She shouts towards the keep, in hopes that someone is listening. Silence ensues for over five minutes causing nothing but the low grumblings around her to increase in anger as they look towards her. She reckons they aren¡¯t pleased about the bloody siege, about the fact that half of them lie dead upon the walls and the ground. But they fear her too, that and the fact that her own, personally loyal army is the same number as them, and fresh too. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. They can do little but grumble. Within a few minutes more, the gates finally open revealing Skelor and most of his retinue. ¡°We give you this castle, and the head of Dacul¡± Skelor drops the severed head of his supposed ally to the floor Raising a tentacle in confusion she struts towards Skelor. ¡°What are you playing at Skelor?¡± ¡°¡­Lith?¡± Skelor rubs his eye sockets few times in believable shock. ¡°Yes it is me, now tell me why you¡¯re giving me Dacul¡¯s head¡± she replies impatiently ¡°Ah, well a messenger brought us news that he had stolen our cargo which was meant fo-¡° *SLAP* The sound of her palm on his bone cheek resounds through the courtyard. ¡°Skelor you know not to fuck with me, your shipment arrived, empty of nothing but insults¡± ¡°I¡¯m telling the truth Lith¡± he pleads ¡°Right, and now you¡¯re going to tell me you killed Dacul in combat right? Because we both know he¡¯s the best fighter out of all of us. So just how did you get his head?¡± she jabs at his ribs in clear displeasure ¡°I didn¡¯t kill him Lith, someone else did¡± ¡°¡­what?¡± her shock is apparent as she expected him to confess to killing Dacul while he slept, but to say something so unbelievable is believable in this situation, especially since he seemed sincere in his plead for truthfulness. Turning away from Skelor, she grabs Dacul¡¯s head and busts it open, encasing the brain with her tentacles. Suddenly the memories flood into her mind. She is removing her armor, and being asked if they could help by a child vampiress. She recognizes it as the one who visited her shop. Though she did not expect the child to bite her, causing her to drop to the floor unmoving. Less did she expect for the child to transform into a man with crimson coloured eyes, clammy grey skin and sharp nails. The Blood Drinker which she had seen in the harvest tournament a short while back. ¡°Did you really think I liked an old fart like you?¡± He spits on her ¡°Now Windhsaw told me you probably kept your key around here¡± Jolting away from the memory she drops Dacul¡¯s head into a messy pulp on the floor and lunges at Skelor. ¡°How much blood did you send, HOW MUCH?¡± her eyes wild with terror bore into his sockets ¡°About half, what did you see Lith?¡± He responds quickly, the terror infecting him She whips around and screams at someone to search the vaults. The illithid sprints away, only to come back a few minutes later reporting them to be empty. Skelor looks at Lith in dreaded curiosity. ¡°He¡¯s done it again, that hellbent ghostly fucker. He¡¯s done it AGAIN¡± She shakes Skelor violently ¡°Windshaw?¡± He exclaims in horror ¡°That FUCKER¡­he comes to mine, plays me like a fiddle to get me to attack you and¡­SHIT¡± She lets go of him suddenly and whips round once more to her army ¡°RUN TO MY CASTLE, OR WE¡¯RE ALL GOING TO DIE¡± She screams at the top of her lungs The illithid start moving, but the rest of the monsters do not ¡°Why do we have to take orders from you now, we¡¯ve fought for you, we¡¯ve killed the enemy. Let us live in peace now¡± Someone shouts from the crowd She turns towards where the voice came from. ¡°YOU DON¡¯T UNDERSTAND, OUR GOD IS ABOUT TO DIE, AND IF HE DOES, WE¡¯LL ALL DIE WITH HIM¡± The words sunk in, and slowly brought out the screams of terror from all; since if a god is to die, their dimension will be destroyed. And all inside with it. In unison they all madly charge to the outside of the castle and back to the House of Lith. Little did they know that in the crowd was one smug Roland waiting with bated breath for the rise of his God. ¡­ ¡°ANKORR COME OVER HERE¡± Windshaw¡¯s voice boomed unnaturally as if inflated with power. Although it was not only his voice that was inflated with power; his body pulsated with dark energy and was over twenty metres now. He was no longer a normal wraith that much any could see. The crates of blood were but pebbles in his large skeletal hands and he popped them inside his gargantuan jaw like snacks. He wailed in pain as the blood forced him to grow, his head reaching the low parts of the canopy in the forest. Ankorr reached the ever growing clearing and both marveled and feared the new being that was Windshaw. He dropped the single crate that he was carrying and produced Dacul¡¯s vault key. ¡°Windshaw, here¡¯s what you asked for, now tell me how to get out of this god forsaken world¡± Windshaw bends down, blotting out the sky and takes the key and crate, pointing to the west. ¡°GET TO THE END OF THE WORLD AND JUMP OFF, THAT WILL TAKE YOU TO YOUR WORLD¡± Ankorr bows and begins to walk west. ¡°WAIT¡­DID YOU REALLY ONLY BRING ONE CRATE?¡± He leans over towards Ankorr Stopping and sighing slightly, he turns back to Windshaw. ¡°No, I¡¯ve got more, but you have to tell me the truth about how to get home¡± Windshaw chuckles, making the ground quake slightly. ¡°FINE¡± he produces a stone with a pulsating red carving on it ¡°USE THIS AND IT WILL TAKE YOU TO YOUR WORLD. GIVE ME ALL THE CRATES YOU HAVE AND I WILL CONFER THIS STONE TO YOU¡± Ankorr slowly takes the crates from his inventory, dropping them by the dozens on the floor. ¡°Now for the stone¡± ¡°HA, I WILL MISS A PAWN LIKE YOU, BUT I DO KEEP MY PROMISES¡± he points the stone towards Ankorr uttering unspeakable words causing it to pulsate brighter and more energetically than before. Rest mist seeps out from the stone and envelops Ankorr, clouding his vision and mind as he feels himself being sucked through something of great force and little size. Windshaw chuckles to himself as he watches Ankorr become sucked through the portal along with the dissipating binding stone. He thinks I¡¯m done with him, HA! I¡¯ll let him rot in that dungeon for a while to teach him what happens when he tricks me. With devious laughter he picks up the new crates, and pops them into his mouth¡­but nothing happens. Nothing happens for Ankorr had only given him empty crates, keeping the stacks of blood in his inventory. ¡°ANKORRRRRR¡± He roars angrily to the air at the loss of so much blood. Lith and her army heard nothing but a lout guttural roar of a most pissed off creature. ¡°I fear we may be too late¡± She whispers to herself. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: HEEEEEY it''s been literally forever. Yeah, life''s a literal s#@!storm right now so when i say i''ve got deadlines coming out my ears, i mean it. like i''ve got 3 this week ,jesus. Anyways, i finally got some freetime and wanted some good destress, and a reallly useful and great person told me to get back on track with this so yes! I did it! I reallly want to finish this arc and its'' so close to finishing. NEXT CHAPTER IS THE LAST ONE (so celebrate??) I wont promise much, but i''ll be finishing this arc by the end of next week at latest. After that, i''ve got more exams and then i''m finally free for a summer boatload of fiction for youse! If you''re reading this then hope you enjoyed the chapter and thanks for remaining loyal to reading this :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter25- A final battle ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH¡± Unholy screams of pain shook the earth underneath the feet of the army, causing many to stumble and trip. They had been running for two days and now they walk slowly towards the living terror that is Windshaw is in sight; In the distant forest, what would be a good days run stands an enormous wraith, which wails every few minutes in anguishing pain. Most had feared they were too late, but the dimension isn¡¯t destroyed so they are not. Lith walked alongside Skelor, biting her nails in worry, mind whirring to find a plan to kill Windshaw. It was obvious by now that he had drunk a great amount of the blood from the three Houses as he was at a rough guess a five story house. And although he had seen them, he had not done anything to them, rather sat back and continued to drink blood. ¡°Skelor, why did we not kill him the first time?¡± Lith asks, confused as to why they were so merciful that last time ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe he was too valuable for us to let him die¡± Skelor replies wistfully She chuckles ¡°Of course he was valuable, he was chief advisor for all three of our Houses¡± He chuckles darkly ¡°He was a trickster alright, playing us like fools¡± ¡°Played you lot like a fool, I knew what I was getting into¡± Lith reminds him ¡°Yes, he was still part of your court then wasn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°Those were the good old days, when I¡¯d have the sneakiest little fuck in my court. Still can¡¯t really get my head around as to how he got us to have peace by creating commerce between us¡± ¡°Well when you have a say in each court¡­¡± he muses darkly "I¡¯m wondering why you don¡¯t seem to like him anymore, since I remember you were still good friends when you ¡®died¡¯¡± She sighs and glances towards the sky, prying the hurtful memory from her mind. ¡°He still secretly visited me in those days, until about two hundred and fourty years ago, when he made the one I love ascend into a god making him too busy attending ¡®godly duties¡¯ to love me¡± He bitter tone spat out in angry pellets. ¡°And now he¡¯s trying to do the same himself?¡± Skelor starts to realize the situation once more with a better insight, as well as a better insight Lith¡¯s past as well. ¡°Yes and I don¡¯t want him to become a diety or this dimension will not be the only one in danger¡± She seethes and quickens her pace. After a long walk, with multiple breaks in between, the army consisting of roughly twenty thousand stands a few miles from the colossal being that is Windshaw. ¡°WHAT DO YOU WANT LITTLE BEINGS, HAHAHA¡± he roars towards them in obvious pleasure ¡°WE WANT TO KILL YOU¡± Lith shouts back ¡°You¡¯re blunter than Bariax¨¹s, jeesh¡± the twins spout synchronously Windshaw just laughed thunderously and started gliding towards them, silently and ominously. Within barely minutes, his form blotted out the crimson sun and the battle for their lives commenced without the uttering of another word. ¡­ An hour had passed, only an hour. They had been fighting a single being, only one. He had killed over ten thousand of them, and he was still going strong. Defeat was in their hearts, despair in their eyes. He seemed unkillable, immortal. Weapons had no effect on him, magic, there was none for all who used ti were targeted and killed. No matter what things they did to him, he seemed to shrug it off as if it were nothing. Though all he had to do was swipe down with his claws, ripping through dozens of monsters at once. Skelor had been killed within the first few minutes, Lith had followed shortly after. Many had been left screaming and dying on the floor as others fought to kill him in a frenzy of despair. Gromar is one of the luckily alive, and he still fights with his axe swinging at any part of Windshaw he can touch. He was behind him, far away from the other thousands so he would not be targeted and true enough he had not been even acknowledged yet. All he could hear from the other side were screams of the dying, and all he could do was hack with his axe. He sliced, and hacked and smashed with reckless abandon, but he knew that it was all for naught. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Time passed and the screams lessened, till they were barely audible and finally all was silent, all except him and a few hundred desperate individuals who attacked with nothing but terror willing them on. Soon, they too were picked off by the claws which sliced through them with ease, leaving cut bodies to be strewn across the ground. Soon, the hundreds became dozens and finally only Gromar remained, his axe lain uselessly on the blood soaked ground and his face looking up tearfully at Windshaws''. ¡°Why, WHY DID YOU KILL US ALL?¡± He screams towards him knowing that he wants to know the answer before he is killed if only to settle his heart¡± ¡°BECAUSE I NEED TO. FOR REVENGE AGAINST THE ONE WHO FUCKED ME OVER TWO CENTURIES AGO!¡± With that, he swiped across, splitting Gromar into several pieces of orc. ¡­ Windshaw gave a tired sigh after killing Gromar and laid back on the mountain of corpses below. He was lucky there weren¡¯t many magic users within the army or he may have died. I wonder if the fools ever realized physical attacks do not work on me Chuckling to himself, he decides to have a nap before Aethelx comes back. And surely enough, Aethelx returns many days later. ¡­ Aethelx breathes a huge sigh of relief as the election finally finished. He really hates meeting with the Divines, they always bitch and moan and whine about their followers. He does too, but his followers are usually bat shit insane so he¡¯s got a valid whining point. As per usual, the election was a boring pisspot of the Divine trying to please the other Divines to allow a new Epitomical to rise. Aethelx believes Mur really shouldn¡¯t have gotten a new one, especially as they had found out that he¡¯d lied about F?iron being killed; the fool committed suicide for sake of building a wall. But quite a lot of the Divines are pretty sentimental to Mur, since he is the god of Architecture and he designs and builds the palaces quite a few of the Overworld Divines reside in. That reminds me, maybe I should ask him to build me a nice house next election As he has nothing better to do as he soars down the dimensional gateway, he muses on the design on his house. Slamming into the ground once more, he stands up and shakes off his jarred legs, only to spot barely miles away a large deforested area filled with corpses and a giant wraith, even bigger than him lying down on top of them. ¡°WHO ARE YOU?¡± He demands as he stomps towards him, fists clenched and ready ¡°I AM YOUR SUCCESSOR¡± the wraith responds as he stands up, revealing the tens of thousands of bodies. Aethelx is angry at the loss of so many followers, but also he is slightly afraid; to see so many dead due to a single being put his enemy at a higher level than Epitomicals. Although, he has no reason to run away, rather he has much reason to kill this being. And so the two started battling, raring to kill one another. ¡­ ¡°Phew, that was hell of a trek. Bloody boring too. For a place called Hellderworld it¡¯s pretty tame¡± He strides a few more feet, leaving the umpteenth crimson forest and stops on the edge of what seemingly is a cliff. Although dropping off this cliff face would result in dropping off the edge of the dimension. Looking down, he gives a loud whistle as he sees the endless sight of stars and cosmic mists. ¡°Well¡± He looks up into the sky ¡°This is going to hurt isn¡¯t it Aela?¡± He waits for a few seconds before shrugging. ¡°HERE GOES NOTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNnnnng¡± --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Heyyy, yea wierdly anti-climatic battle....its a bit strange to read myself, wonder how you all feel about it. But yeah, that wraps up Hellderworld Arc, woo?! as our characters are both finally out of there. I''ll be writing an epilogue soon, but dont expect a ''proper'' chapter till start of june -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Second Arc Epilogue -Eight hundred and thirty five years before Ankorr entered Hellderworld- ¡°Oh dear, how I¡¯ve longed to see your gorgeous face. How the crimson sun seems ever so pale to the colour of your cheeks¡± A pale faced man dressed in dark purple livery prances through the doors of Lith¡¯s chambers, soaring his way through and to her side within a single of her heartbeats. ¡°Oh you¡­please stop talking and fuck me raw already¡± Her tentacles wildly encase him as she pushes him violently on to the bed, tumbling after him. ¡°Ahem, Lith, you do know I¡¯m still here right?¡± An awkwardly coughing wraith lingers in the center of the room looking at the meshing couple She detaches from her lover for a moment to look at the wraith. ¡°Windshaw, you¡¯ve seen us so many times already, hell you¡¯ve even joined us-¡± ¡°That was a hundred years ago Lith and I¡¯ve seen you plenty, too many times since then¡± he butts in before she can finish off She giggles as her lovers tongue explores her clavicle ¡°So you won¡¯t mind another time will you¡± ¡°Really now, we¡¯ve still go-ANHH¡­neverAAANH¡± He quickly retreats from the room, leaving the two lovers in a hot bundle. Several hours pass before the man saunters out the door, swaying side to side slightly. He turns to see Windshaw waiting patiently outside seemingly rather unamused. Wrapping an arm around his ethereal shoulder they begin to walk down the corridor. ¡°Sorry about that my old friend, it¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve been here and we both know how demanding Lith can be¡­and how brutal she is if her wishes are not met¡± They both look out the window to see the bone garden; a garden created from those who disobeyed her. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, seeing Lith happy is a good change to her usual mood¡± ¡°Ah yes, I heard from the servants that she¡¯s spending an unusual time in the pleasure rooms¡± ¡°The stress of war is starting to get with her, especially since I¡¯m trying my best to stop it¡± ¡°Ha! It is true she would rather massacre them all¡± ¡°She could, but then it will ruin everything Rerenum, all our plans and wishes¡± Rerenum stops, stroking his thin black goatee in deep thought. ¡°I can delay her for a week at most, after that, she will probably go to war knowing her impatience¡± Windshaw copies his pose. ¡°And how will you do that?¡± ¡°The old fashioned way my friend¡± He chuckles and sets off back down the corridor towards her chambers once more ¡°Really now, using the plan as an excuse to have more time with Lith¡­well at least it gives us time¡± He chuckles lightly and floats down the corridor once more ¡­ Aethelx sat atop his volcano watching the small skirmishes of his foolish subjects. Really now, can you stop killing yourselves for the sake of land that isn¡¯t even yours? He grumbles to himself darkly as he watches them clash and bash against eachother in fervent melee. ¡°fools aren¡¯t they¡± A voice from his side suddenly speaks, startling him slightly, for he did not expect it. Turning towards the voice, he sees it to be a wraith, looking towards the battlefield. Normally Aethelx would kill any being stupid enough to be within killing range, but this wraith was simply watching the battle, commenting his very thoughts. ¡°Who are you, wraith?¡± ¡°I¡¯m but a messenger, here to tell you how to stop this pointless fighting¡± The words brought questions to his mind and he raised his eyebrow suspiciously. ¡°Go on¡± ¡°Why do they fight?¡± The wraith asks He muses ¡°Because they need souls to survive my dimension do they not¡± ¡°Exactly, so how do you propose we stop this fighting?¡± The question takes him aback, since he thought this ¡®messenger¡¯ was going to give him the answer. ¡°It seems like you know, so do tell before I rip your body to shreds, messenger¡± ¡°We give them an alternative way to survive your dimension. Your blood¡± ¡°My blood? You are asking me to give my BLOOD to fools like you?¡± His anger rises and he thinks to kill this messenger for being so blatantly moronic ¡°I¡¯m not asking for you to give, I¡¯m asking for you to allow us to take your blood if we¡¯re worthy¡± The anger subsides somewhat as this strange idea forms a few more interesting ones within his mind. After a short musing he makes his decision. ¡°Hmm, an interesting idea, but only those who can wound me may take the blood that drops from that wound¡± The messenger bows and floats off silently into the distance. Aethelx looks up at the crimson sun wondering how this new plan would work; an army of followers that have the strength equal to an epitomical but are not, so as to hide them from those Overworld Divines. ¡­ ¡°My Lord Dacul I have awoken¡± Windshaw states as he glides through the doors and into the war room, where all the ministers stand around a large table in thought ¡°Ah Chief Advisor Windshaw, I trust your sleep was deathless?¡± Dacul answers almost immediately, as if grateful to be distracted from the meeting ¡°As per usual¡± he shrugs as he glides to the table Dacul opens his mouth once more to speak but is interrupted by Windshaw ¡°I have already updated myself with the news and also come with more¡± Everyone looks expectantly at him. ¡°According to my spies, Lith has ventured from her castle alone, in full view of everyone, telling everyone that she will meet in the Copse of Death¡± ¡°So let¡¯s go kill her!¡± A minister shouts out ¡°No, it may be a trap¡± Interjects another Dacul quickly silences everyone with a raised hand, before an argument breaks out ¡°And...what am I to take of this Windshaw?¡± ¡°I believe she wants a meeting, since no messages have been successfully relayed between the factions due to the last one being an assassination and this may be her way of relaying one¡± ¡°Hmm, I see¡± Dacul muses for a few minutes in complete silence ¡°Well then, I best be off should I not, Windshaw?¡± ¡°My lord!¡± Many cry out distraught at the idea of possibly sending their lord into a trap, but he hushes them quickly ¡°If you aren¡¯t quick enough, Skelor will be there first¡± Windshaw chuckles ¡°Dammit! You could¡¯ve told me that sooner!¡± ¡­ ¡°Ah, I see you have made it first¡± Lith looks towards Dacul as he bursts into the Copse grinning that he is first. ¡°Ha! Skelor may be the younger but I am surely the faster¡± ¡°I just waited till you went in first, just in case¡± Skelor answers from the bushes as he walks in, to a much distraught Dacul. ¡°It may have been a few years since we¡¯ve seen eachother, but you really don¡¯t change¡± Lith chuckles lightly as they stare daggers into eachother. ¡°So Lith, since you¡¯re not here to kill us, why are we here?¡± they both ask ¡°To create peace¡± ¡°Peace?¡± They both look incredulously at her ¡°Sorry Lith, but you¡¯re the last one out of us three that we¡¯d expect to hear those words come out their mouths¡± Skelor states while Dacul nods ¡°Ha¡­ha, do you want it? Because I¡¯m happy to fight you if I need to¡± ¡°No no no¡± they both answer quickly ¡°So how do you propose we have peace?¡± Dacul muses ¡°We fight because we need souls, correct?¡± ¡°Yes¡± they answer unanimously ¡°Well what if there was another way?¡± ¡°Linkers are hugely inefficient Lith, we¡¯re not going to be able to survive on those¡± Skelor retorts ¡°I was talking¡± she takes out two vials from her pocket ¡°about this¡± she gives them each one They both stare at the thick crimson liquid inside, wondering what it is. ¡°It is the blood of Aethelx and each vial will give us enough to sustain a single harvest¡± Both look shocked at the blood, but do not say a thing, waiting for Lith to explain. Rolling her eyes ¡°Aethelx will allow us to take and drink his blood if we can wound him. So there was have it, peace¡± ¡°I still don¡¯t get how it will give us peace¡± Skelor answers wonderingly Dacul however looks down at the vial in concentration ¡°Well it would mean instead of killing eachother off we would need to grow strong enough to wound Aethelx¡± He looks back up at Lith ¡°But that still wouldn¡¯t give peace since such a task is difficult¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t guarantee it, but we can try use this as a base for peace¡± Skelor looks at the two of them, before shrugging and downing his vial ¡°it¡¯s worth a try¡± Dacul follows and soon they are both wracked with pain before feeling elated and more powerful. ¡°I will be sending crates of these to your castles, for your people¡± Lith says They nod and all turn away to return to their own castles. ¡­ -Weeks later- ¡°My Lord Skelor!¡± A messenger bursts in to the war room ¡°What is it messenger, quick!¡± He speaks hurriedly, worried about the surprise skirmish with the House of Lith as his daughter was part of the attacked retinue ¡°They have returned, all safe my lord. According to the guard captain there were only slaves, asking to be slaughtered¡± Skelor raises his eyebrow in confusion as it came as strange news. ¡°But stranger still was the fact that none gained any souls, not even him who killed over a hundred of the slaves¡± Most of the ministers looked shocked and truly worried at the news, as it was not the first news of battles giving fruitless rewards. It had been a sign since the drinking of the blood and Skelor by now believes that the blood does not allow them to gain souls in a normal fashion any longer Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Well, peace we will have certainly, since killing eachother is now pointless He seethes, calming slightly when an ethereal hand drops onto his shoulder. ¡°Spies report the same is for Dacul and Lith, though it seems Lith¡¯s lot are handling it much better than the both of you. It¡¯s possible they knew already¡± ¡°Thanks for telling me, Windshaw, but why tell me?¡± ¡°Because you seem worried my lord, but don¡¯t you see? This is peace and an opportunity to force all your citizens to grow strong, much stronger than before in sake of their existence¡± ¡°Hmm, I guess you are right as always¡± He plays with the thought of raising strong armies and peace ¡°Well I am chief advisor; it wouldn¡¯t do me good to be wrong now would it?¡± He chuckles before gliding out the room ¡°I feel the sleep beckoning, maybe a month this time I think¡± ¡­ ¡°My lord Skelor, my deepest apologies¡± Windshaw bows solemnly before him in the corridor ¡°What is wrong Windshaw?¡± He asks worriedly ¡°I have gotten news that Lith, her court and her servants have all been killed¡± ¡°WHAT? Tell me how?¡± ¡°It seems a coup happened. The residents were not pleased about her using their slaves as showpieces to the effects of the blood it seems¡± Skelor nodded solemnly and slowly began walking away ¡­ -Five hundred and ninety five years later- ¡°Rerenum, here¡¯s another one¡± Windshaw glides into the room carrying another crate jingling merrily ¡°Windshaw, any more and there won¡¯t be any space left in this cave¡± Rerenum jumps off the high stack of crates, landing nimbly on two feet. He chuckles ¡°That¡¯s the point friend¡± ¡°You think Lith will like it?¡± He asks as he juggles a crimson filled vial ¡°She¡¯s going to be ascended into a Divine being, why the hell wouldn¡¯t she like it?¡± Windshaw laughs merrily. Rerenum joins in heartily ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why you¡¯re doing this though, thought you¡¯d want to become one¡± He loudly snorts ¡°Me, a Divine? Way too much responsibility for me¡± ¡°Says the one who is chief advisor to all three Houses¡± Rerenum snorts equally as loud ¡°I¡¯m only doing that so I can get access to the vaults, I¡¯d rather spend my time in the Library of Kotush¡± ¡°So¡­I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s where you¡¯re headed when we ¡®Divinitise her?¡± ¡°Yep, just me, and the smell of ancient books. A fitting life for an ex-historian like me eh?¡± He chuckles ¡°Right, just like being the lover of a Divine is fitting for an ex-priest like me¡± Both laugh at their very distant, living pasts. ¡°Now I¡¯ve got to make one more trip to the House of Dacul and take the last few crates for this year. A couple more years, we can give her the best millennium present she could hope for¡± They both laugh as Windshaw exits the cave ¡­ Rerenum sat on a large pile of crates, thinking deeply about what he sat upon. It had been hundreds of years since they had planned this, hundreds of years since a mere twenty three year old Lith had told them it was her dream to become a goddess. It had been hundreds of years since he stopped loving her. Ever since she went into hiding, she changed. He had kept visiting her but the fire that warmed his heart seemed to have blown out. He did not know why and struggled to stay in love, but he simply could not. As a friend, she was paramountly important to him. But a cursed question keeps revolving around in his mind; is all this hard work, all these years of stealthily taking crates from each of the vaults. Was it worth giving it to her? Was she worthy of becoming a Divine, for all her faults? Wasn¡¯t he more worthy? It was a question he hated, but it was one that lusted, for power, for something that he did not have and could get with just the simple drinking of blood. It was a temptation hard for him to bear, but bear it he did. He bore it when the first crates came in, until almost the last ones came in. But now, sitting atop thousands of blood filled crates, it was akin to sitting atop your everything and willingly giving them to someone else, for nothing. She would not appreciate it like him, that is what swirled around darkly in his mind. In the end, the temptation was too much for him; he had endured almost six hundred years of watching them come in, and he was not going to give them to someone who didn¡¯t deserve them. He opened up the first of the crates¡­ ¡­ ¡°My Lord¡­¡± Windshaw walks into the room non-chalantly, only to find himself face to face with all three of his lords ¡°Yes Windshaw, which one are you addressing?¡± Skelor smiles with that of a predator to a prey ¡°Well damn, finally caught me, oops¡± ¡°Yes¡­oops. Now it all makes sense, everything. Even from way back in the start, we were all playing to your tune weren¡¯t we? I¡¯m guessing you even incited Lith¡¯s coup?¡± Dacul bitterly spits out the words ¡°Yes, I did help that too, but look how it has helped us all thrive¡± ¡°It has, and that is why this revelation is of little importance to us¡± Skelor looks at the slightly seething Dacul ¡°well most of us. However because of this revelation, we have taken inventory¡­and found ourselves lacking¡± ¡°Damn, and I was going to get my last crate today¡± Windshaw confesses ¡°GUARDS! ARREST THIS THEIF¡± Dacul commands, causing the many guards to run towards Windshaw ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH¡± Unholy screams shake the castle and everyone, startled, runs outside. In the distance is a large figure, holding another in the air while a third stands by. ¡­ Aethelx was having a light conversation with Repleh as they walked on the forest. They were catching up as it had been half a millennium since that had seen eachother and they were just talking about their luck with love, when suddenly a cave at their feet broke; spewing out a pale vampire bigger than them, holding his head and screaming at the top of his lungs in pain. Aethelx immediately worried tried to grab hold of Repleh but he was too slow and saw his friend kneel down at the new being and ask if everything were alright. He did not get to finish his sentence as the beings mouth engulfed and bit off Repleh¡¯s head. Aethelx recovered from his shell shock only then and began to sprint to his friends aid¡­but he was not fast enough to stop Repleh¡¯s headless body getting pierced through the heart. He saw the body stop twitching, and dissipate into the air with no trace of him left behind. He had, for the first time in his very long life, seen an Elevated Divine killed. ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAAAGRGRHRH¡± ¡­ The seconds seems to dissipate in midair and the first runs away into the distance from the third. All look incredulously at the shadowed figures, both curious and terrified of what they may be. ¡°Rerenum¡± The words escape from Windshaw¡¯s lips, causing all to turn towards him ¡°YOU CAUSED THIS?¡± Dacul screams at him, in anger and in fear ¡°I didn¡¯t mean for this to happen, truly, it wasn¡¯t meant for either me or him¡± ¡°Then who was it for?¡± ¡°It was a millennial birthday present¡­¡± He sighs solemnly Dacul was to be a millennia in just a few short weeks, while Skelor in a dozen years. Both immediately thought the present to be either their own or the others. ¡°Banishment¡± They both say simultaneously, both having a small chord of pity struck within them. They did not want to kill the one who helped them all these years, as well as possibly try give them power beyond their beliefs. But neither could they trust him anymore, so banishment was the best way to go, for he was at the end of the day a close friend to both of them, like Lith used to be. And so Windshaw was summarily banished from Hellderworld using a binding stone. A single spy for Lith carried a jumbled message which she interpreted as Windshaw Divinitising her lover and no one but Aethelx truly knew what Rerenum had really become. ¡­ -Two hundred and fourty years later and a short while before Aethelx returns from the election- ¡°I¡¯m sorry Lith¡­¡± He speaks softly, to no one in particular, since all around him are dead, including Lith. He had killed her, among all those thousands others, among all here. He killed them because they made Aethelx weaker, weak enough for him to beat him, weak enough for him to take the power of Aethelx and use it seek revenge on one who betrayed him, wasting over half his life¡¯s planning and caused him to be sealed for almost two centuries in a dank crypt. He had to kill her, so that he may have his due revenge... for once he killed Aethelx, he would find Rerenum and let him feel the pain of ten thousand lifetimes. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Hey! so, i got relaly stressed with revising so epilogue appears! Well according to the lovely 4sai, you didn''t really know the motivation behind Windshaw (true, there were only a couple of decently ambiguous hints throughout so verrry fair point). Hope you enjoyed this little ''backstory'' for him and hope that if you reread this arc you''ll have a deeper understanding of the slight intricies at work. Apart from that, It''s completely and utterly over now this arc Soooooo time for important things to asssk!!! BELOW: Ok, so who loved this arc? Who hated it? Please tell me why you did because useful criticism will help me write better fiction and will definitely help you enjoy it more. Comments and reviews are alllllways loved :* -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 25- The End of the Sixth Month, Part 1 ¡°Say ahh¡± ¡°Ahh¡± ¡°Good¡± The nurse shines her light inside, glancing up and down before turning the light of with a small sigh of satisfaction ¡°It looks like you will be fine. Your teeth are all still intact Yulia. ¡°Ah, sorry to be annoying like this Clara¡± Yulia rubs the back of her head shamefully ¡°Nonsense, this is my job you know¡± She lightly clips her on the forehead before rolling her chair to her desk and begins writing a prescription ¡°Now I want you to take two of these every night for a week. That should reduce the nightmares somewhat¡± Taking the prescription paper off the nurse, she thanks her and leaves the room, crumpling the paper once out of sight. She doesn¡¯t need pills, they don¡¯t work. No matter what she takes the nightmares still return, still haunt her dreams every so often. Even though it has been six weeks since he left, the traumatizing images still haunt her. The metallic smell of blood mixed with the putrid stench of piss and shit as well as the acrid smell of vomit had engraved itself deeply in her memory, and it lingers ever in her nostrils. It has been six weeks in real life, six months and five days to be exact in game, since she had seen him disappear, since her life as an acolyte became normal¡­calm. She did not mind the calmness; her days were spent doing chores and talking with people of the church. They are calm days full of light and warmth and she loved them. While she thinks about her days in the church, she enters her flat, immediately pounced upon by a certain Marcus. ¡°Yulia! I almost thought you were dead! Haven¡¯t seen you in forever and ever¡± He bear hugs her, lifting her off the floor and swinging her round happily, which she does not enjoy. ¡°Put me down Marcus, now¡± She growls He quickly puts her down after some ¡®gentle¡¯ persuasion by her fingers on his clavicle. ¡°Ow that hurt¡± fake tears form on his eyes ¡°As compensation you should tell me about your past six weeks in LEO¡± He wiggles his eyebrows excitedly She could say no, but then again he has been signing her off in lectures for the past six weeks. The least she owes him is a small chat. Sighing, she walks over to her room and motions for him to follow, which he does. Entering her room, she collapses onto her bed and he takes the seat at her desk. ¡°So, what do you want to know?¡± ¡°Everything¡± *Groan* ¡°Talk about unspecific¡± ¡°Well I do need to learn as much as I can, since I¡¯m going to be joining you soon¡± ¡°¡­Eh?¡± she sits up cleaning out her ears as she¡¯s not sure she heard him correctly ¡°What have you been doing all this time? Have you not heard any of the news?¡± He exclaims in wonder She shakes her head. He twirls round on the chair and begins furiously typing on her laptop. Bringing up a video, he presses play and moves out of the way for her to see. [ ¡°Welcome everyone to Xcursion. I am Madelyn Macane and I¡¯ll be your host for this evening. Ladies and gentlemen, I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve heard of LEO by now?¡± *crowd cheers* ¡°Haha, perfect. Well that means we can cut straight to the chase. Today we have a very special guest for you all. This man is officially the first mage in LEO. Yes, you heard correctly; someone has finally passed the apprentice level and has been given the class of mage. This man is coming here to tell us all about it, so I introduce to you Kale¡± *crowd cheers as a tall, spangled youth walks onto stage looking quite underfed and tired. He sits down, ruffling his messy brown hair till his slightly spotted face is in better view* ¡°Why hello there Kale, would you like to tell everyone about yourself?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just your average teenager, nothing special about me really. Except for the fact that I am the only user to be able to use magic of course¡± ¡°Yes, we are so excited to hear the news. So tell us, how did you do it?¡± ¡°Well, I began by reading books, lots of them, hundreds of them. That took around seven months in game to complete¡± ¡°Wow, how did you not bore yourself?¡± ¡°Simple, the books were all quite interesting reads and I enjoy my books. Also the game gave me the fast reader skill, helping quicken the process. Anyways, after those seven months I took the exam, which was simply a display of knowledge. The next three months was putting that knowledge into practice and harnessing my first magic type to my will¡± ¡°Magic type? Forgive me but I¡¯m not knowledgeable in magic as you are¡± ¡°There are multiple magic types in LEO. The classic ones such as fire and water and more un-classic such as chaos. I had an affinity for water it seemed so I ended up learning water magic¡± ¡°Ooh. But with affinity do you mean you don¡¯t have a choice?¡± ¡°No, rather when you harness your mana the type will come naturally¡± ¡°Very interesting. So I assume to pass your apprentice level you had to show them your power¡± ¡°Naturally, and as we all know I succeeded¡± ¡°Of course you did. A question though, why did you choose mage, not continue to the next level?¡± ¡°Well you see-¡±] If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Yulia stops the video. ¡°I don¡¯t see what the point of this video is¡± ¡°Oh, well I thought you¡¯d like to watch this important moment for LEO, well whatever I¡¯ll just skip to the good part¡± He takes control of the laptop once more and moves the video to the last few minutes [¡°There have been announcements of the next release of capsules for LEO which will be happening in around a month¡¯s time, what are your thoughts on having newcomers?¡± ¡°Well, in all honesty I probably won¡¯t be seeing them within the first half year at least so I will not mind them in the least. Rather I would like to support them in becoming magic users too¡±] He turns off the video, grinning towards Yulia. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just tell me? It wouldn¡¯t have wasted my time¡± ¡°Well it¡¯s an important video, since you should know the guy who¡¯s the first mage of course¡± ¡®Just because he¡¯s first doesn¡¯t mean he is the best¡± ¡°True. So anyways, how far are you. I thought you¡¯d be up there on Xcursion since you seem to live in that capsule¡± he points to the capsule taking up most of the room. ¡°I¡¯m still on trainee level¡± She mutters uncomfortably ¡°Really? But it¡¯s been ten months in game, how have you not gotten to the next level?¡± He exclaims incredulously ¡°Well I need to go through a ceremony which happens once a year¡­.and it¡¯s six months away¡± He shakes his head pitifully ¡°Such a shame, means I should be able to catch up to you then¡± She groans inwardly. Seems like she won¡¯t be able to escape him in LEO either. ¡°Alright, you can go back to LEO, I¡¯ve got lectures to attend¡­since I¡¯m a respectable student¡± He nods his head mockingly, dodging the pillow she chucks at him half-angrily ¡°Tooodles¡± He disappears out the door. Her slight anger subsides quickly when he leaves, leaving her rather empty. She tolerates him simply because he doesn¡¯t seem to care about the way she treats him, and the fact that he is one of the few people who will talk to her, even after the incident when she threw up on Ramira. Shrugging the memory off, she eats a few breadsticks and hummus, her body only reacting slightly to the disconcerting sound of crunching. Finishing her meal, she strips and steps into her capsule ¡­ The dawn rises on the City of Darton illuminating the early risers milling about in their morning activities. No one really looks up at the sizzling sun except one man; naked as the day he was born but not hiding in shame. He sits upon the forty second stair of the Cathedral, his eyes burning the memory of a beautiful orange sunrise. The heavy door opens behind him and out comes a woman, her long brunette hair curling down her shoulders. He stands up and she hands him a broom, her crystal blue eyes fixated to his, before she takes seat on the stairs a lesser distance from where she sat a month ago. ¡°Six months and five days¡± she says wistfully to the man as he sweeps the stairs ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s been a while¡± He comments thoughtfully as he sweeps. ¡°Will he ever come back?¡± ¡°I trust that he will¡± he stops sweeping for a second, looking up at the sun and smiling ever so slightly. ¡°Hm, well I hope he gets here later than sooner; I¡¯m actually able to eat again and I don''t mind the peace¡± She smiles too but for a different purpose. She sits while he sweeps and they maintain this peaceful silence for a short while, letting the sun bask them in its light. However the sun soon rises and she stands up to leave. Stopping at the doorway, she looks back at Moren. ¡°Hey, could you tell me what you said to him that day?¡± ¡°Well it wouldn¡¯t be a secret if I told you now would it?¡± He responds with a devilish grin ¡°Tsch¡± she walks away to go begin her morning duties. Moren continues sweeping for a short while before stopping suddenly, whipping his head to the right. A small smile creeps on his face finally taking the form of a full beaming smile. ¡°Welcome back into the light of Helia, friend¡± ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author''s Corner: IT IS BEGINNING ONCE AGAIN! Well this ''Chapter'' (since it''ll have parts) will be a sort of mini-arc so enjoy And thank you to whoever gave me a review, always welcome :* -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 26-The End of the Sixth Month Part 2 ¡°Mr Corden, Doctor Jennings is ready to see you now¡± A mechanical female voice echoes in the waiting room Standing up with a small back stretch, Ray makes his way over to his apparent doctor. He had been blocked from LEO due to capsule nutrients being low, when he had been teleported back to the ¡®main¡¯ world. He had also received an automated appointment with a doctor for a physical checkup as well as a psychiatric one, from ZOONIUS, the company which created LEO. With little better to do then order a refill for his Capsule, he had gone to his physical checkup. Tussling his long unkempt hair, he traverses the endless white corridor breathing in the sterilized air. After a short while, he reaches the door saying: Doctor Jennings. Knocking on the door he hears a female voice saying ¡°enter: from the inside. He is immediately greeted by an aging woman who quickly glances his way before pointing to the chair in the center of the room. Swiveling her desk of tools towards him, she begins with reflexive reactions. A few minutes of that, and she confirms that his reactions are still in check. She moves onto heart-rate, blood pressure and all kinds of bodily fluid levels. All seems to check out normal according to her. Claiming she forgot that she required another tool, she leaves the room temporarily. Alone, Ray decides to conduct a small experiment himself. After being this so called Blood Drinker for two months, he felt slightly worried as to whether it would have any bodily effect on him. Taking an incisor from the desk he pokes his finger with it. The prick is dull to him, but blood still wells on it. Taking it further, he slices it down his hand. The pain is akin to someone tickling him lightly, even if blood is pouring out of his hand freely. Gulping fearfully at the newfound information, he misses his doctor re-entering, gasping at him and moving quickly towards him. Reacting to her touch, he slices the incisor towards her, stopping himself when he realizes what he¡¯s doing. But he¡¯s already cut a thin gash on her hand and her blood sprays all over his mixing with it. Dropping the incisor he stumbles away while she shrieks in pain, dropping her own knife. Sprinting down the corridor, his nostrils fill with the metallic smell of blood, which sends indistinguishable drool down the corners of his mouth. Bursting into a bathroom, he resists the growing temptation, the hunger that eats away at his insides and drowns his bloody hand in ice cold water. Soon all the blood is washed away in a crimson river and after wrapping many towels around his fresh wound, the blood subsides somewhat. Quickly making his way out of the clinic, he drives shakily back home and locks himself inside. Sighing loudly in relief, he slides down to sit, back to the door. He doesn¡¯t understand it, doesn¡¯t understand why he had that kind of reaction, or why his doctor was holding a knife. Too much terrorized his mind, food would do him better. Dragging himself to the kitchen, he took out two different things; a raw steak and a ready meal. He put the ready meal in the microwave and waited. When it finally pinged, he poured it into a bowl and began eating. A pungent flavor and rotting texture assaulted his mouth, forcing him to regurgitate it immediately. Gulping down what vomit remained in his mouth, he moves on to the steak; he holds it over his mouth, squeezing the blood out . Certainly, the blood tastes metallic but still good, intoxicating even. Whatever hunger he may have had disappears and he drops the steak into the bin terrified. He doesn¡¯t know how, but he¡¯s becoming ¡®It¡¯. Cleaning up the mess, he throws it down the trash chute, before escaping to his room, hiding there in fear. ¡­ ¡°Hmm, raw streak which seems to be squeezed dry, a ready meal and a large amount of vomit. Interesting¡± A woman with sleek black hair, wearing a tan cap, blue shirt and blue trousers rummages through the recent trash. Taking out a notepad, she scribbles down a few notes before leaving the trash and heading towards the entrance of the apartment complex. Taking a large cardboard box with her, she takes the elevator to the fourteenth floor. On the way, she pricks her finger and covers it in some medical tape, letting it get damp with blood. Arriving, she knocks on the eighth door, which soon opens revealing a haggard looking man. This man, whose black hair is unkempt, beard unshaven and eyes look swollen from crying, looks up at her and immediately gains both life and fear in his eyes. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Come in¡± He manages to wheeze before quickly retreating into the kitchen. Smiling inwardly, she walks inside and towards the capsule. ¡°The refilling process won¡¯t take too long will it?¡± He asks from the kitchen, over the sound of running water. ¡°No, it will only take a few minutes¡± She replies while unboxing a large pulsating red cell. Opening up the capsule maintenance door, she replaces the dying blue one with the new red one. Closing it back up, she opens the main door and looks at the once blue gelatin turn a deep red. Taking the small pen knife from her pocket, she takes off the glove and cuts her hand deeply, before putting the glove back on. ¡°It¡¯s done, you should be able to re-enter now¡± She calls to him He appears from the kitchen, chugging a bottle of water with furious need. Dousing himself with some, he looks at the blood red gelatin. ¡°Why is the color different?¡± He quickly asks before he begins drinking a second bottle ¡°We found a more efficient combination of nutrients and chemicals to sustain you for a year rather than just three months. No point wasting resources to sell something worse right?¡± He nods while drinking the water. It was common knowledge for those who owned a capsule that the gelatin would provide nutrients to the body as well as the chemicals within there would maintain the gelatin, destroying impurities such as excrement from the user. She raises her non-gloved hand for a handshake, which he takes. Closing the door behind her, she lets a dark smile creep across her face. So the psychological changes are beginning to take effect, let¡¯s see how my new solution would help with the physical Chuckles bounce around the elevator as it takes her down and away from her unknowing and unwilling experiment. ¡­ He had waited most of the day and late into the night, but no police were at his door. Nobody was coming to take him away or reprimand him for his actions at the clinic. It was¡­odd. Strange that nothing had happened but that delivery lady refilling his capsule. Sighing to relieve his nervousness, he slouches onto the couch and turns on his small TV. Flicking through the many channels, he stops momentarily at his local news channel as the clinic he had gone to this morning was on screen. [¡°-ctor Jennings was arrested and quickly transferred to the Midland''s Asylum. According to eye-witness reports, she had a mental breakdown causing her to lash out at both herself and her patients. Due to this incident, the Goodman''s clinic is to be temporarily cl-¡±] Pressing the mute button, he did nothing but stare blankly at the silent reporter on the screen. He shivered in fear, not because he was on the verge of being killed by Jennings, but because somewhere deep within him he knew, he knew this was not the truth. But he did not allow himself to believe that; to believe that he was the cause of all this. For he did know she came back holding a knife. he let himself believe it was because something went wrong in her mind. Fearfully, he retreats to his capsule and plunges into the red gelatin, for he knows that in LEO at least it¡¯s just a game. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Heyyy! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I don''t really have much else to say ubt the next part will be the last for this mini real life arc (for now)! Also apparently someone gave me a bad review T_T: [too many characters, the mc name is only ever brought up in the intro chapter. no time outside of the game. when the blood drinker went to get his curse removed the priest should have asked more questions as to how he got it, and should have known what is wrong with him way sooner before all the killing started. the only progress the mc makes is that he heals faster. no character growth or anything like that] So questions you can hopefully answer me: 1. do you think i have too many characters?? 2. do you not like my characters, and how can i improve on them if you don''t? 3. do you think my ''MC'' has not had any character growth (ok fair point he really hasn''t shown much in the last arc for him not really being there). 4. would you like to see more time outside the game? Apart from that, please tell me anything else you like for it''ll help me write a better fiction for you! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 27- The End of the Sixth Month End ¡°Hrmm, according to Leithern, Force is akin to what some would call astral projection, in a way¡­but that still doesn¡¯t tell me how I¡¯m supposed to convert my mana in to force type... Maybe if I-¡± *Ding* Malcolm looks up from the reception desk, to see a young woman with sleek black hair, a tight leather jacket zipped up halfway and a pair of black jeans, stands by the bell with a small wrapped package. ¡°Ah madam, what can I do for you today?¡± He musters up whatever cheeriness he has left in him while trying to divert his eyes from the revealed ample bosom ¡°I would like to give a small, stay strong present to my friend¡± She waves the bottle shaped package in front of him, showing it off ¡°Ah, visiting hours are closed¡± Her face visible deflates ¡°Buuut, I¡¯ll be able to take it to her myself¡± The woman doesn¡¯t look too happy about that but she nods and places the package on the counter. Taking it, he asks her who it is for. ¡°For Clara Jennings¡± She says after a short hesitation ¡°Ah, the new girl¡± He musters a smile ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll get it to her right away¡± ¡°Thank you, at least let her open the bottle first¡± She tries to look serious and he successfully stops himself from chuckling at her feeble attempt She quickly leaves and he sits back down, opening his notes once more. Thinking on the possibilities of how he can summon force mana for a short while, he eventually takes a break and looks over to the present. He should give it to the actual recipient, but that would mean he would have to go through the whole ¡®why am I locked up here¡¯ routine with her. Crazy people annoy him. According to the day shift, she was dragged in screaming and wailing about being not crazy, like all the other crazy people who end up here. So he¡¯s not really looking forward to go say hi. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn¡¯t know what the friend brought. Sliding his chair over to the package, he unwraps it and finds out it is an old bottle of two thousand port. He morally debates, but finally decides he can¡¯t really wait. Cracking it open, he takes a nice long whiff of it, letting the fruity smell with a hint of almond waft up his nose. Coughing at the slight nutty hint, he moves the bottle away from him, closing it off. He clicks his tongue in annoyance; since he is allergic to nuts and the port seems to contain nuts. Though he hasn¡¯t really heard of nut port before. Grabbing the bottle once more, he has a look at the back label in small hopes that the smell is just some strange concoction that is not nut-related. Luckily for him, he is correct; there seems to be no nut-related ingredient, not even extract. Opening the top once more, he takes a swig. ¡°I swear drinking on the job still isn¡¯t a thing¡± A voice comes from the other side of the desk Spluttering out his drink in shock, he slams the bottle down and hides it, albeit way too late. Looking back up, he spots the familiar face of a young man on the other side of the counter. ¡°Yep, I was right. Seriously though, waste of good port to spit it all out like that¡± He chides Malcolm ¡°Dammit, scared the hell out of me there. Thought it might¡¯ve been someone important¡± ¡°Hey! Anyways, I¡¯m here for the usual checkup¡± ¡°Usual? You haven¡¯t been here for almost three months now. And you¡¯d be pleased to know that the woman who gave me this bottle told me I could have some¡± ¡°Right¡­anyways, I¡¯ve been busy with LEO and I know you¡¯d understand¡± He gives a wink and a nudge as he points to Malcolm¡¯s notes ¡°Being a wannabe mage is difficult. By the way visiting hours are over¡± ¡°I know they are¡± They both grin, knowing full well that this is the usual. The young man jumps over the reception rubbing his hands in anticipation ¡°Ah I¡¯m excited¡± ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why though¡± ¡°The less you know-¡± he starts playfully ¡°The better, I know I know, let me find the keys¡± He walks to the cupboard to find the correct keys After a short moment, he grabs the correct ones and turns round, to spot his friend smelling the wine. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s¡­mine I guess¡± ¡°Wow, not even trying to hide it. Well this is some good smelling port, nice and fruity¡± He chuckles and takes a couple of swigs ¡°The nutty smell is a bit weird isn¡¯t it?¡± Malcolm shakes his head at his friend stealing the drink he technically is stealing too. ¡°Nutty smell?¡± He cocks his head Malcolm raises a curious eyebrow and moves towards the port. *Sniff* ¡°I¡¯m just going crazy¡± He confesses ¡°Well you do work at a mad house¡± chuckling, his friend puts the port down, jumps over the counter once more and begins to saunter down the corridor. Malcolm finds the bottle-cap and screws it back on tightly. That port still smelled of nut and that was a dodgy thing indeed. Following his friend down the many corridors and past a few still screaming residents, they finally reach the desired room. Giving his friend a couple of essentials, he then opens the door. Inside is Sarah, sitting in the corner of her white room as usual. She looks away from the ceiling ¡°Who is it?¡± ¡°Sarah heyyy¡± His friend runs up to her, grabs her and gives her a big warm hug ¡°You¡­BASTARD¡± She tackles him and begins to punch him with her weak arms. Malcolm goes to a corner to sit down and watch, since this sight was not unusual, no, it was actually the expected sight when those two were together. He really never got why his friend keeps doing this, but then again, he doesn¡¯t know much about him. The most he¡¯s gotten out of him in these past four years is the fact that something happened to her daughter and she blames him for it. All in all not that much. But he seems to think he is to blame because he keeps coming and allowing himself to be beaten up by her. Although the way he¡¯s still smiling after it is kind of crazy. This is the main reason why he¡¯s not allowed to visit her during visiting hours. The other is the fact that if he came in normal hours and this happened, he¡¯d probably be locked up for being insane, or at least that¡¯s what Malcolm expects would happen. Internet helped him piece a few things together, but nothing really suggested it being his fault; Jocelyn, Sarah Richards¡¯s daughter committed suicide of her own volition. The way he acts does suggest he might have had something to do with it, but something about the way he¡¯s doing it suggests not. Though anyways, he does still think he¡¯s decent friends with the man, since the two of them used to hang out every work night for the better part of four years; mostly recovering after the beating, but sometimes talking about life. Nothing personal though, never anything personal. Deciding the beating had gone on enough; he sedates Sarah and drags his friend out the room. ¡°Seems like she took out three months worth of vengeance on you¡± His friend chuckles with a small gout of blood coming from his mouth as well as the mouth guard. ¡°This is but a tickle¡± Shaking his head, Malcolm helps his friend to his feet and summarily make their way to the medical ward. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Getting him bandaged up, Malcolm decides to try ask a few questions, since maybe being apart a few months may help get a few answers. ¡°So what is your name?¡± ¡°You always start with that pain in the ass question¡± He answers back, avoiding the question ¡°Well we are friends; it¡¯d be nice to call you something¡± ¡°Friend, simple enough¡± he responds, with a tinge of coldness in his voice Malcolm rolls his eyes ¡°Seriously though, I really want to know your name¡± ¡°Have these three months made you forget the reason? Do you need a reminder?¡± the coldness grows and he sounds rather annoyed. *Sigh* ¡°No, I remember; the last person you told your name ended up dead¡± That was one of the few things he knew about his friend, which was a terrifying thing to learn, if it were true, which he suspects it may be. ¡°Exactly, so hush about that. Ask me something interesting¡± he immediately transforms back into his strangely excitable self Malcolm sighs at his loss, since he would really love to know, but his friend¡¯s warning was clear enough. He used to think it was a threat, but the way he says it sounds more like a warning to Malcolm now. One day he¡¯ll learn about this man, when it¡¯s safe for him to he assumes. Sighing once more, he starts to talk about LEO, getting a decent amount of detail which is ambiguous enough to make him meld into the crowd of the thousands of players. That man was too anonymous for his own good, but he relieved the boredom. After a while, he had to leave and Malcolm was left all alone once more at reception, with his strange bottle of port. Deciding to be good for once, he takes it over to Jennings. Opening the door, he is immediately barraged by the whole ¡°where am I, I¡¯m innocent, I¡¯m not crazy¡± monologue. Placing the bottle on the floor, he sits down and opens it up. ¡°Have a drink, and then we¡¯ll talk¡± She calms down slightly, resisting for a few seconds before sitting down and taking a large swig of port. ¡°Now, tell me why are you here?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, all I know is I had this patient who tried to cut me when I came back with my surgical knife. Next thing I know is that I was here¡± ¡°Right, then why are you here? ¡°I TOLD YOU I DON¡¯T KN-BLARARAGGGGGGGH¡± Mid-sentence froth erupts from her mouth and she chokes, clawing at her throat before she collapses on the floor, blood seeping out and staining the white floor. Rushing to her side, knocking over the port, he checks her heartbeat, finding it to be still. ¡°CRAP¡± He plops onto the white, padded floor just letting what happened recycle in his mind. She just died, violently, and not of a natural cause that¡¯s for sure. Thinking of something, he takes a handful of her froth and sniffs it. It smells of almond. Scared yet enlightened, he rushes over to the computers back at reception and types various things in Google. Sure enough, he finds that cyanide is supposed to smell faintly of almonds, only to some people though, a reasonable enough explanation which he is inclined to believe. Though, that small question from his mind makes many more since why was she given poison, who was that woman who gave the poison and much worse, was his friend dead. His third question was answered almost immediately; his friend had taken a drink long ago, and the poison seemed to work within minutes. But that just made another question; why did his friend not die, or did he add in the poison, but why? So many questions and no answers. He gulps loudly, for he thinks he may have accidentally walked into something very dangerous, possibly the same thing his friend was sublimely warning him about. Time to quit this job for sure, or was it too late? Taking a few minutes, he takes in what he knows; he will be in trouble if he leaves the situation as is, since to everyone else it¡¯s simply him giving Jennings some port and she dying from it. He didn¡¯t even get the woman¡¯s name, damn he¡¯s an idiot! Distracted by her breasts is really screwing him up. Angry at himself, he returns to Jenning¡¯s room, cleans it up and moves her body to the trash chute, as well as a few important keys. Destroying the surveillance tape of tonight, he smashes his reception up a bit and opens the main door of the asylum before going to Jenning¡¯s room once more. Grabbing the bottle of port, he stands over the fresh blood and wine stains. ¡°Well here goes nothing¡± Smashing the bottle over his head, he falls unconscious. ¡­ ¡°Hey Malcolm, how are you feeling?¡± A familiar voice reaches his ears. Opening his eyes, he hears the mechanical beeping and the quiet talking of a reporter on TV. Looking round the small, medical room, he finds himself face to face with the woman from before. ¡°I¡¯ve felt better¡± he says slightly apprehensively ¡°Good, I was worried when I heard what happened to you, especially when I heard Clara was the one who did it to you¡± She holds his hands in hers worriedly ¡°¡­What happened to me?¡± ¡°Oh the Doctor¡¯s told me this could happen. Police say she attacked you and escaped, lucky you¡¯re still alive although with a concussion¡± ¡°¡­Oh¡± he looks down at his sheets She looks at him concernedly before standing up ¡°I guess you need some more rest, get well soon Callum¡± She disappears through the doors, leaving him alone in his room. With her abrupt exit, he was unable to ask any questions himself. Though he was too busy to keep up his visage of forgetfulness to concentrate on asking questions. He remembered everything, and he was scared of both her and his friend, since he did not know which was to blame. Though he believes he may just have skidded out of the strange situation he accidentally landed into, whatever that situation may be. He lay down to get some rest, when something seemed to register in his mind, oddly terrifying him; how did she know his real name? ¡­ She chuckled to herself as she walked down the corridor. Callum, smart man making it seem like she escaped, but throwing her down the trash chute was maybe not the best idea. Lucky I was there to confirm her death. A small dark chuckle slipped from her thin lips. She¡¯s found herself a perfect guinea pig for the next experiment. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author''s Corner: Another chapter! Well I thought, might as well finish off the mini-arc. Anyways, thanks Uncle Woody for leaving a comment. I ignored you, simply because you care only about the MC. This fiction isn''t only about the MC, damn, the other characters are pretty damn important so my heart breaks at the way you want this fiction to be. Can''t please everyone though, so I hope the rest of you enjoyed it!! :* -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 28 - The Huntress Grunting, a woman pulls herself up, almost leaping to catch the next jut of rock. Gripping onto the flat edged piece of rock, she keeps herself steady while she finds footholds. Continuing the climb for a few more times, she finally reaches a ledge in the mountain, which she uses to rest her tired hands. Closing her eyes, she stands on the ledge hugging the wall with her body letting her arms rest. However the moaning wind does not let her rest as it whips her blonde locks of hair into her face and threatens to trip and tumble her down the mountain. Shivering at the thought, she opens her eyes and continues to climb. Before too long, she¡¯s faced with the dilemma all climbers face; a lack of places to hold and grip onto. Peering around, she can spot a possible hold about three metres above her. Gritting her teeth, she lets one hand go, squats and does small bounces to prepare. Her free hand clutches the simple wooden longbow that is slung over her shoulder and she moves it to her shoulder. Holding the bottom of the bow with her thighs, she strings the bow with her free hand and then fully takes it off. Taking a deep breath she counts from three. Leaping into the air, she has but a moment suspended in it free as a cloud. Then she begins to fall. However her bow catches the jutted piece of rock between the wood and the string, the wood quickly slipping towards her. Pushing down with the bow-hand, she raises herself to grab onto the hold just as the wood slips off and the string extends somewhat. If she had been but a second earlier, the string would have snapped due to the force put on it and she would have fallen to her death. Ignoring the close call to death she just had, she focuses on moving both her hands onto the small jut while her feet dangle precariously. Placing one hand on top of the other she has the bottom one grip the bowstring with her fingernails and then slowly slides that hand out of the jut. Dropping an inch, she sways dangerously as her hand is loose holding the bowstring with a death grip. Slinging the bow back on her shoulder, restricting her breath somewhat due to the tautness of the string, she pulls herself up and grabs another hold. Ignoring the sensation of having her muscles burn and rip to smithereens, she continues climbing. At the next ledge which is fortunately close, she rests once more; to let the feeling come back into her arms. Shivering from the chilly wind, she climbs once more and finally makes it to the top. Flinging an arm over the edge, she gets the other over and pulls herself up. She slowly drags her tired body onto a large plateau keeping herself sliding on the dirty stone. However, a large tiger with short, chubby legs, which was prowling around, noticed her before she could fully get on. Its large yellowy eyes turn a sharp red and it bares it teeth at the woman. Panicking, she scrambles onto the plateau and stands up, all while being watched by the tiger as it watches its prey hungrily. The minute she is stood up though, the tiger pounces towards her much slower than a tiger should and she dives to the ground eating dirt as she poorly executes a roll. Unslinging her bow, she rolls with it in another dodge of the tiger¡¯s claws as it charges to her and ends up slicing away at the wall. Rolling to a knee position she opens the cap of her quiver with a click and swiftly takes out an arrow. Knocking the arrow on, she looks at the tiger which had turned around and is now looking at her, pacing left and right. *Gulp* Calm down. Remember what they taught you. Step one, knock, done. Step two, position, done. Step three dra- Her thoughts are interrupted by the tiger pouncing towards her and she freaks out quickly drawing and letting the arrow loose, grazing one of its paws. However that was enough to make it falter slightly, allowing her to dive from a knee, roll and sprint quickly for distance. It follows after her however, growling hungrily. Step one, knock. Grabbing an arrow from her quiver, she tries to knock the arrow on but her hands and the string is shaking too violently for her to put it on. Almost running into a mountainside, she notices it last minute and jumps up, planting both feet on the wall and pushes off, diving in the air. Quickly knocking the arrow in the air for the erratic movement of the string lessened, she lands behind the tiger and begins running away again. Step two, position. Straightening her back, she raises her drawing elbow while her holding arm has elbow pointing out. Jumping on the other mountainside , she dives over the tiger, but this time gets a light gash from its claws as it catches her in the back. Ignoring the searing pain, she lands and runs away with the tiger slowly turning. Step three, draw. Running away, she draws the string to the side of her lips, lowering her elbow to make the shoulders align and feels the strength of the bow push into her arm and ride up to the back of her shoulders. Step four, aim. Swinging around, she looks at the tiger running after her with its chubby legs and points her arrow a bit off to the right of its front right paw. Step five, shoot. The tiger pounces as she lets loose the arrow and it soars into the open maw of the tiger causing it to loosen up like a rag doll in mid air. However that doesn¡¯t stop it and its corpse barrels into her knocking her to the ground, wrenching the bow from her grasp and off the cliff. The tiger corpse keeps rolling and follows the bow. Panting quickly and heavily from the adrenaline rush, she slowly calms down her pounding heartbeat enough to hear the quiet surroundings once more. With a grim face, she crawls to the edge and peeks over. ¡°Damn it, that¡¯s at least two to three hundred feet¡± Her light Irish accent permeates the air. With a loud sigh, she takes a long break before beginning the necessary descent. ¡­ ¡°All I had to do was kill this tiger, skin it and bring back its pelt. But oh no, it just had to take my bow with it¡± She spouts angrily accompanying it with a kick to the tiger corpse¡¯s head. Looking at the smashed pieces of her bow lit up by the setting sun, she gives the corpse another angry kick in the stomach this time. ¡°Oof¡± If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. She jumps back in shock at the sound, before tentatively walking towards the corpse¡¯s stomach and kicks it once more. ¡°Ow¡± the voice is muffled and quiet, but it is a voice indeed. In terror she kicks the stomach once more before regaining her senses and takes out her skinning knife. Jabbing it lightly in the stomach, she slices through unzipping it, causing a large pile of innards and blood to spill out, along with a gooey human shaped figure. It stands up and stretches with a yawn, like one would do after waking up from a nap. She just looks in horror the thing which is wrapped in the intestines of a tiger. ¡°MONSTER!¡± She takes out her novice bow from months past and swiftly knocks an arrow on. It raises a gooey arm but that does not stop the arrow from impaling it. A flurry of arrows follow the first and within a dozen minutes of her shooting the thing while it stands still, she finally shot the last of her one hundred and twenty arrows. ¡°Are you done?¡± A gentle voice comes from the thing which now resembles a porcupine due to the number of arrows embedded in it. Sinking to her knees in terror, she loses consciousness from sheer fear at the creature as it moves towards her. However that is not the end for her. She wakes up before the setting of the sun and next to a small but warm fire. She quickly notices a naked man tending the fire. Jumping up, she readies to attack him. ¡°Please don¡¯t attack me again¡± The same gentle, almost soothing voice reaches her ears causing her to movement to stop Suddenly, nothing makes sense. She would understand the man killing the creature and keeping her, but not the man being the creature she shot full of arrows. Even if she was using a novice bow, the damage output would be enough to kill any naked man, even if he is the highest level foreigner. ¡°If you¡¯re wondering as to why I¡¯m alive, well that¡¯s because I had a lot of guts around me, and your bow is nowhere near strong enough to pierce those and me¡± The lie is blatant yet is also believable. So much so that she believes it, if only to give some sense to the situation. ¡°Sorry, about that¡± She whispers in awkwardness He just nods and keeps tending to the fire. With that situation somewhat cleared up, her eyes and mind move onto other things. Her cheeks flush red as her eyes roam. ¡°Thanks for getting me out of there¡± he says in a gentle voice as stands up giving a yawn ¡°Yeah, no problem¡± She slowly devours his well toned body with her eyes. ¡°Erm, can you not stare¡± both his hands go down to cover up. Chuckling she moves her eyes away. ¡°So¡­¡± She is lost on what to ask first since as she thinks about it, there are many questions she wants to ask him. All of which confuse her as to how they can be answered. ¡°So¡­¡± He gestures with a hand to continue ¡°How are you alive?¡± She asks the strange man as even if the guts protected him by the arrows like he said, he had fallen off the cliff too if he had been in the tiger. ¡°Tiger mitigated the fall damage¡± He shrugs noncommittally She doesn¡¯t exactly trust that as like before, but the alternative is something she can¡¯t really comprehend how it is possible and he does so she decides it¡¯s a half truth. ¡°How did you stay alive in the tiger?¡± Actually gazing at the rest of his body this time, she notices the many acid burn marks that still litter the man¡¯s body, as well as whole chunks of flesh missing that had been covered up by the wound intestines. ¡°Well you se-¡± ¡°BLAaaargh¡± Noticing the horrific body in front of her, she retches up her last meal violently ¡°Are you alright there er¡­who are you?¡± He steps close as if to help Placing a hand up in a stop gesture, she finishes retching and then stands up, looking away from the man. ¡°I¡¯m Tandra, and I am alright. Thank you¡± She wipes off a smidgen of puke on her lower lip. ¡°A pleasure. Now could you tell me where the nearest town is?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a town just west of here, Ronthar. I can take you there if you want to¡± She says with a friendly smile You owe me for saving your life so I¡¯m going to make you pay me back somehow ¡°Sure, guess that makes us even now¡± He returns the smile ¡°Even?¡± Her eyebrow twitches in confusion ¡°I¡¯m your savior¡± ¡°Yeah, about that¡­¡± He scratches his head awkwardly ¡°What¡± Her tone turns demanding as she wants to know why this man is trying to swindle her out of her savior bonus. He points up. ¡°Well last time I checked, saving someone wasn¡¯t throwing them off the cliff and then kicking them repeatedly when they were down¡± Oh¡­damn it he has a point but still I need to get another bow somehow ¡°Well how about me taking you out of that stomach. That saved you, or would you have been fine lying in there?¡± her voice gets a bit frantic as thoughts of her being unable to get a new bow seep into her mind ¡°¡­I¡­¡± He closes his mouth in thought before opening it after a second or two ¡°I guess you did save me then, somewhat. So I¡¯ll owe you a little something¡± She celebrates silently on the inside; however she has a strange feeling about that odd hesitation the man had at the start of that sentence. Ridiculous thoughts entered her mind, but she didn¡¯t cast them aside instantly. Keeping the thoughts at the back of her mind, she decides to ponder about it later. ¡°If you can get me a bow, since it was broken to save you, then we¡¯re even¡± ¡°Only if you promise you will use it till you¡¯ve found a better one¡± he grins deviously Alarm bells ring in response to that man¡¯s grin. But she doesn¡¯t really understand why it would be a difficult promise to keep, or dangerous for that matter. There seems to be no loss for her. ¡°I swear that I¡¯ll use the bow you give me¡± ¡°Cool, now let¡¯s get some sleep¡± The man plops onto the ground and closes his eyes. It is not like she trusts the man; however she is exhausted from the hunt of today. So she drifts off to sleep within minutes. If she had faked her sleep like the man did, she would have been traumatized by what he does. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: HEEEEY GUEEEEES WHAT? NEW CHARACTERRRR!! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, because this is the beginning of a new ride! Please feel free to comment, pleeease comment!! ( i mean useful things rather than, thanks for the chapter, are great but i guess if you''ve got nothing better to say :P) -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 29- A New Day, A New Bow ¡°Good morning Tandra¡± His gentle voice soothingly greets her as she awakens from her slumber. Yawning and rubbing her eyes tiredly, she sits up and lazily looks over towards the strange man, who is sitting cross-legged, wrapping tendons around a bone. ¡°Morn-¡± Her eyes blow wide awake in shock ¡°Blaaaaaaargggghh¡± ¡°Are you alright?¡± he looks up from his work in mild worry. In the midst of violently puking out her insides, she points shakily towards him. ¡°¡­Oh, yeah it isn¡¯t the prettiest thing, but I think it works¡± He grabs the bow and lifts it into the air, allowing the mostly clean yellowish bones to gleam in the morning sun. ¡°Prett-BLarrrgh¡­¡± She stops heaving her guts as no more comes out and drops her head on the grass beside the sick, taking deep air-rich breaths. ¡°¡­Just what the actual fuck is that¡­and if you say that it¡¯s-¡± ¡°-Your bow, yes it is, the one that you promised you would use¡± ¡°No-BLAAAARGH-way¡± She dry heaves while shaking in terror of the wild thoughts of who and what this man is bombard her mind. ¡°You did promise me¡± He chuckles lightly as he twangs the thin muscle string. She digs her hands into the soft ground, both to hold her queasy self up and also in anger ¡°¡­I will shove that¡­that ''thing'', so far up your arse that I will use your spine as the bowstring¡± She successfully looks him in the eye, blotting out the gory looking thing he calls a bow as she threatens him with a thickening Irish accent. He shakes his head solemnly while grinning madly. ¡°Spine wouldn¡¯t really work for that, I mean I thought I could use it for the shaft but it¡¯s just too bendy¡± She just looks at him confused, as the dots have not quite connected for her yet. They soon do though as he produces a spine from a small pile of bones behind him and wiggles it. After another few moments of heaving drily, she looks back up at him eyes flooded with anger but also swimming with horror. ¡°I...am not¡­using that ¡®thing¡¯¡± He places the bow on the grass, stands up and walks off, still grinning like an idiot. Looking away from the ghastly thing, she starts to gather her things, not wanting to stay anywhere near this completely mad man who seems to have killed a person or two to make this thing. She had no idea what he did to make the bow, and she did not want to know. As she was stumbling around trying to find her only remaining weapon; her skinning knife, He bursts out from the trees running like the madman he is. ¡°YOU BETTER PICK UP THAT BLOODY BOW, OR¡± He screams himself to a stop in front of her ¡°we¡¯re going to die¡± He laughs with a slight snort¡­she can feel nothing but dread. This dread is quickly multiplied when a bear, looking mightily pissed roars its way into the vicinity, clearly dead set for the man. Instinctively she goes for the bow on her back, only to feel nothing but air. Cursing, she dives for the ¡®thing¡¯, with no other choice of survival. He begins to run in a circle, summarily chased by a bear, which swipes skin off his back almost immediately. She grabs the middle part of the bow, which is two half-circle shaped bones, tied together with tendons. Taking a few seconds, she stops herself from heaving when her hands clasp onto the fibrous tissue. Ignoring the rising vomiting feeling, she begins by stringing it. Placing the bottom of the bow, a foot pointed downwards, by the side of her foot, she pulls the middle and bends the top, a whole bone leg with extra tendons tied on, making it bend a lot less than a normal knee joint would. Sliding the string up to the foot, it slips into a cut on the foot. Step one¡­oh shit ¡°WHERE¡¯S THE ARROWS?¡± She screams towards him in hopes that he has all of the arrows she shot at him. ¡°OH RIGHT, I FORGOT¡± He shouts back as he dodges behind a tree, the bear¡¯s claws slicing down his arm, but not breaking skin. He appears on the other side of the tree and lobs a pile of bones towards her. Upon landing, she finds them to be two thin bones tied together, sharpened one end and cut into slightly on the other, a very rudimentary arrow. Knocking one of the bones onto the string, between two small tied on tendons, she lets the ¡®arrow¡¯ rest on her finger. Positioning herself correctly, she sees the man being batted by the bear and falling into a messy heap a few feet away. Drawing the bow, both leg parts bend quite uniformly as a bow should. Taking the string to the corner of her mouth, she lets go almost instantly as the string brushes her lips. The arrow flies wildly off to the left, snaking uncontrollably. Calming herself down, she sees the man pinned beneath the bear, pushing its snapping jaws away and slowly losing that fight. Knocking and drawing another arrow, she aims at the head of the bear. The arrow flies into the tree trunk behind it, quite high. Drawing a third arrow, the bear has clamped down on the man¡¯s shoulder, ripping it away savagely along with his right arm. Letting the arrow loose, this time aiming lower, it flies into the bears flank, embedding deeply into it, the arrow snapping in two. It roars in both anger and pain, its eyes flashing red as it turns towards her. Charging towards her, it almost immediately stops as a mad man latches onto its foot, distracting and annoying it back into attacking him. Her fourth arrow buries itself close to the last, eliciting another roar of pain which quickly dies along with the bear. The beast drops onto the man; flattening him with a ¡°well s-¡± before his voice is lost in the mass of fur. She drops the bow, running over to the bear and pushes it. After a few pushes she finally rolls it over somewhat, revealing him. Dragging him out, ignoring the fountain of blood draining out the right side of his body, she frees him from underneath the bear. ¡°Whoo, lucky you¡¯re a good shot or I might have gone through quite the trip to hell there¡± He chuckles and grins *SLAP* ¡°Don¡¯t you ever pull that shit again, or I will personally make sure you go to hell in the nastiest way I can think of¡± She jabs a finger into his chest, seething. ¡°I''d love to see what you can come up with. I''m a hard man to impress ¡± He chuckles at her confused expression as she truly did not know anything about him. Standing up, he produces the skinning knife from his inventory and runs it across the stomach of the dead bear, letting its innards spill out into the field. Used to both the sight and the smell, it wasn¡¯t too discomforting for her. What discomforted her is the fact that he seemed so non-chalant, when his entire right arm from the shoulder is missing and he didn¡¯t show any sign of pain. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Bear is edible right?¡± He asks her with a raised eyebrow as he tries to one handedly slice off some flesh ¡°Yes¡± She wrestles the knife from him and begins properly cutting pieces of flesh. ¡°I¡¯ve got to wonder, why are you fine with getting all up in the bear, but not so strong when it comes to my bow?¡± He asks as she works away, arm deep in bear. She stops, turns towards him and points a bloody knife his way. ¡°This, I do all the time. That¡± She points to the bow ¡°Is something from a nightmare. That¡¯s human body parts, human! Who the hell did you find and kill out here to get those?¡± The knife stops inches from his face, vibrating in resonance with her. ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡± He pushes the knife down with his hand ¡°I only cut of my legs twice for it¡­and part of my arms¡± He chuckles at the aghast face she pulls and bounds over to the bow. ¡°You see, I used the entire leg, strengthening the knee joint with a few more tendons to make it require a lot more strength to bend it. Then I took my second thigh bone, cutting away at the knee joint part to make a U shape and connecting it to the ball looking part of my whole leg. I did this twice, hence why I had to cut my legs twice. With a couple of tendons to hold it together, it still bends a bit. For the middle part, I cut down the ball parts of both thigh bones, making them flat on one side. Tying those together, I¡¯ve got myself a whole bow. Which bends on the limbs but not in the middle. Pretty sweet right?¡± She hadn¡¯t gotten past the fact that he cut his own legs off twice. Twice¡­ If she was cutting her legs off, she would definitely be making enough noise for someone to wake up. But she had remained fast asleep when he had cut his legs off. Also, the fact that he made arrows from bones and had a spine too, means he did a lot more to himself than he just mentioned. ¡°¡­Just what are you?¡± ¡°A man trying to gain immortality¡± He states confidently and proud as he looks up into the sky. She doesn¡¯t know whether to laugh or to cry at him. All the reaction she can muster is to blink in wonder. ¡­ .. . ¡°Fuck it, I¡¯m out¡± She turns and begins to walk away into the forest. ¡°Waaaait a second¡± He runs past her putting up his hand, with the bow still held, to stop her. ¡°One, you¡¯re crazy. Two, you¡¯re insane. Three, you¡¯re an absolute wackjob, so please get out my way so I can run as far away from you as possible¡± She tries to remain calm, but her voice cracks in unnerved fear, fueled by her dreading imagination. He turns his hand palm up ¡°At least take the bow, as you promised¡± ¡°You have got to be shitting me¡± She walks past briskly. He quickly appears in view again by her side this time. ¡°Oh c¡¯mon, I spent the whole night making this for you; I even kept it quiet to let you sleep¡± She swerves towards him, still walking furiously, causing him to backpedal ¡°Kept it quiet? You took out your own spine!? How in the name of the seven bloody hells can you ¡®keep quiet¡¯ when doing that??? Do you even feel pain? ¡°I do still feel pain, somewhat¡­¡± He rubs the back of his head while looking away. It was then that she figured out that the amount of pain he would have had to go through to be able to ¡®keep quiet¡¯ would¡¯ve been tremendous. This gave rise to sympathy for him, which overrided every other emotion she was feeling towards him. Though a small niggling thought of how he was still fine hurting himself, rooted itself deeply in the recess of her mind. She stops walking ¡°What the hell have you been through?¡± her voice is a mix of sadness and anger. ¡°A bit of self harm, some sexual torture¡­actually quite a lot of that. Yeah, that wasn¡¯t fun¡± He shivers at the memories, covering his groin protectively ¡°but it seems I haven¡¯t done enough¡± he looks down at his missing arm. This was her second vivid realization about this man: he wasn¡¯t some pompous fool shouting about gaining immortality through magic or something. He was aiming to gain it by strengthening his body. Mad¡­yet at the same time very logical, so much so that her image of a crazy man hurting himself broke down and was washed away with some of her fears of him. Insane¡­she still firmly believed he¡¯d classify. Especially with the stunt he pulled while laughing his ass off. But she doesn¡¯t believe he¡¯s the kind of insane that will want to kill her for one reason or another. After a small internal debate, she lets out a heavy sigh. ¡°Fine¡­you can come with¡± She begins to walk away. ¡°So you¡¯ve decided I¡¯m not insane then?¡± he quickly follows. ¡°No, you¡¯re still insane, just not the bad kind¡­I think¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take it as a compliment. Now, before you storm off into the woods, you need to grab the arrows and the bow too¡± He waves the bow in her face. She looks into his eyes, unamused, horrified and disgusted. ¡°¡­Fine¡± Snatching the bow away, she quickly grabs the ¡®arrows¡¯ from the floor and the bear, placing them into her empty quiver before storming off once more. ¡°By the way, where are my arrows?¡± The question pops into her buzzing mind. ¡°Oh¡­they broke when I took the guts off, sorry¡± He shrugs. She was almost sure he was lying, but then again he had just told her something pretty dark that was barely comprehensible to her mind, and it was the truth, so he wouldn¡¯t have the need to lie about something trivial such as her arrows. Unknown to her, she was correct with her first thought. He had actually used the arrows for kindling, since he had planned to make new ones anyway. The two of them begin their day trek in the rising sun, him with a gleam on his face and she with a look of horror as she spots bits of flesh still dangling from some of the bones. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Heyyy!! i posted this one pretty quick because wasn''t tired enough for a kip. But now i am! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and hopefully you''ve got a good idea what the bow looks like (i was having trouble describing what it looks like (man art skills would be awesome to have right now...hmm maybe i should get an arty person to draw it... hrrmmmm, any volunteers who have nothing better to do with their time??) Anyways, comment and reviewww my readers :* ALSO I FORGOT TO DO THIS: I HAVE OVER 100 FOLLOWERS WOOOOO!!! that means i have at least 100 people reading my fiction decently avidly :D. To all my followers, *muah muah muah* you''re lovely whomever you are. -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 30 - Insane Things ¡°Finally, something that isn¡¯t forest¡± He jumps for joy in the air, leaving a wide trail of blood coming from his left side, a scar from the recent encounter. They had spent two days walking without stop, finally making it to the outskirts of Ronthar at dusk. For her, the past two days were quite bizarre for her; spending time with the man only sparked more questions in her mind. They had encountered a few wild animals along the way, and each time he would inevitable be pinned beneath them, getting mauled by them. However exactly seventeen minutes and fourteen seconds later, his wounds disappeared. She had counted and recounted this number due to shock of seeing it happen the first time. When she had first sliced off her nose due to a bad shot, it had taken around half an hour for it to regenerate. It took almost half the time for him to regenerate: that definitely wasn¡¯t normal. Another strange thing that crossed her mind was the fact that he would never hurt the monsters that attacked him; he would always aggro them with a light punch or something before running away. She had asked him about this and according to him, he is a pacifist. An odd man: who would not hurt monsters, wants to be immortal and can sustain some horrifying damage with only a small wince¡­the more time she spent around him, the more bizarre things she learned about him. She had one last look at her new ''bow''. Surprisingly, it worked and was of a decently high poundage, about fifty she things. Also the damage output was no joke, even with the crappily spined bone arrows she''s currently being forced to use. Hiding her bow in her inventory, she then follows after him into the small town which is surrounded by a well maintained palisade and wooden guard towers. Ronthar, a level twenty to thirty village in the western side of the Annoldi kingdom. It is one of two villages situated in the Blackriver Forest. She had read up a little on why it was called that; apparently a large portion, deep in the forest is a river made from the black blood of demons killed in the end of the first age. Moving through the still open gates, she nods to one of the guards on duty as her recognizes her. Glancing around, she makes a quick decision on what to do first, although the horrified shrieks from her right cause her to turn towards the noise, only to see two women pointing towards, no, behind her. Remembering he still doesn¡¯t have any clothes on, she shakes her head and turns to talk to him. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to get you some clothes first¡± Personally she doesn¡¯t mind him strutting around with his well toned body, but then again the NPC¡¯s don¡¯t seem to enjoy the indecency as she does. ¡°Give me a minute¡± He grabs the knife off of her belt and places it on his throat ¡°AEGI, WITNESS MY GRATITUDE FOR KEEPING ME ALIVE THESE PAST FEW DAYS¡± Violently slashing the knife across his throat, blood splashes onto the dirt road, causing more than a few screams and exclamations to blurt out in both horror and confusion at the man¡¯s actions. Within seconds, he slumps to the floor and disintegrates into the air. Tandra was horrified by the action, but some niggling familiarity made her feel a lot calmer than she should be, as if she almost expected such a thing to happen. Around a minute later, the same man comes jogging through town, waving towards her, clothed in beginner gear once more. To all the NPC¡¯s, he had just committed suicide and revived, as all foreigners do. Shocking, but still understandable in a way. To all the players, he had just committed suicide to respawn his beginner clothing. Insane is definitely the word many use to describe his thoughts on him at this moment. Tandra didn¡¯t know what to think of this situation, so she just walked to the Adventurer¡¯s post, holding her head in confusion. Opening the door to the Adventurer¡¯s post, it reveals to be of similar appearance to an inn, with the addition of a job request board on one side of the building. Speedily walking to the small counter by the job board, she almost makes it without someone sneering at her. ¡°Well looky here, the ¡®Huntress¡¯ has come back¡± a man with short brown hair, thick jaw and a nice scar riding down his stubbled chin jeers as she passes by ¡°Looks like she already found herself some new prey¡± Another man, this time young and beardless with long black hair tucked behind his pointy ears chuckles and points towards her new companion. Many join in chuckling at that as well as blurt out their ¡®compliments¡¯. Storming to the desk, she slams the tigers head next to the clerk huffing and puffing while growing ever more red and embarrassed. The clerk takes the head and produces a small bag of coins, which Tandra snatches, leaving two silvers behind as she hurriedly retreats to upstairs. ¡°You better watch out boy, she bites¡± Many jeer and chuckle at that ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry about that, you should be the one watching out¡± Suddenly, the tavern goes quiet and she stops turning around to see the man on the lap of Doronius; a slender man with a bow at his side, stroking his light blonde stubble. ¡°How about you and me go upstairs and have a little fun¡± He grins saucily before Doronius pushes him off. ¡°Looks like the Huntress has found herself a partner in whoredom¡± Someone jeers off to the right Fists bang the table as rambunctious laughter spreads through the building. She runs to the man and begins dragging him upstairs, away from the laughing crowd, but he brushes her off and saunters to the job board. Quickly checking through the jobs, he takes one, causing quite a few of the closer-by observers to stop laughing. He turns round and waves the request towards her: Clearing the spider infestation in a nearby mine by slaying the matriarch. The party size recommended is ten. ¡°This should be easy enough right?¡± He says calmly The laughter restarts, this time even louder as they say what an idiot the man is. ¡°Just what in the bloody hells are you doing? That¡¯s going to be way too difficult for us¡± ¡°Well its better than staying here with these little boys¡± A number of ¡°Ohhh¡± fly around as some men stand up looking insulted. One in particular; the man with a scar on his chin, walks up jabbing a finger on the man¡¯s chest. ¡°What did you say?¡± His gruff voice is laced with danger ¡°I said I didn¡¯t want to stay here in the presence of little boys who are so jealous that they can¡¯t get a piece of this¡± He grabs and gooses Tandra¡¯s toned butt, eliciting a small jump of shock from her ¡°They have to make fun of her to make themselves feel better¡± The gruff man laughs ¡°Ha, for your information I already fucked her¡± ¡°You did, she told me all about those five minutes you lasted¡­and about how she had get another man to actually satisfy her straight afterwards¡± He chuckles with a wide grin, which is quickly punched out by the gruff man. ¡°You Fucker, I¡¯ll beat you till there¡¯s nothing left for saying shit like that¡± He starts towards him, only to be grabbed and stopped by friends. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Hehe, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll try. But let me warn you, the last person who tried that ended up as a little souvenir. Tandra¡± He beckons her with a gesture, to which she produces the bow from her inventory. Many look queasy at the gruesome sight of the bow, much more so when she twangs it, rattling the bones ominously. ¡°And you want to know the fun thing? He was still alive when we shot him full of arrows made from his own bones¡± He gives a small bark of laughter while grinning, teeth gleaming maliciously. The gruff man stops fighting his friends and backs away slightly ¡°You¡¯re fucked up you know that¡± The man just chuckles and walks up the stairs slightly before turning round to face everyone ¡°Come Tandra, I¡¯m bored of playing around with these kids¡± This time no one steps up to confront him. Because all are rooted to their places by the almost hungry glint in his eyes. Vivid dreams of painful slaughter fill their minds and all they can imagine is dying over and over again with his face looming above theirs. Even Tandra who knew he was a pacifist, couldn¡¯t help but shudder at the sight of him staring down the whole building with a mad toothy grin. The two of them disappear upstairs, leaving the rest of the people to try smoothen the situation out with a few heartless laughs. Upstairs, the two of them enter a room with two single beds. ¡°Phew, thought I was going to get the crap beaten out of me there¡± He wipes his forehead dramatically ¡°¡­Thanks¡± She rolls one of her feet on the floor awkwardly while looking down in mild shame. ¡°For what? I was just having fun¡± He gives a hearty chuckle ¡°Oh their faces were priceless when you took out that bow¡± She laughs lightly ¡°No I think it was way better when you sat on Doronius¡¯ lap¡± They both have a little laugh, letting the tension she felt before float away in a midst of mild joy, while he shakes his head at the terrible things he did. ¡°Well, now to get some good sleep. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve had some¡± He plops on the floor snoring lightly almost immediately. Shaking her head at the man as he lies next to the bed he was supposed to sleep on, she lays on the cold floor too, used to such discomfort. She fell asleep with a small smirk on her lips, happy that although the man is insane, he protected her in his own weird way. While she slept more soundly than usual, he stole her knife and began carving his skin off with much silent effort. ¡­ ¡°Hey Jaxxus, it¡¯s here¡± Riya whispers to him as she pops back into sight, her slender figure still blending in the shadows of the cave somewhat. ¡°Damn, so the rumors are true. Darckan, I want you to stay back protecting Harren and Nex. Riya, wait till aggro is on me and then backstab him¡± He whispers the commands and they move into position. With a team of five, they shouldn¡¯t have much problem with a single monster. But from the rumours that have been spreading around town, they might not have enough. The rumours told of a man, insane and living in Blackriver Cave, killing all adventurers who cross his path. He steps out in his banded iron armor, spotting a man in beginner clothing sitting calmly on a rock in the near distance, gulping down water from the lake fervently. It turns towards him, causing him to falter for a second due to the human face looking his way. Stomping towards the beast, he hears Darckan start walking behind him, with two soft footed archers behind him. ¡°Seriously, if you want to live, just continue to the boss room¡± the man speaks with a depressed sigh. Ignoring the man, he continues to stomp towards him, and soon swings his battleaxe towards him. The man dodges by leaping away from Jaxxus and onto another nearby rock. ¡°Damn it, just listen for a sec-¡± a dagger blade sticks out from his eyesocket as Riya comes into view behind him. Immediately, Jaxxus sees the man¡¯s remaining eye goes red, his skin turns clammy grey and his fingers grow razor sharp. Within half a second, the arms raise behind at an impossible angle, shredding through Riya. Before anyone can react, the thing tears fully into her; ripping her in half and tossing each half either side of him. Roaring, Darckan charges the thing with his spear, ramming through till his front hand reaches clammy grey skin. Before he can register whether he killed the thing, it rips into his throat, arm plunging down his neck, coming back up momentarily later with lungs in tow. A pair of arrows embed in the thing as well as Jaxxus¡¯ battleaxe slicing off an arm. But the other arm jabs towards him, scratching deeply into his armor, but not penetrating it. Without hesitation, he slices off the other arm, receiving jagged teeth on his axe hand, which pierce through his leather bracer. The thing rips away his frontal arm muscle with gusto, sending Jaxxus into a pained spasm. Before he can recover, the teeth embed themselves on his upper arm, cracking bone and ripping away his entire arm at the shoulder. Screaming in pain, he swings a fist at the thing, smashing it in the face and sending it flying a few feet. Quickly recovering, he spots the thing coming back with both arms lunging towards him. Feeling nothing but despair, he watches the clawed hands pierce his armor and tear into him with a fountain of blood. Harren and Nex, albeit having advantage in range, are quickly sought after. Harren being the unlucky one is caught and dragged back, tears streaming down his eyes as Nex runs out of the room and into a mob of wandering monsters, quickly dying in a less brutal fashion. Ankorr, covered in the blood of those poor adventurers, finally regains consciousness as his need for blood is slowly sated. Disgusted with himself, he tries to vomit out the blood his Blood Drinker self sipped up but seconds ago. Dragging himself to the lake, he plunges in, feeling something inside him scream in utter agony and quiet down into a pained slumber. Damn it Windshaw, you really fucked me over. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Soo my lovelies, how did you find this chapter!? ANKORRR, he''s back and murdering things again. Don''t worry its just a cameo, just so you know he''s doing fin. Apart from that, how did you find it? please tell me if you''ve got anything burning in your heart :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 31- Spiders, Spiders Everywhere *Twang* The fleshy sound of her string twanging is quickly accompanied by a squishing sound as the arrow embeds itself deeply inside the gargantuan black spider¡¯s face, killing it. Grinning happily at her shot, she knocks another newly acquired spider leg arrow and aims at another of the many spiders that are attached on the man trying to bite him to pieces. They had entered the mines a few hours ago and in those few hours she¡¯s discovered quite a few bizarre things. The first and foremost; they could use the sharp leg bones of the spiders as arrows and they worked a lot better than the old arrows. She dealt on average about five hundred damage a shot. That was quite the insane figure to see, for she only had five hundred hp at the moment. Though she only has a vitality of twenty which is majorly squishy but still, one arrow could kill quite a few of the squishy classes easily. Apart from noticing her hugely booned damage output, what amazed and terrified her more was the fact that the man seemed to be quite insane. Not that she already knew that, but it became quite a bit more apparent when he aggroed multiple spiders and stood in the corridor, letting himself be bitten non-stop by the venomous things. Just watching him stand there non-chalantly was one special thing to see, but to notice that he hasn¡¯t been poisoned, even though he¡¯s been bitten so many times, terrifies yet intrigues her. She already knows about his decent resistance to damage, but to find out he seemed quite immune to poison was something else. Just what did that man do in this game? She kept thinking over and over again. She had asked him a few questions, as well as sent him a party invite when they had arrived. He had ignored them all and denied the invite, saying there¡¯s no point. This led to the third curious and mysterious thing: He had told her he could not gain any experience from the kills. Now, she is only level twenty four and these spiders are level twenty five. For him to not get any experience from the spiders, he¡¯d have to be level thirty six at least. The highest level she¡¯s heard of so far is the level thirty two Gladiator Spartacus; who fought night and day with tough opponents to level up. Whoever this man was, he was a most curious being, one that slowly but surely is attracting her attention. Wrenching the thoughts from her mind, she focuses back on her task of killing off the spiders. As a group, they seemed to work decently; he tanked them while she shot them, killing them before they could switch aggro. While she shot the remaining spiders, he started collecting legs from the dead ones, skinning them while being bitten by the living ones. It almost made her laugh. Quickly finishing off the rest, they collect the legs and begin walking down the mine again. ¡°It¡¯s weird isn¡¯t it¡± He randomly says as they walk past unmoving carts and broken picks cast aside by the wall. ¡°Not really, they need to eat¡± She calmly replies back as she shoots a spider that skitters around the corner. ¡°True¡­but where are the bones?¡± Taking a quick glance around, surely enough there are no bones in sight. That was slightly strange since there would be no reason for the spiders to move the bones of the dead miners away from where they killed and ate them, especially when she can see a few human shaped cocoons split open and empty. Wondering what could have happened to the bones, they get into another large fight, him aggroing everything in sight with a loud roar, a taunt skill he unlocked recently after shouting madly at spiders for hours, making things slightly easier. Offing the group of around a dozen, the collect more arrows to be and continue along their way. Thanks to these spiders, she has a few thousand arrows right now, taking up about a quarter of her inventory. Going down a set of web infested stairs, the webs increase drastically to the point where they were standing on webs, stickily slugging their way through. After an hour of trekking slowly through the webs, killing a few groups along the way, they reach a gargantuan round chamber with a tall ceiling, a natural cave it seems. Dangling from the ceiling are thousands of cocoons, unmoving. Without missing a beat, the man saunters into the room and roars, letting hell descend on him. Hundreds, literally hundreds of giant spiders rappel down towards him, appearing from nooks and crannies in the cave wall in constant droves. He laughs maniacally at the sight as they reach the floor, covering it entirely, surrounding him in hordes. ¡°IF YOU MISS, YOU ARE NOT AN ARCHER¡± He laughs merrily, only barely overheard the angry skittering of the spiders. Shaking her head in despair at the man, she begins to knock her arrows. ¡­ Barely three hours pass and the floor is littered with a mountain of corpses. So many that they¡¯ve literally started to form small hills of corpses, all with a single arrow embedded in them. Barely three hours and already the number of spiders that appear from the cave walls are decreasing to the point where some nooks and crannies seem to have run out of spiders. All while she picked off the spiders, the man roared with laughter, almost as if he were being tickled as the multitudes of spiders engulfed him trying to rip him apart. She suspected he had a tremendous vitality with the way he seemed to not care about the groups attacking him before, but now she suspects his large vitality isn¡¯t the only thing he has; it¡¯s almost certain he has some form of fast regeneration, hugely uncommon for a human, or at least that what she used to think he is. Now, she isn¡¯t quite so sure. She couldn¡¯t see him, but the loud laughter pointed to his continual living. Sighing, she knocked another arrow. ¡­ Finally, no more spiders seemed to join in the fray, only a humongous black thing with a large skull on its back and venom dripping from its large jaws, rappelled down straight onto the man. Immediately his laughing stops as the supposed matriarch¡¯s fangs gnash towards him. ¡°TANDRA GOING TO NEED SOME HELP HEEERE¡± He screams out, causing her heart to race fearfully. If he were to die, she would soon follow. Though she does not rush, she remembers her training and reminds herself that rushing would result in missing. Taking a calming breath, she continues to fire on the small horde of spiders, hoping the man can last long enough for her to get to the matriarch. She didn¡¯t shoot the matriarch first for it might aggro the rest of the mobs. Clearing the mobs only took the better part of half an hour and she finally shot the last one, blood spattering the air from her profusely bleeding fingers. Just from bleeding, she had already lost half her health, and she could not feel her shoulders any longer. Every time she pulled the bow, all the weight embedded in her fingers, digging deeper into the wound. But she has no time to stop, especially when she sees the matriarch¡¯s face in the sky and lower body stabbing towards the ground repeatedly as it has been doing for the past few minutes. Fearing for her ally¡¯s life, she clambers onto a large hill of dead spiders, gaining a good vantage point on the situation. Quickly, she spots the man underneath the matriarch, getting repeatedly stung by her stinger, yet still wriggling around dodging maybe one out of three stabs. A loud, pissed hissing noise escapes the matriarch as it embeds the stinger in the man once more, and it looks down to see the man smiling towards it. Tandra can almost feel the utter frustration seeping from the matriarch, as the man not only isn¡¯t affected by the poison, he doesn¡¯t seem to mind being stabbed that much. He looks towards Tandra, smiling and waving a severely punctured arm. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°HEY, TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH. TAKE A BREAK TO HEAL YOURSELF UP¡± He points towards her bleeding fingers ¡°I¡¯M ACTUALLY DOING ALRIGHT¡± ¡°ALRIGHT? YOU¡¯RE GETTING STABBED BY A STINGER OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I DON¡¯T KNOW WHAT YOUR BODY IS MADE OF BUT SURELY IT¡¯S GOT TO BE HURTING YOU¡± She screams back to which he chuckles. ¡°I THOUGHT IT WAS DANGEROUS WITH THE WHOLE SKULL ON THE BACK, BUT SEEMS LIKE ITS POISON ISN¡¯T STRONG ENOUGH¡± ¡°WHAT THE HELL KIND OF POISON RESISTANCE DO YOU HAVE?¡± From the look of the matriarch, it doesn¡¯t seem to have weak poison, not in the slightest. He swipes with his hand, supposedly opening up a menu. ¡°APPARENTLY I¡¯VE GO-¡± A spray of web encases his head and then his body in quick succession, to which he wriggles annoyed breaking out of some before it¡¯s replaced. The matriarch, seemingly fed up with trying to sting him, finally encases him in web as he tries to escape. Tandra, fearing for her safety and a little bit for his, starts knocking an arrow, aiming at the eyes. Luckily, the new arrows seem to have good spinage, so her aiming isn¡¯t as bad as it usually is; she only has to shoot slightly to the bottom right of where she wants to aim, a lot less than usual. Letting it loose, an arrow embeds in an eye letting viscous juices spurt out along with a skittering scream as its eyes flash red and towards her. It charges towards her and she jumps, landing on its eyes with a squishing thud, before jumping off and towards the tunnel entrance. Thanks to the spider corpses, she easily retreats to the small entrance, which is summarily rammed by the matriarch, as it tries to squeeze its gigantic body through. It quickly realizes it can¡¯t get through and something rams it further in, sticking it before it can begin to back out. Its front two legs wave around madly as it tries to back out, but it¡¯s too late; she¡¯s already knocked an arrow. With the matriarch stuck, and having much difficulty moving back, or moving at all, it¡¯s easy picking for her as she draws and releases multiple arrows one after the other. Three minutes pass, and the matriarch, it¡¯s face peppered with a dozen arrows, finally squeezes through, filling up the entire corridor and begins to slowly squeeze it¡¯s way forward since it cannot go back. Sadly for it, Tandra can move backwards faster and simply kites the matriarch for a few minutes filling it with a dozen more arrows before finally it slumps, or stops moving really. Rewarded with a whole level, she celebrates by ripping some clothes and tying a bandage around her fingers. ¡°ARE YOU ALIVE OVER THERE¡± The man screams over the corpse. ¡°STILL KICKING¡± She screams back happily. Slumping down by the wall, she hears ripping sounds and soon, through the mouth appears the man, covered in guts and ooze. Chocking on the rising vomit, she looks away and covers her nose as he approaches. ¡°Ah, that was hell of a fight. Almost went to red there¡± He chuckles lightly Almost red he said, that alone gave a small idea just how much vitality and regeneration this man must have, to have withstood a barrage of attacks from a constant dozens of spiders and then a matriarch for the better part of half an hour. This man is surely insane, but at least his body is as insane as he and she¡¯s actually quite glad for that. Moving through the hole the man made, they return to the room and begin taking the legs off the spiders. Literally filling her inventory to the full with arrows, she fully realizes just how many spiders she killed; close to two thousand of them. That explains the level she gained from just the spiders. Now she was bouncing merrily on level twenty seven, slightly insane since she''d gained three levels in a single day. Just counting that number gave a good impression of why this was a ten man quest, and even then, with the poison added in, no priestless party would be able to survive. This would¡¯ve been one of those quests no one could do for a few more months, since not even a single priest has come from the cathedrals yet. According to forums, they will be allowed to leave in the new years; in two months time. Though just the two of them had done it, simply because that man could tank the entire horde, matriarch included without a single problem. That was a scary enough thought. The fact that he didn¡¯t attack a single one back was way more terrifying. If he were to ever start fighting back, she doubts much can stop him, let alone harm him. While she looked wondrously upon the massacre that was the cave floor, the man had collected the matriarch¡¯s venom sac, and traded it for some spider legs. Taking the venom sac, she saw it could be used fifty times to add widow venom to her arrows. Looking at the stats, she saw it would add two hundred damage a second until cured. That¡¯s a powerful venom indeed, and to not affect him? That man¡¯s body was surely insane. ¡°Hey, how was your stat gain?¡± His voice tickles her ear and she jumps in surprise. Opening her stat window, she looked mildly impressed at the gains; four points to strength, two to vitality. Also she had gained the skill pain resistance, at zero point zero zero two percent. Basically nothing, but then again it¡¯s still something. She looks at him pondering on whether to ask, but something tells her he won¡¯t reply. ¡°Eh, couple of points on strength and vitality, as well as pain resistance¡± she shrugs her shoulders ¡°That isn¡¯t too bad, pain resistance is pretty useful, trust me¡± He chuckles and points towards one of the cocoons high up ¡°Anyways, think you could shoot that down?¡± She looks at her fingers, finally regenerated after they spent a long time collecting legs. Taking a shot, she misses entirely. Readjusting her aim she shoots again, this time just barely clipping the cocoon. Another shot and the arrow pierces it, flying out the other side. That¡¯s weird; it should¡¯ve embedded in the corpse Raising an eyebrow, she activates her low level eagle eye helping her sight somewhat. Sure enough, there¡¯s a cut down the middle of the cocoon to show that it¡¯s already been opened. ¡°That¡¯s odd¡± She exclaims to herself ¡°What?¡± ¡°The cocoon seems to be empty¡± She takes a couple more shots at other cocoons ¡°Quite a few are empty it seems¡± ¡°Still don¡¯t find it weird that there are no miner corpses?¡± He asks wiggling his eyebrows Looking confused towards him, he responds by beginning to climb the web on the walls. ¡°Well don¡¯t you want to find out what happened to them?¡± His voice echoes in the empty cave. Nodding her head, she begins the climb after him, stickily making her way up the wall. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Hey hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review/comment if you want toooo! Also two things you should know: 1.I probably wont be posting much in the next week or two since exams (probably being the keyword there). 2. I really need to get a picture for my fiction, like seriously it''s been thirty chapters and it''s still blank T_T Anyway hope you enjoyed and are awaiting the next chapter! -TRUENORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 32- Strange Meetings Again¡­just who is this person? Ankorr grabs the waterskin which lays by the lakeside, throwing it in the depths without opening it since he knows it¡¯s filled with blood like all the others. This is the third time this has happened in two days, the third time that when he surfaces from the water, finally ridding himself of the hunger that he finds a waterskin lying on the side, filled with fresh, juicy blood. The first time, he opened it without caution, almost letting himself return to a frenzy dousing himself with the contents. The second time he was wary, preparing himself to resist. The third time, he did not need to bother. At first, he thought it was some twisted ornament one of his kills had dropped upon their death, but now he believes someone was playing a sick joke on him. They knew, whoever it was. They knew the blood turned him into a monster, they knew it would torture him day in and day out. He perched on his favourite rock, one by the waterside looking down upon the black glistening waters, thinking pensively upon the matter. Planning to catch the culprit, he forms the strategy within his mind, since he has nothing better to do with his time. Sadly all his plans go to naught as a figure walks into view, wearing beginner clothes. In his hands are a thin book in one hand and a knife clutched in the other, clean and gleaming in the low-light. The figure, stepping into the light, reveals himself to be a young human, with messy dark brown hair and sharp green eyes. His face is equally sharp and intelligent, although some hidden by a scraggly beard gained from many months of not shaving. ¡°Who are you?¡± Ankorr asks, slowly bringing himself up to a defensive position. The figure bows majestically ¡°I am sorry you do not remember me for I certainly remember you¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t answer the question; do get on with it for I have little patience right now¡± Ankorr growls under his breath. ¡°You certainly have nothing better to do¡± The man looks up with a smirk to which Ankorr cracks his knuckles ¡°But before you do kill me, I shall tell you my name. Fadrim, as for who I am, I am no one special, just a man in search for magic¡± Ankorr squints his eyes unconvinced, raising an eyebrow at Fadrim for a few moments, till the memory returns. It returns in a river of blood, just like the one he had procured from Fadrim as he tore his throat out and drank him dry. He remembered; Fadrim was the first¡­ ¡°Then why are you here, I possess nothing of the sort¡± He glances worriedly at the knife ¡°Do you want revenge?¡± ¡°Ha, once, when I was na?ve I did want revenge. Revenge for you murdering me when I was trying to help, revenge for ripping me apart unjustly. But after a while, after discovering what you did, I learnt of what you are, or something about you in the least¡± He begins to pace academically back and forth. ¡°And?¡± ¡°I do not want revenge, it is wasteful, useless and will do nothing for the either of us. What I want is your power¡± ¡°My power? You want this curse? This eternal restless hunger that haunts me night and day?¡± He looks aghast at Fadrim for even thinking of willingly wanting such a thing. ¡°Oh god no, as you said yourself, it¡¯s a curse. What I want is the power over blood you possess¡± Ankorr cocked his head, confused, as he did not have power over blood, rather it had a strange power over him, compelling him to do things he would not ever do in his wildest nightmares. Though when he thinks of how blood keeps him alive in the most impossible of situations, he realizes Fadrim may be telling the truth. Continuing to pace back and forth, Fadrim coughs and begins in an educated tone. ¡°You may not believe it, but you have power over blood. Have you not seen how even when wounded, blood will heal you back up, restore lost limbs, and keep you living when you should be dead?¡± ¡°And how do you know this?¡± How Fadrim knew he wondered. ¡°I have been watching you for a few days, watching the people you massacre. I have seen it happen¡± He merely shrugs as he says this, as if watching Ankorr brutally tear into other humans was not scarring to him. That worried Ankorr. ¡°So you want my power over blood, how would you get it?¡± He did not trust Fadrim by any means, but then again this was the man who had tried to help him long ago, and he had unwittingly killed. Listening to him would not hurt, that was the least apology he owed. ¡°I will stay by your side, watch you from up close, examine how blood affects you and try to recreate with my mana. You will be like a book for me, to read, to learn from, to decipher its inner meaning and to procure knowledge from. And in return, I will feed you, keep you sated¡± ¡®It¡¯ growled lustily, acceptingly, lovingly almost, at the sound of being given blood willingly, being fed like a dog would be fed by its master. ¡®It¡¯ wanted this, almost needed it. Ankorr shook away the feeling as best as he could before looking back into Fadrim¡¯s sharp green eyes. ¡°And why should I let you? Why should I let myself become a guinea pig to being your ¡®book¡¯ as you said?¡± He started walking towards Fadrim, every step imposing and filled with pressure. Fadrim started walking towards him, leaning in when close and whispering in Ankorr¡¯s ear. ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking to you¡± Warm, fresh blood gushes onto Ankorr, drenching him with the delicious scent of sweet crimson. ¡­ ¡°AAAAAAAAAARRRG-¡± *CRACK* The zombie slams into the floor and gets an arrow embedded in its skull a few seconds later. ¡°Oho, seems like our adventure is finally getting somewhere¡± He does a small jump and a whoop while Tandra looks at him, slightly amused but it¡¯s quickly overcome with the hot feeling of frustration. For the past three days, they searched the giant spider cave, climbing up to the tunnels and then slowly exploring them. For three days, they walked through empty webbed tunnels which lead to small nests, void of their spidery inhabitants. Their going was slow because of two reasons: The first was that there were over a hundred tunnels, all spread out around the cave, all with long winding corridors that ended up in a dead end after many minutes. It took a long time to climb between each due to the sticky webs, so they could only explore about twenty tunnels a day before they were too exhausted to move. Well, by they she meant herself. The second reason was because she was the only one exploring them. He was spending most of his time setting up a square of spikes made from arrows, climbing to the top and then dropping down in different positions while screaming for joy at the top of his lungs. She thought that was the crazy bit, until he walked off the arrows, most of them still embedded in him and he went off to do it again. On the rare occasions that he was up top when she reached another cave, he did join her in sightseeing however. And on the more rare occasions, he would disappear entirely from the cave, only to return, short of breath, as he had run from the respawn point in town. He had died twice, once by impaling himself in the head, the second was by falling on his head. She had shaken her head at that, but she was also mortified that the man didn¡¯t seem to care that he had died, that he had lost an entire level, twice. She wondered just how many levels did this man have to spare? Her train of thought is disrupted by another zombie lumbering at her. Rushing past him, the zombie goes straight for her throat, to which she bashes it away with her bow before planting an arrow in its brain. They had finally found something on the fifty seventh cave; zombies. Not just any zombies, but ones with rotting miner clothes and some holding pickaxes and other tools of the trade. That answered the question where the bodies went, but it was replaced with another question: why are there zombies here? ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking, there¡¯s probably a necromancer or something¡± He nudges the head of the zombie with his foot ¡°What the hell would a necromancer be doing down here? And where is here?¡± She asks him, to which he shrugs Slowly trudging through the corridor, they are set upon by another zombie, who ignores the roar of the man and goes straight for her again. Dispatching it, she looks confusedly at him. ¡°Ah yeah, forgot about this. Whoops.¡± He chuckles while rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. ¡°Forgot about this?¡± She walks over to him and jabs him in the chest ¡°Forgot about telling me what? That the undead don¡¯t give a damn about you or something?¡± ¡°Exactly that, I think¡± ¡°You think¡± She looks him in the eyes, giving him the look to which if he doesn¡¯t explain to, he will receive harmful punishment, ¡°This is only like the third, well fourth time this has happened so I¡¯m kind of new to this too¡± He shrugs and continues to walk forth. She strides after him, catching him on the shoulder with her hand. ¡°Before you waltz off into your new friends, I¡¯m going to need an explanation and a plan on how to deal with my lack of tank¡± ¡°That¡¯s a tall order Tandra, ooh not sure I can do I-¡± ¡°CUT, the crap and tell me, because I¡¯m the one who¡¯s spent three days in this pit of webs getting myself stuck in webs while exploring dead end after dead end, eating nothing but raw spider while you fucked around. I had to spend the last three days sleeping in cobwebs because you thought there was something here, and you didn''t even try to look for it! So if you are going to be playing games with me, I swear on my Ma that I will shove my bow so far up your arse that I can use you as a battering ram against these zombies because that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m going to do if you don¡¯t tell me how the fuck I¡¯m going to deal with them if you¡¯re not tanking them.¡± Her thickening Irish accent seethes through her mouth and seems to suffocate the man, bringing a slight sweat down his brow. ¡°At least you think it¡¯s your bow¡± He chuckles before quickly putting his hands defensively on his rear, backing off as she tightens the grip on her bow ¡°Ok, ok sorry for pissing about, but you are more cut out for tracking than I and I¡¯ll let you know that my physical resistance did increase by a tenth of a percent which is pre-¡± She grabs his collar, lifting him slightly off the ground. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°ALRIGHT¡± She lets him go. ¡°I believe it¡¯s a blessing from my goddess Aela, don¡¯t know why though, since she¡¯s the goddess of Immortality¡± She raises her eyebrows in confused wonder, but doesn¡¯t react in any other way ¡°Anyways, I think I may have an idea on how to help you, but you may want to close your eyes¡± ¡°What are you going to do that I don¡¯t want to see?¡± She asks him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, not of him, just of what insane plan it may be. ¡°Well you know how the undead kind of find their prey through smell, maybe, well I was thinking to mask it.¡± ¡°No¡± She responds, fully knowledgeable about the few zombie movies she¡¯s watched and the ¡®plan¡¯ of which he¡¯s talking about. ¡°Might as well try¡± He looks down at the dead zombie. ¡°Nu-uh, I am not putting that things decrepit guts all over me¡± She vehemently shakes her head in denial while staring at the zombie. ¡°What if they aren¡¯t decrepit?¡± She turns back round to look at him confused, until she sees him holding fresh intestines in one hand and pulling out more from his own stomach with the other. ¡°BLAAAAAAAAARRRRGH¡± Regurgitating her previous meals all over the ground, she fights to stay standing. ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt to try¡± He lobs his intestines over her bent double body, quickly encasing her in them and causing her to spill more of the inside of her guts on the floor. Once he rips the rest of his guts out, he slices the blood vessels on his wrists, soaking her with his blood for a few seconds, before he wraps the wound as closed as he can. ¡°I¡¯ll BLAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGH KILBLAAAAAAAARGH YOU¡± She growls at him whilst vomiting profusely. ¡°You¡¯ll have to catch me first¡± He giggles childishly and begins walking into the corridor. She quickly stumbles to follow him, tripping over his guts and into her puke. Standing back up, she swears to her mother and father that she will catch him and beat him within an inch of his life by the end of this day. She almost misses the zombie as she slowly stumbles after him, and notices within the recess of her mind that the zombie pays her no attention. Possibly because she smells of him and fresh vomit, or the fact that she looks like she¡¯s just dived through a person¡¯s body. For the better part of twenty minutes, she follows after him as he waits on corners slowly leading her on with a bounce in his step. At one point he even hi-fives a zombie, laughing at the cocked head the zombie replies with. To her, it seems like he is having quite a lot of fun. She will end that soon though. For her, all she can look at is him, and because of that, she doesn¡¯t notice the change in scenery; the walls have become more compact, hand-made and the number of undead increase, till they seem to be in a constant line, waiting, guarding. Soon dirt becomes stone and the cave becomes a corridor, filled with un-lit sconces on its walls. She does eventually notice it however, as he feet slap on the stone, echoing through the corridor. Her fucks given are at an absolute zero and she stumbles on towards the man, who disappeared off in the darkness ahead. Continuing through, she almost trips on the stairs, which spiral downwards quite a way. Taking a first step down, she slips on the slick blood and tumbles down, shouting in both pain and anger. As she rolls down, guts flying everywhere, she enters a small light, which soon grows till she bursts past the source; a torch. ¡°WHO IN KRAVULKOR¡¯S NAME ARE YOU?¡± A voice, cracked and old screams towards her direction as she rockets into a well lit room. ¡°I¡¯m OOF¡± She feels herself slamming into something, and feeling really pleased about it too. Removing the guts from her face, she sees a man with pale white skin, a long white beard and a wispy head of hair wearing patched black robes; look down at her with gleaming yellow eyes. ¡°AND WHO ARE YOU?¡± He exclaims violently, revealing the few yellowed teeth remaining in his mouth. ¡°Sorry about the intrusion, I was simply exploring these lovely caverns with my friend and found myself here¡± The man stands up in-front of Tandra rubbing his head in apology. ¡°Exploring? Intrusion? Sorry? Nobody explores down in my domain. Nobody intrudes upon my sacred sanctuary. And nobody says sorry when they do such things. ¡°Guess I must be nobody then¡± Tandra feels her eyes rolling at the obviously inane response that the man just HAD to give. ¡°¡­Ha, for that I might just give you a quick death¡± He seems mildly amused, but a small black and green sphere starts forming at his fingertips. ¡°Do that and you¡¯ll never know who we are¡± The sphere grows ¡°Or how we just walked past your guards¡± The old man stops casting his spell, she presumes that¡¯s what it is, and narrows his eyes towards the man. ¡°KALUTH ALOR¡± He shouts, and the sound of moving bones and slapping feet from above rattle down the stairs ¡°SHA¡± The sounds stop. ¡°Oh so you can control them, so you must be the necromancer then!¡± The man exclaims clapping his hands and rubbing them excitedly. ¡°Yes, I am Ri?zur, servant of Kravulkor¡± He bows with his hand, keeping his eyes strongly on the man ¡°And who may you be?¡± ¡°I¡¯m simply a wandering priest on his way to meet Aegi. By the way, who is this Kravulkor you speak of, is he like Aethelx perchance? Also don¡¯t mind my friend; she¡¯s but a fellow wanderer.¡± Ri?zur raised an eyebrow upon the mention of Aegi, a second upon the mention of Aethelx and a dropped jaw at the mention of no knowledge of Kravulkor. ¡°Ignorant! So much so that I should kill you where you stand, and your friend.¡± He stares unblinking towards the man. ¡°Then why haven¡¯t you?¡± He takes a few seconds to answer, as if thinking the words through ¡°¡­Because you are blessed by Aegi and seem ever so familiar with the name of Aethelx, not something I would expect from one who seems to be a human¡± ¡°A good enough reason I suppose. And I am a human, just¡­a bit special you may say¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± He looks down towards Tandra ¡°And her?¡± ¡°Normal human, but harming her would be causing me much harm¡± Ri?zur grimaces uglily at that. She guesses he was looking forward to kill her. ¡°She can live for now, but she can wait outside with my guards. I shall not have such lowly scum in my presence, even if they are ¡®friends¡¯ of one who is blessed by Aegi¡± The man turns to her and shrugs. ¡°Sorry, but seems like me and Ri?zur are going to have a chat, I do actually need to talk to someone like him funnily enough, so just wait upstairs for a bit will you?¡± She couldn¡¯t actually believe what the man was saying, much less so that he was actually willing to have a conversation with a necromancer, the one who raised the miners from the dead and is using them as guards. She doesn¡¯t know anything about Ri?zur, but she does know necromancers are infamous for being evil. ¡°He killed all those miners, you saw them shuffling about upstairs. And you want to talk to him like he is a civil being? You want to share conversation with him? I know you¡¯re insane, but this is just pure madness. He¡¯s evil, a monster!¡± She stands up, lifting the man by his collar severely pissed and confused. ¡°Evil is perspective Tandra" His voice became solemn, stern. Something she had never heard before, and his face, no smile escaped his lips. He was serious and that scared her a little bit "this man is but a priest. For a Demonic God yes, but a priest nonetheless. As a priest myself it would be rude to kill him; rude to both priesthood and to his God¡± He breaks a smirk, wiping off all seriousness from his face. His logic sounds flawless, but Tandra just can¡¯t wrap the idea around her head fully; to simply believe that a necromancer to Kravulkor is a priest and nothing more. But she still lets him down, more from utter confusion than anything else. He puts a comforting hand on each of her shoulders. ¡°I know it¡¯s confusing but you have to trust me, this is my job you know¡± He chuckles lightly. ¡°Now go upstairs and rest a bit, I will call for you when we¡¯re done ok?¡± After a few moments debate and a strong yet gentle push, she slowly makes her way upstairs. The man turns back round to Ri?zur, who is waiting patiently. ¡°Now, I think we have much to learn from eachother, Brother Ri?zur¡± ¡­ ¡°GET AWAY¡± Ankorr screams towards Fadrim as he walks towards him, for the third time today, knife in hand, clean and gleaming. ¡°You don¡¯t enjoy, I get that. But understand me, I need, no, I desire this. All I want to be is a disciple to your ways, and I will pay the price with my blood and life for as long as need be¡± ¡°I DON¡¯T WANT THAT¡± He screams as if it will push Fadrim away. ¡°You don¡¯t, but ¡®It¡¯ does. I WILL sate your hunger and maybe then, when you have a clear mind, you¡¯ll accept me¡± ¡°NO DO-FOOD!!!¡± Ankorr can only watch as he rips hungrily into Fadrim through the gash on his chest. Only able to stop himself halfway through, and much too late. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: ...Yeah, i did say i wouldn''t be posting anymore...Well apparently it was a lie. But then again, I got a lovely little comment :* :* so i had the need to write another chapter. Ok really going to stop for today, might do another chapter tomorrow if i''m feeling up for it. Until then, Pleaase comment and review because then i know if you like/hate my fiction :D(T_T) -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 33- Strange Meetings Part 2 ¡°Take a seat¡± Ri?zur pulls out two dusty chairs from either side of the altar. The man sits and makes himself comfortable as Ri?zur grabs a black concoction from a bench on one side of the room, where a few chemical reactions are slowly taking place. Pouring the concoction into blood-stained chalices, he gives one to the man. ¡°As a disciple of Aegi, poison does not affect you¡± Ri?zur assures the man when he raises an eyebrow at the concoction. Shrugging his shoulders, the man downs the concoction, licking his lips tastily afterwards. ¡°Mmm, you must tell me what that was; I¡¯ve never tasted poison quite so delicious¡± ¡°Molten Deathbloom, matured over the years¡± He answers with a small chuckle. ¡°So Ri?zur, I believe it is time you lecture me on your god, Kravulkor, for I am interested in him indeed¡± He leans in expectantly. He clears his throat ¡°Kravulkor is the god of the undead, lord and master of the seventy sixth demonic dimension¡± ¡°You know of the dimensions?¡± The man sounds slightly surprised. He snorts ¡°Of course, any learned priest knows of their gods¡¯ dimensions and their gods¡¯ enemy¡¯s ones too¡± ¡°Reasonable, however the overworld gods do not tell us about them¡± ¡°But you mentioned them as if you did¡± He narrows his eyes, wondering. ¡°I¡­have had the great luck of meeting Aethelx, around a month back. He taught me much of what I should know¡± He confesses. A sparkle of fear blinks in Ri?zur¡¯s eyes, before he washes it away, focusing on keeping a straight face and counting the time. ¡°A lucky man indeed you must be, to meet a god in person¡± ¡°Well, he did kill me a few times first¡± This surprised him; since one should and could not talk so casually about being killed. ¡°You have died before then?¡± He pries, searching for what could be useful knowledge. ¡°Yes, many a time, but my goddess watches over me¡± He looks lovingly at the ceiling. Ri?zur however, feels nothing but slight dread; dread at the fact that this man is not only blessed by Aegi, his supposed immortality is but a sign of his championship to her. But then he remembers something. He remembers the players he had met long, long ago, and how they too could escape from death¡¯s clutches. ¡°So tell me Ri?zur, you seemed to be sealed down here, how long has it been since you have surfaced?¡± The man moves the topic on to something akin to small talk. ¡°A few hundred years. It was on the recess of the first age when I sealed myself inside, and now there is a tunnel back to the surface¡± ¡°Indeed interesting, though I suppose you must be quite far behind on the times being stuck down here¡± The man notes almost pityingly. ¡°I have no need to know of the outside world, all I need is knowledge that my god watches over me¡± he snorts proudly. ¡°And does he?¡± ¡°Of course he does, he is my god afterall¡± He lies through his teeth, fully aware he has not felt the warmth of his god for almost a millennium. However his powers have been with him since the miners tunneled through to his darling Arina a few months ago, and he took this as a sign of his god setting his warm gaze upon him once more. ¡°So is it your god who gives you the powers of necromancy?¡± The man interestedly asks. ¡°Yes, for without him, I would not be able to cast much, or live long without his blessing. And for this long life and power I pray to him¡± The man nods understanding. ¡°So, priest of Aegi, tell me, why do you pray to her?¡± ¡°Because immortality is my goal and who better to watch over me than the creator of such a thing¡± He answers truthfully, shocking Ri?zur vehemently. ¡°Aegi¡­¡± He whispers wistfully to himself. For it was a word he had not heard for a long time ¡°Since when did that bitch get followers¡± His face drops into a distasteful sneer, unable to keep up the act. He had wanted to kill the man who said he was a follower of Aegi when he met him, but he was interested to see the caliber of disciple the bitch had following her. He did not amount the man to much. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯m not sure I heard you correctly there, Ri?zur¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry you didn¡¯t hear. I said, when did that bitch get followers?¡± He smirks at the man¡¯s quite shocked face. ¡°Please stop using such a name for my goddess¡± He pleads nicely. ¡°Hah, now why would I use another name? It is so appropriate for the whore of Kravulkor to be called such¡± He laughs at the man¡¯s open-mouth shock ¡°Oh, did your Aethelx not tell you about this?¡± ¡°He mentioned her being the goddess of immortality¡± ¡°Hah, since when did she have a title? Really this world went to shit when I sat down here. But no longer¡± He stands up, only to be stopped by the man. ¡°You haven¡¯t told me why you¡¯re insulting my goddess¡± His voice is stern, unusual for such a usually gentle voice. ¡°I don¡¯t have time to teach ignorant fools, and you don¡¯t have time to listen. Goodbye¡± He laughs maniacally as the man¡¯s eyes widen, before frothing at the mouth and collapsing to the floor. ¡°What fool believes he can drink poison when still living?¡± He chuckles brightly as he goes to collect his old staff, stopping as he remembered their brief conversation ¡°Ah, but he¡¯ll be back, so I can assure myself I¡¯ll be able to torture him over and over again just like Kravulkor did to Aegi. HA! Nothing gets my bones rattling then beating down the enemies of my god¡± Maniacal laughter freely escapes his lips as he goes for the stairs. ¡°What about this?¡± A chair smashes into the back of his head, rattling his bones as he collapses onto the floor in a heap. ¡°The poison¡± He exclaims as he rolls around to see the man standing above him, looking rather pissed. ¡°It was delicious¡± A gleaming smile appears, twisting into an angry grimace ¡°But it won¡¯t be as nice as teaching you to respect my goddess¡± Ri?zur, quickly tries to cast a deathbolt, the hastily conjured spell fizzling as a meaty fist to connects with his skull, breaking the brittle bone and spattering what remains of his dead blood on the floor. Before he can retaliate much, his frail legs and arms are broken. Soon, all he can do is look angrily at the man as he ties him up with the multiple ropes and chains. He also moves the altar, with much effort, on top of Ri?zor¡¯s legs, crushing them entirely. ¡°What is this? I thought you said you would not hurt another brother?¡± He exclaims angrily, although he knows he attacked first. ¡°I did, but you insulted my goddess to my face, called her both a bitch and a whore. And most of all you laughed at her, nobody laughs at the one I entrust my life to, nobody¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°Of course I would insult your whor-¡± *CRACK* ¡°Please refrain from insulting my goddess, for it will only cause you much pain¡± The man looks sternly at him. Ri?zor manages a cackle through his broken jaw, before staring at the man in anger. The man just paced up and down, thinking profusely. ¡°I should kill you, but I have vowed never to kill, never to hurt. Though I¡¯m sure hurting you is not against this transgression as allowing such insults would be an insult to my existence¡± Ri?zor spits on the ground ¡°Heeeeaeeah¡± ¡°But instead, I¡¯ll let you live. You can feel your god right? Well¡­I¡¯ll make sure you live long enough to feel him disappear, to feel him die¡± His grin widens ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you know that it was your fault that your god dies by my hands, that Kravulkor¡¯s corpse is raped by the crows and maggots and by me...all because of you¡± Ri?zor does not insult, does not respond, only sits staring into the unblinking cold eyes of the man, as they flash a gleaming gold, and feels a single feeling; dread. ¡°Now, sit tight and relish the feeling of your god, for it will be gone soon. Also, you said the seventy sixth dimension right? Thanks for the information¡± Walking out the room and up the stairs, he leaves Ri?zor staring at the ceiling, feeling dread snake through his body, weighing him down more than all the chains and the altar ever could. Little did he know that the man was debating a few strange things that were on his mind, especially about what he learnt, or did not want to learn. Tandra was waiting at the top of the stairs, bow at the ready, aimed towards the guards. She almost jumped out of her own skin when the man popped out from the stairs, looking just dandy and smiling insanely like usual. ¡°What happened down there?¡± She asks curiously, unknowing of what happened below. ¡°Just a conversation about our god¡¯s, priestly stuff¡± He chuckles lightly and begins to walk down the corridor. She notes one tiny thing however; his hand is stained with a speck of black blood. That speck sent shivers down her spine for a strange, dreading thought. ¡°Am I finally allowed to get some rest and a shower?¡± She calls after him, elated they¡¯re finally leaving the cave. ¡°For now, but don¡¯t get too comfortable, for I have a little journey to do and I¡¯m thinking you may want to join¡± He gives her a wide, devious grin. He¡¯s planning something utterly insane, she¡¯s sure of it. ¡­ -One week later- ¡°A¡­h, you¡¯re sating you..rself¡± Fadrim dies, chest ripped open, yet most organs still intact. Ankorr, bashes the rock with a bloody fist. This Fadrim, crazy piece of shit, keeps returning to him, cutting himself; letting ¡®It¡¯ loose to drink him dry every ten minutes, whether it be night or day. It has been a week; a week of non-stop Fadrim cutting himself. A week of non-stop torture. Every ten minutes, Ankorr has to fight the feeling of desire, to fight the hunger of murdering Fadrim, feeling his innards pulsate in his hands, in his mouth. He does not care about Fadrim¡¯s life that much, rather the fresh memories of his merciless slaughter haunt him; rip his humanity away piece by piece as he can do nothing but watch himself do such a thing. Although it¡¯s only been a week since they had first met, He had killed Fadrim over a hundred times, drank his blood more than a hundred times. The sweet taste of Fadrim lingers in his mouth now, ever present, ever swilling in the back, sending ripples of joy through his body which disgusts him to the core. But this time round, he was finally able to stop himself somewhat, to stop the ripping hunger from bursting out within him and plunging through Fadrim¡¯s body as if it were made from sweetmeats. While he let the hunger die, let the fresh blood soak into the ground, he drank water, gulped it down and drenched his body in it. He had tried to hide himself in the river, but Fadrim had poured gallons and gallons of his blood into it, engulfing him in a cloud of his own blood. The tearing pain of both hunger and horror as ¡®It¡¯ tried to drink the blood lustily while screaming internally in pain at the water almost drove him mad. He didn¡¯t try to hide in the water after that first experience. ¡°Ah, Master, you seem hungry still¡± Fadrim appears, sweaty from running and slices his chest open. ¡®It¡¯ rips its way outside Ankorr, taking him over, dragging him towards the sweet, juicy river of blood to which he vehemently tries to pull himself away, to drag HIS body, away from the blood. Eventually, he loses his grip both in body and mind, only having it return as he holds the punctured lungs of Fadrim, licking the red juices from it like a lollipop. Dropping the lungs with a splodge, he curses himself, Fadrim and ¡®It¡¯. He curses how his life of imprisonment has become torture, has become a long wave of blood that engulfs him, bringing him both waking nightmares and drills madness into his mind. ¡®It¡¯ is getting so used to Fadrim, that sometimes, when Fadrim appears, Ankorr can feel ¡®It¡¯ awakening, as if greeting the hand that feeds it. Ten minutes pass again, so quickly, so silently. Fadrim walks up once more with a wide grin. ¡°Come, sate your hunger, till you can control it¡± He laughs and disembowels himself, letting fresh squidgy intestines litter the floor. Ankorr licks at the sight of the delicacy before slamming his head on the rock, subsiding ¡®It¡¯ slightly, giving him enough time to dive headfirst into the water and engulf as much of the lake as he can. ¡®It¡¯ calms down and he leaves the water, drenched to the core. Fadrim is on his knees, still alive, barely, and untouched. The sweet, sweet smell wafts to Ankorr¡¯s nose, and he plunges his head into the water, drowning the smell, drowning the feeling, drowning ¡®It¡¯. Taking his head out from the water, he sees Fadrim kneeling, yet unmoving and unblinking. He notes a wide grin on his face and two thumbs up before Fadrim disappears in a column of light. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author''s Corner: Chapter!! Yeah, i do like writing, well i guess today is kind of the last day for two weeks, so guess one more chapter maybe? depends on how i feel. Anyways, Hope you enjoyed the chapter so comment and reviewwww :D (hrmm, review would be quite nice to put me character rating back up (Cri, only 2.5 stars T___T)) -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 34- Plans For A Journey ¡°Miss Tandra, how pleasant to see your face¡± The female clerk smiles at her as Tandra drops a black gorilla¡¯s head with dull red veins engraved on it, on the desk in front of her. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to see you too, now my payment¡± She smiles to the clerk, looks back and gives a snarl to the onlookers. No one jeers her, no one laughs at her. Only a few even dare to stare. She is quite pleased with how the adventurers here have become so tame towards her. It all happened a week ago, when they finally exited that damned mine and came back to Ronthar. They had walked into the adventurers post and when they had given in the quest literally everyone¡¯s faces hit the floor in shock. No one expected just two of them to finish a ten man mission and in only a few days. Little did they know they actually just did it in one, the rest was finding the necromancer. Nobody messed with her after that day, mostly because they were afraid of what she could do, and afraid of her new friend as he is much more mysterious than her, definitely making him more dangerous in their eyes. The clerk returns with a small bag of coins and she adds twenty gold pieces to her inventory. Hunting missions for beast is decently lucrative monetary wise, but not so much on the xp side. This was her second kill in the whole week, and although her pockets were filling up nicely, she felt empty, annulled of a purpose. ¡°Ah clerk¡± The clerk turns back her way, smiling her fake business smile as usual ¡°Do you know where my friend is?¡± ¡°Your friend¡­I heard he¡¯s-¡± *BANG* The man stumbles into the room, crashing onto a table and dragging himself off it, swaying wildly until he spots Tandra. Then he points towards her and sways wildly. ¡°Ahh Shhandra istsh been¡­.a week shince I¡¯ve sheen you, all shix of you, hehehe¡± He giggles childishly, hiccupping from the drink while he stumbles towards her, arms wide. ¡°Seems like you¡¯ve hit the tavern¡± ¡°Hit?¡± He stops, cocking his head ¡°I don¡¯t quite remember hitting...¡± he stares off into the sky ¡°Ah wait, I did, hihihi¡± ¡°You¡¯re drunk¡± She states flatly ¡°Drunk? DRUNK? Of courshe not¡­.i¡¯m not drunk, just¡­don¡¯t tell Tandra ok¡± He gives her a wink as he stumbles towards her, knocking over a chair and tripping over it onto the floor. She gnashes her teeth slightly and stomps towards him. Helping him up, the foul smell of cheap ale wrenches from his mouth and spews all over her face. ¡°You reek¡± ¡°I¡¯m not reek. I¡¯m BLAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGH¡± Vomit slowly rolls down her newly bought leather chest-piece, chunky bits plopping to the floor. ¡°Oh I¡¯m sho sho-¡± *Thwack* His head hits the floor and Tandra clenches her broken fist, gnashing her teeth in both anger and pain. Unceremoniously, she drags him up the stairs to their room. Throwing him on the bed, she goes to wash off and cool off. Coming back to the room, he¡¯s still conscious, curled up in a ball in his bed, rolling around and¡­crying, well sniffling to be exact. ¡°Are you ok?¡± She asks, moving to his side and putting a damp hand on his shoulder. ¡°Oh, Sshtandra, yesh I¡¯m fine, just a little cold¡± he turns towards her and opens his arms ¡°Hug?¡± She rolls her eyes deep into their sockets, but does give a hug; since he is still a friend and sometimes she¡¯s got to go through their drunken shit. Though she never expected to see him drunk, ever. Especially since he¡¯s a priest, albeit insane. She quickly regrets her decision however, as he rolls over in mid-hug, taking her with him and he quickly tightens the hug, head buried in her shoulder. The rolling of her eyes deepen as she tries to loosen herself from his grip. ¡°It¡¯s¡­so cold¡± He sniffles into the pillow, making it barely audible for her. Since she¡¯s so close, she can feel the shivers coming from his warm body, almost feel fear she thinks. Feeling sorry for him, she decides to let this go for tonight; she¡¯ll get her revenge on him tomorrow, or maybe make him owe her for this. She might even get a good deal out of it. Hugging him back, she whispers into his ear ¡°its ok, I¡¯m here to keep you warm¡± ¡°If only I could feel¡­¡±*Snore* ¡­ ¡°Good morning fair world. Aegi, did I hit my head against the tavern wall again Maria?¡± The man jumps down the stairs, limber as a lamb. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not ser¡± The clerk shakes her head sadly towards him. ¡°Afraid? Afraid of what? Is there something to be afraid of in this fine town?¡± He claps his hands merrily and skips around the place waving at a few of the early risers who he has gotten to know decently in the past week. ¡°How about me¡± A slightly cracked voice comes from the stairs. The voice is laced with anger, salted with annoyance, encased with rage. From the stairs appears Tandra, hair a mess, eyes drooping from lack of sleep. ¡°Well you do look pretty damn terrifying this morning, what the hell happened to you?¡± She responds by grabbing his neck and smashing his head on the table. ¡°That, was for throwing up on me last night¡± She kicks him hard in the balls, holding him up by his throat. ¡°And that, was for hugging me when you reeked of alcohol¡± Letting him fall to the floor, he mocks pain and drops. She knows he¡¯s just playing but no one else does. ¡°Now get up and go buy me breakfast and some bloody good drink, because me and you are going to have a little chat¡± He stands up, fake wheezing in pain. ¡°Right, breakfast, got it¡± He stumbles off, leaving her to go back upstairs and sort her looks out as much as she could. But then again, it wasn¡¯t the outside that needed fixing after last night. ¡­ *Slam* Slamming her pint of good ale on the table she looks at him as he chomps delicately on some roast mutton in their private booth. ¡°Now, tell me. What have you been doing this past week?¡± She stares into his eyes ferociously, forcing him to stop eating. ¡°I¡­have been thinking¡± He goes back to his food. She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips. ¡°You¡¯ve been drinking, that¡¯s for sure¡± ¡°Thinking, drinking, I can do both right?¡± He smirks, before wiping it off his face in response to her low growl. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°Depends on whether your thinking merits the drinking¡± She narrows her eyes suspiciously. He places down the food, looking at her with no smiles. ¡°My thinking is a matter of morality and a few other things¡± ¡°Morality? How could that make you think and drink for a week?¡± ¡°Well you remember I told you there was something I was going to do last week, when we were leaving the necromancers?¡± ¡°Yes¡± Her interest was piqued, since she had waited an entire week for him to tell her what he wanted to do. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know whether I should go on that journey¡± He looks down at his food, hands clasped in thought. ¡°What do you mean by that? Have you something better to do?¡± ¡°That is wherein the problem lies¡± He looks back up at her, sighing frustratedly ¡°You see, I can either move forward, or I can move back. If I move forward, I break a promise to a friend. If I move back, I break a promise to myself¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t it be obvious then? Your personal promises are more important than one to your friends no?¡± She answers immediately, since to her a promise kept to herself is something that should be kept. ¡°True, but that only solves a single part of my dilemma¡± his sinks towards the table, hands clasped in thought again. She mimics him, an eyebrow raised. ¡°If I go forward, I am stepping into the unknown, unprepared for everything, on a quest that I have no idea whether I could succeed in. And if I go forward I can never go back. If I go back however, I can prepare myself; give myself a better chance of succeeding this quest. And if I go back I can someday go forward. However, I don¡¯t have the time to go back; I don¡¯t have the strength to go forward. So what should I do Tandra?¡± She looks at him, confused as to why he is so stressed over this supposed quest he¡¯s given himself. This is a game, so time should not be a problem. However, she has a feeling this time problem has nothing to do with the game. ¡°Does¡­does it have something to do with J-¡± His finger quickly quietens her. ¡°Don¡¯t say that name¡­please, and no it has nothing to do with her¡­that¡¯s¡­not part of this game¡± He trails off, looking into the distance. Seeing him look wistfully in the distance, she feels like she¡¯s somehow been shown a little about his real life, no, she feels like she¡¯s invaded it. He had accidentally shown her a part of him last night that looks like he never wanted anyone to see. Being awake to hear him scream a girl¡¯s name while in tears, unable to wake up from his nightmare, even with her violent shaking¡­scared her, in a very human way. The only way he went quiet is when she knocked him fully out with her fists. She had never heard him scream in pain before; not when his arm was ripped away, not when he was stabbed and bitten by a multitude of beasts. But now she had¡­and honestly, she never wants to hear him scream again. ¡°Right!¡± She jumps out of her seat in shock at his sudden happy vibe. ¡°I¡¯ve decided! Screw my friend¡± He sends a quick apology to the sky saying ¡®Sorry Moren¡¯. ¡°I am going on an adventure. I don¡¯t know where I have to go, how to find it, or what to do when I go there¡­but I will for the life of me do it. Do you want to join me on a little, well not so little adventure Tandra?¡± His voice is full of life, not faking it like he does with pain, but real. As if taking a deep breath and turning over a new leaf. She takes a deep breath, not forgetting, but burying the knowledge she learnt last night about her friend¡­whatever little knowledge it may be. Who her friend really is and who she is sitting in front of right now are different people, as she is different to her in-game self. ¡°What we doing?¡± She asks, jumping with the same energy he exuded. He grins maniacally ¡°We my dear, are going to go kill ourselves a God¡± ¡­ ¡°Fadrim, why am I not killing you?¡± Ankorr asks through clenched teeth as he internally pushes ¡®It¡¯ down to the recess of his soul, slightly confused as to how he is finally able to control himself when Fadrim is bleeding somewhat. ¡°Simple. I¡¯ve conditioned you to my presence, or well my blood you could argue. Doing so has allowed me to be close to you, to bleed close to you without dying horribly every time¡± He grins madly as he cuts his finger, letting more blood drip onto the floor ominously. ¡°That¡¯s mad, ¡®It¡¯ doesn¡¯t care if its drunk from you one or a hundred times¡± Ankorr refuses to give in, pushing ¡®It¡¯ down, with the aid of some water. ¡°Genius i''d rather you''d say. And it is possible, but ¡®It¡¯ isn¡¯t the one getting accustomed to me¡­you are¡± He chuckles ¡°What?¡± Ankorr cleans his ears, confused as to what Fadrim is playing at. Fadrim begins to pace up and down academically. ¡°You see, ¡®It¡¯ doesn¡¯t really care what blood it has, it wants blood. You however, don¡¯t like it; rather you¡¯re disgusted by it quite viciously. So, in this past week you have become accustomed to the smell of my blood and quite vigorously try to stop yourself. As result, every time you smell my blood your natural reflexes to stop yourself kick in, and each time you¡¯ve tried, your reflexes got quicker, stronger. Until we are almost at the point where you won¡¯t kill me if I bleed¡± He stops pacing, giving a winning smile to Ankorr. ¡°I could still kill you, just not for the blood¡± Ankorr was angry yet also quite amazed by this madman, somehow breaking through a barrier Ankorr never thought he could, but that scared him more than relieved him. ¡°No you can¡¯t¡± He chuckles and draws the knife ¡°not yet at least¡± He throws the knife towards Ankorr, letting it drop by his feet. ¡°¡­You want me to kill you?¡± He picks up the knife, slightly scared since he¡¯s having hard enough time keeping ¡®It¡¯ down. ¡°Yes, I want you to kill me, not ¡®It¡¯. You¡± He points towards Ankorr, making sure he gets his point across. ¡°You¡¯re mad you know that? What are you getting out of this? All I see is constant death¡± He moves towards Fadrim, knife in hand. ¡°I may be mad, true. But then again, genius and mad have such a fine line between them. Also, don¡¯t worry I¡¯m getting what I want..so just focus on your side of things and I¡¯ll focus on mine. Me and you are destined to go on a journey together. Let us begin with you cutting me, slowly¡± Grimacing, Ankorr lays the blade on Fadrim¡¯s arm, slowly cutting down. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Heeeeeeey! Last chapter for two weeks, so have a nice time mulling over it :D Hope you enjoyed it, as well as a little sneak peak into the MC''s life as well as Fadrim''s Mind :D Please review and comment!!! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 35- Two weeks and A Small Milestone ¡°SHOOT IT, QUICK WOMAN¡± ¡°DON¡¯T CALL ME WOMAN!¡± ¡°TANDRA, WE REALLY DON¡¯T HAVE TIME TO TALK ABOUT NAME CALLING¡± She fires an arrow at the giant Roc as it soars towards them, causing it to swoop away leaving both sides unharmed. ¡°I GOT ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD FOR YOU. THAT THING DOESN¡¯T¡± ¡°I KNOW, HENCE WHY I¡¯M SCREAMING BECAUSE THAT¡¯S EXACTLY WHAT WE¡¯LL BE DOING WHEN IT GETS US¡± The Roc makes a dive for them, causing the man to let go of his hold, dropping down, just catching himself. ¡°WHY THE HELL IS IT ATTACKING US ANYWAY?¡± The man looks guiltily down at his hanging feet. ¡°YOU KNOW THE EGGS WE HAD THIS MORNING¡­¡± ¡°¡­YOU D-¡± ¡°I WAS HUNGRY¡± He screams as the Roc makes another round at them, this time going for Tandra, which she fends off by landing an arrow on its left wing, causing it to flail away in reflexive shock . ¡°YOU WERE HUNGRY? YOU TOOK THE EGG FROM ITS MOTHERS NEST AND COOKED IT¡­BECAUSE YOU WERE HUNGRY?¡± She roars down at him, spittle flying and spattering him below. ¡°THAT¡¯S KIND OF WHAT YOU DO WHEN YOU¡¯RE HUNGRY¡± ¡°YOU DON¡¯T PISS OFF A GIANT FUCKING BIRD WHILE CLIMBING A MOUNTAIN¡± ¡°OOPS¡± ¡°I SWEAR, WHEN THIS IS OVER, I¡¯LL TOSS YOU OFF THE EDGE OF THIS MOUNTAIN AND WATCH YOU FALL¡± ¡°I WAS PLANNING TO DO THAT ANYWAY BUT I GUESS YOU CAN HAVE THE HONORS¡± She just bawls with laughter, hysterical towards the man cracking what she knows isn¡¯t a joke while a giant level sixty Roc is flying their way, pissed to death. ¡°NOT THE BEST TIME TO BE LAUGHING¡± He warns her, to which she quickly races up the mountain, just dodging the Roc¡¯s talons as they tear through the mountainside. ¡°OH REALLY? I DIDN¡¯T NOTICE¡± ¡°I THINK THE GIANT BIRD MIGHT BE A SIGN¡± She knocks another arrow, this time shooting close to him. ¡°GET MOVING YOU LITTLE SHIT¡± ¡°AY AY MAAM¡± Almost breaking her hold her furious grip, she starts to climb herself, keeping an eye out for the Roc. Luckily, she had gotten a good shot when the Roc first appeared, taking out what was probably the dominant eye and destroying its depth perception. Thanks to that, the Roc spends most of its time flying into empty cliff faces¡­but it¡¯s getting better at targeting the right area. ¡°FUCK¡± She screams as the Roc¡¯s shadow engulfs her. Pushing on the ledge, she plummets down, smacking into her friend, who clings on for dear life as her foot lands on his face, almost snapping his neck. Slipping down, she grabs onto him. Positioning herself to his right with legs wrapped round his waist, knocking an arrow onto her bow as it finally drops into her hands. ¡°WELL HELLO THERE, COULD¡¯VE GIVEN MY FACE A HELL OF A LOT MORE WARNING¡± He screams at her with a decently deep imprint of her boot on his face. ¡°I¡¯M COMING, PREPARE YOUR FACE¡± She screams back at him. The Roc screams too, drowning out both their voices. It¡¯s one good eye looks right at them and it starts to fly towards them. ¡°TANDRAAAA¡± ¡°I¡¯M ON IT¡± She knocks an arrow, shooting it and knocks another. The Roc dodges the first, put recoils from the second as it passes closeby to its remaining eye. Slamming into the mountains side just beside them, it rips away moments after, taking its long circle in the air, giving them a momentary rest. ¡°TANDRA, GET OFF ME I HAVE A PLAN¡± ¡°YOUR PLANS ARE TO COOK BABY BIRDS WHICH PISSES OFF THEIR BIG FUCKING MOTHERS¡± ¡°I TOLD YOU I WAS HUNGRY¡± ¡°NEXT TIME EAT ROCK, ROCK¡¯S DON¡¯T COME TO KILL YOU WHEN YOU EAT THEIR CHILDREN¡± She prepares to jump off of him, but his free hand grabs her leg. ¡°NOT YET¡± She immediately realizes what he¡¯s doing. ¡°NO FUCKING WAY¡± ¡°OH YES!¡± He laughs maniacally while she patiently waits for the Roc to make its way back towards them, looking for a possible hold a short distance away. Soon the shadow engulfs them both, but she doesn¡¯t fire anything. Instead, she leaps off the man, screaming her head off as she drops onto a hold, breaking it and plummets down till her arms slam onto a ridge, almost breaking them. Looking up, she spots the Roc flying away, with one man clutching for dear life on its legs. The Roc soon notices and begins to shake them furiously. ¡°STOP IT, I¡¯M GETTING DIZZY YOU DAMN BIRD¡± He shouts merrily, voice carried in the wind. She improves her hold to a more comfortable position and watches the Roc fly around, trying to shake off the man as he shimmies up the Roc¡¯s leg laughing like the madman he is. ¡°HEY TANDRA, SHOOT HER A LITTLE PLEASE¡± ¡°NO WAY IN HELL AM I JOINING YOU UP THERE¡± ¡°IT¡¯LL SAVE US SOME TIME!¡± He screams back, starting to climb the side of the Roc, to which it retaliates by flying towards the cliff. ¡°YOU¡¯RE CRAZY¡± ¡°OF C-¡± His voice is cut as the Roc smashes into the mountainside, her friend going into it first. Though she knows he¡¯ll be fine, she has a slight scare. The Roc, slightly dizzy, flies away, revealing a man still vehemently climbing towards its back. It begins to do barrel rolls, dives, air flips, anything to get him off. But he clings with a maddened grip almost as mad as he, slowly making his way to the Roc¡¯s neck. Reaching there, he holds tightly and laughs his head off. ¡°LOOK AT ME, I¡¯M RIDING A GIANT FRICKING BIRD. WOOOOO¡± ¡°GET THE FUCK OFF THERE RIGHT NOW, STOP PISSING ABOUT!¡± She screams back, frustrated at the man, and slightly jealous in fact. ¡°NOW DON¡¯T BE JEALOUS, I¡¯LL LET YOU HAVE A GO TOO¡± He keeps shimmying up, till his feet squeeze on the upper bounds of the Roc¡¯s neck. The Roc still keeps doing all sorts of air stunts, voicing its annoyance extremely loudly. It¡¯s so distracted, that it doesn¡¯t notice Tandra lining up her shots, until one pierces its wing, doing minimal damage, but successfully annoying it. ¡°TANDRA, HERE WE COOOME¡± He whoops as the Roc turns towards her, quite pissed. ¡°I HATE YOU¡± She puts her bow back in the inventory and prepares herself ¡°WAHAHAHAH¡± The Roc soars towards her, getting a hard knock on the head by the man, making it dip slightly. Using her hold, she leaps into the air, feeling it slam towards her as the Roc flies into the mountain. Dropping onto the Roc, she is grabbed and slammed onto the top of the neck, the man on top of her and gripping onto the Roc¡¯s feathers tightly. The Roc begins to do multiple violent air stunts, like dive bombing. ¡°BIRD, IF YOU TAKE US UP, WE WON¡¯T KILL YOU¡± The man screams at the Roc, to which it responds by shaking its head profusely to throw them off. ¡°ARE YOU REALLY TRYING TO TALK TO A BIRD? I GUESS YOU DO HAVE A BIRD BRAIN AS WELL YOU TWAZZACK¡± She screams at him, slightly muffled by the feathers in her mouth. ¡°BIRD, IF YOU TAKE US UP THE MOUNTAIN, I¡¯LL LET YOU EAT ME, ALIVE!¡± ¡°YOU CRAZY? EVEN IF IT COULD UNDERSTAND YOU, WHY THE F-¡± The Roc immediately calms down and begins flying peacefully. Tandra swerves her head from the ground to look at the man, who¡¯s grinning manically and then towards the Roc¡¯s head, in utter disbelief. ¡°You have got to be kidding me¡± ¡°NOW BIRD, YOU LIKE THE SOUND OF FRESH, SCREAMING HUMAN? TAKE US UP AND I PROMISE YOU, I¡¯LL LET YOU EAT ME ALIVE WITHOUT COMPLAINTS¡± It turns its head somewhat, trying to see the man, to which he leans to the side making eye contact with the Roc. After a minute of smooth flying with constant eye contact with the man, the Roc shoots up, somehow made its mind. He whoops and keeps holding on, laughing merrily along the way. Tandra however, is still slowly letting the fact that her friend just made a deal to a bird, to eat him alive, and the bird seems to have accepted the deal. I¡¯m surrounded by crazy. The hundreds of feet they had yet to climb disappear in a blink of an eye, a beautiful sight to the two of them; since they had spent over four days climbing from the base of the mountain. It had only been two weeks since they had left Ronthar, two weeks and they¡¯ve almost made it to their first destination. Soaring past the peak of the mountain, she spots a deep dish of rock inside the mountain, with a small black church resting in the center. Though she notes the black stone is quite cracked in many places, even visible from this far. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. According to the man, this was some abandoned church which he''d found out during an encounter at the tavern. Though when he said they were going to an abandoned church, she did not imagine it was on top of a mountain in a level sixty zone, way over her head. Bastard didn''t break the news till they''d already traveled a week and a bit, and arrived at the foot of the mountain. The Roc slowly descends, lowering its head to let them off. Dropping to the ground, she rolls and takes out her bow, knocking and drawing in record time. ¡°Now now Tandra, no need for that¡± The man stands up, dusting his clothes and walking towards the Roc¡¯s face. ¡°Now then, our promise is to be kept, eat me¡± He looks back towards Tandra ¡°Oh, you might want to run inside before it decides to eat you t¡¯¡± Chuckling, he¡¯s cut off by the Roc as it chomps on his upper half. Lifting him in the air, Tandra can hear the screams of the man as the Roc chomps violently on the man, cracking a few bones audibly. She turns towards the temple, leaving her friend to his own crazy business and starts running. Hearing a loud gulp, she swerves her head, to see the Roc¡¯s tongue flicking out its mouth, as if licking its lips. Increasing her pace, she slams into the cracked stone door, jarring her arm and surprising her, since she thought the door would just break open since it looks so cracked. Pushing violently at the door, it creaks open and she slips in hearing a loud bang and screech as the Roc hits the temple with its talons. Delving slightly deeper, away from the angry screeching noises of the Roc, she almost bumps into a small figure in charred robes. ¡°Child, please do not run in the temple, for the brothers are sleeping¡± The voice is gravelly, like two rocks grinding against eachother, yet still peaceful. Jumping in shock at the figure, she quickly bows in apology. ¡°Who are you?¡± She raises an eyebrow, slightly alert but somehow calmed by his peaceful voice. The figure lowers its hood, showing its skin to be the same cracked black stone that the temple is made from. ¡°Brother Tesurc. Now please wait here while I go quieten our very noise guest¡± ¡­ ¡°Fourty one¡± Fadrim¡¯s eyes gleam expectantly towards the heavily sweating Ankorr, who hold a knife, crusted in both fresh blood and old blood. Clenching his teeth, almost cracking them, he forces ¡®It¡¯ to remain back and places the knife on the blood soaked skin of Fadrim. Slowly, he slices down, letting fresh blood bubble out from the new wound and apply a new layer of blood to the already sticky body. ¡°Fourty two, now you¡¯re free to go¡± He chuckles, increasing it to a laughter when Ankorr madly rushes for the water, slamming into it with a loud slap. Forcefully drowning himself in the water, he can let his tension leave him quickly, but still he retains some, to make sure ¡®It¡¯ doesn¡¯t release itself and claw itself from the water. A few minutes later, he resurfaces, to find a dead Fadrim on his knees, disappearing in a pillar of light. A short while later, more late than usual, Fadrim returns; sweaty from sprinting his way here. ¡°Well done, seems like we have progress¡± He claps and collapses to the floor to recover his breath. He is a mage, so sprinting long distances is not his strength. For the past two weeks, Ankorr had been slowly cutting Fadrim, controlling ¡®It¡¯ as best as he could. He failed quite often in the first few days, but soon got better, since he got used to the close proximity with the blood, with the feeling of it spurting out with the knife. The most he was able to cut in the past two weeks was fourty two times, but that alone stood for around half an hour in close proximity with Fadrim¡¯s blood. He still thinks Fadrim is mad, but this is helping him like never before, or in the case of Fadrim. He doesn¡¯t know what the case is for other people. ¡°Now¡± Fadrim says from the floor ¡°How would you like a field test?¡± Ankorr stops daydreaming and looks towards Fadrim, only noticing the sound of metal chinking in the distance. ¡°What did you do?¡± He looks towards Fadrim, scared he might have to kill more people. He may have killed people, but it¡¯s still not something he enjoys, rather he detests it violently. ¡°I¡­might¡¯ve fooled a young party of adventurers to come explore the cave¡­¡± He chuckles lightly. ¡°You absolute b-¡± ¡°Ah hello there¡± A deep male voice calls from afar, mildly scared but somewhat trusting. He looks up from Fadrim to see a small group of four adventurers; all warriors by the look if it, walk into the room. ¡°AH¡± one of the group, a burly man with a black tattoo of a rat across his pale face, points towards Fadrim, who is acting dead. ¡°What¡¯s happened to him?¡± The supposed leader steps up, supposed since his armor is the best, albeit only studded leather. ¡°My friend just collapsed from the running, he¡¯s too excitable sometimes¡± Ankorr swears he can see Fadrim still a smirk at his lie. ¡°Friend? Sorry for being a bit on edge, just a bit strange to find a couple of other adventurers out here, much less newbies like you¡± The leader shakes his head, probably empty of brains. The group make their way towards them, checking Fadrim¡¯s alive by giving him a light slap on the cheeks. ¡®Waking¡¯ up, Fadrim gives them all a quick hello before standing up excitedly. ¡°Hi, yeah as I was saying, we needed a bit of help in the boss room next door¡± He points to the large rock Ankorr usually sits on. ¡°That¡¯s the boss room?¡± One of the group, a darker skinned man with spiky blonde hair looks unconvinced. ¡°It¡¯s sealed magically; some blood will do the trick, though apparently neither of ours is the right type¡± Fadrim shrugs despondedly. The leader nods towards Fadrim before taking a knife out and going to the rock. Slicing lightly into his hand, he places it on the rock, letting it snake down to the floor. Ankorr looks away quickly, holding his knuckles till they go white. The scent of another person¡¯s blood after almost a month of just Fadrim¡¯s is extremely enticing. One of the group notice the strange behaviour, which Fadrim quickly intervenes in. ¡°He¡¯s just a little, well quite squeamish with blood¡± He chuckles. After a minute or so, nothing happens and the leader looks back confused and angry. ¡°Why is nothing happening?¡± ¡°Alas, seems like you might have the wrong blood. Maybe one of the others could try?¡± Fadrim shakes his head solemnly. Another goes up to cut his hand on the rock, the one with a rat tattoo. Fadrim stops him and whispers in his ear, to which he glances at Ankorr and nods gruffly. Ankorr doesn¡¯t know where Fadrim found these people, but to find such trusting men, either they¡¯re way too dumb for their own good, or way too trusting for their own good, especially with their looks, but then again looks aren¡¯t everything, he knows that well. This time, the wave of voracious hunger clawing at him to escape is even greater than before, enough to make him drop to the ground, holding it as drool drips down his mouth and he breaths raggedly, almost growling hungrily. ¡°You alright man?¡± The leader leans down, touching Ankorr with a damp, bloody hand. He snaps. The men stand no chance, caught off guard and unprepared for a mad demon to gut their leader in an instant and behead another immediately after. He notices Fadrim bleed deeply from a self-inflicted gash on his chest, and ignores him, going for the man with the rat tattoo, ripping through his spine. The last member, dies before they can take more than two steps and Ankorr feasts on their blood, tears of his own forming as he tries vehemently to stop, but this meal is delicious, like a flood of water after having nothing but salt. Slowly, his body becomes his own and he sees Fadrim watching over him with an ear to ear grin, his own blood pooled around him, but only from a self-inflicted wound. ¡°Seems like this field trip was¡­quite the success wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: ................Well, seems like i had maybe a few hours of free time which i''ve used to write this :D Because i have no other life right now...T_T Anyways, hope you enjoying it and please land a nice comment! Also i''ve gotten 7 more followers in the past few days, totally awesome! I solemnly try to swear, no more chapters for the next two weeks (this isn''t working well T_T) -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 36- Another Priestly Conversation The loud screeching from the Roc quickly dies out, replaced by a thick, squidgy thudding sound. Those sounds too die out after a short while and in returns Brother Tesurc, his black robes covered in fresh blood, as well as his body. Gripping her hands so as to not shake like a leaf, she greets him as he walks back, an innocent smile apparent on his face. Seems like I¡¯ve found someone slightly more psycho than my friend¡­possibly. As if on cue, her friend walks in, churning her stomach quite violently: His body is still sizzling with acid, or what remains of it. Also he¡¯s dragging himself due to his mashed up legs, giving off quite the horror feel and immediately placing the man as highest on the insane list. But what really made the vomit blast out of her, was the fact that he was grinning like a kid as he dragged his bare ribs over the floor, lungs sliding along, leaving a long bloody trail. She recovers after a short while, with the help of a rocky hand holding her steady as she polishes the floor with the Roc egg from this morning. ¡°Ah Tandra, damn Roc¡¯s stomachs are pretty nasty, all those half-digested worms and well medium sized animals in their guts aren¡¯t the nicest companions to be digested with¡± He chuckles lightly to her dismay. ¡°Another child of the flesh¡­from where did you come?¡± Tesurc finally notices the man, who¡¯s spent a short while dragging some loose intestines through the doorway. His rumbling voice is slightly alarmed. ¡°I am a simple priest, Brother¡± He gestures a bow with his hand. ¡°Ah a fellow brother, let us get you cleaned up then¡± All alarm in his voice disappears and he immediately trundles towards him, aiding the man inside. While he¡¯s being helped, Tandra has a look around: It is a small church with a few stone statues along the edges of the walls. In the center are multiple rows of black stone pews and an altar with a large, misshapen figure in the background. Tesurc carries most of him to a nearby pew and with a quick inspection of the man, he shakes his head. ¡°There is little that I can do Brother¡± He sounds sad, even though the two do not know eachother in the slightest. ¡°Well what can you do?¡± He raises the surviving eyebrow. ¡°I can give you mercy¡± ¡°DAMN! Thought I¡¯d be able to learn some healing magic. Anyways, I¡¯ll be fine¡± The sudden shout makes Tesurc double back, his shock increasing every word the man says. ¡°Fine?¡± His eyes roam at less than half body of the man, looking very uncertain. ¡°Yea, don¡¯t bother yourself about it¡± He waves Tesurc away. ¡°So could you tell me which god you worship?¡± He immediately plunges into conversation, not allowing Tesurc to worry. ¡°It is not a surprise you do not know of Aval, Lord of the Firemountains. Father of Golems and Son of the Earth¡± He turns and bows towards the large stone statue, which looks almost liquid upon closer inspection. ¡°That is not a name I have heard before, what dimension does he call his own?¡± Tesurc looks as surprised as a rock face could get when the man mentions dimensions. ¡°I would not have expected a child of the flesh to know of such things¡± The man gives a quick bark of laughter ¡°This brother has had a more ¡®demonic¡¯ presence teach him¡± Tesurc nods. ¡°Aval is lord of the thirty second dimension, Embaral¡± The man nods, taking in the information, while recollecting his intestines in the process. ¡°So Brother, who taught you of this?¡± Tesurc asks interested. ¡°Aethelx¡± The name sent a stone jaw crashing to the floor, while the man laughed, wheezingly. Tandra walks over to them, interested by the conversation. ¡®Who¡¯s Aethelx?¡± She asks naively. Tesurc motions for her to sit, still trying to recover his jaw, which literally fell off in shock. While he¡¯s restoring his jaw, the man turns towards her, to which she looks away at the gruesome sight of his lungs squeezing through his ribs whenever he breathes. ¡°Aethelx is some god I met a short while back, he taught me a couple of useful things, like the fact that each god has a dimension¡± She was lost at the fact that Aethelx was a god¡­that the man had met and now was just casually mentioning his name. Certainly she expected something strange and got what she was looking for. ¡°So who rules this dimension?¡± She asks, head cocked towards the two of them. Tesurc answers first ¡°Leo, but they do not rule it, rather they are it¡± Tandra looks just as confused as when she first asked. ¡°So the name of this world is Leo?¡± The man asks to a slightly confused golem, as one should know the name of the world they are living in. ¡°Yes, but perhaps you children of the flesh call it by another name¡± ¡°Nah, never really asked what the world was called, my bad¡± He chuckles before continuing ¡°So, just before we continue on this religious talk, are we on top of a dormant volcano?¡± Tandra gives him a startled look, emphasizing it when Tesurc nods. ¡°It is a sacred place for all us followers of Aval¡± ¡°But it¡¯s dormant, does that not mean Aval has no influence here?¡± Tesurc shakes his head ¡°It is dormant because he has influence here¡± The man raises an eyebrow, implicitly asking for more. Tesurc stomps over to the altar, standing preacher-like, looking down at them. ¡°A few centuries ago, when blood ran rivers among the roots of this mountain, this church stood bathed in the holy lava of our god. For years we watched the volcano, tending to its needs; feeding it, caressing it, telling it stories to help it res-¡± ¡°You lost me at feeding the volcano¡± Tandra butts in, getting three evil eyes at her. ¡°A volcano is not a dead ball of lava as your gods would let you think. It is a child of Aval, given to us to be raised, and cared for until they mature and die¡± ¡°Not much of a life is it?¡± She stares back Tesurc, not caring for his slightly annoyed glare. ¡°They are created to protect, to wipe away all from the land to give others a clean slate to begin on once more. They live for thousands of years and when they die, they do so happily, content they have done their duty protecting the land¡± She just nods, mildly understanding. ¡°As I was saying. We helped the volcano grow under our careful eyes, watching it while staying away from all the bloodshed. We didn¡¯t care about the war below us for it was just that, our duty was to this volcano and it alone. We failed that duty, we let it go out of control and kill thousands, millions of beings. And so Aval sent this child to sleep and we vowed to protect its sleep forevermore¡± Both of them nod solemnly at the vastly ambiguous tale. ¡°So, a few questions¡± The man puts three fingers up. ¡°First, you said we?¡± Tesurc points towards the statues on the sides of the walls. ¡°We take turns being the guardian, since without our god¡¯s direct presence, one can feel lost. Allowing us to reconnect with the earth keeps us grounded, sane¡± ¡°Nice to know, so second question. How did it go out of control?¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°A woman¡± He looks bitterly towards the floor. Tandra makes eye contact with the man and they both look a little confused. ¡°Day after day, month after month, she jumped into the volcano, swimming inside him. Her laughter and swimming drove it mad. Volcanos are not meant to feel a living thing swim and laugh inside them, that feeling, so foreign to them would certainly drive them mad. One day, it just decided to run away, to try escape the woman before she could dive into him once again¡± Tandra raised many an eyebrow, the man went from a heavy snigger to full blown laughter at the tale, sending all four eyes on him. ¡°HA HA HA HA Ha, ooh, man. Well that answered my third question¡± He sends a slow round of applause to the sky. Tandra assumes he¡¯s insane, but Tesurc slams the table, looking quite furious. ¡°How dare you laugh off millions of deaths?. How dare you. You¡¯re just like that woman, Aegi¡± He spits gravel on the floor. ¡°Yeah, kind of comes with the whole being their disciple biz¡± He shrugs non-commitally, much to the shock of Tesurc. ¡°You¡¯re a disciple of that madwoman?¡± His eyes flash psychotically red. ¡°The only one apparently and seriously why does no one like her?¡± He looks up ¡°Seriously, are you just unable to make friends?¡± The man doesn''t seem to notice, or doesn''t seem to care. Tesurc growls ¡°I don¡¯t know about other gods, but she is no friend of Aval¡± He huffs for a few seconds before calming his red eyes to their usual dull black selves. ¡°Please leave this place, as a Brother I will not hurt you, but remain and I will not promise anything¡± He smiles, innocently, letting what Tandra suspects is the more psychotic side of Tesurc come out. ¡°A true Brother¡± The man nods his head respectfully ¡°I will depart at once, since what I am looking for is not here anyways¡± He stands up, lower body fully functional, much to Tesurc¡¯s shock. He begins for the doorway, before spinning round with a half-digested finger raised ¡°A quick question before we go, I am looking to find entrance to Kravulkor¡¯s dimension, would you know how to find it?¡± ¡°Kravulkor, a name I have not heard in a long time¡± Tesurc mulls over the name ¡°The only thing I know and can tell you as a fellow brother, is that the doors to one¡¯s dimensions is through their heart¡± Bowing his thanks, the man leaves with a slightly confused Tandra behind. ¡°What did he mean?¡± She whispers in his ear as they leave the church, before recoiling at the sight of a Roc with its head bashed violently. ¡°No idea, but then again, I¡¯ve gotten a little bit of good info from here¡± ¡°What?¡± She looks at him confused, for all she knows he¡¯s just gotten a bit of information about Aval and some things that happened here. ¡°Well¡± He points over to the far distance, where what looks like a swamp resides ¡°That is where we¡¯re going next¡± ¡®Why?¡± She narrows her eyes, quite unsure of his insane thought process. ¡°Simple, Aval¡¯s followers are on a volcano so Kravulkor¡¯s will be where the undead are¡± ¡°So swamps¡± She shudders at the thought of trudging through sludgy mud and meeting moving body bodies. ¡°Yep, so let¡¯s get our kawabunga on!¡± He grins wildly. She barely has to ask what he means when he charges off the edge of the volcano screaming joyfully towards his death. "Kawabungaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" ¡°I¡¯m so going to kill him when he catches up¡± Gritting her teeth, she begins a climb down. ¡­ *Pant pant* ¡°Whoo, been a while since I¡¯ve speed climbed a mountain. Can¡¯t believe it took me a whole day and a half. Was a bit weird seeing those two kids climbing, wonder if they¡¯ll ever make it up?¡± Ex-Guard Captain Cannith wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead with his bulging, burning muscles. He wonders about the strange duo he met yesterday in the midst of his climb. They seemed a bit odd for some reason he couldn¡¯t quite figure out, but then again he was the one who was leaping up multiple rocks at a time. Shaking the thought out his mind, he makes his way towards the black, cracked stone church, grimacing at the sight of a headless Roc, possibly the one he saw flying down below, looking pissed, a little while ago. Tearing the door open, he strolls through to see a single black stone golem in an ash robe, sweeping fresh intestines from the floor. ¡°Priest, tell me, what god does this church belong to?¡± He asks while his hands slide across the smooth stone walls. ¡°Aval, child of the flesh, what is your purpose here?¡± Tesurc responds politely, staring and stopping his work. ¡°Damn, well cross that off my list¡± He takes out a small note of papyrus and an inkpot, crosses something out then returns it to his small pouch on his bum. ¡°Now then, let¡¯s get killing¡± Before Tesurc can properly respond, Cannith rips out one of his dormant brothers, chucking it towards him. He takes the impact, saving his brother in the process, but falling to the floor. Bashing on the floor three times in quick succession, they eyes of all his fellow priests open. But it¡¯s too late for him as Cannith stomps his brother¡¯s face in, foot smashing through his too. Cannith turns around after removing his foot from the two dead golems, chuckling at the two dozens of slowly waking up golems, all with psychotic red eyes and innocent looking smiles accompanying them. ¡°Ah, golems, god I''ve missed seeing their psychotic side.¡± He cracks his knuckles ¡°five minutes or I do a thousand laps around this godforsaken place¡± While he rushed in, laughing happily as he bashed golems to pieces, left right and center, he misses the man poking his newly revived face inside, whispering ¡°well shit he¡¯s strong¡± before running off, to properly climb down this time. Four minutes, fifty two seconds pass. ¡°Ahhhh, so much easier when they don¡¯t use weapons¡± He cracks his neck as he stomps over the dead pieces, leaning on his right leg slightly due to being kicked a few times on his left, and these golems hit pretty hard. Smashing a few walls in, he quickly escapes before the place collapses on itself. He takes out his notepad. ¡°Hmm, I could go to some nasty ass swamp to find some decrepit old temple in hopes of finding some clues or¡­I could follow up on some strangely familiar rumours I heard back in town¡± He ponders to himself for a few moments, wondering where he should head off next. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author''s Corner: ...Yes, yes i know what i said...Buuuut i did an exam today and well brain was just not going to revise today sooo...This happened :D Hope you enjoyed it and, oml CANNITH! Btw, if you don''t remember who he is, look back like 27 chapters or smthg...it''s been a while but he''s baaaack. Hope you enjoyed it (although it was pretty chill, maybe could''ve added a lot more cannith murdering action, but then again, more to look forward too :D) Anyways, i''ma go off now and I promise, no more till after tuesday!! (since basically my life is going to be hell for 6 days so Kawabungaaaaaaaa!! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 37- Swamping Around ¡°Eugh I hate swamps¡± Tandra whispers a complaint as her foot squelches deep into the bog, shlopping as she steps forward. ¡°They do say mud is perfect for your skin¡± The man whispers back, flinging a handful of mud towards her. It mashes onto the side of her head, clinging to her greasy golden hair. Biting back the scream of anger that wells up inside her, she just looks at him, imagining herself ripping out his jaw so he can¡¯t grin like he¡¯s doing right now. Though she knows she can¡¯t draw blood, not yet at least. Travelling through the swamp in the past week, they had learnt a deal of ¡®rules¡¯ on how to not die in it. First and foremost, they had to avoid the more boggy parts in case of quickmud or giant mud-snakes, which were no fun to encounter. Secondly, noise was a no go since it attracted monsters, and everything in this swamp seemed to be around level fifty. That was double her level, a scary fact indeed. Blood also attracted monsters, usually the more undead type. They learnt of this quite early on with a few undead attacks, but there was little they could do about the attacks, except outrun them. ¡°Uuuuuuuurh¡± A soft moan comes from behind, quickly accompanied by a small horde of moaning and groaning sounds. ¡°Shit, we better hurry up Tandra¡± He starts slogging through the mud faster. At least today the horde of zombies that are following them are only a few dozen strong. ¡°Really, how long are these guys going to follow us?¡± She exasperates before picking up the pace. ¡°Maybe for a few more hours?¡± He shrugs and continues on, ignoring the groaning zombies behind. They trudge along with the accompanying sounds, eyes roaming the horizon in search of something that isn¡¯t just swamp. They had spent a week travelling to the swamp, and another travelling through. Yet they had found nothing. The only highlight from those past two weeks was seeing that brutally buff veteran dropping down the cliff, around a story a drop. He had said hi but seemed to be too busy to idly chat. Apart from that, their life has been one foot in front of the other with no real destination to go. She had no idea where they were going, or what they were looking for in reality, but all she had to do is look at him to believe he¡¯s got some idea. The man is insane, but he¡¯s proven to be pretty trustworthy so far, so she does. They walk for another few hours, slowly leaving the zombies in the distance as well as the waning sun. However before it disappears under the earth once more, it¡¯s beams of light bounce off a pile of grey rubble, illuminating a stone scythe, with strange lines jutting out from it, and bits of a circle, in the shape of a hand. Curious at so what the rubble is, she points it over to the man, who has already noticed it and is already heading towards it. Following him, they quickly reach the rubble and find it to be on solid ground. ¡°A church¡± The man says with a voice filled with pity. She raises an eyebrow, wondering as to how the man knows what the rubble is. Walking up to it, she begins stalking around, trying to search for any clues of it¡¯s demise. ¡°What happened here?¡± ¡°I have a feeling¡­it was that man¡± She raises her eyebrows in confusion ¡°The old guy with the rippling muscles?¡± ¡°Yes¡­remember how I told you he murdered all the priests of Aval?¡± Nodding, she keeps searching. The man however, begins moving some stones away, prying at what¡¯s buried under. She starts to help. Within an hour, all they found was bone dust, a few robed skeletons smashed to smithereens and a thick red tome with black pulsating lines, sealed in a smashed stone case. The man had become immediately interested in the tome, staring at the unintelligible words on its front cover while sitting underneath the stone scythe. Tandra however, spent a short while longer looking under rocks before giving up, tired. ¡°Are you going to stare at it forever?¡± She asks him to which he responds with a sigh and a shake of his head. ¡°No, I¡¯d rather read it but doesn¡¯t seem like I know the language yet¡± Sighing deeply, he despawns it into his inventory, or tries to at least. The tome spawns back into the world, dropping on his lap, much to the surprise of both of them. ¡°Huh, that¡¯s new¡± They both exclaim in mild wonder. Trying again, the same happens, so he shrugs his shoulders and hoists it under his arm. ¡°Guess it¡¯ll drop if I die then?¡± Tandra shrugs, but suspects the same. ¡°So what now then?¡± She looks around, lost as to what their next course of action is. ¡°Good question¡­give me a minute¡± He muses, stroking his ever shaven jaw. He paces around for a few minutes, while she pulls her bow a bit, the sound of clacking bones sending tranquility into her. It was strange how used to the bow she had grown, but then again once she got past the fact that it was made out of human parts, it¡¯s a fantastic thing¡­powerful too. ¡°Aha!¡± His sudden shout makes her jump, releasing the bow with a powerful snap. Motherly, she hugs and strokes the bow, whispering sorry at dry-firing it, before looking at the grinning man with slight anger. ¡°I¡¯ve found a way!¡± He exclaims happily, bounding towards her and stealing the knife from her belt. She doesn¡¯t even bother to ask as her dreading suspects become real. The blood gushes from his throat and he chucks the tome towards her with a bloody grin. She expected it, since most of his ideas end up in his death for some strange, insane reason... Grabbing the tome, she calmly watches the man stab himself in the heart and then through the eye before he collapses dead, upon the knife, having it protrude out the back of his head. ¡°Fanfuckingtastic, now what?¡± She kicks his dead corpse, wondering just how he was going to contact her and why the hell he killed himself. ¡°IIIIIIIII¡¯MMM BBBAAAAAAAAAAACCCCKKK BBBAAAAAABBBYYYYY¡± A cacophonic voice echoes through the swamp, arriving from the north and most assuredly being the man¡¯s voice. Slapping herself hard on the forehead, she starts moving as fast as she can towards the man¡¯s location, feeling like he¡¯s just aggro¡¯d everything in a few miles. Funnily enough, it doesn¡¯t seem like it, as after successfully dodging a few groups of zombies and following the cacophonic noise on seemingly endless commentary on how beautiful the world is, she arrives at a swampy graveyard, only noticeable by the multitude of half-sunk gravestones surrounded by a swamped fence. The man stands at foot-height gates, stopping his shouting when he sees Tandra. ¡°Hey, you made it¡± He waves and bounds towards her, grabbing the tome and giving her back her knife. ¡°Really, do you want to agro everything within two miles?¡± She jabs him on the chest, to which he just shrugs. ¡°I was just trying something out. Seems like the undead don¡¯t care what I do!¡± He chuckles and yells as loud as he can into the open air, before getting a chopping hand in the neck. While he gasps for air, she glances around to check for enemies, finding none. ¡°Ok¡± she swivels round towards his voice, aiming another hand ¡°BEFORE you keep doing that, how about I tell you why I killed myself¡± Her hand drops back down to her side. ¡°Well you see, I¡¯ve had two weeks to think about what Tesurc said. And I think I may have a little lead on something¡± ¡°What?¡± She raises an eyebrow, taking the bait. ¡°Maybe a portal or something, not quite sure yet, but there¡¯s one way to find out¡± He grins and points towards the graves with a spade he¡¯s somehow obtained. ¡­ .. . ¡°And you call yourself a priest¡­shame on you¡± She shakes her head, but still takes the spade and begins digging, the curiosity taking over. ¡°It¡¯s just bones¡± He shrugs non-committaly ¡°plus they¡¯re worshippers of the enemy¡± He joins in by digging with his hands, animalisticly and barking, making himself laugh as he works. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. The graveyard itself is only wide enough for a few thousand graves. And since most are sunk underneath the bog, it takes quite a while and effort to dig deeply into it, deep enough to find a corpse. Hours pass with them digging up graves, finding nothing but dirt in each grave. Slowly she became more and more curious as to how there were no corpses, but then the memory of the necromancer reminded her. ¡°The high priest was probably a necromancer¡± He states as they dig, sending waves of delight at her correct thinking, though the idea of a necromancer being a high priest wasn¡¯t a nice thought. For hours upon hours they dig. Till the sun rises and begins to dip once more. To her it felt almost as bad as when they were in the caves, but at least the man is helping this time. Slowly, they move through all the graves, smashing the gravestone after checking what¡¯s beneath so as to mark their progress. She had thought it a tad bit heartless at the beginning, but when she ended up digging the same grave three times for over an hour; she convinced herself it was ok, that the corpses wouldn¡¯t mind the desecration. She was kind of worried how she had more sympathy for the dead than the actual priest. When the moon rises high, they take a long break, drenched with sweat and sore from all the digging. Although all they¡¯ve dug is barely a hundred graves. Sitting down in the sludgy mud, Tandra leans against a grave tired and wanting to sleep. The man plops down beside her. ¡°Damn this is going to take forever¡± He exclaims with a tired sigh. ¡°Well if we keep digging every grave then yeah¡± She yawns, stretching her arms in sync. ¡°Hmm, maybe dig the one in the center?¡± He questions, wondering if that would produce anything. She looks at him as if he¡¯s stupid. ¡°What? I was thinking that the more important graves are in the middle of the graveyard right?¡± ¡°They¡¯re usually in the nicer side of the graveyard¡± She replies with a hint of sadness, remembering she¡¯s got to visit soon. ¡°DO you see any nice side?¡± He sweeps his hand across the land, gesturing towards the monotonic swamp graveyard. ¡°Fair point¡­guess we¡¯ll go with your way then¡± She stands up groggily, wiling her body to work since she¡¯d rather get this over and done with now then sleep in sludgy mud. The quickly locate what the center of the graveyard would be and begin digging the graves there. Soon enough, two digs reveal something. In one grave, lies a rotting skeleton, while in the other, a small urn, which when they opened turned out to be white, luminescent ash. ¡°Oh my lord its ghost dust!¡± He squeals happily and chucks the remains of a ghost around, watching it brightly twinkle as it floats in the sky carried by the wind. Until now, they had only found zombie corpses within their graves, so to find two different things was quite strange. After the man had finished desecrating the ghost¡¯s remains, he told Tandra which grave to dig. Digging it, revealed the usual zombie corpse, much to her surprise. They spend another few hours digging dozens of graves, revealing ghost remains, which the man stole into his inventory, skeletons and zombies. As they dug, the man marked the divide between the different types of corpses using their gravestones. Then, he created a circle of gravestones between the different corpse types, where no graves were put, which was a small area, enough to fit maybe four graves. When this was complete, there was a small area untouched by both graves and them, inside the circle of gravestones. ¡°Seems like we¡¯ve found something!¡± He jumps up excitedly, while Tandra does not. She doesn¡¯t really get why he thinks making a circle over an empty patch means anything, much less making one based on the divide between the corpse types. However she is proved wrong as he digs through, quickly revealing a deep hole falling straight down. His eyes flash adventurously and he looks towards her with his cheeky grin of his. ¡°Not aga-¡± ¡°KAWABUNGAAAAAAAAAAA-¡± His voice cuts short, not to her surprise. But what does surprise her is the fact that she didn¡¯t hear the cracking of bones¡­or anything in fact. ¡°I fucking hate it when he doesn¡¯t just chill for a second and plan things out¡± She grumbles to herself before storming towards the hole, closing her eyes and jumping into the darkness below. Suddenly her body plunges into something thick, something viscous that engulfed her calmly like a foamy bed. But soon it entraps her, constricts her body, throbbing with life as it pushes against her tightly sealed lips. She tries to move, but her body responds poorly, as if she were in custard and going in slow motion. It burns, like acid, like fire, like someone squeezing their finger into a fresh wound, but all over her body. The pain quickly overwhelms her, forcing a silent scream from her mouth and the gelatinous air to jam itself down her throat, blacking her out from consciousness. The last thought before whatever this was consumed her, was thinking of how to murder him best. ¡­ ¡°Eeeuugh that was horrible. At least I survived this portal it seems¡± The man shivers at the memory of the burning as it had torn him inside out, when he last travelled through a portal. Though somehow he had survived it this time, albeit the experience was quite different this time: His body was engulfed like before, but instead of burning him, it just sort of resisted him as he moved, stretching as he clawed his way through and out of the portal. Extremely mild compared to his first experience of being actively digested from both inside and out. Although, there was the sound of ripping of skin when he¡¯d escaped. Looking down at his hands, he sees the pink flesh beneath, with no skin in sight. Eyes travelling up his arm and chest, he sees the same has happened there too, although the tome seems unharmed, rather its black veins pulsate almost erratically. ¡°Huh, lucky I¡¯m kind of use to this¡± He chuckles lightly, looking away from his raw pink body ¡°Now, where the hell am I?¡± ¡­ Cannith growled as he ripped through a pack of zombies, making sure none of their festering teeth or claws get close to his bare skin. He once had an experience with death-rot, and he never wanted to experience it again. ¡°Bloody hell, how many of the fuckers are around here?¡± He punches one in rusty armor, his fist bursting through. ¡°Agh, bloody hate rusty metal¡±. Sucking the blood off his scratched knuckles, he continues to bound through the swamp, his powerful leg blasting mud into the air. Taking out his tiny notepad mid-stride, he grumbles darkly. ¡°Well that goddamned church was a bust too... and now I¡¯m down to one lead. Fourteen churches¡­fourteen bloody churches, eight dark dealers, seven bloody months and not a single fucking clue¡­¡± He grabs a nearby lumbering zombie by the neck, cracking it angrily and tossing it without breaking stride. ¡°Dammit where is my Lieutenant when I need him¡­I have no fucking idea what I¡¯m doing anymore. Aaaaaaargh!!!¡± -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Wooh got a chapter done....even though i realllly should be revising, but then again I really couldn''t be bothered today...Anyway, ignoring me failing to keep my promise to not write any chapters...here it is! Warning, the end of this arc is coming pretty quick! I guess this arc was pretty chill, with mostly introductions to characters. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter and hope you keep on reading! Please comment and reviewwww!!! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 38-Preparations ¡°six seven eight nine fifty one two three four five six seven eight nine sixty o-¡± ¡°Hey Ankorr, time for food¡± Fadrim whispers crosslegged from atop Ankorr as he continues his one handed press ups, only responding by turning his head to the side, mouth open and waiting. Taking deep, calm breaths, Fadrim slowly draws mana from his mana fountain, mentally nitpicking through all the impurities he can sense in his mana. Drawing an okayish purity, he sends it into his bloodstream, feeling it lightly singe its way around his body, till it reaches his heart. Entering the Aorta, his mana continues down till it passes his arm and then solidifies under his will. At this point, he forces himself to breathe erratically, willing terrifying memories upon himself, rising his heart beat till the sound drummed violently in his ears. The pressure build up immediately brings along the feeling of his left arm bursting, but he holds concentration, letting blood flow into his arm, pushing against the walls of his arteries. With a scream, he lets loose some feeling of the pressure and holds his mana, keeping it thick and forcing its presence to stay, blocking up his arteries. His screams intensify when finally his capillaries in his arm burst causing blood to gush through his arm. Immediately, all concentration is lost in white as he falls off Ankorr, smacking into the ground and clutching his arm which looks normal from the outside, but is immersed in blood on the inside. Letting the white pain die down a small amount, he moves to a seated position trying not to pass out due to the painful pressure in his arm. Grabbing his knife, he slices off his finger, wailing as blood explodes out his hand like the opening of a damn. Using his other arm, he places his cut finger in Ankorr¡¯s mouth, letting the pressure die down as blood gushes out. Ankorr gargles the massive amount of blood, gulping without stop at the feast. Raising himself to standing, Fadrim lets gravity do the work. Though he quickly falls back to his knees as blood keeps gushing out from the small finger hole, since he had burst an opening to the Aorta, so blood just kept coming. Until it ran out¡­then he died from bleeding out, the damage draining him of life in under a minute. Ankorr, although decently shocked Fadrim just killed himself, regarded it as quite normal for Fadrim. It had been a month since Fadrim had foced that field test on him, a month since they had started this strange routine. Without rest, he would exercise, doing all kinds of things from squats to handstand pushups, never stopping. A normal person would stop due to the pain of burning muscles, but Ankorr did not feel any pain, just a numbness he could ignore. A normal person would stop due to the exhaustion from having a constantly high heart rate, especially through day long sprints, but Ankorr did not feel exhaustion or fatigue. A normal person would simply be unable to use their muscles as this routine would destroy them, but blood restored Ankorr, fueling him forevermore. Ankorr was kind of grateful for not being normal in this situation for once, as it has allowed him to spend an entire month exercising, ripping and tearing his muscles before regrowing them stronger in a constant brutal cycle. Honestly, he was feeling slightly bored with the routine and had to constantly ramp it up to keep him from utter boredom. While he was doing this, Fadarim had sat by him or on him, cutting Ankorr before bleeding onto him, observing the results and taking notes scientifically. Every half hour, Fadrim would provide a large amount of blood by slitting a wrist, but made sure he wouldn¡¯t die. It was only since two weeks ago that he had stopped the cutting and began fully meditating or that was what it looked like to Ankorr. He suspected, but Ankorr did not know that Fadrim had spent the last two weeks trying to gather mana, purify it and send it into his bloodstream. The first time Fadrim succeeded in doing all that was this time, where he died. While Ankorr moved to one hand handstand pushups on fingertips, Fadrim returned, his face a mixture of sweet and sour. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Or right?¡± Ankorr asks confused at the strange facial expression. He thought fadrim would be happy that he succeeded in manipulating blood, or so Ankorr thought. Little did he know that Fadrim did not use blood magic. ¡°I used magic¡­¡± He says wistfully. Ankorr jumps in the air, giving a clap before landing on one hand fingertips and continuing. ¡°But the wrong kind¡± He continues, stroking his shaven chin musingly. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that blood magic?¡± Ankorr cocks his head, looking confused. ¡°No¡­I¡¯m not quite sure what I did¡± Shaking his head, he plops down crosslegged and closes his eyes in meditation once more. Ankorr shrugged and continued his workout, watching the still Fadrim mumble quietly to himself. Fadrim did the same with his mana as before, but split it into two and left it flowing in the capillaries in his left arm. With a burst of will, he makes two thin cylindrical shapes, fitting tightly in the capillary and a distance from eachother. Manipulating them, he has them rush towards eachother, increasing the pressure and bursting a capillary with a painful pinch. Letting the mana dissipate, he looks towards his arm and where a new bruise is forming. He grins with one side of his mouth, while the other droops sadly. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. His little experiment showed him three very important things. The first was that he was using force magic, due to his mana having an effect on his bloodstream without the mana being tangible. If it were a natural element, he would have felt the fire or the air. Light would not have that effect and although Dark could the element did not feel dark. Rather, he knew it was force more because the element he could garnish from his mana was ethereal, as if it were just pure mana. Rather, it was just pure mana. It made him realize that actually force magic is just pure mana, condensed and manipulated. That led to his second and more negative realization: any magic user could do it; rather it was so easy to understand if word got out how to do it, Force would be one of the most common types of element used. All those books told him the wonders of force magic, but the truth sucked; he had gained the attribute of the commonest and probably crappiest mana possible since all magic users can use pure mana, he just specializes in only that. Sure enough, when he looked on his character sheet, his attribute was set to Force. This led to his third and rather sucking realization: he was unable to learn blood magic, at least till level one hundred; ninety nine levels away. At least he was able to gain the attribute since he had successfully reached level fifteen before Ankorr had killed him back down to level one, but that meant that he had gotten the attribute and wasn¡¯t able to try get another before it was too late. ¡°Well that¡¯s shit¡± He spits on the ground and kicks a rock angrily, while Ankorr looks on, confused. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a Force mage¡± His lips turn sour as he states the cold truth. ¡°Like a sith?¡± Ankorr cocks his head as he goes into Chinese fullbody pushups. Fadrim rolls his eyes at the quite accurate distinction. ¡°Yes, but we¡¯re in a world where any that use magic can be one¡± ¡°¡­oh¡± The realization kicks in as Ankorr understands ¡°Well at least both of us got the shitty end of the stick¡± He chuckles darkly and continues his pushups. Fadrim nods, and begins the long grueling task of learning how to use his Force magic. ¡­ ¡°That son of Aegi¡± ¡°Moren? What¡¯s wrong?¡± Yisra pops out from the cathedral doors, holding the brush and a worried look on her face. Moren turns around with a smile on his face. ¡°I¡¯m missing out on an adventure, again¡± he looks towards the right, assuming the usual unamused position that has been his for the past month. Yisra raises an eyebrow, still oddend by the fact that he¡¯s spent the past month looking over to the right with no viable reason except for that fact that there¡¯s an ¡®adventure¡¯ he wants to go on. ¡®Then why don¡¯t you go and not miss out on it?¡± She plonks him lightly on the head with the broom, sitting down on the fourty second step as per usual. ¡°Two reasons. One, I¡¯ll die. Two¡­¡± He hesitates slightly, changing the thought in his mind ¡°Helia¡¯s told me to stay here¡± ¡°Really?¡± She looks up into the sky, believing of the goddess, yet not fully trusting Moren¡¯s word that she¡¯s watching him. ¡°Let the poor man have an adventure, jeez all he¡¯s done is sit here for seven months now. Even I''m getting sick of seeing him do nothing but relax on the steps all day¡± She waves a fist towards the air while Moren chuckles heartily. Moren hear more chuckling join in his own, directed towards Yisra too. After a short but thorough sweeping of the stairs, along with conversation about her studious life, Moren finally finishes sweeping and Yisra takes the brush, walking back inside. ¡°Ah Yisra¡± He calls out to her as she¡¯s about to slip through the open door. ¡°What is it?¡± She turns around with a cheery smile ¡°Good luck with the ceremony¡± ¡°Dude, it¡¯s a month away still, no need to wish me luck just yet¡± She sticks out her tongue with a jeer and skips inside chuckling. ¡°I said good luck because I might not see you then¡± He whispers to himself, shaking his head. Standing up, he begins walking down the stairs melancholicly, taking in all the sights he can. In truth, he had not been given an order by Helia to remain here; he remained because he was not prepared to leave yet, not this cathedral, not this life, not Yisra. But now that his friend has disappeared off once more, he needs to be prepared, to be strong enough to go looking for his friend and drag him back to become priests as they promised eachother. He reached the final step, took a deep calming breath and with a gleaming smile at finally getting closer to Helia, walked into the light. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: So short chapter today, just sort of finishing up like the half-arc waypoint or whatever you call it. Basically after this chapter it''ll be the same overrulling arc just in you know a different world following our MC and Tandra. So don''t expect much of anyone else for a short while! Apart from that, hope you enjoyed it so please comment and review Also I''M DONE WITH EXAMS WHOO! SO CHAPTERS MAY BE FLYING OUT QUITE A BIT! NOT THIS WEEKEND THOUGH BECAUSE RE-ENACTMENT STUFF HAPPENING, I''M ACTUALLY FIGHTING THIS TIME ROUND!!! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 39- A New Dimension Slowly, without sound, Tandra opened here eyes, or thought she did for she was met with nothing but engulfing darkness. Fear immediately gripped her heart as she lay perfectly still, trying to gain as much information as she could from her surroundings. She could not see anything but darkness, could not hear anything but her own breath and she could not feel anything but what she thinks is dry grass underneath her body. She decided she wasn¡¯t dead, since her body felt cold, causing goosebumps to rise and shiver. But she has no idea where she is, much less how she got here. The last thing she remembers is being burnt alive by a strange engulfing acidic substance, when she had jumped down that hole. She was sure she had died then and had expected to be revived in the nearest resurrection point. However she seems to have revived here: in darkness and on dry grass. Making a decision, she stands up slowly causing much noise as grass crackles under her movement. Opening her inventory, the screen doesn¡¯t appear, or so she thinks till she presses again and again in the air causing something to appear on her thigh, dragging her down slightly with a chink of wood. She can¡¯t see the inventory, but it¡¯s still there. Closing her eyes in thought, she tries to figure out where her bow may be. A few minutes of deep thought and a few more of pressing randomly in the air, she finally feels the tendon string press against her chest. Trying her best to grab whatever fell on the floor in front of her, she places them back in her inventory before closing it. Stringing her bow and knocking an arrow with practiced ease, she begins walking through the darkness. She may see nothing, but sure as hell she would be able to hear something if it moves, due to the grass. And whatever it may be that moves, in this darkness it¡¯s not likely to be friendly. Her soft leather boots crunch along the grass for the better part of five minutes, before she notices a sharp drop in temperature. It was cold before, not she could feel her blood retreating from her extremities, leaving chilled, unbending fingers in their wake. Stopping, she drops down onto one knee. Tearing her sleeve off and wrapping it around an arrow, she then tries to find her flint and steel from her inventory, luckily finding it within only a few tries. Violently shaking, teeth chattering, she strikes the flint and steel together, causing a small spark. Striking again, the spark catches onto some linen setting a tiny part alight. The welcoming light of the fire almost sends tears down her eyes and she strikes again. Now she can see the dim tips of her fingers and heartened by the slight burning, she strikes again After another two strikes, the linen properly catches fire, reaching the feathers and hungrily burning those too, sending flames spiraling up energetically. However the warmth does not combat this chill, almost unnatural in its being. The small blaze lights up a small radius around her and she notices a pair of hanging, grayish blue and transparent feet, floating an inch or two in the air. Within a single beat of her heart, her head swings up with the fire, revealing a human face with a languid jaw and rotting skin, all transparent. Before a scream can leave her mouth, the strange being enters it, sending a spiking cold into her heart, snuffing out the fire in the process. Another seems to enter her right shoulder, another in her left thigh. Within barely a second, her body seems frozen solid, invaded by a horde of these things wracking her with pain, almost ripping her apart with it. She feels a sudden force deep from within her, sending her flying into the air, dim grayish blue blobs flashing as she tumbles. Standing back up, she quickly sees darkness and whirls around to see a huge clump of these things surrounding¡­her¡­her body, but not her...? She is kneeling, mouth wide open in a scream, yet body unmoving and no sound escaping it. These things seem to enter her body, pushing others out, which silently tumble and return like a pack of ravished hyenas towards her. Before her mind can fully process what is going on, her body rips apart with a disgusting tear from the spine as it collapses on the grass in two. Her skin explodes into chunks and her bones break into dust. Within three seconds, her remains lie in a heap of ripped meat and bone dust, only her eyes remain intact, staring right towards herself. While watching this happen, Tandra wants to vomit, but can¡¯t, wants to scream, but cant. All she can do is stand there, shocked, still as stone as seeing herself die like that made her feel empty, languid with nothingness. Even when a sudden blinding blue light pops up in front of her, she does not flinch in the slightest. It blocks the view to her corpse and so she naturally lays eyes upon the screen, reading morosely through the lines over and over again. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Slowly, her mind begins to function once more only to be rattled to its core. The lines became words, and words became meaning. Meaning became fear, terror and dread. This blinding blue screen told her in a factual manner that she was now a Chthon; the embodiment of a living being, usually embedded in flesh and blood, but in her case she was free of all earthly restraints¡­a spirit of Khthon. Letting the fact sink in; the fact that she has no body anymore, she slowly walks back, or tries to. The screen seems to follow her, yet even when she closes it she notices she¡¯s not getting any further away from the remains of her corpse. Turning round, she runs without moving, cries without tears and screams without sound, trapped within a grayish blue ethereal body which is named a Chthon. ¡­ ¡°Hello there traveler, do you have coinage for the ferry?¡± Karon, a skeleton in a thick hooded black robe leans on his oar as he looks up and down at the seemingly human fellow. ¡°Coinage? Hrm I do have some gold but by the look if it, doesn¡¯t look like you need that sort of gold¡± The man muses with a gentle voice. Karon watches the man muse, musing himself as to how this human was able to make it here, since no human could pass through a portal and live. After a few seconds, the man takes the book from his side and begins to flip through the pages, muttering incoherently. Although Karon has no eyes, he still clearly spotted the name of his Master on the front cover. ¡°Traveler, come aboard¡± He bows towards the man, clearly showing his importance. The man just raises an eyebrow and makes suspicious face. ¡°Why am I suddenly allowed on?¡± He closes the book, tucking it back underneath his right arm. Karon points at the book ¡°You serve our Master¡± ¡°Huh¡± The man shrugs his shoulders and boards the rickety old two man boat, sitting on the rotting yet still strong wood. Karon begins pushing the air with his oar, sending them slowly moving through the black sky and away from the long row of torches that were lined down the stairs. The man did bring a torch on board in good hindsight, allowing him to see the boat but not much else. ¡°So, what is this ¡®coinage¡¯ you had asked for me?¡± The man turns around, trying to make conversation. It was not Karon¡¯s place to question the strange man, but to transport him and answer any questions he desires, since the holder of the book is of much higher power than he. ¡°It is just a simple gold coin, but it is brought to this world through the mouth of the dead¡± ¡°Oh so, those who die are buried with a coin in their mouth so they can pay for the ferry?¡± The man questions, as if already knowing the answer. ¡°Yes, though it seems the Overworld has forgotten this, making life quite boring for me¡± He sighs, reminiscing of the days when he could go to the Overworld and spend a day in a fair, hidden as a normal human. That was when he could still afford it. ¡°So, when someone dies, no matter whom, they end up coming here?¡± ¡°They do not, their Chthon selves do¡­however as of late, almost none arrive here, only those dragged back by our reapers¡± ¡°Chthon?¡± he raises an eyebrow at the foreign word ¡°Souls as those in the Overworld would call them. However a Chthon is a being able to survive without the bonds of flesh and blood, quite different from a soul indeed." He nods, digesting the information before moving onto the next question. ¡°I assume that ¡®as of late¡¯ means since a few hundred years ago?¡± He nods ¡°At the end of the first age, the Overworld changed drastically. This one too was both created and destroyed, but you know of that already don¡¯t you?¡± The man just looks away, as if satisfied by the conversation and looks into the blackness once more. They both look towards the darkness, one seeing nothing and the other seeing endless fields of dead grass, with only a few hundred thousand chthon¡¯s wandering about aimlessly, not even taking up a small portion of the wide expanse that is the land. Within a few more minutes of rowing, Karon lets out a sigh of relief at seeing the gravestone castle, his home, in the far distance, surrounded by mostly empty fields. ¡°Welcome to Khthon¡± ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Woo i''m baack! Anyways, really short chappie today, just to you know start it all off. I presume this arc won''t last much, maybe only a couple of chapters?? depends on what happens yadayadayada. Also, hope you enjoyed it! even though Tandra''s been completely fkd over! So please comment, review and reread :P I don''t know when the next chappie will come out, but sometime before the weekend is a good shout -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 40- The Reaper Routine ¡°Excuse m- oh hey Jack,. Kyron hey, up top Chark, oh h-¡± Palock zips past his fellow reapers, waving at two and quickly high-fiving another before being grabbed by another reaper¡­Jeni. ¡°A E Harnor¡± She blurts out before half-dragging him in the correct direction. He shrugs his shoulders and they begin hastily making their way down the chilled corridor, making half finished greetings to their fellow reapers, who act as busily as they. Within a minute, they¡¯ve traversed the length of two corridors, burst into a wide room with ¡®East¡¯ carved on the stone door. With practiced knowledge, they both instinctively turn right once they enter. Power walking through another open door, this time the doorway is encased in a strange, almost invisible viscuous liquid. Diving into the portal, they soon appear on the other side, wearing traveling garb and wrapped in a disguise of flesh. ¡°Whoo, been a while since I¡¯ve seen that bod¡± Jeni chuckles and begins to saunter away from the graveyard, her large breasts bobbing up and down in sync with her curly brown hair. Palock starts walking after her, enjoying the fresh breeze on his skin. They both merrily, yet hastily, saunter up and down the meadow hills for a few minutes. In the near distance they spot a shabby little village, Harnor. Seems like they¡¯ve come early too¡­ The place looks as dull as an out of the way village would be; peasants dully milling about with a bored cheer from the inn raising the noise level above silent, every now and then. Jeni turns to him, her hazel eyes sparkling with boredom, although her mouth is plastered in the relieved smile of someone who just found somewhere safe to sleep for the night. Maintaining the mask, they bob tiredly down to the inn, getting a few curious stares from the locals, which are deflected by their ¡®obvious¡¯ intent to find a place to rest. Walking through the doors, Jeni takes the lead and almost collapses onto the bar, breasts squishing on wood, her clothes revealing a more than subtle amount. ¡°May I help you?¡± The innkeeper seems to slide down the bar towards her, maintaining professionalism with his body, but not his eyes. ¡°I need a room for me and¡­¡± She looks back at Palock, eyes glancing up and down appraising ¡°my brother¡± Refraining from throttling her right then and there, he instead gives a tired smile to the innkeeper. He nods and passes her a key for a silver, before returning to serving the rest, only taking a small eyeful more. Yawning, she starts to walk upstairs, quickly followed by him. They find their room and once inside, she jumps onto the bed giving a relieved sigh. ¡°Ahh, really just want to run naked in a field right now¡± She wistfully tosses and turns on the bed, trying to imagine the feeling of the wind on her skin. ¡°And I want to actually get some work done, so what are the details?¡± He claps his hands, bringing her back to her senses. She looks up at him and rolls her eyes ¡°Somewhere within today and the next, catastrophe level incident, so a lot of work for us¡± ¡°Really? I¡¯ve got to waste an entire day worth of soul collecting to wait?¡± He groans and plants himself at the foot of the bed. ¡°Jeesh¡± She sits up and gives him a flick on the side of his head ¡°You are such a workaholic, lighten up¡­have some fun¡± Her hand slides up his thigh slowly and with purpose. He grabs her delicate hand, encasing it with pudgy fingers. Looking towards her puppy eyed, lip sadly drooping face, he emotionlessly returns her hand to her own body. ¡°Really now stop playing, I know you want a taste of this¡± She whispers into his ear, her hot breath tickling the insides. ¡°I¡¯m sorry but I don¡¯t fuck my sister¡± He whispers back. She gives him an unimpressed look ¡°Come on, it¡¯d definitely raise questions if I said we were lovers. I mean look at me and look at you¡± Responding with his own unimpressed face, he crosses his arms over his large belly ¡°So how are you going to explain the fucking?¡± ¡°Pal, how many times have we fucked in the last century alone?¡± ¡°Two hundred and thirty six times¡± ¡°Ehe, you kept count, weirdo¡± She chuckles lightly. ¡°Fuck off¡± ¡°Anyways, how many times have we been called out on incest?¡± ¡°Fourty six times and I bloody remember the last one¡± He points towards his neck, where a thin white line circles around, almost as if it were a tan line from a necklace. Though in his case, it was a scar from being hanged. ¡°Oh really, are you still pis-¡± ¡°YES. Being hanged hurts¡± He calms himself down, letting his anger subside deep within him. He was still annoyed about that, since she had fled in the night, leaving him to get caught and killed in the morning. ¡°Aww, little baby Pal can¡¯t take a little asphyxiation¡± She rubs her eyes mockingly, accompanied by a small grin. Snapping towards her and knowing she¡¯s getting exactly what she wants; his right hand clutches her throat, squeezing the air out of her. Immediately, slamming her against the wall, she chokes, drool dripping off her chin as her tongue hangs out like a dog. ¡°Harder...brother¡± She manages to breathe out and he responds by squeezing more, mostly in anger at her still taking the piss. She makes choking sounds and her face begins to turn a shade of purple and then a darker shade. Finally letting her go, she takes a deep breath and drops to her knees, looking up at him with lusty eyes and drool dropping onto her cleavage, tongue out like a dog, sucking up air heftily. Unbuckling his belt he grabs her arms and ties her hands together, raised above her head before dropping his trousers and his briefs. Before she can truly recover her breath, he shoves himself in her mouth, hitting the back of her throat and causing her to gag and choke on it. Pulling out, already her saliva drenches it and he rams it in her again, her head smacking the wall while she gags noisily and messily. Thrusting a few more times, he gets bored and leading her by her tied hands, almost chucks her onto the bed. Ripping her leather trousers off, his hand slaps and grabs one of her ass cheeks, releasing a moan of pleasure and pain from her. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He raises his hand for another slap, but stops midway due to hearing a scream from outside. Jumping off the bed, he rushes to the window to see the village in commotion; men and women running and screaming, streaming to his left and out of his view. The reason for this commotion soon appears, leaping onto a running woman, tearing out her throat before devouring her child whole. Its bristly black fur gets splashed with more blood, adding to its already reddening coat. A worg, rather a pack of them had entered town. The screams are short lived as the pack of worgs quickly out run and hunt everyone down, massacring all on the streets. Those inside, bar their doors but the strength of the worgs were severely underestimated: in some houses they bust down the doors with a single charge, in others they burst through the walls or windows with ease. A crash comes from downstairs, followed by screams and the loud ripping sounds. Taking out a knife and ripping away his shirt, he stabs himself in scar by his heart with practiced ease. Dying, his body drops onto the floor but he remains standing, in black robes and a feeling of nothingness. It¡¯s odd, to suddenly lose the feeling of the heart beating rapidly, or the warmth of flesh, or even the relaxing throbbing down below. All of it gone in an instant, a strange feeling indeed. Though he has done this many times before, so he quickly gets used to the nothingness. Jeni quickly joins him in her usual skeleton self, crossing her arms rather annoyed. A worg summarily bursts into their room and takes a sniff at their bodies before moving on to another room. So they¡¯re not here for food, interesting ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. Not your job¡± She chides him before taking lead. Rattling his head, he follows after her. Going downstairs, they find the usual souls crying over their slightly mutilated bodies, while some just look shocked. Jeni grabs their attention with a bark, striding towards one, the innkeeper, and swipes towards him with a hand mirror. Some souls cry out silently in shock, at the sudden disappearance of the innkeeper. With brutal efficiency, she darts around swiping away at every last soul in the room. While she does that, Palock hurries upstairs, gathering the few souls from their rooms. Within minutes, they are outside and collecting souls from the village square. It is rather dull work; swiping away at souls which silently scream and try to run away but are still attached to their bodies so cannot. As they worked the worgs milled about, finding an appropriate body to feed upon. Sweeping through the houses, they finally move on to the souls standing on the edge of the village; the ones which just reached the meadows but no further. Though quite unexpectedly, they encounter no souls, rather they encounter a large black undead horse and a carriage adorned made from bones and skin and adorned with familiar skulls, candle lit inside causing the eye sockets to shine brightly. Next to the carriage is a man in black leather, his decrepit head sitting on the driver¡¯s seat with a hideous grin from ear to ear, eyes darting about furtively, jerking to a stop when it notices the duo. The body continues yanking the soul forcibly from its body, finally ripping it away, leaving it¡¯s legs behind and immediately the soul pales, becoming more transparent. Chucking it into his wagon, the Dullahan¡¯s body then turns towards them. ¡°Excuse me, but what in the name of Norac are you doing?¡± Palock walks up, cracking his knuckles. ¡°None of your business¡­Reaper¡± The head spits in disgust and its body takes out a long human spine, encased in dry blood. Sensing the obvious hostility, Palock continues forward, ducking under the spine as it whips out. Rushing towards the body, he slams into it, taking both of them to the floor. Immediately he¡¯s flattened by the large body, which drops the spine whip and raises its fists. Bones crack and his forearms both snap loudly, though doing their duty and guarding his skull. The second punch never comes as the body, flailing in pain as his head screams. The carriage begins moving, undead black horse bolting under the command of the Dullahan¡¯s head. The body catches onto the side of the wagon and gets dragged along as it rushes far away. ¡°How¡¯d you make him flee?¡± he asks her from the floor. ¡°A gold coin in each eye¡± She helps him up and picks up his arms for him, slinging them over her shoulder. Since there are no more souls, to gather, they begin to walk back to the portal, passing by a large pack of worgs which soon dash off in the same direction as the fleeing Dullahan. ¡°Not my job eh?¡± He muses as he watches the worgs run off, to which Jeni responds with a shrug. ¡°Could be coincidence¡± ¡°Definitely not¡± He shakes his head and begins storming towards the portal. ¡°What was with him too? Never seen a Dullahan take souls before¡± She muses as they walk through the meadows. ¡°Never seen a Dullahan¡¯s carriage made from reapers¡± He responds, to which she looks at him perplexed. ¡°I saw Muran¡¯s skull on top and another¡¯s robe used as a curtain¡± They both shiver in slight terror at the fact that the Dullahan was not only doing something was out of his job spec, he had killed reapers¡­ At least this won¡¯t be dull ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Hey! New chappie with new peeps. Hope you enjoyed it and this is the beginning of something awesome i hope! Well hope you enjoyed it and since i''m bored, expect more!! Please comment and review your thoughts while I go write more :P (also what is with the cheeky comments from some of you :P?) -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 41- Gate Crashing ¡°Alright so we have to gather everyone and te-¡± Palock stops mid-sentence due to his attention being drawn by the lack of reapers. ¡°Where is everybody?¡± Usually half a dozen of them would be darting through the corridor in a hurry but not even a single one is here. Stepping up the pace, he sprints through the corridor, turning left at a junction and barrels into a large group of his fellow reapers. Sending four to the floor as well as himself, he quickly is helped up by the others. Quickly noting almost all fifty two members are present, he quickly asks what is going on that requires all of them. Drychus points out the massive stone door and towards the sky, towards a small ferry with two passengers; Karon and a human, not dead by the looks of it. Slowly, Karon¡¯s ferry descends and lands in front of the door and this most bizarre passenger steps out with a bounce in his step. ¡°Hey there nice to meet you¡± The strange human walks up and offers a hand while the other carries a book tucked under the arm. Shocked, most of them take an involuntary step back, and some take one forward in aggression. They don¡¯t really know or understand what this man is, but one could hazard a guess he¡¯s a living breathing human. Drychus, knowing full well what would happen to humans who touch the bare bones of a reaper offers his hand and shakes the man. Instantly, the man collapses, dropping the book on the floor with a deep thunk. ¡°Drychus, what the hell?¡± Some call out; stupefied by the fact he just killed what was the first living human in Khthon since the end of the first age. Drychus just shrugs his shoulders and they all watch the man¡¯s corpse dissipate into light¡­ Speechless, that¡¯s what they were. Only some of the older members like Palock knew what such a bizarre disappearance of the body meant: It meant that the Foreigners are back. He had heard stories of foreigners die before, their souls unable to be taken and their lives restored almost instantly. Foreigners were essentially not a problem for the reapers; honestly they made their job easier since they didn¡¯t have to go collect their souls. However he¡¯d never seen a foreigner before and couldn''t be sure he was right in his thinking, only the oldest member can confirm this. Once the light died down, all that remained on the floor was a thick red tome with black pulsating lines. Drychus bent down to grab it, as they younger ones looked curiously at the book and the older ones had small revelations in their eyes. ¡°Hooold it, that¡¯s mine¡± One of them shrieked and others rattled their bones out of pure shock. The human turned round the corner, coming from the graveyard and strides towards them. No one expected the man to appear so suddenly. Even Palock thought the man would return in a day¡¯s time aboard Karon¡¯s ferry, but apparently not. While all were stunned to silence, the man picks up the book, flashing the cover to all, bringing down thunderous revelation to all. The tome was as some of the older ones suspected, a prayer book to Norac, their Master. Although this was revealed, it didn¡¯t help much to lessen the shock of the man¡¯s existence here. Yirr, second oldest, walks out of the crowd and offers the cuff of his hood to the man. The man gladly shakes the cuff. ¡°Wow, reaper¡¯s touch really is a thing¡± He chuckles to himself. ¡°Yes, but seems like it¡¯s not that much of a problem to you?¡± Yirr responds with his slow clacking voice The man raises an eyebrow ¡°Oho, so you know of my kind then?¡± ¡°We do. But never have we seen your kind in Khthon, so forgive our shock at seeing you here¡± ¡°Apologies for shocking you¡± he bows apologetically ¡°So whose dimension is this?¡± ¡°Norac¡¯s¡± Yirr, along with many others cock their heads in confusion. The man, carrying a Tome of Norac should not have to ask such a question¡­this made some wonder¡­ ¡°Shucks...¡± He snaps his fingers in shame ¡°Karon, if I pay you, will you take me back?¡± Everyone looks confused at the man, for they have no idea what he¡¯s doing, why he¡¯s just suddenly leaving. He is carrying a Tome of Norac ; this should be the correct place for him. ¡°Excuse me, but aren¡¯t you here to become a reaper?¡± Yirr asks the question many have been wondering. The only times they ever got living beings in Khthon was either to become a reaper or as a guest, and guests were almost always gods of some kind. ¡°Ooh, sounds good¡­but I kind of like being alive, plus that¡¯d mean I¡¯d have to work right?¡± His voice is gentle, although sprinkled with excitement. ¡°Err¡­then what are you doing here?¡± He shrugs his shoulders ¡°Exploring¡± ¡°Then why do you hold a Tome of Norac?¡± Yirr spurs on with the questions, wanting to know, to justify this man¡¯s presence here. ¡°Picked it up a couple of hours ago and wait you know what this is?¡± He cocks his head. They were confused about this man before, but now confused is too dull a word to describe their emotion towards the man. ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a priest of Aegi, a pleasure to meet you all¡± ¡°Who?¡± Someone blurts out from the crowd and Yirr repeats the question. If Yirr doesn¡¯t know who she is then she must be quite the obscure being. ¡°Goddess of Immortality, though I think she¡¯s only been that after the end of the first age?¡± His answer sounds rather like a question ¡°For a priest, you sure don¡¯t seem to know much about your Goddess¡± Yirr points out ¡°There aren¡¯t exactly many scriptures about her, just rumours I¡¯m slowly gathering from people¡± They all shake their head in disbelief at the man. ¡°So you were expecting to find knowledge of your goddess here?¡± Yirr picks up on the man¡¯s intentions. ¡°Not exactly, but since I am here, might as well go find Norac, since hopefully at least he¡¯ll know who Aegi is¡± He casually uses their Master¡¯s name, which is shocking to all. ¡°I think you misunderstand, you can¡¯t just talk to gods, much less ours¡± Yirr puts his hands together in thought, trying to figure out the man, who seems ever more confusing with every word that slips from his tongue. ¡°Yeah¡­I¡¯ll find a way¡± He chuckles lightly to himself and to the dismay and confusion of the rest. ¡°If you want to learn of Aegi, there is no need to call upon Norac¡± A voice comes from behind Palock, and he turns around with the rest to see Kura walking towards them. They make a gap for her and she walks through, stopping next to Yirr. ¡°Sweet, and who may you be madam?¡± The man bows courteously ¡°They call me Kura and I am the oldest of this place, and seemingly the only one to know of Aegi¡± ¡°The fact that you haven¡¯t tried to kill me or make me leave suggests her and Norac are on livable terms?¡± He squints his eyes suspiciously, pulling a slightly worried face. ¡°Come, I¡¯ll tell you more once you are fed and watered, it wouldn¡¯t do to discuss such things non-chalantly¡± She motions for him to follow as she walks back inside ¡°As for the rest of you, get back to work, there¡¯s souls needing to be brought¡± All of them begin to disperse, running to try make up for lost time. Kura grabs Palock¡¯s shoulder, stopping him from leaving. ¡°Not you¡± He turns back around to look at her. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°If he¡¯s truly Aegi¡¯s disciple, you¡¯ll need to keep an eye on him, for our sakes¡± Recovering his arms from Jeni, who snaps her fingers in shame before too hurrying off, he holds them in a cradle with his upper arms. ¡°Right, I need arms for that, so may I go to the repair room?¡± ¡°Sure, meet us at the guest room soon¡± Palock rushes off to put his arms back together. The man follows Kura around the corridors, whistling a tune while looking at the monotonous stone walls. ¡°Oh, while we¡¯re walking, could you tell me what this tome is?¡± ¡°It is a prayer book to our Master, Norac. We use it in the ritual to create reapers¡± ¡°OH, so that¡¯s why they thought I was here to become a reaper¡± he scratches his chin in realization ¡°Yes, usually a living being would come here with the tome as a sign of their near reaperdom¡± ¡°Interesting. So what language is it in?¡± ¡°Language? All tomes are written for the common tongue¡± ¡°Huh, well I never did learn how to read common¡­¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°A priest that cannot read? Never thought I¡¯d ever know one¡± She chuckles a clattery laugh and walks into a room, quickly followed by him. The room is a small square room with a stone table and a set of chairs. ¡°We don¡¯t have guests very often¡± The man just shrugs and pops onto a stone chair. ¡°Guess this means you have no food?¡± ¡°None and no water either, sorry¡± She apologizes before sitting down on the opposite end. The man just rests the back of his head on his hands and relaxes. A few minutes of silence pass, till Palock finally appears, arms attached once more. He sits down on the third chair and alternates looking between Kura and the man. ¡°So, what would you like to know?¡± ¡­ ¡°Guys guys guys!¡± Doronius bursts into the adventurer¡¯s post, sweating profusely from his long run. ¡°We know!¡± Many shout out, already armored up with weapons at the ready. The news of the worg pack had spread quickly and by the time it had reached Ronthar, another two villages had been massacred and the pack had been spotted running towards Ronthar. No one knew why, but they had gone from the east side of the kingdom to the west in a straight line, killing mercilessly on the way. Quests had been put up and a battalion of soldiers was being formed at the capital, but the speed of the worgs was unnatural, it took everyone by surprise. Now, they had reached Ronthar, which thankfully was filled with about six hundred adventurers, which was about a fifth of the entire Annoldi kingdom adventurers. Rumours suggested the pack was about fourty in size, which was a huge number, albeit nowhere near six hundred. Though no one felt at ease, especially the newcomers in town; they did not expect to be raided on their first day in town. Quickly, everyone got into a good position; the archers on the palisades and the warriors and thieves by the gates, tanks in the front and spears in the back. Although everyone was in their own little party, they were being helped by Krugul: a thin warrior with spiked crimson hair and a few scars with a common sword and board, but with a loud mouth and a good mind for strategy and command. No one saw it unfit to object to him giving ideas, much more so when it put him in the front lines and some of them in safety. Now Krugul stands at the gates, looking at the mass of players who somewhat trust him. ¡°ALRIGHT LISTEN UP, THESE THINGS ARE FAST BUT SPEED DOESN¡¯T MATTER IF YOU¡¯RE NOT MOVING. SO LET¡¯S STOP THEM AT THE GATES WITH OUR SHIELDS¡± He bangs his metal shield with his sword and the fashion is followed throughout the line. ¡°LETS STAB THEM WITH OUR SPEARS¡± A shout comes from the spearmen ¡°AND LETS FILL THEM WITH ARROWS¡± The archers on the wall give a yell of confidence ¡°PREPARE FOR BATTLE¡± He walk back into line, melding in with the half-decent shield wall and waiting with bated breath like the rest as they watch a small horde of worgs burst from the forest just a few hundred meters away. The worgs are the size of horses, which is terrifyingly big. Soon arrows pepper the sky and although some find their targets, most sink into the hard earth. Within a minute they reach the gates pile in, crashing into the line of players, barreling through with pure strength, killing some due to the pure brute force. All that look at the level just see ¡®???¡¯ above the worg¡¯s heads. The worgs were at least level forty, which was terrifying to the newbie level twenties or nineteens. That realization quickly followed with the effect of forty level forty monsters in a mass of extremely underleveled players: massacre. Every few seconds, dozens of players are slaughtered and all attacks don¡¯t seem to have much of an effect. Within a minute, almost half the players are dead, and the rest aren¡¯t fast enough to flee so they die fighting. The archers do successfully take down three of them due to almost a hundred arrows targeting a single worg at the command of an elven looking chap who had quickly taken control when hell broke loose. Though the worgs quickly race up the palisade stairs, blitzing through a dozen players in the blink of an eye. All seems lost. But then the worgs stop at the sound of a pained yelp, and turn towards the town gate where a greying man with rippling muscles drops a worg, it¡¯s head a hundred and eighty degrees from where it should be. Immediately sensing the danger, they all rush towards him. Laughing heartily, he punches one, snapping its neck with the force of the blow and grabs another by the muzzle, crushing its jaw before using it to bat away two more that pounce towards him. Immediately everyone focus fires on his location and after a few seconds, eight worgs lie dead but one finally pounces on him and all expect him to fall down with the weight. The fellow just laughs as the worgs claws dig in and he rips its spine out, whipping it into the face of another while a third clamps onto his other arm. A trio of worgs rush up the stairs killing over twenty people before the remaining thirty three melee pounce on them, literally throwing their bodies to the worgs, just buying time for the archers to kill the worgs down below. Another few seconds, almost half the worgs are dead, but the man has both bite wounds and claw wounds and finally he goes under as three barrel into him. Desperate, a lanky archer with dirty blonde hair jumps off onto the middle worg, sticking a knife in its eye, buying a split distraction, enough for the man to punch the throats of two of them, fist splattering the brain, before bashing the third one from either side of the head, flattening it. But that doesn¡¯t stop the rest piling onto him and archers suddenly inspired, charge off the wall into the fray, jumping onto the worgs and onto the man, literally using their bodies to shield the man as the worgs try to get to him. Suddenly a group consisting of every killed player charges together flanking from the back and slowly surrounding the worgs. They die in the dozens, but successfully stopping the worgs movement and then succinctly killing them. Once it reaches the third minute, all forty of the worgs are dead, killed to the last one, but the causalities reached eight hundred odd, with more than half dying twice. Though none cry at that loss, for everyone gained back a level and for the few that didn¡¯t die, numbering six in total, they gained a level. Those six crawled from the pile of almost a hundred archers which sacrificed themselves to keep the man alive. They dragged out the man from under the quickly dissipating corpse pile and in a rush some players start shouting around town for a doctor. Cheers spread throughout the town as the civilians come out in celebration and mourning at the extremely succint battle. A doctor finally arrives to check on the mans wounds: they are deep and many; his chest is covered in deep scratches and his arms are bitten to shreds. Though somehow all his vital areas like his neck seem to be untouched and his heart seems to still be pumping. But his nose is broken and a claw mark runs over his face, probably what knocked him out in the end. The local doctor patches him up with the help of a dozen enthusiastic archers who know first aid. They stop the bleeding and bandage him up, but he lost a lot of blood so almost ceremoniously, they carry him to the adventurer¡¯s post, getting a room without payment and quickly forming a rota to watch over him. They don¡¯t know whether the man is an npc or not, but they don¡¯t want to take the risk, the man did afterall save their lives and for some he had instantly become an idol of worship. While the town rested and buried their dead, little did they know a certain Dullahan was watching with an interested expression. ¡°Hmm, humans that never die, certainly my Master would be interested to know this¡± Silently, he spurs his horse on, leaving Ronthar standing for another day. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Heeyyyy, yeah, finally got my groove going and wow, that happened. NEXT CHAPTER COMING, ERRR WHENEVER!! Probably quite soon tbf. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the three minute massacre and ooh next chapter''s going to be story time for Aegi!!! so buckle up and get ready to read. Anyways, please comment and review my lovelies -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 42- A Simple Talk ¡°So are Norac and Aegi enemies?¡± The man asks, hands clasped, intrigued. ¡°No, she is rather one of Norac¡¯s few friends¡± Kura answers quickly not retaining much information. The man looks up into the sky muttering something unintelligible before looking back down towards them. ¡°Phew, so you¡¯re not going to kill me-¡± ¡°No¡± ¡°Good, so tell me, what do you know of Aegi?¡± She muses for a moment, prying old memories from deep within. ¡°I have only met her once, on the day that this dimension became Norac¡¯s. It was a few hundred years ago, in the beginning of the end of the first age. Karon had ferried us down to the fields where the two of them spent the whole day playing. That was when the fields were empty, devoid of Chthons¡± ¡°Playing?¡± both the man and Palock seem rather interested by that point, but for different reasons. ¡°Yes playing¡± ¡°But touching Norac would-¡± Palock begins to point out before Kura takes over. ¡°Kill any living being yes¡­¡± Silence drifts as all think upon this, until the man speaks up. ¡°But Aegi¡¯s a goddess; touching Norac wouldn¡¯t be enough to kill a goddess right?¡± ¡°She wasn¡¯t a goddess back then¡­I didn¡¯t even know she was a goddess now. Strange¡­what is she the goddess of might I ask?¡± ¡°The goddess of immortality¡± The man says with a cheeky grin. Kura clacks with laughter ¡°Quite fitting, she is indeed immortal¡± Her laughter eventually dies down and she begins once more ¡°As I was saying, she was playing in the fields with Norac, which I later found out to be something¡­almost impossible. She had stayed there for a month, to watch Norac set things up. It was a busy month for us; creating reapers and collecting thousands of souls from the great battles of the first age. Only a month had passed and we had already amassed half a million souls which were all placed into corpses if there were some, or turned into ghosts. They had filled the fields and hundreds of reapers were placed in charge of rehabilitating them. It was working perfectly fine; the dimension was running beautifully, until that first month had passed. While Norac was busy the month, Aegi was staying in her room and I was told to make sure she was guarded by a reaper or two, not to be allowed out under any circumstance. I did not know what she was capable, none of us knew, except maybe Norac¡­¡± She shakes her head wistfully, losing herself in the memories. The man sighs ¡°What did she do this time?¡± Kura snaps out of her trance and continues ¡°She left her room in such a burst of energy that we couldn¡¯t stop her. I don¡¯t remember what she said but it was something along the lines of not enjoying being confined. She had gone straight out into the fields to find Norac, and that is when hell broke loose. We were learning how to put souls into corpses, but we did not know how to meld the two together. So when Aegi came into their view, the souls wanted to move to something better¡­to something living. I had just arrived to the fields, to see her screaming her lungs out and saw a soul forcefully pushed from her body. The soul turned a grayish blue the moment it touched the grass, it was the first time we had let an untethered soul onto the fields. It was like letting a wild animal loose; it began trying to take over the bodies of other beings, forcefully ejecting their soul and then leaving the corpse in pure hatred of being confined. This thing, we called a Chthon; a soul which needs no body to survive but in fact desires and fears having a body. Like a plague, it affected all of them, every single being, even us reapers. Half a million souls, corrupted by the land of this dimension, turned into mindless things. Half a million Chthons had come for us in this castle, and before we knew it, everything was gone; everyone was turned into one of those¡­things. All but Aegi and I. We had run to this very room and¡­¡± She drifts off, holding her tongue and sighing deeply. ¡°What happened?¡± The man at the edge of his seat asks the question, impatient to know the ending. ¡°I locked the door behind me once I had gotten in¡­I was in front¡­¡± She doesn¡¯t need to say it explicitly, for both understand what she did. ¡°Kura, but didn¡¯t you say she and Norac were friends, why did you?¡± Palock blurts out, wondering why she would do such a thing. ¡°Because Aegi was her enemy¡± The man responds, to which she nods. ¡°I did, I shouldn¡¯t have, but I did. It wasn¡¯t her fault truly, she had no idea. None of us knew what would happen. I had locked her out full well knowing what fate she¡¯d have...¡± ¡°But Aegi¡¯s not dead, she can¡¯t be since she became a goddess after this happened¡± The man muses deeply. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened to her, all I know is that when I finally decided to open the door, after waiting for three years-¡± ¡°You waited for three years?¡± The man looks at her like she¡¯s insane ¡°how did you not go mad?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t understand, Chthons are completely silent, so unless I know for a fact they weren¡¯t on the other side, for all I knew, they¡¯d be on the other side of the door just waiting. I kept myself sane by praying and planning, planning how to make it all better, how to repair everything, what to say to Norac when he returns from his trip. For three years this kept me going, till I gave up and walked out, only to see the place devoid of everything. Since then I¡¯ve been growing the place, recruiting reapers and collecting souls in the mirrors¡± She takes out a little hand-mirror, passing it to the man. ¡°Nifty little thing, how many souls are in these?¡± The man passes it back after a little inspection. ¡°Thousands, thanks to Norac, we can keep a great amount of them in each mirror. But that means if the mirror is to break then all the souls will escape¡± The man stands up, nodding and thinking calmly while his feet paced him up and down in a frantic manner. ¡°So all the Chthons disappeared along with Aegi, and you collect souls with mirrors, so why are there still Chthons down below?¡± ¡°Over the years, some souls have been ferried across and they turned to Chthons¡± The man continues to think, smirking slightly as things start to fall into place somewhat. ¡°Tell me, why haven¡¯t you gotten rid of these new Chthons?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know how to, all we have done is set up wards to disallow them from entering the keep.¡± Kura shrugs, while Palock nods in confirmation. The man nods, claps his hands and goes to pick up his tome. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Right, thanks for telling me this, it¡¯s been quite revealing. And even though that is all you can tell me, I believe this story is not over yet¡± He bows deeply. ¡°How can it not be over, the only two who know this is both me and Aegi and unless you are planning to find her, you won¡¯t be able to ask¡± ¡°For your information, yes I¡¯m going to try find her but no it isn¡¯t her I¡¯m talking about. There was a third person there, or so I suspect¡± ¡°Who?¡± Kura asks, wondering whether the man had picked up on the very subtle hint she had laid. The man just smiles and begins to walk off, only to be blocked by the two of them. ¡°Kura thank you for the tale, it was finally a niceish story of my Goddess. Now I must be off. Toodles¡± He starts moving round them. ¡®Wait!¡± Kura shouts before he exits the room ¡°Palock will escort you till you get out of here¡­in case of Chthons¡± The man nods and allows Palock to get his bearings. Walking down the corridor, the two of them end up outside soon enough and signal for Karon to come down. In a short while, the little two man boat appears and they both board, the man paying with two gold coins, somehow fitting and holding both of them on despite the appearance of the boat. As they set off into the sky, the man turns to Karon and watches him intently as he steers. He thinks deeply, hands clasped before finally speaking up. ¡°So Karon¡­did this place exist before Norac ¡®created¡¯ it?¡± Palock looks strangely towards the man, but the look transfers to Karon when he nods. ¡°And does that mean Chthons are the natural denizens of this dimension?¡± Karon nods. ¡°So why is it that he tried to not have Chthons?¡± he clasps his fingers together, looking pensively towards Karon, who continues to look forward, steering. ¡°He never did anything of the sort; Kura took matters into her own hands when Norac disappeared¡± The man grins madly. ¡°I see¡± Palock looks worriedly towards the man who just shrugged his shoulders ¡°Seems like Kura wanted to stage a coup, and ended up messing things up¡± ¡°Kura? No!¡± Palock looks shocked, unable to accept Kura, the reaper he¡¯s known for hundreds of years to be so evil. ¡°Of course she would, she was asked to by our Master¡± ¡°Why would Norac ask her to coup him?¡± Palock frantically blurts out, not understanding anything. The man bursts out of his seat, grabbing Karon by the bare bone. ¡°Norac isn¡¯t his master¡± With a wild laugh, to a both shocked Karon and Palock, he pulls the rudder down, forcing the rowboat into a nosedive, sending all three down to the ground with no way to stop it. Lying in the wreckage with a shattered spine and other vital bones smashed to smithereens, yet still alive, the man turns towards the broken body of Karon. ¡°Now that we¡¯re on a more even level, I¡¯ve got a couple of questions for you¡± He grins cheekily and starts laughing maniacally as both Palock and Karon look at him in fear and confusion. ¡­ ¡°Uuurgh, why does it feel like I was hit in the head by a giant fucking¡­oh wait¡± Cannith groans as he rises from the bed, quickly stumbling onto the floor, taking down a startled person with him. Rolling off some lanky man with dirty blond hair, he lies on the floor, body not responding like it use to. ¡°You took quite a beating, so don¡¯t be moving much¡± The young fellow doesn¡¯t seem to mind that he was almost flattened by the walking pack of muscle. ¡°Took a beating, pagh. Bloody wolves shouldn¡¯t be able to have done a scratch. Seems like those fucking rocks did a lot more damage to me than I thought¡± Grunting, he forces himself to stand, being mildly supported by the lanky guy. Unable to be stopped, he rips off the bandages, seeing his wounds have closed up nicely, he thinks he must¡¯ve been asleep for the better part of the day. ¡°Right, I¡¯m off¡± he takes two strides before collapsing on the floor, his legs not working properly. ¡°Shit shit shit shit¡± The lanky guy quickly rolls Cannith over and clinically looks him over ¡°SHIT¡± Sprinting out the room, his unintelligible shouts can be heard through the walls and Cannith just groans as black overtakes him. ¡°Seems like internal bleeding¡± an elderly voice brings him back to the light. ¡°Well no fucking surprises there¡­fucking rocks¡± Cannith growls and opens his eyes, looking at the small crowd of nine people, all but one carrying bows on their backs. The lanky man looks towards the town doctor. ¡°How do we fix him?¡± ¡°We?¡± the doctor shakes his head ¡°Some priests with healing magic will fix him up. But they¡¯re all the way in the capital¡± All the archers look at one another in concern. ¡°Someone get a message to the capital¡± An elderly bald fellow blurts out. ¡°No it¡¯ll take too long, he¡¯ll bleed out¡± A small teen with spiky brown hair rebuttles. ¡°How about taking him with us?¡± A dark skinned woman shouts out. ¡°Too much moving will make it worse¡± the doctor chips in. ¡°So as long as he doesn¡¯t move it¡¯ll be fine?¡± The lanky guy asks the doctor, to which he nods. ¡°Then let¡¯s make a stretcher and take him¡± The others think for a second before nodding. ¡°But who will take him?¡± A small girl with two brown ponytails asks. ¡°I say we take him, I mean we¡¯ve looked after him this far¡± An older looking version of the girl pets her as she contributes. ¡°Won¡¯t the rest be kind of annoyed?¡± Doronius raises an eyebrow. ¡°The rest have already paid their respects and a bunch of them have buggered off to try become him. We¡¯ll be fine taking him since we are recognized as his carers for now¡± The sleek black haired archer with a slight elvish look to him adds logic to the conversation. ¡°All in favour?¡± the lanky man asks. Everyone unanimously raises their hands. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled, you little shits are taking me back to Darton, whoopdedo¡± Cannith tries to laugh but just ends up groaning. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Now you may be confused with some things in this chapter...good, answers will be given sooon enough :D Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter and hope you''ve got a couple of burning questions that you''d like answering :D btw no more chapters till at least tmrw -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 43- Conversations and Revelations ¡°So, first things first Mr Karon, who is your Master?¡± The man speaks as he lays bent on the broken side of the boat. ¡°And why should I tell scum like you?¡± Karon¡¯s demeanor towards the man had instantly changed when he learnt that the man was not working for their Master. ¡°Because I can go ask Kura the same question and she¡¯ll answer, because it seems like she¡¯s repenting somewhat¡± The man grimaces ¡°and if you don¡¯t answer, the Chthons will take you, I¡¯ve heard it¡¯s a life worse than death¡± Karon remains silent, though much clattering is heard from his supposed location. ¡°Look, we¡¯ll do it this way, you ask a question, I¡¯ll answer it and vice versa. You begin¡± the man sighs giving in somewhat. Karon remains silent¡­for a short while, until he deigns it useful to ask questions. ¡°Will you promise to keep me safe, let me free and do no other harm to me?¡± ¡°I promise on my goddess, and if I break that promise then I¡¯ll walk into the Chthons bare¡± He rolls his eyes upwards, seeing nothing but blackness. ¡°Ok, so who is your Master?¡± ¡°Kravulkor, the true god of the undead¡± Karon benevolently praises his Master. ¡°Why did you crash our boat, rather than continue your farce and let me give information?¡± ¡°Well, two simple problems, one, I am not a liar and do not like being so. Two, Kura warned me you would be tipping the boat or I imagine something similar that¡¯d cause my death in the least. ¡°She told us this?¡± Palock responds from the darkness, to which the man sighs in relief. ¡°Remember how she asked you to come with, to protect us from the Chthons? Why would we need protection from them if we were to go on a straight trip from the boat to the portal, all Chthon free?¡± The silence lets the information sink in. ¡°So Karon, what happened to Aegi on the day of this dimension¡¯s destruction?¡± After a short thought he asks. ¡°She called my boat, rode it and left¡± His answer is annoyingly ambiguous. ¡°Why did you come here?¡± ¡°To find rumours of Aegi, and because I thought it was a portal to Kravulkor¡¯s realm¡± He answers truthfully, ¡®tsch¡¯ing at having to answer such a dangerous question. ¡°When, relative to the creation of this dimension, did Norac disappear?¡± *Tsch* ¡°The day after¡± seems like both don¡¯t like the questions that are being asked, for the next may give away the game. ¡°Why are you trying to get to Kravulkor¡¯s dimension?¡± ¡°¡­As a promise¡± After thinking hard, the man finally responds, dodging the question. ¡°Why didn¡¯t Kura just tell me all she knew, was there an external reason?¡± ¡°Yes¡­because she¡¯s got a mark of lies; she is unable to tell the truth on certain things¡± He almost stops himself from answering both questions, but he doesn¡¯t; he almost involuntarily speaks out. ¡°Now for another question, are you forced to tell the truth?¡± Karon remains silent, the clattering of bones apparent, though no distinguishable noise coming out. ¡°He said yes¡± Palock speaks up ¡°I speak nine languages¡± bones scrape across wood, due to a shrug perhaps. ¡°Oho, Kura is one smart little lady, and you are one poor fool¡± ¡°I am no fool, I am Karon, master Ferryman of Khthon¡± ¡°Tell me who gave you the curse to tell the truth¡± ¡°Norac¡± He doesn¡¯t bother to speak in a different language, knowing that he can¡¯t stop it. Immediately he starts blabbing in different languages, switching between as many as he can, non-stop spewing out random words. ¡°Palock, have fun deciphering¡± The man laughs loudly as Palock sighs depressingly. ¡°Why did Norac curse you?¡± ¡°Err¡­.no¡­reason? just¡­ki..did not trust me?¡± Palock somehow deciphers after they ask the question multiple times. ¡°Are you sure?¡± He asks Palock ¡°Nope, but I¡¯m guessing that the important words are ones that are spoken a bit louder than the rest. It seems to make sense¡± ¡°Right, so next question Karon-¡± Immediately Karon shuts up. ¡°Oh? Saying your name shuts you up?¡± ¡°Yes¡± He grits his teeth, making an ungodly noise with it. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Keyword of the curse¡± ¡°Lovely, now what happened to Norac?¡± ¡°He was summoned back by his Master¡± Palock mutters something unintelligible while the man giggles. ¡°I see, a few things are starting to make sense now¡­¡± ¡°What makes sense? Really, nothing does¡± Palock blurts out, very confused at everything. ¡°Why Aegi and He are friends. But some things still don¡¯t make sense¡­why did you not tell your Master of Aegi¡¯s presence here?¡± ¡°Because my curse doesn¡¯t let me¡± The ear ringing teeth gritting continues. Since memories of Norac doing the same thing once he cursed him resurface. ¡°Tell me all the effects of your curses.¡± ¡°I am unable to tell a lie, I must answer when spoken to, I cannot speak first unless it is for my boat duties, only when allowed to speak may I speak, my name controls my speaking ability and my life is tied to this boat¡± He lists the different effects of the curses, Norac gave him. ¡°Wow, Norac is quite the curser¡± The man chuckles lightly ¡°So that explains a little more¡± ¡°I¡¯m still lost¡± Palock responds to which the man gives a small laugh. ¡°My theory is that Aegi was being hidden by Norac and he made sure to seal off the potential spies. However he didn¡¯t get enough time to curse Kura, or didn¡¯t feel like cursing her more and ended up being summoned away. However thanks to both sets of curses, no news of Aegi was brought out. How correct am I so far?¡± ¡°Very¡± ¡°Good. So a few more questions would make sense of a few more random things. The first is why did Kura seal the souls off and not let them become Chthons?¡± ¡°Because the Master told her to¡± ¡°Damn. Hrmm¡­since you don¡¯t seem like you know his plans, no point asking anything about that¡­ah! Why did you think I was working for Kravulkor?¡± ¡°You are carrying his tome¡± ¡°His tome? I was told it was¡­ahh¡± He realizes that Kura¡¯s curse may have been in effect. ¡°So what is this tome?¡± ¡°One for summoning¡± ¡°Oho!¡± One could hear his elation quite heavily in the air ¡°Who is it summoning?¡± ¡°Norac¡± Silence ensued as everyone let the information sink in. ¡°RIGHT!¡± thank you for your cooperation, but it is no longer neces..wait, where is a portal to Kravulkor¡¯s realm?¡± ¡°I do not know¡± ¡°Dammit. Well anyways, thank you for your cooperation and may you have a good long life, Karon¡± With that, Karon shuts up and doesn¡¯t speak, only grits his bony teeth together. ¡°So Palock, let¡¯s get back shall we?¡± ¡°My body is broken, as is yours and his. Plus Chthons are coming this way, thanks to all the talking. We¡¯re not going anywhere¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Palock sees the man stand up, perfectly fine. ¡°How?¡± ¡°I¡¯m quite blessed you see¡± He grins joyfully. ¡°So how do I carry you without you killing me?¡± If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°I¡­don¡¯t know, but you better put on my robe before the Chthons come¡± Palock states with a hint of impatience. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because it¡¯ll ward the Chthon¡¯s away¡± ¡°Well I can¡¯t see so you¡¯re going to have to direct me to your robes and not you¡± The man slowly moves his hands around in the air. ¡°Ok, move down slightly, grab¡­there you go, now raise up and shake Ow, yeah there you go¡± Palock says instructions as the man follows them, picking up the robe and shaking Palock out of it. Putting the robe on, the man rubs his arms going ¡°ahh warm¡±. ¡°Ok, now if you carry me on your back I can direct you¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get to that, but first I need to sort out our ferryman. How little bones do you need to still be functioning?¡± The man asks thoughtfully. ¡°the head and some more bones should be enough¡± ¡°Ok, so will head and spine be enough?¡± ¡°Yes¡± ¡°Cool, not direct me to your head and spine, as well as his¡± Palock sighs, he¡¯s not getting out of this mostly whole. Directing the man, Palock watches him grab hold of his spine with the cuffs and breaks away this ribs and pelvis, leaving his head and spine, connected and intact. Held in the man¡¯s cuff, he finds it easier to direct the man to do the same to Karon. Soon, the man holds Palock in one hand, Karon slung over his back with the broken oar handle and with some more directions, holds the summoning tome in another hand. Everything sorted, Palock becomes the eyes for the man and they begin to walk through the dead grass. For a long time, they don¡¯t really speak, only Palock with a direction here and there. About an hour passes with no issue, as the man is unable to see the hordes of Chthons he¡¯s walking through, only feels their chilly presence closeby. That is until Palock notes the man of a blown up corpse he¡¯s about to step on. ¡°A corpse? Wait, Palock, look around , do you see a bow made from bones?¡± The man raises his arm, allowing Palock to get a good view of the area. ¡°Yes, I do see something like it, feet at either end?¡± ¡°Yes, damn Tandra¡± ¡°A friend?¡± Palock asks solemnly. The man nods. ¡°Well she¡¯s a Chthon now, lost forever¡± The man asks for where the bow is. Dropping the tome, he picks up the bow and then the quiver, shooting bones at the floor nearby. He stands there doing it for half a dozen arrows, till Palock tells him, a Chthon is standing in the way, waving their arms. Placing the bow into his inventory, the man picks up the tome and holds it under his arm along with Palock. Throwing ¡®arrows¡¯ like darts with his free hand, he slowly makes a path for this Chthon to follow. Within another hour, they finally reach a few metres from the keep, where blackness still resides. ¡°Another few steps and you¡¯ll be through the shield¡± Palock states. The man nods and then throws both Palock and Karon with his oar a few feet forward. Then he removes his robe and Palock, from only a few feet away watches the man open his arms and let the Chthon enter him. Screaming, the man stumbles through the shield, and onto the floor convulsing, a greyish blue clawed etheral hand wriggling violently outside his body, trying to escape. While screaming his head off, he stands up shakily, trying to get at least his lower body under control while his arms rake skin off one another in an attempt to dull the pain from having two souls in one body. He unceremoniously kicks both Palock and Karon and his tome to the doorway, where Kura is waiting, helping both of them to the repair room and leaving the man to fall to the floor, convulsing uncontrollably once more, this time, half the Chthon escaping, before being dragged back in. ¡­ Tandra had been alone for nine hours. It had been nine hours since she had been chucked out of her body and had watched it rip itself apart. Since then, she had cried silently and tried her best to move, willing herself. It took practice for her to will herself to move a single step. It was like moving a puppet, a very unresponsive one. But soon she got the hang of it, the sheer amount of brain power and concentration needed to take steps. And by the time she got the hang of it, Arrows were hitting the ground close to her. Not normal arrows, but her arrows. Elated, she willed herself to look around, but couldn¡¯t see him. She knew it was him, no one would be crazy enough to be out here. Immediately she feared, dreaded he would have the same fate as her. Bursting into action, she slowly walked towards the arrow pile and begins waving her arms in slow motion. Soon, the arrows changed spot, slowly forming a line. Ecstatic she got a response, she began following the arrows, moving a slow walk, but still moving. Eventually, the arrows stopped on top of a small hill, where there was nothing but flat ground. Then suddenly, the man appeared, in his usual clothing and with his usual cheeky grin. He opened his arms and with silent tears of happiness she went in for a hug, only to feel a certain desire click in. Inadvertedly, she slipping inside him, feeling flesh and blood encase her once more. But it felt wrong, constricting; like being shoved into the belly of a living thing, it¡¯s bloody fleshy walls pounding you as they tighten, squeezing you further into immobility. She wanted out. Clawing, screaming, crying, she tried to dig her way out. Nothing mattered, only escape from this fleshy prison that squeamishly held her, imprisoning her. But the walls did not give way so easily, something was enforcing them, choking her, squishing and squelching without restraint. Almost, she almost escaped. Half her body reached the outside, seeing bright torches and a large keep, before something strong dragged her back inside. She could hear the unearthly screams of the man when she was outside and even inside she can hear him screaming, see him screaming as he traps her inside, forces her to stay, even though both want her out. Although she was mad with trying to break free, the screams brought back a memory, a chilling nightmare that she does not want to relive. It gave her¡­control over this feeling of fleshy incarceration, enough to stop attacking the walls like a crazed animal and try to hold it in, to ignored the feeling of squelching flesh pulsating around her body. She could hold it for a few seconds before the madness took over once more. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Hello! last chapter for the weekend i believe and hope this answers something asnd makes more questions because questions are good! Anyways, please comment and review!! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 44- Continuing forward ¡°AHHHHHHHHHH-¡± ¡°-OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD STOP SCREAMING¡± Palock almost wades through the wall of noise emitting from the man as he pounds the floor, hands bloody and body scarred with ripped skin. He produces a mirror as he approaches and points frantically toward it. ¡°GET THE CHTHON IN HERE¡± His words are barely audible over the screaming, and it seems the man didn¡¯t notice in the slightest. Huffing, Palock shoves the mirror closer to the man, as close as he deems safe from the spasming of the man. ¡°LET GO¡± He raises his voice, and the man seems to hear him and tries to top his head from flinging around in the least. Making eye contact with Palock, the man seems almost pleading. Not really surprising since he¡¯s been screaming in pain for close to an hour now, fighting for something Palock doesn¡¯t know nor understand. ¡°GET IT IN THE MIRROR¡± He jabs at the mirror once more and the man slowly, with a single digit of his left hand, draws a response in the dirt floor, while trying to keep as still as possible. After a few pained attempts, the words become a legible sentence. Will it hurt her? Palock almost slaps himself in wonder and shock at the man, who is literally skinning himself alive with his own fingernails, yet still is concerned for the Chthon above himself. ¡°YES, BUT NOT AS MUCH AS IN YOUR BODY AND NOT BOTH OF YOU¡± He shouts over the screaming din. ¡°NEVAAAAAAHHH¡± He vehemently roars his refusal as he tears out his own eyeballs, crushing them in his hands, engulfing them in yet more vile liquids. ¡­ ¡°FOR CRYING OUT LOUD YOU TWO!!! IF YOU¡¯RE ANY LOUDER THIS BLOODY KEEP WILL CRUMBLE¡± Kura comes screaming from the keep, overpowering both Palock¡¯s frantic and forceful shouts along with the man¡¯s hellish, tongueless wails. No eyes look towards her, but both of them still turn their heads towards Kura as she bursts out from the doorway. ¡°JUST TELL ME WHAT IN THE FOURTEEN HELLS YOU¡¯RE DOING?¡± Palock winces under her voice, meekly responding, but the words being drowned in the non-stop wails of the man. Though after a few tries, he overspeaks the man. "I''M TRYING TO GET THE CHTHON IN THE MIRROR, TO STOP HIM SCREAMING¡± ¡°LOOK! PUT THE DAMN CHTHON IN THE MIRROR BEFORE I PERSONALLY TURN YOU INTO ONE¡± Kura rages towards the man, skull cracking slightly. ¡°IAAAGOTHROUAAAAAAALLLHEAAAAPAAAAAHHHINAAAAH¡± He tries to speak in the midst of the screams, most of the message passing across. ¡°IF YOU WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE, PUT HER IN THE MIRROR, ONLY FOR A LITTLE BIT¡± Almost instantly, the Chthon rockets out of the man, flying into the mirror and is engulfed by it with ease. The man, with a few deep, gulping breaths, calms down at an alarming rate, until he stands up in prime condition¡­that is if one ignores the skinned arms, lack of tongue, eyes, teeth, nails and some ribs. ¡°Tandra, why¡¯d you go?¡± He speaks to the mirror, concern lacing his tone. Palock looks into the mirror too, to see Tandra, in Chthon form, miming incomprehensibly to the man, not that he can see anyway. ¡°Well whyever you did it, you¡¯re coming back in when we get out of here¡± The man wags a finger at her before turning away from Kura. ¡°Now you mentioned something about leaving here?¡± Kura nods. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll show you a way out¡± She starts walking back inside. The man quickly dives around in search of his tome, and with the help of Palock, he quickly grasps it. Both then quickly stumble after her, the man requiring a bit of help due to a few broken toes and lack of eyes. Passing by several reapers, they all dart around the corridors, running to wherever they need to be. ¡°Do you have a preference of location?¡± Kura asks as they briskly walk. ¡°I don¡¯t really know a good location¡­somewhere evil?¡± The man shrugs, not really caring it seems. She abruptly swings right and rushes under a sign saying Caniia. Turning right again, she walks through an open door with ¡®North¡¯ stopping inside, surrounded by a small ring of portals. ¡°Well I can¡¯t see what¡¯s going on, so explain?¡± he states obviously as he looks around the room without seeing anything. ¡°This is a room full of portals to the northern side of the Kingdom of Caniia. The portal on the side of your left arm, is where you should be going. It¡¯s near Quercus¡± She explains, and Palock helps direct the man. As they near the portal, Palock turns the man round and with his hem, places the mirror in the man¡¯s free hand and is about to let go when Kura coughs. ¡°There¡¯s no need to do that Palock, because you¡¯re going with him¡± He turns round ¡°What? Why?¡± He asks confused. ¡°Well firstly, you don¡¯t give random humans reaper equipment. And secondly, you know a lot about the Overworld, that¡¯ll come in handy¡± ¡°But my reaper duties, and not to be rude or anything, but he¡¯s just a human and not part of our duties¡± He raises his hands in the air, utterly confused as to why. ¡°Tell me priest, what are you trying to achieve?¡± ¡°At this point, find Norac¡± The man answers to the wall without doubt. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°You see Palock, something like that is definitely the job of a reaper¡± With a loud sigh, Palock concedes and heads through the portal, mirror in hand. The man, turning towards Kura, gives a wild grin. ¡°Three years by yourself, praying and hoping wouldn¡¯t really keep you sane really¡­revenge though¡­that¡¯ll definitely keep you sane¡± Laughing madly, the man stumbles into the wrong portal, to which Kura slaps her head, bones shivering from his dumbassery, as well as the way he saw right through her, even with no eyes. ¡­ ¡°Graty, Chee, your turn¡± Doronius grunts as he stops, huffing from the hard work of lugging Cannith. A young looking woman with two brown ponytails slings her simple shortbow over her shoulder before swapping places with Doronius. A smaller and younger version of her bounds after her and picks up the second rope from the lanky guy. With much grunting, they both slowly drag the stretcher along, giving Cannith a slightly bumpy ride, but nothing too severe. It had been two days since they had left, dragging Cannith behind them in the moonlight. Through those two days, it had been a series of small encounters with the wildlife, which all ended with a shower of arrows pincushioning them. However, it had been two days and the monsters didn¡¯t seem to get easier. Rather their difficult spiked a bit, almost killing one of them in a certain fight against a bear with spiked bones down its spine and sharp fur, till Cannith went into shock, accidentally punching off one of this strange bear¡¯s legs. They¡¯d almost lost Cannith due to the shock, but with a lot of cpr, herbs and makeshift electric shocking as a defib, they brought him back to life. That was their main highlight in the past two days. Since that strange, bone spiked and feral bear, nothing else had attacked them. Actually they hadn¡¯t even spotted a single malicious woodland creature in the past half day. It was odd and quite disconcerting for them. ¡°Alright, we¡¯re official lost¡± The elderly fellow, Graf as everyone calls him, wrings his hands in the air. ¡°No we¡¯re not, just keep going straight and we¡¯ll soon find it¡± the small kid with brown hair, Lip as everyone calls him, snaps his fingers and continues to march forward. ¡°Can¡¯t you see the trees have all changed, the lighting, the ambient music?¡± Graf lists the different things, of which some everyone missed; the change of ambient music. They had gotten used to the music just playing softly in the background; they kind of forgot it was there. Actively listening, they find that it is indeed quite different, a lot more wind instrumentally. ¡°Hmm, looks like Graf has a point¡± Panthress speaks up from the side to which most of them nod. All except Lip, until he finally concedes and nods too. ¡°Dammit, this map is all wrong, bloody thing¡± He takes out an old, hand drawn map and tears it into pieces. ¡°Wait¡± Doronius looks at Lip in shock ¡°Why did you do that?!¡± ¡°It was annoying me¡± Lip shrugs non-commitally. ¡°IT¡¯S THE ONLY ONE WE HAD¡± He blurts out, unable to contain his rage. ¡°Hey hey Doronius, calm down. He¡¯s just a kid¡± Sleek, the slightly elven looking archer puts a reassuring hand on Doronius¡¯ shoulder. ¡°A lippy little fucker that¡¯s for sure. But look at this mess Sleek. That guy is going to die, and we are in the middle of nowhere with no idea where the nearest settlement could be and he¡¯s going to die!!¡± Doronius clasps both of Sleek¡¯s shoulders, rattling him to make sure his point goes across. ¡°There¡¯s no point walking back, he¡¯ll definitely die then. The only thing we can do now is go forward and hope¡± The lanky guy, Rick, butts in, clapping them both on the shoulder and motioning for the others to go forward. He then walks up to Lip, squats down and looks him in the eye. ¡°Promise me you won¡¯t break other people¡¯s things ok?¡± His tone is not quite patronizing, but when one talks to a twelve year old kid, there is always a certain lacing of it. ¡°Fine¡± He rolls his eyes and continues on. Shaking his head, Rick goes back beside Doronius, who finally calmed down and continued walking, on the left flank, watching the surroundings for enemies. ¡°I do hope we find somewhere for him soon¡± Graf sighs solemnly. ¡°Well, hope no further, nufufu¡± a light and merry voice sings from the trees above. Everyone stops abruptly and look up, to see a small group of long haired men and women with sharp eyes and porcelain skin. A gargle of sound comes from the direction of Sleek, who seems to have fainted upon sight of the elves, much to the shock of both parties. ¡­ ¡°Well, I¡¯m pretty sure her definition of evil is very different to my own¡± The man chuckles lightly as he slowly revolves around, taking in the beautiful sights of giant, thick trees, the canopies linking together to make a light green blanket, holey enough to allow much light in. ¡°Hauta!¡±A voice calls out from the trees, to which the man¡¯s head swivels round to spot a lanky man with luscious and sleek golden hair pointing a drawn arrow at him. ¡°What?¡± The man spins his body towards the elf and continues spinning, utterly confused by the foreign tongue, and gets an arrow through his eye. The man just looked up at the elf in mild confusion as to why he just got shot through the eye. The elf, faints due to the sheer shock of seeing the man show almost no reaction to the deadly wound. Catching the elf as he drops almost twenty feet, he lays the poor man on the grassy floor. ¡°Ok, maybe this place could be a little evil, I see it now¡± he muses as he looks upon the unconscious elf. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -Author''s Corner: Heyyy, short chapter today, just for setting up a nice little mini-arc as well as sort of moving away from Khthon which was a brief adventure for our little duo! Anyways, hope to seeyou soon so please comment and review :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 45- Elves Kaille woke up alone in the evening light, body sore with bruises. It took his mind a few seconds to start its rusty cogs, to remember what transpired earlier that day, or so he thinks. Hoisting himself to standing with a frantic fervor, he picks up his bow, thankfully unhurt from the fall, and begins sprinting back towards his village. He needs to warn them, of this¡­thing that somehow survived an arrow through the eye. Rushing through the trees in a hurry his feet yet soar lightly over the ground, making a barely perceptible sound which one could mistake for the natural rustling of leaves and wind. Within barely less than an hour he dives under the guard post that is well hidden in the trees above, ladled with sweat and continues towards the chieftain¡¯s house still decently fresh. Though he abruptly stops when turning a tree and collides into a figure pinchusioned by arrows. Skewering himself with the notches of a few arrows, he winces in pain before standing up, stumbling away from the figure, almost slipping on the pool of blood slowly seeping into the grass. ¡°Kaille, watch out, that thing isn¡¯t elf!¡± Korrian, his elder brother warns from the trees. Nodding with dreading realization, he backs away from the slowly shifting figure as it tries to stand up. As it does, a disheveled volley of arrows comes striking down, breaking upon the ones already stuck due to the sheer density of arrows already there. ¡°Hold!¡± The guard leader, his elder brother Korrian shouts towards the nervous and sick-looking members of his guard. Some even are flat out unconscious; their minds unable to fathom the reality of such a thing and simply giving out on them just like Kaille¡¯s. Many were young, yet some were still of a venerable age, but Kaille knew none could confess to seeing something like this before. The figure, finally stood, breaks the arrows off where its mouth supposedly is and says something unintelligible in a surprisingly gentle voice. ¡°Stop where you are!¡± Korrian shouts in Elvish, drawing his bow, along with many others to promote his warning. Seemingly, the figure understands and raises a mass of arrows in the air, possibly his arms. While all wait with bated breath, holding their bows drawn with barely a twitch, Kaille rushes up a tree using the natural juts the tree to aid him. After a minute of climbing, he makes it up, the last leg of the way helped by his brother as he pulls him up, before giving him a quick clap on the shoulder, before getting someone to bandage his little brother up. The rest keep their bows drawn and aim at the thing, all waiting for something to happen, Kaille had no idea. Though luckily his wait was not long, as their Chieftan and father, Veinor, walked onto the main guard platform, looks perturbed towards the figure. The figure speaks in its strange language and oddly enough, Veinor responds in the same language, acting oddly peacefully. All look towards him strangely. ¡°It is the common tongue, one spoken by humans mostly¡± He explains to all, not only the guards nearby, but the many families who wait, bows at the ready in case they¡¯re needed. Human? Kaille was estranged by the word, for their village was far on the eastern edge of Caniia, near the orcs which were their only visitors and as such only the learned or very old residents knew of these so called humans Again Veinor spoke in the common tongue, starting a conversation with the bundle of arrows, all his fear showing deeply in his eyes but not on his body. The figure inside the arrows starts breaking them off one by one as he chatters calmly with the chief. Some thought the figure didn¡¯t even notice pain since it kept pulling arrows out without the slightest bleep in his conversational tone. Veinor finally ended the conversation and turned towards as many elves as he could see. ¡°This man is a priest and says he comes to bring no harm. He is allowed to stay the night and then he will be on his way¡± He announces lightly to the hidden crowd, although his face holds a more serious tone of deep thought. With sluggishness befitting his old age, he beings hobbling back, drained, towards his small treehouse. ¡°Little brother¡± Korrian places a hand on his shoulder and sighs. ¡°Since you failed on your duties as watchman, you¡¯re going to be on watch with Layenna to make sure ¡®that¡¯-¡± He points towards the figure which is becoming more shapely as more blood soaked arrows are removed. ¡°Doesn¡¯t try anything¡±. Kaille gives a curt nod and salutes, while his brother, checking the coast is clear gives him a gaudy, yet sneaky, wink. Dammit, why do you do this brother? Concentrating on keeping his flushing cheeks down, he approaches Layenna. ¡°So, seems like we¡¯re partners¡± The words barely escape his twisted tongue ¡°for the night, the watch of course¡± He mentally berates himself for being such a dollop. ¡°You alright?¡± The blonde haired maiden with a small line of freckles running across her petite nose and slightly bony cheeks, tilts her head in concern, showing off her long pointed ears. ¡°J-Just shaken up that¡¯s all¡± He forcefully sits himself down cross-legged shutting himself up and concentrating on keeping his face the usual tanned colour. She quickly joins him in cross legged seating, emerald green eyes peering down in both horror and curiosity towards the figure. Catching himself staring, but thankfully she does not, he quickly corrects himself and looks towards the ¡®human¡¯ seeing that he is wearing a white top and white shorts, both magically unharmed. The man itself is fine, with no visible puncture holes in sight, even to his keen elven sight. ¡°Just what is he?¡± A small gasp of both surprise and disgust brush out of Layenna¡¯s small yet still quite full lips. ¡°A human¡± He responded fearfully, his mind filled to the brim with fantasies of these ¡®humans¡¯ and how they are all like the one on the forest floor right now. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Once again, they lapsed into silence, watching the man stretch out and without a single care in the world, fall to sleep, using a large red tome with black pulsating lines as a head rest. ¡°Do you think he¡¯s with the orcs?¡± Layenna once again starts the conversation, eyes flickering towards him before concentrating back on the man with a gleeful and sleepy smile on his face. ¡°No¡± Kaille somehow believed that, since the chieftain did not immediately ask them to kill him, not that they hadn¡¯t tried, but nonetheless. ¡°Why not?¡± This time she looks at him, emerald eyes brimmed with concern and gazing into his own, her breath almost impercievable, as if she¡¯d forgotten to breathe. ¡°Erm erm¡± He stammers for a second, lost in her gaze ¡°Because the chieftain didn¡¯t ask us to kill him!¡± Pumping out enthusiasm to drown out the other feeling, he gets a little too enthusiastic and his legs start shivering, although his nervousness helps influence it somewhat. She doesn¡¯t seem to care about his nervous and energetic shivering of his leg as she touches it, leaning slightly towards him as if interested by the conversation, yet offering no reply, just staring into his eyes, silent and almost breathless. Heart thumping, he begins to blabber. ¡°But he c-cou-¡± His stammering is quickly cut off by her lips sealing his and instinctively he pulls her closer, feeling the warmth of her body on his chest and her small hands cupping the back of his head. Closing his eyes, entranced with the swirling butterflies in his stomach and wrestling tongues in his mouth, he loses himself to the feeling. Layenna quickly follows suit, but not after clenching her fist in delight; for she had finally gotten over her nervousness and done the first move. In a distance away from the young, heated bubble of na?ve passion that moaned through the night, was Korrian, drinking some fresh brandy with a smug smile on his face. ¡°Ah nothing like the sound of young love¡± He chuckles to himself and continues his nights watch since he knows those two are busy with other tasks. ¡­ Morning came soon enough and when the sun rose, so did the human, who stood up and yawned almightily which should wake up most of the small village. However quite a few had been woken up early by the quite foreseen activity between the two official watchers. Food quickly made their way around the village and many started scrunching on their fruits while peering down at the human, who was waving up towards them and rubbing his stomach. Most just looked unbelieving at whatever the hell this ¡®human¡¯ is, since he had recovered full from all those arrows and was just casually asking for food. They had all seen many horrors and strange things in their time, but nothing so terrifying and bizarre as this. Korrian, making a quick decision, brought his breakfast; a bowl of fruit, down to the man, handing it to him, suppressing the mountain of fear that bridled inside him. The chieftain seemed accepting of the man in the least and therefore so should he. Everyone held their breath as the man reached out towards Korrian, moving past the bowl slowly and then suddenly grabbing a single berry, popping it into his mouth, accompanying the swallowing with a delighted sound. He then motions at the bowl and then Korrian himself, repeating the gesture another time till he gets the message. Oddened further by the strange man, Korrian climbs back up and eats the rest of his breakfast, while observing the man closely for signs of hunger. Surely enough, the man seemed hungry by the sound of a rumbling stomach, but a hard, merciless punch to said stomach quietened it down somewhat. ¡°Veinor¡± The man spoke abruptly, speaking the name of Korrian¡¯s father in elvish, striking everyone dumb with surprise for a second. Quickly someone runs off to bring the chieftain while the rest try to go about their morning activites, but are too distracted by the strange being called a ¡®human¡¯ of which still no one had been told anything about the matter. Although Korrian knew that the chieftain and the other leading members of the village had discussed the matter at length last night. He was not able to hear the words due to the thick walls, but he is lucky to be situated so close to the chieftain¡¯s house that he was able to hear hushed voices speaking throughout the night. The chief pops into sight, his bony face and untrusting eyes peering down towards the man. Once again they start conversation. However merely a few words are said before a guttural roar comes from the forest to their east. Following the sound came a small horde of green skinned, crazy axe wielding monsters that stood seven feet tall and as wide as even three elves, all charging with froth dripping from their tusked jaws. They were spotted quickly while still at a distance, but were quickly closing in on the village hidden in the trees, obviously coming for them and not just running past in search of something else. What the hell are they doing here? ¡°PREPARE FOR BATTLE¡± Korrian screams from the top of his lungs as he drops the bowl of fruit off the edge of the tree house and scrambles into his house, collecting his bow and sword, abandoning the leaf armor due to the time it takes to put it on. Rushing out his house and standing facing the east, the small horde reaching three hundred feet, firing distance. ¡°FIRE AT WILL¡± With a war cry, the slaughter began. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Hey and welcome to the new mini-arc; Elves!!!! Right, hope you''re enjoying the chapter so far as more is to come!!! Also thank you whoever''s reviewed, it''s always nice to see my rating trickle up :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 46- Like Orcs To The Slaugther The war cry¡¯s begin and are quickly answered by a small hail of constant arrows. Blood sprays Kgathur as the brethren in front of him falls under the small mass of arrows, wooden shafts piercing through her hide armor and wicked, barbed heads sticking out the other side glistening with black blood. Dodging the dropping corpse, he stumbles over another hedgehogged corpse, and rolls in the ground, the whizzing of arrows zipping over him. Scrambling up, an arrow embeds deep in his arm and he roars at the pain, fueling his rage to lessen it and give him thought of killing whomever shot him. He continues charging, now fallen behind a few rows of orcs making him a lot less likely to be shot but a lot less likely to get to an elf first. The slaughter had begun at three hundred feet, and by the time they had reached the bases of the elves¡¯ trees, a few hundred of his brethren had died. But Kgathur did not tremble in fear; he shook in glorious thoughts of killing such worthy opponents, however cowardly they are; hiding in trees and using bows. Immediately, the rest of the horde, a hundred or two shy of a thousand now, raised these new ¡®ladders¡¯ with their crooked hooks, up to the tree house platforms. The more matured orcs, those who were physically bigger and stronger, had been granted thick and large wooden shields, had been tasked to charging with the ladders, and even though their armor and shields bristled with arrows, they had successfully carried the ladders to the base of the trees. A shield of a thousand bodies did help keep them alive too. The ladders, once raised, latch onto the platform, making them difficult to disengage. Immediately, the orcs swarm up the four ladders with axe in mouth and arrows piercing through their sides. Hundreds, now stuck in a clean line, become easy targets for the elves, which shoot them with ravaging gusto. Kgathur finally reaching the ladder begins scrambling up, getting an arrow in his right thigh and one on his left leg within seconds. The orc in front of him drops down silently, a feathered shaft sticking out one of his eyes. Suddenly the arrows lessen on the ladders as the first orcs finally reached the top, some covered in arrows, bleeding from multiple wounds yet still charging forward with all their might. Those standing on the platforms quickly become the targets for all the elves, getting slaughtered by the dozens by a mass of arrows. Kgathur reaches the top, scrambling and rolling behind a brethrens corpse, dodging a dozen arrows pointed his way. Peering up, he sees ten elves on another platform joined by a bridge, firing arrows at a ridiculous speed towards them with a terrifying accuracy he notes as his ear receives an arrow through the center. Others had begun using their fellow orcs¡¯ corpses as shields and began pushing towards the bridge between the platforms. Two elves were working hard sawing the edge of the bridge off and seeing that, the orcs abandoned all semblance of caution and rushed forward, using their comrades corpses as shields. Scrambling behind half a dozen orcs and on top the corpses of a few dozen more, Kgathur reaches halfway across the bridge when suddenly two arrows sport from his right arm, even piercing the side of his chest slightly. Swinging the corpse to the side, barbed arrow heads burst into view through the corpse¡¯s head, dangerously close to his own. The elves had begun shooting at other bridges, to kill the orcs from the side and it seemed to be working. Within seconds, dozens of orcs had fallen over the rails, screaming as they plunged to their deaths. Only one orc remained in front of Kgathur when he heard the screams of his brethren as a bridge had been successfully cut, sending dozens plummeting to their deaths. Around two thirds of the war party had died but not one began retreating, not yet. Kgathur reached the others side, jumping over the tumbling corpse of the one in front as he finally succumbs to a volley of arrows, and collides into the tree, just missing the group of elves as they retreat, giving the platform to the orcs. The orcs swarm the platform and give chase, catching two of the slower elves and butchering them with victorious roars. Kgathur, recovering from a mild concussion from hitting the tree, lost ground and now stood at the back of around thirty orcs, though that number quickly dwindled. The eight remaining elves began a full retreat and the orcs began chasing them, around half dying before the finally catch up to the elves on the bridge of the third platform. Orcs are faster than elves due to their powerful muscles, so once they were able to go into a full run without being filled with arrows, the elves had little chance of escaping. Eight became six, became two and finally the last were caught in the back by orc axes and were summarily hacked to pieces. They had killed their group of elves, but they did not finish there. Racing across the next platform they rushed towards a wooden house carved into four trees, stopping when they noticed all bridges had been cut. Turning round, he and his brethren looked for elves to kill. Though Kgathur¡¯s group had fared well, one group had been completely annihilated while the other two were still fighting fiercely against their ten archers, dying in droves yet slowly whittling down the number of elves. So there was plenty still to kill. The group of elves that had annihilated one group of orcs on one ladder were unharmed and on a sole platform about three metres away; possible jumping distance for an orc. They were busy shooting down a raving group of orcs that were waylaying into a retreating group of four elves, slaughtering dozens after dozens. Therefore they were distracted enough to not notice a small group of twenty orcs jumping across the platform, a few of the weaker and more wounded ones not crossing the gap and summarily falling to their deaths. Kgathur¡¯s chest and arms slammed onto the platform, digging his axe into the wood in the process, saving him from a hundred foot drop to his death. With a grunt, he pulls himself up, surrounded by a dozen orcs, who had quickly charged across and began waylaying into the elves, killing three within moments. Scrambling to his feet, he wrenches his axe out and charged into the melee, immediately blocking a blow from an elf with the handle, almost getting it split into two. The elf handles the blade magnificently; slicing open Kgathur¡¯s left shoulder before almost disemboweling him, only missing due to another orc stumbling away screaming as his guts spilled grimly onto the platform. Using the momentary distraction, he heaves his axe towards the elf, feeling it bite deep along with an accompanied scream. Wrenching the axe towards him, the elf is pulled into arm distance, his sword dangling useless from an almost severed arm. Letting go of his axe, he grabs the elf¡¯s neck, cracking it with ease before dropping the body in pain as a sword slices through his side, tearing through a rib in the process. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Roaring, he turns towards the elf, raising his arms to block the sword that¡¯s aimed for his face, only to get it piercing through both his forearms, stopping inches from his skull. The elf is barreled off the platform by another orc a moment later, his shrill screams drowned out by the sounds of battle and death all around. No other elf attacks him as the rest are dead, either pushed off the platforms, some even taking an orc with them on the way down, or butchered on the spot. Out of the sixteen orcs that made it onto the platform, only four remain. Even with a surprise attack, they had still lost a large amount. As they celebrated their grand massacre, a horn blew from down below, drowning their spirits with shame. It was the horn of retreat, blown because the battle had become too out of their favour. Reluctantly, but with knowledge that they¡¯d die ingloriously if they stayed, the orcs quickly retreated, hacking off the head¡¯s of the elves around them, taking them back as trophies. Sliding down the ladder, Kgathur stumbles away, blood dripping from multiple wounds and his vision heavy. Though adrenaline kept him going, kept him running with a great speed to where the horn continuously blew, further in the distance each time. Until he tripped upon a small body with an axe embedded deep in its face. He scrambled up, looking at the corpse of what was an elf with round ears, it¡¯s open eyes staring back unmoving, with mild wonder. Then it blinked. Kgathur, believing he was hallucinating from the lack of blood, ignored it, trying to wrench out the axe, but failed to do so due to lack of strength. Orcs were still running away around him, their faces a mixture of victory and defeat and he quickly decided to join them, instinctively dragging the axe over his shoulder and subsequently this non-elf male, blood still freshly pouring from his face and drenching Kgathur¡¯s shoulder and arm. They ran and stumbled for the better part of an hour, finally collapsing in a heap of sweat and blood, many dying from their wounds and exhaustion on the spot. Kgathur collapsed, yet still alive somehow, the adrenaline finally shutting off and sending him into a deep wave of lethargy. Forcing his eyes to stay open, he looks at the bright sky, of late morning, hearing the groans of his brethren as they help one another bandage their wounds or give a glorious death to those who won¡¯t make it. Within a few minutes, he is able to sit up, broken arrow shafts still sticking out from his body, but his sword wounds are closed, scars already forming. Too tired to think about it, he looked around the mass of orcs that once numbered one thousand. Counting twelve tens and six orcs, he grunts. Worse than it should be, but for what we¡¯ve done, it is amazing. His eyes wander to a decently large pile of heads; eighteen he counts. But he knows those are only the ones that they were able to collect. Their Warleader, Ooragkt, hobbled around camp, fresh wounds spurting blood onto the freshly tied bandages with each step. He went round giving a grunt of approval to all of his orcs, only stopping at Kgathur, piggy eyes squinting at the strange corpse next to him. Kgathur, remembering what he had dragged along instinctively, since an orc without an axe is shameful, turns round to see the eyes staring back at him; looking rather unimpressed. Then the eyes blink, sending both orcs into a relapse of disbelief attributing it to exhaustion. That is till the eyes blink again, this time a flash of gold permeating the pupils till they return to their normal colour. ¡°DEMON¡± Ooragkt screams as he jumps back in shock. Screaming also, Kgathur jumps up, further garnering the attention of the whole group as he points along with Ooragkt towards the corpse that isn¡¯t a corpse. The eyes stay focused on Kgathur, blinking rather patiently at first but then increasing in frequency, as if annoyed. Suddenly they begin darting from the axe to Kgathur, back and forth while the group gathers round, jumping away and trembling in fear at such a sight. In desperate terror, one attacks the ¡®demon¡¯; axe slicing off an arm, but the only response from it is another unimpressed look from it. Half a dozen others join in frantically, hacking away at it; leaving their axes embedded in it, before in pure terror, scurry away, revealing the ¡®demon¡¯ still looking around rather unimpressed at the lot. Its eyes finally return to Kgathur and the axe. Soon the rest of the group looks at Kgathur and then the axe. Swallowing both blood and spit, he shuffles towards the axe, wrenching it out from deep within the face after a few heavy tugs, leaving a large gaping hole in the skull, displaying a large chunk of the brain, although a fair amount stayed on the axe itself. The ¡®demon¡¯ remains motionless now, not moving, eyes staring straight into the sky, but all see that slowly the chest rises up and down, even though two axes stay embedded in it. Almost fifteen minutes pass with no one moving an inch, some even forgetting to breath for a few seconds due to the silent, thick tension. Finally, with a mix of horror and wonder, they see the body regenerate, the wounds close and the face reform, eyes now twinkling with a happyish sparkle. Slowly and shakily, the ¡®demon¡¯ stands up, causing all the orcs to kneel and grovel begging utter forgiveness in one green mass. Orcs are not acclaimed to be devout followers of gods or demons, but to meet one certainly dug enough fear into their hearts to make them bow for they are superstitious in their own way. The ¡®demon¡¯ said something unintelligible, but it bowed towards Kgathur to everyone¡¯s wonder before sauntering away from the circle, orcs stumbling away while their heads and knees stayed planted on the ground. It disappeared among the trees, walking back towards the elves¡¯ region and all the orcs, even Ooragkt looked a Kgathur in wonder, for he had a demon bow to him, for whatever reason. Little did they know the ¡®demon¡¯ was simply giving his thanks for having the axe removed. With such a strange occurrence and their first battle with the elves burned into their minds, they began the long trudge home. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Orcs!!! Don''t worry there will soon be a little bit of lore on them, explaining possibly a few questions you may have about them :D Anyways, hope you enjoyed the battle which was a complete massacre. Ooh, next chapter gets to be nice after effects of the battle so hope you''ll enjoy that too (it''ll probably come out in a few days, dependent on how busy/bored i am). -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 47-Elven Survival Kaille shook his head as he pushed another headless orc off one of the platforms. ¡°Bloody things weren¡¯t supposed to come for another few months¡± Bitterness shakes his voice, since he was caught off-guard like many of them and weren¡¯t able to make the necessary preparations like cutting the bridges and setting traps up. Because of that, their usual death count of fewer than ten had become thirty two in less than an hour of fighting. That was three quarters of their fighting force; only eight trained members remained. The rest of the villagers were children, women or healers. It was a rule that the women would be forced to stay in the main house in the event of an attack, because men can die and the village only needs one to repopulate, losing a woman loses an entire lifeline of potential warriors in the years to come. Thus out of the thirty two all were men. For some, this was a shining light in the darkness; since only twelve healthy men remained in a village with over thirty women. However for some, like Kaille, it meant love was not an option anymore, he would have to consummate with another, something he oddly minds now that he has been with Layenna. Thus it would be one of many problems that will arise from the aftermath of this battle. Another problem was that they were not numerous enough to fight off another attack next year, if the orcs would wait that long. Beheading another orc with his blood encrusted sword, he has a quick glance at the tusks, determining the age of these to be in the usual young adolescence of ten years. The orcs had always been doing this; sending a raiding party of their plentiful offspring when they were in their first years of adolescence, to prove themselves men by killing enemies in combat. Usually it would happen in the late fall, to reduce the orc population for one and because it was the rainy season, affecting the bows somewhat. However they had attacked too early; it was only the end of spring now and none were expecting the attack, much less with the hooked ladders. Usually the orcs would be forced to climb the trees in droves, but this time they had had the ladders. But even with the ladders, many orcs had fallen and had finally been forced to retreat in fear of annihilation, luckily. Peering around, at a rough guess they killed slightly more than eight hundred of them. To anyone else that seems a huge number, especially when only thirty died their side. However to elves, that was a disturbing ratio; for orc women gave birth in the dozens and the orc villages had a lot more women than the elves, as well as being a lot more fertile. One elf was easily worth a few hundred orcs, due to the difficulty in breeding and also the training given. Kaille was only forty six; a mere adolescent in elf years, but that was thirty one years of battle, thirty one years of killing orcs incessantly. The orcs that came were wet behind the ears and raring to kill their first elf. Gritting his teeth in anger, he beheads another few orcs, viciously kicking their corpses off the side while holding a small bundle of six heads by their longish hair. It was unfair, unfair how they were outnumbered, unfair how they were constantly attacked and slowly killed off due to superior numbers. It was simply unfair. He wanted revenge, he wanted to kill orc women, reduce the number of orc children, massacring them in their crude huts before burning the babies alive. Reaching an orc with his arrow embedded in its throat, he slices off one of its ears before beheading it and chucking it over the side. That ear was proof of his kill. The work continued on with a furious vengeance for two hours, with the help of the rest of the village. Children unceremoniously heaved dead orcs off the platforms while the mothers carved off the heads, showing and teaching their children the proper way to do it. Layenna made eye contact with Kaille from a distance, grinning maliciously from ear to ear as she holds an orc one of her own; her own kill. Soon the platforms were empty of orcs and everyone transferred fearlessly down to the ground, almost wanting the orcs to return, methodically working their way from one edge of the village to the other, beheading and marking kills. He was in the midst of wrenching his sword out of the side of an orc¡¯s particularly thick neck, going for another chop, when the soft crunching sound of footsteps in the distance caught his attention, and not only his. Eighty three pairs of eyes looked to where both the orcs had come and fled, only to see the human, still in a white t-shirt and light brown shorts, waltzing up without a care in the world. Shock registered on most of their faces, especially Kaille when he had seen an axe embed itself in the man¡¯s face, before the rest of him was trampled carelessly by the horde. Although he¡¯d seen the man turned into a pincushion for arrows, being trampled by a horde was a slightly different matter. And to walk away from it harmlessly is most bizarre. Ignoring the looks of shock, the man sauntered up to them, only to stop and stare back at them, slightly out of disgust Kaille believes. He says something unintelligible, pointing at the crushed corpse of an elf, which had a group of elves around the vicinity, beheading dead orcs instead. Kaille, unused to such a show of compassion towards dead elves cocked his head. From childhood they were taught to not care about dead elves, only to care for dead orcs. ¡°Make sure to count your kills, not check whether this or that survived¡± His father used to tell him and the other children in lessons. At first, they had all found it werid, but like the children out hacking apart orcs right now, all they felt was rage¡­no grief, just rage towards the orcs as well as a cold calculative thought embedded in his mind: One thousand orcs for every dead elf. They can attend and bury their dead once all their killers lay down in the ground with them. That is what all thought in this village. The man however, seemed to have a different approach to things; he walked up to the corpse, kneeling by it and closing its eyes in silence. Kaille thought the man was definitely strange, almost crying for dead elves rather than thirsting for the blood of living orcs while maiming the dead for trophies of war. But then again, this man was ¡®human¡¯, something Veinor, his father did not seem all that comfortable being around. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Though Kaille remained interested with the human¡¯s strange customs, in the process noticing it was his older brother being looked upon. He shrugged his shoulders coldly, vowing to kill a thousand orcs for him before burying him with honor, since one elf is worth a thousand orcs. Finishing his strange ritual, the man continues to do so for the rest of the corpses on the floor, starting with an orc. No one was having that. He can do his strange things with the corpses of dead elves, but he does not play around with their enemies, only they get to defile and destroy their corpses, if only to sate some anger. Veinor himself walked up to the man, putting a hand on his shoulder and quite forcefully moving him away from the orc. They began to speak in fervent tones¡­ ¡­ ¡°Seriously, you¡¯re not going to let me pray over a dead body? I¡¯m a priest, that¡¯s kind of what I do¡­¡± The man looked utterly confused towards Veinor as he shook his head violently. ¡°Those are the corpses of our enemies, they are to be mutilated and carved up for winter¡± He states emotionlessly. The man¡¯s eyes grew somewhat before slowly nodding, not quite in understanding. ¡°But what about the elves? Why do your people not mourn them?¡± He asks wide eyed. ¡°Because grief is weakness, only rage will fuel us through the hard times to come, only rage will keep us fighting. Also, if need be we shall carve up the dead to help us survive, having grief for them would make survival impossible in the harshest times¡± ¡°You¡¯d eat your own kind? I mean orcs was bad enough but elves too?¡± The man just looked shocked, jaw dropping to the floor. ¡°Can you see any animals? Can you hear any birds? No, because there are none, all taken away by the orcs when they came to this land. There are only two things to eat in this place¡­them and us¡± He states matter of factly, unperturbed by the concept of cannibalism. ¡°It is our way of life, nothing more, nothing less¡± ¡°Right! Kura was definitely correct, Aegi!¡± He looks up into the sky shaking his head morosely. ¡°I¡¯m going to be off now, so could you point me to my book which I seemed to have dropped around here somewhere¡± He starts peering round, seemingly anxious to leave. ¡°Ah your book¡­¡± He spends a few moments talking in elvish with the people around him, to which they all seem to chat quite merrily with him. Their eyes are all filled with hunger as they speak, thinly veiled for many are not used to lying. Finally he seems to have an answer. ¡°I believe someone found it a while ago, taking it to my house¡± He smiles and points to the large house carved in-between four trees. The man shakes his head with a sad sigh. ¡°Look, if you¡¯re playing around and just want to use me as an unlimited food source, I really don¡¯t have time for that. Plus, there¡¯s a Reaper looking for me, so being around me is probably not a good idea¡± He looks directly into Veinor¡¯s eyes, piercing the thin veil of lies. Maybe I should just knock him out and ignore him, but this man is strange, having a Reaper after him wouldn¡¯t be too impossible to believe. Plus that book was devil¡¯s writing, a dark language whatever it is indeed. ...If I kept him here, we¡¯d have an unlimited food source, but that possibly meant danger, enough to wipe us out. He quickly shares the information with the rest of his village and with a small internal debate while they mutilate the orcs, they decide to let the man go, most already fearful of him, and quickly believing his claim however absurd it may be. Plus many attributed his arrival to be tied to the early massacre. Turning back to the man, Veinor sighs. ¡°The orcs took it¡± ¡°Thank you¡± He bows. ¡°Though to your benefit I don¡¯t taste that nice, trust me, I¡¯ve eaten enough of myself and I still don¡¯t enjoy it¡± He chuckles darkly as he begins to walk away. That disturbed Veinor somewhat; eating one¡¯s own flesh while still living, a disturbing concept indeed. ¡­ Kaille, seeing the man beginning to leave, quickly jumps towards his father. ¡°Please father, allow me to escort him to the orcs, so that I may kill them all¡± He says in a mix of desperation and anger. Others, the remaining archers, race their way towards Veinor, and soon all eight circle Veinor, asking to escort the man so that they may find and kill the rest of the orcs. Veinor thinks on it deeply, before allowing it. Kaille jumps in joy on the inside at this, however he knows the reason why they¡¯re being allowed isn¡¯t because of revenge. It is because inevitably more of the men will die on this mission, leaving more women to Veinor, a concept Kaille was raised and fed upon, but now doesn¡¯t feel so strongly towards due to Layenna. The men, all quite knowledgeable of the situation simply do not care, for rage is their mistress and death is their lover. Veinor calls after the man telling him of their escort, to which the man reluctantly nods his head, shaking it afterwards with a sigh, knowing that this trip will not be an easy one. Kaille rushes to his tree house, dropping the small pile of fourty ears in an empty jar, sealing and placing it on a shelf beside rows and rows of ear filled jars. Having one last look around the place, he begins out, only to be caught by Layenna. ¡°Don¡¯t die on me, for I¡¯m still not with your child¡± She looks lovingly towards him. That strange feeling rises up in his chest, one that he must ignore for the sake of survival if he must. With a long but deep kiss, which his body reacted too before his mind was made up, he leaves her, heading down and waiting for the rest. Soon the escort is ready with almost a hundred arrows each and they all set off at a leisurely pace, songs of death and war blurting from their soft toned voices. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author''s Corner: Hey, guess it''s a bit of a strange chapter for youse since these elves are not exactly your normal kind!!! Anyways, hope your enjoying it and more will come, be ready for some massacre :D -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD Chapter 48- Night Time Activities Larus gave a signal with his hand, indicating two sentries to the left of him and three to the right. Silently picking their targets, Kaille lines up his shot, aiming for the neck. But then the man walks in front of them, relaxed and chilled as he saunters into the sentries view, raising an alarm. Cursing him, Kaille and the lot hide behind the burned stumps awaiting the sound of the man being slaughtered, though all suspect he won¡¯t be dead. A large number of roars sound along with the thunking of metal in flesh, before silence ensues for a second, before triumphant roars sound out. Peeking out from his hiding place, Kaille spots a grizzled orc holding a headless, pink, fleshy body, up in the sky, the head is held by another. He¡¯s dead? The impossibility of the situation at hand had never occurred to him, since he had seen the man filled with arrows and then trampled by a horde but a few hours afterwards. To see the man dead, was something not understandable; how did he die, how was he so easily beheaded? No answers we given to Kaille, only a bark of orders from the grizzled orc which holds the body aloft. Suddenly he drops the body as it glows a dim gold, and when the shine is gone, so is the body. With another bark, a large group of orcs begin combing the area, searching for more enemies and the oddly disappearing corpse with some superstitious fear. Cursing silently, Kaille begins to retreat, along with the others; to stay would be death without revenge. Stealthily rolling from tree stump to tree stump, they slowly further the distance from the hundred wide search party, until someone finally decides they¡¯ve searched enough. The elves regroup and start a silent discussion of gestures. Quickly, they make a decision and begin for the same place as before. As they thought, there is no visible change to the guard¡¯s alertness; due to the others sweeping and giving the clear. Picking their targets, they all shoot, arrows quietly thunking into skulls, killing without so much as a gurgle. Stalking up, they spend a few seconds retrieving their arrows and dragging the bodies behind a nearby stump. They¡¯ll be found soon, but will give them enough time to wreck havoc first. Entering the humongous camp of hide tents and large, burning out campfires, they move as one, snaking through the tents predatorily. Ears keen, arrows knocked, they slither through, listening for both patrols and the sounds of women. Luckily, as this is still the mating season, many highish pitched grunting sounds emanate from multiple tents. Stopping at a large circle of tents, they split into two¡¯s, each pair taking a tent. Kaille and Larus choose one which a slight squealing sound comes from and with disgust written on their face, slide through the tent flaps. The horrendous sight of a male orc ramming his mate, from the back, while another from the front, faces scrunched up in glee; almost strikes them dumb with both disgust and intrigue. The orc males, stunned by the sudden intrusion forget to roar at the intruders, and only finally manage a pained grunt as arrows stick out the back of their heads. Kaille rushes up to the female, mouth stuffed and only allowing one shocked grunt before his sword slices open her throat. Shuddering at the grotesque scene, they leave the tent, not bothering to count kills since that¡¯ll waste time. Back outside they¡¯re quickly joined by the rest, all with the same grim look upon their faces. To all of them, seeing orcs naked was in some ways worse than seeing them clothed and charging towards them. Shaking the disturbing image from his head, he slots into their small snaking formation and continue their hunt. The next few groups of tents are similar stories; all ended in the same grim manner. After killing his sixth female, Kaille was with the group, making his way towards their seventh group of tents, when an orc stepped outside in front of him, letting the cool night wind brush against his sweating body. Immediately, eight arrows pierce his skull, hiding a good portion of his horrific visage behind the feathers. A longing grunt woos from the inside, and with the push of one of his group, Kaille quickly makes his way there, letting the rest split up for the rest of the tents. Burshing aside the flap, he sees an orc female, lying on her front, bare back shivering in the cooling night. Although her skin is green and the body is large and muscled with bulk, unlike the lithe yet toned body of the elves, one could see beauty in the body of the orcess. Kaille however, just saw an opportunity for some personal vengeance. Sauntering over with the best orcish grunt he can muster, he grabs its ass, eliciting a rather seductive roar from it. Dropping his trousers, he rams it carelessly, but it doesn¡¯t seem to mind, rather it seems to rather enjoy the pain. Hands go up towards its back, keeping the top half pushed on the floor, while its ass rises to the air, grinding around has he pumps furiously in beat to her grunts. Feeling it well up, he flips it around with its help and looks into its eyes of pleasure, which disintegrate into a mix of terror and disgust. Before it can react, his sword punctures lightly through its throat and he continues to pump as blood gushes onto its breasts and his face. Ejaculating onto its breasts, his seed mixes with the blood causing something to flutter inside him. The orcess gurgles the last vestiges of its life as he stands up, face gleaming with pleasure, tongue licking his lips and stomach churning with some strange sense of joy as he looks down upon the dying thing. His member immediately goes hard at the sight. Straddling it, he enters once more, squeezing tightly through the hole in the throat, squishing more blood out, splashing onto much of his lower body. Ejaculating from just a single slow thrust, he once again looks towards its eyes, seeing no life emanating from it. Standing up, he clothes himself once more, letting the blood dry on his bare skin, feeling elated by it in a strange way. With Layenna it was sweet, passionate. But in there it was something else, something that truly thumped his heart and sent tingles down his body. It felt¡­tasty to watch it quiver as he thrust the life out of it. What was also strange to him was that once he started, he had completely forgotten about her; about Layenna. All that mattered was watching the life slip away from that thing. However it didn¡¯t feel like he cheated on her, since it was just a mindless beast to him, an object rather than a being of life. But when he left the tent, to see the rest of his group looking at him quizzically, wondering what happened inside due to it taking some time, he had a small doubt as to whether he was wrong in doing such a thing. Though no time is given for them to ponder as Riemer, the eldest and therefore the leader; has them go to the next set of tents. He however, stays behind and gives a gnarled grin to Kaille. ¡°Nothing like watching it die while you¡¯re inside it¡± Riemer whispers lustily, before rejoining the group, a hungry grin plastered on his face. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Kaille could do nothing but agree, the elation fills him once more as he knows it¡¯s not wrong to do such a thing if he¡¯s not the only one. Heart free of guilt and worry, he follows after them. But all thoughts of having a second round with another thing as further revenge is lost at the roars of war bellowing from much behind them. Finally someone had discovered one of the many bodies they had found. Cursing, the begin to run through a camp of half to full naked orcs storming out of their tents, axes ready to chop apart any enemies. Dodging past a few disoriented orcs that rushed out still half asleep, they rush towards the opposite end of camp from where they came in. ¡°Into the tents quick¡± Riemer whispers to the group and they all split up, hiding in various tents which owners seem to have already left. Kaille dives into a larger tent, more round than the others and with a taller roof, hole in the middle too with a small bit of smoke still puffing out from the hole. Barging in, bow at the ready; he looses the arrow in shock, embedding it through the neck of the ¡®human¡¯, spurting both blood and grog out in a mix of red and black. He had barged into a bizarre scene; the human was sitting on a crude stool drinking a murky black liquid from a skull, while opposite him sat an elderly orc with greying hair, a wolf mantle hanging from his still thick shoulders, also drinking black liquid from another skull. A third member, a lithe, tall yet green fleshed being with small tusks and pointed ears, sat chained in a corner looking at the seated duo with mild interest. All now turned towards him, eyes filled with a mix of different emotions. ¡°Just what the hell is going on?¡± All speak in a different language, none understanding the other. ¡­ Tkhoron paced silently around the small roughly hewn statue; one of a young orc standing, axe head to the floor and eyes cast down in prayer. Sweat ran down his already sweat encased body, dripping onto his hide shorts; already moist from sweat. He paced around it for the eight hundredth time, only seventy four more to go. Each time he went round the statue, he would repeat the rites of death, calling the soul from the battlefield, to the statue; a beacon to light the path to eternal slumber. Today was a long day for him, for he had walked and spoken since the midday till the late hours in the night, without rest or food or drink. It was his duty as the shaman of the tribe, his duty to bring the lost souls back home so that they did not wander and disrupt the balance of the world. He knew that their bodies were gone, carved up for the supper of the elves, but at least he could save their souls from such torment. As he circled around for the eight hundred and sixth time he came across a most bizarre thing: A man. This man was no orc, but a human as Tkhoron quickly remembered. The human sat at the foot of the statue, looking rather relaxed as he mutters to himself. ¡°Damn, been a while since that¡¯s happened from a normal creature¡± He sighs into the air, not noticing the aging yet hulking being standing but feet away. ¡°Human¡± Tkhoron growls, clenching his fists, half ready to kill the thing, but also curious as to why it is here. The human turns to him, a large look of surprise plastered to his face. ¡°I can understand you!¡± He jumps up exalted. Tkhoron seems slightly taken aback by the sudden and¡­happy reaction of the human. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± ¡°I¡¯m here to grab a book someone stole from me¡± He says, bowing gracefully towards Tkhoron. ¡°You seem to be of some import¡± His eyes glance to the wolfskin mantle that Tkhoron has wrapped around his shoulders ¡°So could you help me find and then return my book to me?¡± ¡°Human, I will kill you before I would help you¡± Tkhoron growls, tusks glinting in the moonlight as he takes a menacing step forward. ¡°Sure, go ahead¡± He bows, offering his head and neck to Tkhoron. Tkhoron¡­is not quite sure what to do; to laugh, to be suspicious, to question or to simply kill the man and be done with it. If the man is offering up his life, he must have some trick up his sleeve is what Tkhoron believes. The man sighs towards Tkhoron¡¯s indecision. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll do it myself¡± He begins slamming his forehead on the edge of the small stone platform the statue stands on and to Tkhoron¡¯s shock, the man¡¯s skull splits; all above the nose jerks backwards a few inches, but the man doesn¡¯t stop, even as the top half is rammed off ripping brain matter along with it and leaving a large amount of the brain still bobbing in the remaining liquids of the head. The man raises a fist, smashing it down in his soft brain, sludging through, spattering bits all around him. Tkhoron just looks jaw dropped towards the scene as the man falls over, obviously dead. But his jaws almost crack at how wide he opens them as the man reappears at the base of the statue in a small flash of gold light, fully recovered. ¡°You said that if I died then you¡¯d help me?¡± He grins towards Tkhoron, who is still trying to pull his own brains back together, as if it were his that had been spattered all around rather than the man¡¯s. ¡°Or are you going to be semantic and have you kill me yourself this time?¡± Tkhoron, numbly shakes his head, mind still boggled as he bows towards the man, gesturing for him to follow as he makes his way into his own hut. Sitting down on a crude stool, he offers the man another and snaps his fingers, getting Gharla, his slave woman, to fetch two open skulls, pouring grog into each. She then calmly chains herself to the wall, fully knowing what retribution she is given for not doing so. ¡°So tell me¡­what are-¡± Tkhoron begins. *Thunk* An arrow protrudes from the man¡¯s throat, entering from the front, letting grog and blood to squeeze past the arrow with a squelching noise. Though a quick glance in the man¡¯s eyes show that it hasn¡¯t affected him in the fatal way it would do to any normal human. All turn towards the newcomer, a young, lanky elf with sleek blond hair, holding a bow, looking with confused recognition towards the man. ¡°Just what the hell is going on?¡± All speak in a different language, none understanding the other. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author''s Corner: Hey, i''m baaack!! Oml, finally getting somewhere. I say that, but honestly i''ve just opened up like at least another chapter for this arc (so much to write!). Anyways, hopefully you enjoyed it(not sure that''s the right words to use in this context...But then again, who am I to judge(since i have written it so fair dooos). Also, please review and comment as you lovely people always do and continue reading this slightly bizarre arc. By the way, Aethelred, where in the name of fiction have you read about cannabalistic elves. I want to read that so bad! i mean if elves are cannibals it''s gotta be a pretty awesome fiction!! Depending on life in general it should take a few days till the next chapter, so until then enjoy summer!!! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD 49. A Demons Deal Kaille, mind racing with traitorous thoughts of the human, quickly knocks an arrow, shooting it through one of the eyes but seemingly having no effect. Suddenly terrified, reminded of this man¡¯s supposed invincibility, he tries moving back, only to trip as his feet are bound in rock somehow. Knocking a desperate second arrow, he aims towards the orc, who ducks under the table as it thunks into the wood, piercing through it. The human rushes towards him, holding a hand up, which gets an arrow through it and into his face as he does so. His other hand is raised towards the orc, who does nothing but hide under the table, an unintelligible conversation happening frantically between them. Kaille is estranged by the action; the human trying to call a ceasefire when he is obviously on the side of the orcs¡­but then again he saw the human killed by the orcs, so he can¡¯t be that friendly with them. Lowering his bow, the human motions to drop it¡­like hell he will. The human sighs, motioning to drop his quiver instead. Kaille does so. As he does, the orc stands up, blood running freely down his shoulder and a less than pleased look emanating from his wizened eyes. The orc grunts something towards him and oddly enough the slave girl reiterates in Elvish. ¡°You are said to be his friend¡± The slave points to the human ¡°Thus Tkhoron will spare you for now¡± Even the slave looks doubtful at what she translated, since Kaille did put two arrows into his ¡®friend¡¯. Seeing no reason to continue, or rather any way to escape, he simply nods ... ... (Orcish ) ¡°Gharla continue to translate to ¡®that¡¯¡± Tkhoron points at the elf; whom still looks quite threatening, even without arrows. He stands the table back up as well as the stools and sits down, getting served some grog by Gharla. ¡°So what are you doing here¡­and with elves?¡± ¡°The elves are my escort and I am here to collect my book¡± The man sits back down too, looking rather unconcerned that there is an arrow planted into one of his eyes, much to Thkorons disgust. ¡°Book?¡± What an odd thing to waltz into an orc war camp for¡­ (Orcish) ¡°Gharla, what did I do with that book I was given a few hours ago?¡± Time is taking its toll with his mind, but he swears he was given a strange book today, perhaps coincidence¡­more likely not. (Orcish)¡°You threw it in the fire¡± Gharla, not following the conversation which takes place in common ¡­ .. . ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but it seems that I threw it in the fire¡­¡± ¡°Oh¡± The man looks surprised but not distraught as Tkhoron would¡¯ve thought. ¡°Which fire is it?¡± Tkhoron points to his blazing fire pit in the middle of his house and notices the rough outline of the book flickering in the flames, probably all that¡¯s left of it. The man stands up, walks calmly over to the fire and reaches into it, taking the large black tome with pulsating red lines out of the fire¡­seemingly unscathed. ¡°Phew, that really would¡¯ve sucked if this can be burnt to a crisp¡± The man wipes his forehead with a burnt arm, as if not noticing it. Tkhoron is about as shocked at the rest of the room at the man¡¯s chilled behaviour¡­added with the fact that the book is unburnt. ¡°Just what is that book and what are you?¡± He blurts out, fully curious as to what is within his tent tonight. ¡°The book, I don¡¯t know and me¡­I think I¡¯m still a normal human¡­maybe¡± Even he¡¯s starting to sound unsure of his own race... The man walks back to the table, dusting off the ash from the book, before grabbing his drinking skull and downing the grog. ¡°Now, it was enjoyable to meet a shaman, but I really must be going, for I do not have time for idle conversation¡± He bows respectfully towards Tkhoron before beginning to leave the tent. ¡°Wait, you can¡¯t just go out there, and with an elf; you would be killed on sight¡­or at least the elf¡± He sees the elf nod at him as Gharla translates. The man stops and turns back around ¡°Hmm true¡­could you escort me out then? I¡¯m sure your fellow brethren wouldn¡¯t attack you¡± Tkhoron nods, already planning to do so; more to save his own brethren from having to deal with what is obviously not a normal mortal. All four of them exit the tent, to see orcs running around raging as they bellow to one another, ripping through tents to try find the intruders. Almost all the nearby orcs stop upon spotting the elf and the man¡­but all their charges falter upon seeing Tkhoron leading the group. Some looked upon him with respect, as if they believed he had captured them, while others just looked confused. ¡°DEMON¡± One shouts from a distance and the suddenly quiet area swivels round to a youngling orc, who looks and points at the man with utter terror, before screaming and running away. Tkhoron glances at the man, who just shrugs his shoulders knowledglessly. Orcs from other sides of camp begin making their way there, the rumour quickly spreading of Tkhoron and two prisoners, one being a Demon. Within a few minutes, what seems like the entire camp is there, some shouting questions while others whispering worrisome things to one another. ¡°SILENCE¡± Tkhoron raises his hands, causing all to quieten and look at him. ¡°THESE TWO ARE NOT MY PRISONERS¡± Everyone just cocks their heads in confusion, many beginning shouts of protest. ¡°THEY ARE NOT TO BE HARMED AS THEY LEAVE OR WHEN THEY¡¯VE LEFT THIS CAMP¡± Although he is the authority of the place, many shout very vile things towards him, disagreeing with him and roaring for blood. ¡°Hey, they seem angry, how many of them died?¡± The man asks Tkhoron, who too also assumes that the commotion was caused by numerous killings, most likely from the escort. Peering around he sees a few blood stained orcs with fresh wounds, while some carry the heads of freshly killed elves. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°HOW MANY OF OUR BRETHREN WERE KILLED?¡± HE asks the crowd, to which ¡®too many¡¯ was the most approximate response. ¡°Too many apparently¡± He shrugs his shoulders towards the man. ¡°Ask my friend¡± The man suggests. Doing so he finds out they killed one hundred and thirty six before they went into hiding. ¡°One hundred and thirty six but they may have killed more by now¡± ¡°Hmm...¡± The man thinks deeply. ¡°Tell them they can kill me one hundred and fifty times¡± Tkhoron was shocked¡­but a lot less so than when he first met the man: Death meant nothing to him; dying one hundred and fifty times was as normal to the man as breathing air was to Tkhoron. A demon indeed. He tells the camp this offer, to which most look confused as to how they¡¯ll kill the man one hundred and fifty times, while others pass on rumours about the ¡®demon¡¯. Walking forward, the man goes up to a particularly bulky orc, pointing at his gleaming axe and then the side of the man¡¯s neck. Understanding, the orc gladly chops, beheading the man for all to see. His body falls to the ground, where it disappears in a flash of light¡­ Screams come from the east as the man walks through the crowd, completely unharmed. ¡°ONE¡± Tkhoron counts for all to hear. Gulping, anther orc steps up, ramming his axe through the man¡¯s skull, splitting it with a second swing, but the man still stood. A third swing killed the man as announced by this blinding flash of light. ¡°Two¡± He said in a more grim tone, watching the man make his way into an enlargening circle, all looking in both shock and horror at the man, who keeps on coming, appearing from the grave of their ancestors. Another orc steps forward, ready to collect the debt that he is owed ¡­ ... Demon. That was the only word Kaille could use to describe the man. He had witnessed over a hundred deaths of the man, each more brutal than the last, till eventually a whole dozen of orcs were crying as they hacked him to pieces, seemingly feeling a lot more pain than him. Finally, they stop hacking his body and with a flash of light the one hundred and fiftieth death was confirmed. The man still walked into the circle, almost a kilometer wide due to the sheer superstitious terror of the orcs, which Kaille was heavily inclined to agree with. After bowing to the large crowd of orcs, the man picks up the book, the only thing that dropped when he died, and headed back towards Tkhoron and him. ¡­ ... ¡°The debt is paid I believe?¡± The man asks, to which Tkhoron soundlessly nods, unable to produce words at what he had seen. He thanks the elements this man does not want to kill this camp, for he surely could. ¡°Perfect, so my escort and I will go now. But ah, may I have your slave?¡± Tkhoron usually would react abrasively at such a demand, since his slave was useful in many manners, but one does not deny a demon. He hands Gharla over to the man without a second thought, worrying more for his own people. The man takes off the chains, breaking them with his bare hands to the gulps of many orcs. That strength could break necks if it wanted to¡­ Though Tkhoron is surprised as Gharla as to why the man is freeing her. ¡°Why are you freeing her?¡± The man just chuckles ¡°The physical chains will not enslave her to me. Her gratitude and fear will¡± His smile is innocent, but Tkhoron can see the darkness behind it. With a last bow, they leave and Tkhoron sees that Gharla willingly follows, enslaved indeed¡­ ¡­ ... Gharla had been through a sewage of emotions, not understanding this Demon¡¯s intentions or thoughts in the slightest. It had freed her, breaking off her chains with worrying ease, but she did not feel free; for some reason she felt even more chained than before. Thkoron was not unkind as most would believes orcs could be, especially to that of a cursed half-breed as her; he was nicer, harsh at times yes, but he would not beat her to an inch of her life or take her at his own whims. She was useful to him and thus he did not treat her like the muck she knew she was. The man spoke unintelligibly towards her. What was he asking of her? What would happen if she could not respond to him? These were the questions that spouted in her fevered mind, her fear ever so slightly wavering when the Demon dismisses her with a wave as if no longer bothered by her. One thing she did understand was his gesture to follow and willingly she did. They walked for hours under the moonlit sky, below the lush canopies and silent trees. The elf, a ¡®friend¡¯ of the Demon stalked alongside them, keeping a more than respectable distance between him and the Demon. Suddenly, after hours of tirelessly sauntering through the still forest, the Demon stops and puts his book on the ground, pointing at it and then Gharla. She understood she was to look after it and stay here¡­and she did not even wish to think about the consequences if she were to fail either of those two tasks. After she nods frantically, the Demon lies down and nods off without a single worry in the world. Whoever this Demon was, she was his slave now, without physical chains, but ones of fear. And she felt she wasn¡¯t the only one who felt enchained to him such¡­ 50. Guests Of The Elves *Yawn* Rick rises from his soft, leafy bed, letting the fresh air with a hint of nut waft around him as he entered the extensive veranda. Refreshed like never before, he steps lightly on the wooden platform, waltzing around to the enchanting music that is carried by the wind. It had only been mere hours of sleep, yet for him it felt like an eternity wrapped in the silky soft leaf blankets that held him snugly as a mother would hold their child. Soon, the others woke up; First came Panthress, rolling calmly from her bed, hair disheveled yet still a content smile on her face. Next was Graf and Lip, who unlike usual, were not bickering about this or that. Soon came Doronius, his face calm and not taut with nervousness and fear. Finally, after a few more minutes of snuggling, came Grate and Chee, both yawning softly and beaming in the morning sunlight. In those few minutes of waiting, everyone just relaxed in the sun, taking in the caressing warmth and the sweet air. Silently, a pair of people entered the small, open tree-house that they were relaxing in; two elven maidens with slim yet buxom bodies wearing silks that covered much but hid little. They brought fresh fruit and vegetables along with bread and honey, which was oddly satisfying for such a simple meal. With thanks, everyone sat uncaring on the wooden floor and began eating their meal ravishingly; well the women started eating at least. The men were feasting with their eyes, for such silver haired, thinly veiled women were a sight to behold for most of them. Once the maidens had silently stepped away, the morning feast began en masse and everyone talked of sweet nothings, with a slight hint of worry for Cannith, who they had almost forgotten about. In the midst of their meal came Sleek, who they had almost mistaken for an elf at a distance due to his straight black hair, slightly pointed ears and more obviously, his garments, silk made from leaves. ¡°Where have you been off to Mr fancy?¡± Grate asked after gulping down the bite of her honeyed apple. Sleek just looked distantly into the air, oblivious of everything as he sat down and took something to eat without noticing. ¡°It¡¯s obvious the man got some last night¡± Lip grunts and grins to which Chee cocks her head in confusion. ¡°Lip!¡± Grate covers Chee¡¯s ears and reprimands Lip, who just shrugs his shoulders. ¡°So Sleek¡­¡± Doronius looks towards the entranced man, snapping his fingers and finally breaking whatever trance he was in. ¡°Did you do the deed?¡± Sleek just lies down, caressing his pear lovingly. ¡°Her hair was like velvet and her lips, softer than the softest silk¡± ¡°So how was her pussy?¡± Lip waggles his eyebrows crudely to which Grate, still covering Chee¡¯s ears glares angrily, while Panthress gives the kid a whack around the head. Sleek didn¡¯t seem to have noticed, and just rolled around, stars dazzling in his eyes, while everyone else slowly got back to their meals, a mountain of varied questions forming in their minds. Their thoughts were interrupted by a long haired, well muscled male elf silently appearing in their lodge, bowing towards them and telling them the lord is ready to meet them. Calmly, they all lined up and started walking across the precarious bridges, swaying slightly, but maintaining balance quite well. They had been here but a few nights, but they felt like they had gotten used to it; the beds, the food, the constant lulling songs coming from harpists in the distance and the slightly swaying bridges. As they walked, they woke up a bit more along with the sun and soon Rick asked their guide whether he could take them to see Cannith after their meeting. The elf nodded to their relief. Walking through the many tree houses, they are greeted by the many residents, who give gallant greetings, the children even hugging them good morning. Blissful as newborn babies, they travelled along the treetops, till they reached a large tree-house, spreading across sixteen trunks and layering three stories. It was the first time they had seen such a thing, a huge castle on the trees, all made from wood, yet still delicately carved and built. Entering the castle, they are merrily greeted by the guardsmen as they pass by. Walking through the sunlit corridors, they slowly make their way through the castle, being greeted with kind maids, guards and even a young elf in royal livery gave a kind smile before disappearing off. Eventually, they arrived at the throne room, being let in immediately. Entering the throne room, their eyes were baffled by the amount of sunlight beaming into the room. Once their eyes were used to the dazzling light, they saw that the back wall was a thick trunk, a throne carved into it, in which seated an elderly elf with greying hair and slightly drooping skin. ¡°Welcome dear guests, I am Larathion, of the House Quinethar. You are most welcome in my kingdom¡± He bows lightly towards the group, who in turn kneel and bow in respect as they thought fit. ¡°So tell me my Grace, why did you call us here?¡± Rick, taking charge, stands up with a query. ¡°It is a matter about your friend who is in need of medical attention¡± The king spoke gravely, to which the entire group looked up in worry. ¡°We have done what we can, but his wounds are still worsening¡± ¡°Is there anything you can do?¡± Grate blurts out. ¡°Yes, there is a ritual we can perform¡­¡± ¡°But you can¡¯t because?¡± Doronius skeptically asks. ¡°We can¡¯t because he is not elven kin, it is forbidden under the writes of our god Fleelf to perform such a ritual on humans¡± ¡°And why is that?¡± Chee asks innocently, cocking her head in curiosity as she stands up ¡°I am not a priest and do not question the laws of my god¡± The king says devoutly while closing his eyes in prayer. ¡°Then why tell us?¡± Panthress stands up as well ¡°Because there is a way for him to become elven kin¡­Through marriage¡± The elven king waited with bated breath, awaiting a reaction from them, but all he got was raised eyebrows. ¡°Ok, great¡­what does this have to do with us?¡± Rick asked with questioning gestures. ¡°A marriage requires the consent of the groom and bride, or in the case of neither being of age or ability to consent, that right is given down to their guardians, which in this case is all of you¡± The group balked at the quite medieval rules, but then nodded in understanding at what should be done. ¡°Who is he marrying?¡± Sleek stands up, both excited and fearing. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°A merchant¡¯s daughter who has gladly given consent¡± The king motions and a plain elven woman, as plain as one can be being a sharp faced, long haired and forest green eyed elf. With a further question from the king whether they would give consent, almost all of them did, almost all. Two abstained; Chee and Doronius. Everyone looked at both of them. ¡°What if he doesn¡¯t like her?¡± Chee says innocently, to which Grate crouches down and looks at her younger self in the eyes. ¡°my little Chee, he¡¯ll be fine, trust me¡± She ruffled Chee¡¯s hair, who then consented. Everyone¡¯s eyes now turned to Doronius. ¡°It just seems suspicious¡± He narrowed his eyes, peering at the king untrustfully. ¡°Doronius, you mistrust everything¡± Rick blurted out, to which the rest nod. ¡°Fine, fine. Go ahead, but don¡¯t blame me for what happens next¡± He raises his hands defensively and gives his consent. With a unanimous consent, a certificate is signed for the man, whose name they still don¡¯t know and Merianda. The elves begin their preparations for a wedding, to be celebrated under the full moonlight, while the group of archers, were introduced to a lavish feast, held by the king himself. All was merry as they ate fresh food and drank fine wine, all except for Lip and Chee. But even then, those two were snuck some wine by some crafty and kindly elves. Harpists struck their chords while singers let mellow words flow from their silver tongues. Music and laughter filled the air as the sun rose high into the sky and before it fell past the midday, many were drunk inside the great hall. Sleek had left early on; being sought out by a light brown haired petite elf, who took him away in as secret as one can in the midst of an open feast. Chee was next to leave the table by the king, for a young elf in royal garb took her and danced with her in the middle stage. Grate watching over her younger self, became distracted by both wine and a lean yet muscular man with dreamy eyes and soft, long hair. They too had disappeared for a more ¡®private¡¯ conversation. Panthress, flushed red cheeks and cackling with unstoppable laughter, had joined the dance floor, only to fall on it and be merrily carried away to sleep off the wine. Rick, despite being a lanky guy, could hold his drink and had entered in a drinking contest with a group of elves, laughing heartily as one by one they dropped under the table, until finally, he dropped under, snoring like the drunk he was. Lip had spilt some wine over himself while relaxing on the lap of a motherly elf. She walked him away to clean his shirt, to which he gave Graf a dirty grin before they left. Graf had dully noticed Lip disappearing, but amidst all the smoke emitting from his herbal cigarette smoking circle of old men, he couldn¡¯t be sure. Plus not everything he was seeing was real due to the hallucinogenic effects of the herbs. Doronius, the last of them to remain on the table, by evening had finally given in to the requests of many buxom, thinly veiled women, who asked to pour and serve him drink. He gladly nodded off after three drinks, snoring lightly and carried away by a muscular man. The muscular man carried Doronius through the halls of the castle, but never left it, actually he passed by the front door. Taking the stairs down, the muscular man reaches a thick wooden door, glossed like steel. Placing Doronius carefully on the ground, he fumbles for his keys. Grabbing the required one, he puts it in the door and turns the key, suddenly feeling lightheaded as if all the blood had gone from his head. He died, wondering why, as blood spurted viciously from his sliced neck. Someone caught him, and carefully placed him on the ground. ¡°Hmm, dying from one critical, these guys shouldn¡¯t be too high level then¡± Doronius looked bemused at the corpse, slightly tipsy, but his liver is much stronger than he had let on. Opening the door, he saw a few of his comrades chained to the dungeon wall; Panthress, Rick and Graf, who was laughing maniacally at some hallucination, while the other two were out cold. Also, in the center of the room was their mission, looking healthier and seemingly healed, yet still unconscious. Throwing the dead elf inside, he unlocks the chains of everyone and leaves them inside, while he closes the door and sneaks away, clutching his dagger, believing he can¡¯t help his comrades at this moment in time. He knew something was up the moment the elves became super friendly to them. He was always an untrusting man and unexplained kindness was always an alarm for him. Getting out of here should be his priority, but finding his companions would help him better in the long run. Though something topped all those needs; the certificate needed to be destroyed, since it was obvious now that it was their plan to marry that man. Why, Doronius doesn¡¯t know, but he suspects the elves know the man more than they let on. So he sneaked across the empty corridors, thankful that everyone was celebrating so he would not encounter any more people. That idea was dashed when he turned the corner. ¡°Oh hey ther-what¡¯s with the knife?¡± A fat elf with short brown hair squinted in surprise towards Doronius, more so when the knife reached his throat stopping just millimeters away. ¡°Where are the King¡¯s chambers?¡± He asked with a tone of no tolerance. The fat elf wobbled in fear. ¡°I-I can take you there, please don¡¯t kill me¡± ¡°How can I trust you?¡± Doronius narrowed his eyes, whispering with a deadly lacing. ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to die¡± He almost burst in tears while whispering in blubbered words. Doronius nodded and motioned for the fat man to lead. While they walked down the corridor, the fat man stealthily looked at the mirror in his pocket, seeing a grayish blue Tandra shrug her shoulders since she couldn¡¯t see Doronius nor hear him. Palock silently tsched at his bad luck being stuck in such a situation, since he was trying to find the man and this sidetracked him. He would¡¯ve full on cursed if he knew that, just a corridor away, a certain individual was strolling about, two curved spears embedded in his beginner clothing, but he wasn¡¯t minding them in the slightest. ¡°Really, why is everyone hurting me in this kingdom?¡± 51. An Attempted Wedding Palock held his surly attitude inward, pretending to be the quivering fat elf outside for the benefit of his current ¡®captor¡¯. According to the human, he was looking for the king¡¯s chambers¡­to do what Palock suspected to be assassination. It wasn¡¯t his business to care; it was only his business to try gather information on the priest¡­the one he was supposed to be accompanying. He had been here for less than a day hearing nothing but the talk of conniving elves, planning to marry this ¡®Cannith¡¯ to the king¡¯s daughter. Indeed odd but his ears had not picked up any more information on the matter sadly. Turning a few corridors, no one is to be seen; well obviously since they are still merry making in the hall, drinking to some victory, the purpose of lost to him. Reaching a black oak door, Palock opens it quietly and walks in, sitting down faithfully in the corner, furthest from the door. He doesn¡¯t mind dying, but doing so would mean he¡¯d have to travel back to the damnable portal and forth towards the Capitol again, that would waste too much time. The human, whose name he doesn¡¯t care about, carefully looks through drawers, under the pillows and under the sheets, peeking in every crevice, every possible hiding spot. Findings were interesting indeed; blades, scrolls, diaries and other paperwork which were finances of the Kingdom or letters from others, unbroken and kept hidden. A terrible king, but that is not of Palock¡¯s concern. ¡°Dammit it¡¯s not here¡± ¡°Oy what are you doing here¡± Someone calls out from the entrance of the chambers, a guard. Vaulting over the table, the human goes for the guard with his knife, successfully ramming it through his throat, albeit too late for screams were made and the sound of merry making, ever so lessened. ¡°Shit. You¡± He flips back round to look at Palock ¡°Where¡¯s a way out?¡± ¡°Back entrance, this way¡± Palock could take him straight into the guards, but that would mean his death. So he validly took the human to the back entrance, both spotting two guards laying unconscious, eyes white from shock. Pointing to the entrance, Palock still feels the knife embedding lightly into his back. ¡°You¡¯re taking me to a safe place, now¡± Sighing internally, he obliges. It isn¡¯t his place as a Reaper to kill the human, but he hopes this treatment will come to an end soon, in the more living way. As they cross through the open door, two figures emerge from the nearby branches, one bow drawn, the other holding a thick red tome with black pulsating lines¡­a most familiar tome. The shock of being ambushed was one thing, but the fact that one was a wild elf and the other an orc, no, a half orc was quite mind-stopping. Though both involuntarily lower their weapons and take a step back upon sighting the human. They are scared? Sure enough both look mortified at the sight of the human. ¡°Another Demon¡± The wild elf almost whispers. Palock¡­is intrigued. To call a human a demon, obviously both have not met many humans¡­but he knew that they had met one. The one he was looking for. ¡°I¡¯m sorry but why are you holding the tome of my priest friend?¡± ¡­ ¡­ The feast had stopped suddenly when guards came bursting in shouting of murder and escape. Larathion, immediately thrusting himself upon the situation ordered everyone to sweep the palace, find the escapee and bring them to him. Taking a small contingent of people, mostly armed, they rush towards the cells, spotting their grand prize still locked up. Quickly taking the burly, greying man out, the carry him to some guest chambers, filling it with guards, for no one is allowed to take away such a person away from them. He did not wait to watch the small female archer they call Chee be thrown into the cells, tears streaming down her face as she doesn¡¯t know what is happening. Their imprisonment is a necessary evil, but their killing will not be condoned till after the marriage, for such dishonorable actions would curse the betrothal in the eyes of Fleelf. Within minutes of all this happening, a message was relayed to him by word; a man had been found, a human, but not a guest. His first thought was that this intruder had something to do with it, even if Doronius is to be missing and possibly an accomplice; he wasn¡¯t the cause of the matter. Little did he know Doronius was actually the only cause. Returning to the grand hall, he was met with a most peculiar sight; a human wearing a white t-shirt and light tan shorts stood in the center of the room, surrounded by guards, weapons raised towards him. Yet the man didn¡¯t seem to mind, rather he seemed quite annoyed by the whole occurence. That was but one peculiar sight about this being. He was also punctured by two of their spears and they wobbled on his body, biting through flesh almost certainly painfully¡­but the human didn¡¯t even look at them. One look at this human and he could tell that he was unutterably weak¡­but even that felt off; the way he stood straight gave a feeling that he was stronger than everyone in here combined. ¡°What are you doing intruding upon my palace?¡± He finally decides to ask the man, his mind grown curious. ¡°You speak my language? Oh thank Aegi¡± He starts to walk forward, getting a sharp prod in the front mid-step. He finishes his step, taking a deep breath before continuing. ¡°Seriously, is it customary in your kingdom to attack strangers upon sight?¡± He glances down at the spear as it slowly digs into his stomach, blood bubbling through the gaps. ¡°What? No, but you are intruding upon my castle so tell me why!¡± ¡°I¡¯m looking for an ally, well more like he¡¯s looking for me. So while I¡¯m doing that, might as well visit the palace just in case he¡¯s shacked up here¡± The response was so non-chalant that for a moment Larathion believed the man was making fun of him. But the response was reasonable, to a point. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°And why do you think that we¡¯d let a human into this sacred place?¡± ¡°Really now, where has people¡¯s respects for priests gone¡± The human shakes his head solemnly. Most look flabbergasted at the fact the man is a priest, for priests rarely moved outside their own kingdom and usually had a symbol to produce in the name of their God. But even then, Fleelf is their only god and any others are lies. A human Heretic, a doubly cursed being. ¡°Lock him up¡± ¡°Do I at least get a me-¡± A guard pommels him over the head, knocking the Heretic out. Larathion had enough misfortunes already, the wedding must happen before another arises. Looking upon the moon, full and bright in the sky, he orders everyone to go to the temple, the holy place of worship for Fleelf, where they shall marry Cannith and his daughter, forever gaining that great seed and power. Arriving at the church, already it is packed with the residents; mostly the more well off but a few stragglers from the lower sections of the city somehow reserved a space. His daughter, Merianda, had spent most of the evening getting ready for the ceremony, thus by the time Larathion was at the front doors, so was she, wrapped in layers of glossy white silk, covering all and revealing nothing. Silence ensued as he began walking her down the carpeted area, eyes all turned towards his beautiful young daughter, just at the age of marrying. Reaching the altar where an elderly elf with a fine dressage stood holding the holy scepter of Fleelf, he parted with his daughter, letting her take the hand of the one she was to marry. Cannith lay still on a stretcher, unconscious, lightly sleeping, unknowing of everything that is about to take place. ¡°And so do you, Merianda Quinethar, do you take Cannith Blackhaven to be your lawfully wedded husband?¡± ¡°I do¡± She says without hesitation, what a good daughter she is to Larathion. ¡°And upon this contract, signed by his lawful guardians, Cannith Blackhaven consents to this lawful binding of two souls¡± The priest holds up the contract, foolishly signed by those humans. ¡°Thus unless an objection is heard from the heavens or the earth, I pronounce thee Husband and W-¡± A glowing pillar of light suddenly appears on the altar, blinding all in sight. And when the light finally subsides, the human Heretic stands there, looking rather¡­unamused at the situation. ¡°Excuse me, but I believe I object¡± ¡°HERETIC HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT SUCH A HOLY CEREMONY. GUARDS. ARREST THAT MAN¡± Larathion screams at the top of his lungs, he will not have this ceremony fail, he must not! He was supposed to be locked up, kept away from this. But somehow he had escaped¡­and not in a natural way either. Larathion could only guess¡­ No one sprung into action, all still dazzled by his sudden, almost holy appearance. He noticed his guards shivering, quivering at the sight of the man, for they knew how he did not mind getting impaled, or how imprisonment was nothing to him. They were so wondrously terrified of the Heretic, whatever he may be that they did nothing but watch. ¡°As I was saying, I object to this for a few valid reasons¡± One may believe they are in the sight of a god, others a devil. Whatever they believed, they all just stood there, watching, rooted to the floor in wonder at this strange being that suddenly appeared, stopping all the guards with a single look. ¡°The first is that I don¡¯t believe this marriage is consensual, I mean the man is unconscious. This is what I guess one would call Maritial rape?¡± ¡°How dare you! This marriage is seen as lawful by the elves on this earth and Fleelf in the sky¡± The priest rams his staff into the floor, standing up straight and proud in his correctness, overcoming the fear of this man ever so slightly. ¡°Why yes, this marriage does seem lawful in the eyes of elves. But as you can see, neither I nor the groom are elves¡± ¡°And your word means nothing; you are but an intruder upon this holy ceremony¡± The human shakes his head woefully "I am a priest; this ceremony is as much mine as it is yours Brother¡± ¡°A priest you say?¡± Immediately the harsh attitude and sneering eyes vanish from the elderly priests face and he begins to conduct himself in a more polite composure. ¡°My condolences, I did not even think that you may be so¡± ¡°It is fine people are mistaken. But at hand we must deal with this situation, one that doesn¡¯t seem consensual in the eyes of a human priest over a partially human marriage¡± ¡°True, thus we must delay the marriage till the man awakes, as per the holy law says¡± He turns towards a most bedazzled crowd, not understanding the sudden change in attitude or the odd response either ¡°Once Cannith Blackhaven awakes this ceremony will continue as the laws of Gods state¡± He shouts to the shocked crowds. Larathion was seething with anger, trembling with rage as many began to slowly unroot themselves of their terror, to walk away, rushing while trying to maintain face. He knew he should¡¯ve gotten rid of that priest years ago, replaced him with one more docile, less believing of such foolish traditions of respecting Heretics and following the will of Fleelf rather than his king¡¯s. Three hundred years has surely rotted the mind of that man and now the repercussions of that rotting is in full effect, ruining all Larathion¡¯s plans, all his hopes and dreams¡­all because of one Heretic who worships a fake god. What utter trollop. But his people believed in the old priest, and here his word was power, for now. Turning on his heel, Larathion stormed out the door, asking for a certain guardsman, one he knew could do what he is asking for. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Right so it''s been a while since I''ve updated this...mostly because I''ve been writing my other Fiction. I''ll finish off this elf arc sometime in the near future as to when? let''s say before september! -TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD
Insanity Online! The Forging of a TRUE NORDA Skill Whore''s Journey