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Author Topic: Written Anything Lately?  (Read 101568 times)
Alex
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« Reply #90 on: November 18, 2018, 12:11:13 PM »

You want a driver to take you back to the station?”

“Thanks, but no. I still need to check out the second witch murder. I’ll type up my report on this mess and have it on your desk by tomorrow.”

“Be appreciated Winnie. Hope the rest of the day gets better.”

I thanked him and went back to the car. Morrison was the only guy who called me by my first name. We’d known each other a long time though and we let each other get away with stuff that anyone else trying to pull would have found themselves in a whole world of hurt over. I hated my first name with a passion.

Driving the car myself was no more fun than it had been as a passenger. Who the hell uses bricks to lay a road? I’d wasted a lot of time waiting for the crew to arrive and the sun was starting to sink beneath the horizon like a ship loaded with one too many rats. I decided against driving back to the precinct, and then having to spend most of tomorrow driving out to Oz City and stopped at a cheap motel for the night. The clerk looked like he’d seen some time in Sing Sing. I let him ‘accidently’ let him see my badge as I leaned over to sign the register so he’d know better than to stiff me on the charges. Half these guys are out on parole and a bad word from me, he’d be doing a nickel to dime in Folsom and singing about trains passing by.

I paid in cash and made sure I got my receipt. Claiming expenses from the department was a real b***h and I didn’t want to give them any more excuses to stiff me out of any more greenbacks. I grabbed my typewriter out of the trunk and took it back to my room, preparing to spend the night explaining just how I’d managed to lose a driver and incinerate the murder suspect.

The room was cheap and looked it, but at least it looked clean. It had a bed, with a small desk and a chair. I sat myself down in front of the desk, set the typewriter up and decided to get a cold glass of water. Walking outside to the ice machine I was a bit disgusted to see an “Out of order” sign hung on it. Complaining to the desk jockey got me a bucket of iced water. Better than nothing.

Returning to my room I spent a couple of hours trying to put as good a shine on my report as possible, or at least not writing it so it booked me a one-way ticket to Old Sparkie for incinerating a (technically) unarmed suspect. It was just about finished when I heard some shouting from outside. Looking at the clock on the wall told me I’d been sitting writing until past midnight. Against my better judgement I peeked through the thin curtains.

Ah crap, I knew I should have just went to bed. Some maniac outside was waving an axe around while wearing what looked like and old-fashioned suit of armour. Some days a guy like me just can’t cop a lucky break. I grabbed my side iron and ran outside. I aimed my gun at the lunatic who was hooting and hollering like some demented drunk. As I shouted at him to drop the weapon and raise his hands. He turned around, reminding me of a toy robot I had as a kid. I almost expected little sparks to come flying from the eye slits in his helmet. A metallic voice shouted at me that he was going to cut my heart of my chest while it was still beating, and he ran towards me, his axe raised over my head. Carefully I squeezed the trigger and…

CLICK.

Back during the war, we used to call that one the dead man’s click. I had forgotten to reload after the Scarecrow. I dived to one side to avoid to down sweep of the axe, crashing into a bunch of trashcan’s, sending them rolling around and making a noise like thunder. Rolling with my momentum, I got back to my feet and ran towards the line of parked cars, hoping to grab a few precious seconds to reload my 45. The axeman’s suit of armour must have been heavy and slowed him down. I dived behind a Buick and crawled along the ground, hoping to confuse him about where I was hiding, then stood up with my back to a removal van. I popped the chamber open and shoved six rounds then slapped the chamber back in place. Peering around the corner of the van, I could see the axeman walking towards the cars as quickly as he could, clanking like a bag full of tin cans.

All this noise and not one person had popped their head out the door. Guess everyone else is smarter than yours truly. I shouted another warning and then fired off three rounds when he didn’t stop. I saw sparks as the bullets hit his chest armour over his heart, but bounced off his makeshift metal suit.

This really wasn’t my day for shooting people.

Thinking quickly, I tried shooting at his helmet, hoping that the ricochets combined with the noise and flash of the bullets striking would stun him, but no such luck. He came on relentlessly. The axe bit into the side of the van, and I jumped back. My gun was empty again, but even if it hadn’t been it was useless. I threw it at him, hitting him with a clang, but to no other effect.

I ran, almost tripping on the rain slicked sidewalk, very conscious of the axe swinging behind me. Talk about having death stalking to you. I’d always expected to die on these mean streets one night, but not quite like this!

Anything I passed I knocked over trying to slow down this unstoppable thing pursuing me, bins, luggage trollies, the ice machine… The clanking noise behind me, slowed and changed, becoming more tortured. Glancing over my shoulder I could he was struggling to walk now. The ice machine must have bust for a while. All the ice had melted and he’d soaked his legs when I had knocked the broken machine over. He could still move his upper body futilely swinging his axe even though it was far out of reach. Well, this did change things. I picked up a few pebbles and threw them at him, smiling as the pinged off his armour. “Well, well, well chump. The shoe is WOAH!”

I narrowly avoided the axe as the maniac threw it at me. I felt the swish of air as it spun passed me, embedding itself solidly in the wall behind me. So, he is a weak spot for water does he. “You just stay right there pal, I’ll be right back.”

In a minute or two I was back. I collected the bucket of iced water from my room and carefully walked up behind the guy. Sure, I’d made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I tried never to make the same one twice.

“Have this tin man,” I shouted as I poured the bucket over his head. Sure enough, the tortured squeal of rusty metal quickly replaced his metallic clunking and in a few moments, he seemed safely frozen.

Just to be on the safe side, I dragged his arms down behind him and cuffed him. His arms were hard to move, but not because he was fighting me, they just seemed stiff. I hadn’t heard him speak a word since he’d said he wanted to chop my old ticker out of my chest. “All right tin man, let’s find out who you are under that sheet metal.”

I reached out and knocked his helmet off. I got a bit of a start when I found there was no head beneath it, just a hole leading down into the chest cavity. The helmet was filled with clockwork that looked like the inside of one of those “haunted piano’s” you see in old western saloons that play themselves. Looking inside the chest, it seemed to be similar. Someone was making killer robots? I thought again of how oddly the strawman had moved. Then I thought again of the Wonka case. Surely not another mad scientist?

Like some ancient shipwreck rising from the depths, Devon rose unbidden in my mind. If I’d played my cards differently I could have spent the night in each others arms, but instead here I was outside with a rusty robot that had tried to turn me into convenient postage stamp sized chunks. I thought again of my childhood toy. It had stopped working when the wind-up mechanism had finally had enough of being wound up and just gave up the ghost. What would it take to keep this guy still? I decided not to bother the station with this one. It wasn’t like they could slap a thing like that in the cells.

Still I couldn’t just leave it there, like some medieval equivalent of a wooden Indian. I returned to my room, picked up some lipstick and wrote on the torso “DO NOT LUBRICATE.

I returned to my crappy room in a crappy motel where a crappy robot had tried to chop me up on a crappy cold night. At least if the rain had kept up it might have rusted up sooner. It was the kind of night you didn’t want to be outdoors, and not just because of psychotic robot types either.
« Last Edit: November 21, 2018, 02:04:07 PM by Dark Alex » Logged

But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
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Posts: 12599



« Reply #91 on: November 20, 2018, 03:51:44 PM »

It was the kind of damp night where the chill crept into your bones and stayed there. The clouds were low and heavy, hiding the moon completely. The only light outside was the sickly yellow neon glow of the street lights. The adrenaline that had been coursing through my body during the fight had well and truly worn off, leaving me feeling worn out, like a tree that has rotted from the inside and suddenly collapses. I fell on the bed, ready to collapse into sleep. My brain though had other idea's. It was feeling wired. It took several hours but eventually my stiff and sore body won out and I collapsed into an uneasy sleep, where I dreamed about flaming robotic scarecrows.

Waking up early, I grabbed a cup of coffee and headed out. I wanted to be gone before any of the other guests found out about the damage to their cars or the rusted tin man outside. If they were curious about him, they should have came out and helped me try and fight the crazy thing.

I had the strangest feeling though, like this wasn't the strangest thing I would see before this case was over.

I jumped back in the car, gunned the engine and headed off toward Oz City, gritting my teeth at the very thought of the place. Colour was bad enough, but why the people of Oz decided to paint everything green I'll never understand. Glancing in the mirror, I caught sight of a motorcycle behind me. I disliked bikes and those who rode them on principal. No one likes a smart arse who rides up between you and the car next door when you are stuck in a traffic jam.

Twenty miles later, the bike was still in my rear view and a lot closer. The rider seemed to have some ridiculously furry collar on his leather jacket, which was being whipped by the wind. Must be blocking his vision. What an idiot. It was bad enough he was riding a bike in the first place, but with that get up and no helmet. Some folks just had no respect for their own lives. A little while later he overtook me. I was in no hurry. I got a good look at his bike as he passed, it looked like an antique. The rider glared at me as he passed, a blonde haired man with a black leather jacket and that stupid long furred collar. It looked more like ginger chest hair that had climbed out from inside the jacket and was threatening to overwhelm him, and then overtook me and headed off down the road. Soon enough I'd forgotten about him. You saw a lot of strange people out there and he wouldn't even rate in the top 50 I'd see this week.

Not long after that, I could see the gleaming spires of Oz City. My derriere was aching from two days of riding along this damn road, and I still had the return journey to make. If it wasn't so far out in the sticks I might have gotten crap from the LT about the length of time it took to get out here. They were used to be treated as second class, and wouldn't complain to headquarters, the LT would assume I was being thorough and had to stay the night. Still, didn't make turning up to investigate the crime a day late feel any less like a snake twisting around in my guts. These people deserved our attention just as much as anywhere else.

Still, if they were that bothered, they'd have set up their own police force long ago. I drove up to the gates. The guard on duty saw it was a police car and didn't give me the usual shakedown they gave to the run of the mill rubes who showed up wanting to see the boss man. The glittering green gates swung open. Part of me had hoped they would refuse and I could drive back to the precinct early. This case was going to be chasing after a bunch of corpses until the killer messed up and got herself caught. She had all the advantages and all we could do was pick up the pieces afterwards and hope. Truth be told, that was what most police work was, waiting for the bad guys (or gals) to make a mistake. I wound down the window and spoke to the guard, trying to keep a serious face at his silly fur hat and make moustache. He gave me directions to the central palace. Not a place I had ever been before, or expected to see. Visitors just weren't allowed in there.

Guess having a murder in there must have shook them up pretty badly.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
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Karma: 1556
Posts: 12599



« Reply #92 on: November 21, 2018, 01:36:54 PM »

I could feel a lot of eyes on me as I drove through the city. Oz didn't exactly encourage visitors and well to put it bluntly, most family tree's seemed to have a single branch.

Certainly explains the fashion trends.

It wasn't hard to find the city centre. The Oz City guards had cordoned off the area, standing their in their comical fur costumes. For a second I thought of the motorcyclist, and then dragged my thoughts back to the matter at hand. The crime scene consisted of a black dress (still wet), a pointy black hat, and a pool of goo underneath it all. Not much to see really. I should have sent Jerry here, but that would have meant dealing with the singing midgets. One of the guards waddled over to me, pike carried over one shoulder. He saluted me, introduced himself as sergeant Jenkins and said when I had finished checking the murder scene I had been invited to visit the Wizard's personal secretary. If I told him when I was finished he'd send me her way. The secretary he said, had witnessed the entire thing. Just to look professional I had a check around. A bucket lay on it's side. I guessed it was the murder weapon. There were a lot of foot prints, two obviously feminine shoes, the rest heavy boots (presumably guards). I bagged and tagged the bucket, putting it in the boot of the car and then told what I thought was Jenkins, but turned out to be someone completely different, that I was ready to go. It was so hard to tell them apart. I accepted an offer for one of the guards to drive me onwards, and after asking Jenkins (or someone looking exactly like him) to keep the clothes quarantined I left with my driver.

Of course he insisted on taking his pike with him which wasn't easy to get in the car.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
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Karma: 1556
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« Reply #93 on: November 21, 2018, 01:57:35 PM »

I was already regretting accepting the offer of a driver when I'd to share my seat with his weapon, but he jabbered on constantly about as far as I could tell, anything that just happened to pop into his head. He told me that they'd been celebrating the last day of spring break when the witch had arrived to see the wizard (and rumours were the pair of them were having an affair, not that anyone knew if the witch or wizard were married, or even seeing anyone else, and if they were was it an exclusive relationship, I was informed in a breathless stream of information. Words just tripped out of his mouth with no gaps between them or breaks to take a breath).

I missed Murphy and his taciturn silence.

It surprised me when we drove outside the city. I thought all these monkeys lived inside the walls. In fact we went about five miles outside the city, into the woods. We drove up at some mansion, I climbed out the car whistling at home much this pile must have cost. My guard jumped out of his side, still talking non-stop, dragged his stupid ass pike out of the car and knocked on the mansion door. It was opened as I followed the guard up the steps to the large double doors.

Got to say, I did not expect to see Devon open the door. My jaw just dropped and my eyes went wide. It had been over a year since we'd parted ways, and there hadn't been a day since I hadn't regretted it.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
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Karma: 1556
Posts: 12599



« Reply #94 on: November 21, 2018, 03:59:04 PM »

Devon stood there, smiled that wide, slow smile I'd seen so many times before. "Winnie, glad you could make it finally."

I felt myself blushing and wishing I'd touched up my makeup on the ride over, or at least brought a spare change of clothes so I wasn't still wearing yesterday's clothes. Of course there was no way I could have known he would be here. When we had been dating I never let him see me without a face full of make up on, nice dress, perfume... things that sadly my day to day job left me little time for. I reached out to shake has hand, but he took my hand instead, kissing it gently.

I felt my heart flutter like a bunch of canaries who had just spotted a cat walking around their cage.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
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Karma: 1556
Posts: 12599



« Reply #95 on: November 25, 2018, 08:20:47 AM »

"I was hoping they would assign you to this case. It's been way too long since I last saw you."

I mumbled something about how it was good to see him too. "Come on inside" he invited. Officially this is the boss man's mansion, but he never uses it so I have the place to myself."

Devon always did have a deep resonating voice that reassured me... and turned me on. I forced myself to concentrate on the job at hand, and not what we'd gotten up to in the past.

Inside, the house was decorated in a stately style, meant to impress visitors I guessed. Devon confirmed this as he told me how any important visitors to the city would often be put up here rather than staying in the city proper. I listened to his voice, letting his words wash over me and slipped into something of a daydream as he led me through to a drawing room. Suddenly, Devon was looking right at me, obviously having asked me some question was expecting an answer. I managed a vague "Huh?"

"I said is it still strong, black coffee, and no sugars?"

"Oh yeah." I really had to get my head back in the game and concentrate. I wondered if Jerry had been having any problems with the Munchkins? Must keep my mind on the job.

"Make yourself at home."

I took this as cue to sit on one of the antique looking leather chairs. I felt very self conscious and sat demurely, with my knee's together, took out my pen and notepad while Devon poured me a cup of coffee. He handed me it, in a fine china cup. It looked incredibly delicate and I worried that I might accidentally snap it.

Devon meanwhile pulled a chair over to sit opposite me. He was close enough that our knee's touched and each time they did I got the same thrill of contact, like a con must get when Old Sparkie gets powered up, only this was one jump I'd enjoy.

I cleared my throat, and started "So, you saw what happened."

"Yeah, I saw the whole thing. I was in the city, appearing as the Wizard's stand in."

"You do that a lot?" I interupted.

"Oh yeah all the time. The wizard doesn't do public appearances. Doesn't often take private meetings either. So, anyway it was the last day of spring break and I was there for the closing speeches, wishing the students all the best, when this woman comes in shouting that the party isn't quite over yet. I thought it was all part of the festivities."

"So you didn't know the full plan of events?"

"Well in theory I did, I mean we had a timetable, but it isn't unusual for stuff to be improvised. The Oz folks might not look like it, but they do know how to party. Just a shame they have such terrible taste in colours."

"Oh I know, right? Every time I see that place it makes me want to puke."
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
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Karma: 1556
Posts: 12599



« Reply #96 on: December 10, 2018, 09:55:07 AM »

We laughed together, and for a few seconds all those years we had been apart faded away. He looked at me, and I felt my knee's turn to jelly. In those few moments, if he had asked me to go with him, I swear I would have forgotten about my career and the whole damn case. I'd have just up and left where ever the fates took us.

A coughing from the door broke the silence and the moment. A curiously androgynous figure, dressed in a Butler's uniform stood in the doorway. I tried to mentally compose myself again as (I guessed) he asked if we wanted tea. Clearly, Devon had been lost in the moment just as I had, and he stuttered slightly as he asked for two cups (even remembering that mine was black, two sugars). I watched as the butler left still not 100% convinced he was indeed a he. The fine cheekbones and hair slicked back into a long pony tail didn't help either. I'd visited a few stately piles in my time, and I'd never seen a butler before who didn't look like he came straight out of old England with a factory stamp proclaiming his authenticity. I caught Devon staring at me and returned to the interview.

"So, you said this girl wandered in. She the one who ice'd the witch?"

"Yeah, she seemed pretty in a girl next door kind of way. Her dress was made out of gingham."

"Bit kitsch if you ask me."

"Well, you always did look better in a little black dress" he said with a knowing smile.

"So you were saying she walked on unannounced?"

"Yeah, started whipping the crowd up into a frenzy and then asked if they wanted one last wet tee-shirt contest. Of course, they were wild for it. Some guy came out with a bucket of water in each hand, she took one and dumped the whole lot over the one woman in the front row. She started to melt, the crowd started to panic. I got caught up in the crowd and didn't see what happened after that.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
*****

Karma: 1556
Posts: 12599



« Reply #97 on: April 23, 2019, 11:55:58 AM »

When I am on a long strain journey I try to write a short story. This is more a framework that I could develop into a story, but it is what I got done today.

Warning: This story contains mature themes.

   Y'know, when you are watching the movies they make showing all the exploits of superheroes it isn't quite as glamerous as they like to make out on the big screen. I've been a PR man for them for twenty years now and I got to tell you, there is a lot more goes on that gets left off screan than they'd ever dare show.
   Its all in the name of a good public image of course. Clean cut sells better, and no one likes to deal with the whole fake moral outrage brigade. You know the ones, they get up to all sorts of things when they think no one else is looking, but if anyone else gets caught on doing it they scream blue murder to the media.
   One of my first jobs was looking after some kid with the spider powers. He was just a teenage kid back then, just getting established on the scene. I can't tell you which one of the spider guys we are talking about, and last I checked there were three or four different ones. He was living out of some crappy appartment and the maid came in to clean his room, caught him knocking one out. Of course with his whole web flinging thing, everytime he moved his wrist... well I am sure you don't need me to draw you a picture. Suffice to say the maid got some of his webbing on her face. She was going to sell her story to all the newspapers (of course these days, it would be all online, but back then that wasn't something we had to worry about). Now this kind of thing could end a super's career before it had even begun. I contacted her, offered her a big payoff, good job (with benefits) but she was determined to have her day in front of the camera. Eventually I had a word with one of the more extreme vigilanties out there, can't mention his name here, but if you know the guy with the skull on his shirt then you'll know exactly who I am talking about. Anyway, I dropped a rumour to him about this woman being a blackmailer and just to sweeten the deal I had some coke planted in her room. Just enough to make her look like a dealer. It wasn't pretty what he did to her, but in the end the set up worked and the kid went on to have a great career (still going strong in fact) and I still get my 5% residuals.
    In the grand scheme of things though that was small change. Later on I'd get assigned to work with some guy who was seriously into his magic. Very strange guy. He'd go into a bar and try to chat up a woman. If his chat up lines didn't work, he'd simply rewind time and try again and again until he got his way. And the things he would do to those women! He had access to all sorts of other dimensions and I swear at least one of them had to be a universe of sex dungeons. I always stayed clear of his parties but I hear he had suppliers who could fix him up with drugs you have never even heard of and shouldn't ever have been on this planet. If someone overdosed, he'd just open a portal to some other place and dump the bodies.
   I assumed he was dumping the bodies in another dimension. Wasn't until many years later I found he'd been dumping them in some hotel in Chicago, back in the early 1900's. His magic has seriously messed the design of the building up. Turned the whole place into a maze. When they found the bodies,it was all pinned on the owner. Did some research and found he got the death penelty for it, poor bastard.
   Worst place I ever heard of though was some school for kids with powers.What the teachers got up to with each other! Wow, just mind boggling and the pervy old guy running the place got off on using his "mental powers" to watch it all. I've seen some of the secuity camera footage and I tell you, that team should have been called The X Rated Men. Never worked with them myself, always avoiding working with kids. The parents are always trying to get involved, tell you how to do your job.
   Working with women is just as bad. There is one who is named after a certain type of spider. Yeah, her nickname is well earned. Check out how many husbands she went through and what happened to them. And every single one of them had a huge life insurance policy on her. Lets not forget about the guy in the metal suit. The movies made out that he put his girlfriend in charge of his company, asked her to run it for him. Yeah, that was a cover up for an especailly nasty corporate takeover. Somehow she manage to lever his money against him, took out loans against his business and effectively used his own fortune to buy him out. Left him penniless and on the street.
   The guy with the mouth? Yeah, I thought you'd bring him up. I did represent him and to be honest he was one of the easier ones. He didn't try to have some clean image up front and you know what? The public loved him for being who he was. Well, as long as he kept his mask on. He did look a bit like melted cheese underneath that. No matter how many bad guys he shot, sliced and diced or even tortured no body seemed to care. Just as well really, I don't think he'd have changed even if they had.
   So why am I telling all those stories now? Can't you guess?  I am going to release my very own tell all biography. You see, after two decades of representing the good guys and knowing all the time that they weren't that good I have decided its time for a new career. I am going to become a super villian. I know all the supers secret weaknesses and where their skeletons are buried. Literally in some cases. Any superhero makes a move against me I'll publish and they'll be damned! Can't you just see it? I've learned a few tricks and I'll make sure the public will love me for what I do. In time the entire world will bow before the evil genius of...


PR-MAN!
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
316zombie
Guest
« Reply #98 on: April 28, 2019, 10:55:00 PM »

note to self. SELF, REREAD THIS THREAD!
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Alex
B-Movie Kraken
*****

Karma: 1556
Posts: 12599



« Reply #99 on: May 08, 2019, 12:31:57 PM »

Not one of mine, but I thought it was interesting.

Quote
H.P. Loveshack
by John Peck
 

When I recall that night so many years ago, among the foul mists and brackish fens of the Great Southern Swamp, a great wave of shame and guilt rises within me, beneath which lies a vaster and darker force: madness, pure and unending, threatening to swallow me whole.

That morning, I had set out with Cedric (a fellow medical student at Miskatonka State) with the intention of putting to rest a ludicrously backwoods Southern legend. We had set off in a massive horse-carriage, a true leviathan capable of holding twenty souls, which bore the chrome mark of its maker: Chrysler Manufactory, Detroit.
In the wake of winning of the 2019 National Magazine Award for fiction, at the precipice of our 21st year, and in anticipation of wonderment to come, we are bundling together a full subscription's...

As we left Atlanta, we gave the horses free rein, and our great carriage set sail down the broad, cypress-lined highways. Our easy progress, however, was not to last. As the hours stretched on, an oppressive mist began to rise from the accursed marshes that surrounded us. Cedric and I spent uncountable hours peering into the gloom, and just as I was about to lose all hope, at the side of the road, a faded sign shewed forth:
SHACK OF INDULGENCE
15 MILES

Our wagon shuddered as it turned off the highway and onto the dirt road, following the arrow on the sign, the horses whinnying in indignation — or perhaps fear. I cannot say how long we continued along that accursed lane of rock and dirt. I may have slept, but if I did, it brought no rest; only shallow nightmares. After interminable hours in that gloom, as we were about to abandon all hope, there suddenly appeared from the darkness a second sign more faded than the first:
SHACK OF INDULGENCE
500 YARDS — PLENTIFUL PARKING — FREE ICE-CREAM

Our driver halted and I stepped out and approached the sign, raising my electric torch to read the words scrawled below the painted letters in what appeared to be a tramp’s lip-rouge:
STAY AWAY, FOOLS
FOR BAL CH’GAATH REIGNS
AT THE ZIGGURAT OF LHAV-SH’AAK

Shaken, I returned to our wagon and bade the coachman continue — but no matter how he whipped or coaxed the horses, they refused to go any further, and we had no choice but to proceed on foot. Alone in the wilderness and utterly servantless, we trudged on through the foul swamps, knee-deep in brackish water, serenaded by toads and spectral mynah-birds.
Out now, Issue 55 gathers work from Laura van den Berg, R. O Kwon, Alexander Chee, and T Kira Madden.

Eventually, we broke free of the oppressive canopy and into a moonlit clearing — where, suddenly and horribly, we beheld, set way back in the middle of the field, a vast and inconceivable structure, rising from the darkness under sickly moonlight. From within the stone temple came a cacophony of voices, chanting a profane, inscrutable incantation.

We braced ourselves and approached the massive stone door. Unsure as to how to open it, we banged and banged upon it with our bare hands until, with a terrible grinding sound, it slid slowly open, releasing a hellish blast of heat, scented with exotic perfumes and mint juleps, loud with peals of drunken laughter.

We stepped through the terrible portico and into the dark temple, lit only by torchlight. The heat within was stifling, almost oven-like, as if the whole structure had been built over some ancient magmic vent. Our discomfort soon overcame our modesty, and we were compelled to remove the majority of our garments.

As our eyes adjusted, we beheld throngs of swaying bodies, themselves barely clothed, caught up in some sort of blood-trance, all of them shimmying as if to some unheard music, circling a massive, formless statue, all intertwined in a seething mass of sweat-covered skin and beehived hair-dos that seemed to defy gravity. As the voices grew around me, and countless profane hands strafed over my naked flesh, the words of the chant, which at first had seemed mere sounds, grew clear:
The second installment of our Manifesto Series is available for preorder. Orders will ship late January, 2019. Since the 2016 election, reading the news each day can send even the most placid...

The rust upon the roof of tin
shall see your heart and know your sin.

I soon lost myself in the primitive, rhythmic chanting — how much more difficult it must have been for Cedric, who was a quarter-Iberian on his mother’s side — until I was shaken from my reverie by a great and terrible shuddering of the floor. I gazed upward and beheld the unimaginable: the stone statue, or what I had thought was a statue, beginning to rise. Its aspect was indescribable; I remember countless eyes and an overabundance of appendages assembled into a profane, ancient form, incomprehensible to the human mind.

Its horrible gaze fell upon me, and immediately its disciples swarmed over me and tore off what remained of my ragged clothing. With frightening speed, the hulking form began to advance. I broke free of the seething mob and found my clothes upon the stone floor, whereupon I drew from my vest pocket several bags of glitter-powder I carried for such occasions.

Taking aim at what I assumed to be the creature’s eyes, I threw one of the bags, which exploded into a cloud of fabulous iridescence. I shall never forget the shriek of that eldritch thing: ageless and unearthly. I ran outside, and with all the strength I could muster slid the massive stone slab closed behind me and collapsed in exhaustion on the temple’s stone portico.
When Sophie Swankowski surfaces from the freezing waters, she finds herself in an ancient castle in Poland—and in the center of an ages-old battle. Even with her magical powers, the strength and...

And then I heard it — oh, gods! — a sound more hideous and unearthly than I could ever imagine: the sound of countless beings throwing their own bodies against the door of the temple, pulverizing themselves against the immovable stone. And above it all, the voice of my companion, trapped within that sepulcher of lust, now a charnel-house… not crying out… no, I can hardly bear to say it… he was laughing, laughing with the depraved, animalistic sounds of the truly mad, and would forever pound his bare fists against the stone: bang, bang, banging on the door for eternity!

Gathering what was left of my sanity, I turned and walked into the darkness. I left no traces in that abominable place, save for a faint, gleaming trail: glitter on the front portico, glitter on the highway, glitter on the reeds and bracken of that cursed swamp.


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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
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« Reply #100 on: June 01, 2019, 05:51:39 AM »

Chapter One.  A miserable journey.

 

It was a sorry and miserable trio that slowly trod through the seemingly endless mud that made up the so-called road they travelled along. The figure in the front was evidently a holy man, but a capable fighter too if the mail armour and weapons he wore were any guide. He was powerfully built, with a shock of white hair and a beard. Over his mail he wore a tabard, proclaiming his allegiance to the Lord Solar, the light bringer and he bore a similar looking design on an icon around his neck. One hand held a heavy looking mace which he tapped against the side of his leg as he walked. He looked older and more mature than his companions.

 

Behind him trudged a striking looking woman. She wore dark leather armour. A rapier hung at one side, while a light crossbow was slung over her backpack. Her long red hair was soaked through, framing a face that many would consider attractive. She had bright green eyes that darted left and right, on the lookout for something, perhaps anything that would get them out of this damn rain.

 

The final member of the trio was the most curious of the three. Where the other two wore armour, he had only a long robe. Like the female he carried a light crossbow on his back along with most of his worldly possessions, save the book he had clutched to his chest, wrapped in an oilskin to protect it from the rain and mud. He was soaked through to the bone and was thoroughly miserable about it, something that he made sure his companions knew about. His lank brown hair hangs down, water dripping from the ends. On one shoulder perched a raven, it’s wings partially spread to help it keeps its balance. The other two had long since stopped paying attention to his complaints and ignored as he whined about their predicament.

 

“Six weeks we’ve been travelling together and the closest we’ve had to any adventure was that farmer who paid us to clean out his pig sty. This is not the life of adventure we discussed! I want a warm bed, I want hot food, I want… I want… I WANT TO GO HOME!” He stopped, stamped one foot in the mud and succeeded only in splashing more wet muck over his robe.

 

The older man to the fore, stopped and pointed ahead “Look, it’s a town. Quit your moaning Zolis, you’ll get at least two of your wishes there. If you want the third, damn well turn around and head back home to mummy.”

 

The redhead spoke next. “Well, if we don’t find some work in there we might as well all head home. Those of you who have one anyway.” A sad and bitter look crossed her face and she paused for a few seconds before continuing. “We have enough money between us for one night in an inn and a meal… if they don’t charge too much. And that this godsforsaken place has an inn.”

 

The one called Zolis was evidently having problems getting his foot out of the mud. After stamping his foot in it, the viscous mud sought to claim his shoe. “Cadmus, can’t that god of yours shine some sunbeams out of his arse and make the day brighter for us? What use is it having a priest of the sun if you can’t bring us a weather miracle?”

 

“Be careful whose god you mock wizard. My mace is more than capable of extracting retribution.” The priests voice was a dangerous low growl. It carried an undertone of menace that got through to the headstrong wizard, who preoccupied himself with trying to rescue his lost shoe, succeeding only to overbalance and fall back into the mud. With a loud squawk his bird flapped its wings to stay aloft, before alighting on his head.

 

The laughter of the other two broke the recent tension. Cadmus strode over and gave the sodden and even more miserable than before Zolis a hand up. “Then again, perhaps my god is more than capable of punishing blasphemers in his own way. The ways of the gods are strange and not to be second guessed by us mere mortals.”

 

The red-haired woman continued walking along, eager to have a break from the wet. It had rained almost every day since they’d decided to take up a life of adventuring, the weather marking the gradual change from winter to spring. She’d find some way to make money in this out of the way hole in the middle of nowhere. She had nowhere else to go. Her name was Valerie but told everyone to call her Val and she’d been on her own since her parents had died in a fire when she was twelve. They sent her to various orphanages where sometimes well meaning, other times bullying attendants had tried to install some sense of discipline in her. She’d managed to escape every time though and found more useful skills living on the streets.

 

The town up ahead was hardly one to raise their hopes. A signpost against all the visual evidence declare “Welcome to Karlston”. Karlston, as far as the group could see, consisted of a miserable collection of a dozen buildings, most of them little better than shanties. Only two stood out as being different. One was an impressive looking way temple, far grander than such an out of the way and poverty-stricken place would appear to warrant, while the other was a two-story inn. Badly in need of a coat of paint it still seemed a welcome sight to the weary travelers.

 

Val surprised even Cadmus by suggesting, checking out the temple first but Zolis insisted they seek out food and drink first of all.

 

The trio wandered into the inn, rain dripping off them and mud clinging to their boots. A dozen or so locals clustered in small groups across the room, looked around at them, temporarily halting the low murmur of conversation. Stares bordering on the hostile bore into the group as they took a table. Val went over to the bar, the man behind it the only one in the room who seemed happy to see them.

 

“Greetings and welcome to The Kings Head Inn. My name is Sillas and I’ll be serving you this day. What can I get you good folks?”

 

Although the man’s words were friendly enough, his dark eyes told of sleepless nights. While not a tall man, the man was strongly built and had a friendly open face, if looking as if he was under some great stress. Zolis ordered a round of ales and asked if something was wrong with everyone looking so dour. The barman merely shook his head and served the drinks, his eyes staring down at the ground as he accepted three copper coins. Zolis scooped up the drinks and returned to the table, where the other two spoke in hushed whispers.

 

He told them that the barman had suddenly became very reticent when asked if something was wrong.  Val ran her fingers through her long red hair and pushed it back, so it hung down her back and over the rough wooden chair before replying “Well there is obviously something up with this village. The barman seems friendly enough, maybe I can find out what is up. Might be a job in it for us.”

 

“What”, Zolis said “is up with this village is simply that it is no longer on a trade route. It has no wealth and is dying.” Zolis’s idea of a whisper however was slightly lacking, and his words brought some angry growls from the assorted locals. Completely oblivious to this hostility, he continued supping on his ale. It was a weak brew at best, but with a pleasant take that surprised his taste buds. As a student wizard, Zolis had spent many a night sampling many different ales and he considered himself something of a connoisseur. His drinking companions during that time would have laughed at this however and pointed out his penchant for passing out after three or four mugs and having no memory of the night before.

 

“Look, give me all your money. I’ll go back to the bar, order more drinks, food and a room for the night. Then I’ll butter him up a bit, get some information from him and who knows, perhaps we can get a paying job out of this place.” Val smiled and winked, with an air of confidence.

 

Zolis snorted but said nothing more preferring his ale. He had spent over a decade studying the arts of mastering control over the minds of others and poor Valerie thought she could do the same with just a smile and a wink. Val downed her drink and walked up to the bar. Zolis couldn’t help noticing how her hips swayed as she walked. Surely the drink wasn’t powerful enough to have her staggering? He leaned over closer to Cadmus “Pah, she’ll get no information from him. I can delve the secrets of his mind with my magic tonight while he sleeps. It took me years of study and learning, and she thinks she can just ask. Poor woman. Still can’t expect her to be as smart as a man, especially not one as learned as he was.

Cadmus looked at his companion askance, “This place you studied magic at… They didn’t encourage mixing with women, did they?”

“Well of course not. Such things were seen as a distraction to our studies and we were discouraged from any contact with them, beyond what was strictly necessary.”

Cadmus nodded, and smiled a half smile. “I am sure you will catch up on everything you missed quickly.”

Zolis snorted again. “There can’t be that much to learn.”

 

Having imparted his sage opinion, Zolis leaned back on his chair, supped deeply of his ale and then wiped the foam off his mouth with the sleeve of his voluminous robe. Cadmus echoed this action, trying to hide his laughter behind his mug, although if Zolis had been watching he would doubtless have seen the priest’s bright blue eyes crinkled up with laughter.

After a few minutes, Val returned bearing more drinks. “He admitted something was wrong but wouldn’t speak of what the problem was. We should go speak to the village priest he said. His name was Father Morgan. I think we should go look for him after our meal.”

Cadmus nodded his agreement, while Zolis looked open mouthed at Val. Cadmus leaned over and whispered, “Women have a magic all of their own my friend.”

 

Shortly afterwards another round of drinks arrived along with that night’s repast. A stew where a few bits of meat floated forlornly in a thin gravy would be the best they could have. Still was well seasoned and had a more than passable taste. Each bowl came with a thick slice of bread. It had been a while since the trio had ate more than trail rations and the warm food was a revelation to their hungry stomachs. It would not keep them feeling full for long, but it would do for the moment. Val was just mopping up the last remnants of her gravy with her bread and contemplating the few coins they had left that would buy them one final round of drinks when the door to the inn burst open. The wind had risen in strength and it was now the early evening. Rain, blown in splattered the adventurers as a panicked looking man almost fell into the common room. He thrust the door shut, and pressed his back up against it, as if to bar it and keep some terror outside. Words poured from his mouth in a breathless flood, “Its happened again, they’ve killed another one outside the village. Young Margret, she’s been ripped to pieces!”

Most of the villagers buried their heads in their drink, but a few got to their feet and heading out, including the barman Sillas who took a heavy looking cudgel from behind the bar. The adventurers shared quick glances and with an unspoken agreement followed the more intrepid villagers out into the dark and rain. As they walked through the rain, others joined them attracted by the hue and cry. Near the edge of the village the posse now led by Sillas stopped to speak to a tall figure wrapped in a dark cloak against the weather. The man who had warned them all in the inn, who they gathered was named Jerad interjected several times, stammering and explaining what he had found. A couple of times Sillas glanced over his shoulder to look at the three newcomers and nodded in agreement to whatever was being said to him. While they were more the curious as to what was said, all three decided to wait and let the villagers come to them rather than seem overeager for work, and perhaps end up being offered less money.

 

Perhaps half a mile beyond the boundary of the village, they found the body. A young woman, her throat ripped out, lay in the mud at the road side, what remained of her face frozen in the last moment of a scream. Several villagers threw up noisily. Others invoked various gods and goddesses asking them for protection. One man swore and said “It’s ‘im. He’s sent the hounds of Hel to get his revenge.” Sillas hushed them man and bade the others to collect stout branches to make a stretcher and to keep an eye out in case whatever had done this foul deed returned. By now the last light had faded and the night was dark, interrupted only by the burning torches. The villagers moved in groups, never less than three or four, but quickly found some suitable branches. Sillas used his cloak, to lie the body on and covered it up as best he could with the shredded remnants of her own clothing.

It was impossible to hide that the body was missing some parts and what remained had the look of having been bitten and chewed on. What in the thousand hells could be plaguing this village? All three wondered if perhaps they were getting into something that would be over their heads.

Four of the villagers carried the lifeless body between them. The sudden cry of what sounded like a wolf howling rang through the night. The villagers looked ready to panic and run. Cadmus and Val gripped the hilts of their weapons in case some nightmare creature should suddenly appear out of the darkness and everyone clustered together. The howls were answered by others, which at least sounded further away. “Steady now. These beasts won’t attack such a large group and I am sure these fine folks”, Sillas nodded at Val, Cadmus and Zolis “will keep us safe until we are back in Karlston.”

 

Although it was only a short walk back to the village it felt like it took many hours to get there. The rain had finally ceased, but the ground underfoot was closer to being a swamp than it was to solid ground. Still no further howls broke through the darkness and they returned unmolested to Karlston. It looked like every remaining person in the village was standing, waiting for them to return. The publican, Sillas, who seemed to have taken charge of the whole operation bade the villagers to take the Margaret’s body inside the temple and lay it down respectfully. Turning to the party he spoke to them again “Father Morgan asked if you would be good enough to speak to him once you returned. If you are agreeable, I’ll take you to see him. He has some rooms at the rear of the temple.”

Cadmus replied that they would be happy to meet with the village priest, and if they could help with the villages problem they would gladly assist. That they would expect to be paid for this aid hardly seemed worth mentioning.

 

Sillas ushered the rest of the village towards the main temple doors while he guided the party around to the rear of the large stone building. A weak light shone through a small window beside a plain wooden door. Sillas knocked reverently on the door and a deep voice called “Enter.”

He opened the door and motioned for the party to enter. Zolis went first and his nose immediately recognised the smell of books. It was not a large room he walked into. The only furniture he could see was a cot bed and a writing desk, but the walls were lined with books. Any space where a shelf could be put, there was one and it would then be stacked high with books. Behind the desk sat a man of middle years. He had a finely trimmed goatee and dark eyes full of intelligence. Dark brown hair with a touch of silver seemed to add to his scholarly image. His general aura seemed to indicate a man who did not smile often though. He was reading a book by the light of single candle, the light from which threw flickering shadows over the man’s face. Sillas coughed politely and said in a much quieter voice than they’d heard from him before “This is Father Morgan, our village priest.” He fell silent, clutching his hat in his hands.

“Thank you Sillas, that will be all for the moment. I am sure the others will be in need of some drinks. Please, give them all a couple. I’ll pay for them in the morning.”

Sillas touched his forelock and excused himself, seemingly intimidated in the presence of the priest.

“I fear my friend was being overly generous when he called me the village priest. I am but a lay preacher at most. Still, I serve the people here as best as I can.” He spread his hands wide as he spoke, affecting a humble air. Before he could say anything else, Val interrupted. “What ails this place? Whatever killed that woman, it looked like it used teeth and claws. Those were not wounds from any weapon made by man, and why won’t Sillas tell us about it?”

Father Morgan sat back in his chair and stared at the group as if weighing them up in his mind. His piercing stare seemed to Val to be looking deeper than her eyes, indeed to her very soul. She unsuccessfully tried to suppress a shudder as it ran up her spine. From somewhere in the room she thought she heard a squeaking, like that of a mouse or some similar rodent. Her girlhood on the streets of Port Glass had meant such creatures were common bedfellows. More than once she had awoken to discover some snuggled in again her for her body heat. More than once, they’d made an improvised breakfast when pickings had been slim.

“Well, to answer the last question first. It is because he was not here when thing happened. He had travelled to the nearest city on business. As to what killed that woman, and indeed the five others who died before her, well that story began many years ago when a man called Anton took over the running of one of the outlying farms. He was however no farmer and as the people of the village were soon to discover he was in fact some kind of warlock! The village grew fearful of the man over time, visited now and again by some evil doubtless of an infernal origin. The occasional animal would vanish or sicken, or a year’s crops might fail if you did something to offend him. Stories of unnatural creatures attending him spread, demonic hounds who would protect him prevented the village from rising up against him, and although he demanded an annual share of our food at the autumn harvest festival and none dared deny him he never provided so much as a mouthful of food or drink to anyone else. So, might this state of affairs have continued had it not been for him pushing things too far. One of the village children disappeared from her bed on a moonless night. The warlock’s hounds had been heard howling that night, and their pawprints were found around the village in the morning. Enough was enough. The people of the village rose up and we marched to his farm. We could not find the girl and Anton refused to give his location. He threatened the villagers if they didn’t leave and went to cast some foul spells against them. There was a fight and they killed him, but we could find no sign of the missing girl.”

Father Morgan steepled his fingers as he lent forward over his desk and paused for a few moments in his narration. “Alas, it appears evil cannot be quite so easily banished. Around a week after this happened, the first of our village was taken. A charcoal burner named Ned he was. The body was found in a condition… well no doubt similar to poor Margaret’s and like hers his soul was dragged to the infernal planes to be the eternal plaything of the damned. We are as you can plainly see not a wealthy village, but we touched nothing in Anton’s farm fearing it accursed. No doubt individuals such as yourselves who live by your wits and by your blades have no such fears. He surely had many treasures in his farmhouse. Should you… deal with this problem for us, I am sure no one would complain if you were to, ahem shall we say liberate any items from the farm. Indeed, I for one would be grateful if you were to take them away. I want nothing that has been tainted by such a man and worry that sooner or later one of the simple souls who lives here may be tempted by the tales of his wealth.”

Cadmus glanced at his compatriots who both almost imperceptibly nodded before he replied. “We will deal with this warlocks shade. The wrath of the Lord Solar shall burn his wickedness from this place.”

Morgan’s face twitched slightly in what have been an attempt at a grateful smile. “Then Karlston, and indeed myself owe you a debt of gratitude. Please, join the others in the inn and rest well. I will pay for your room and board this night. In the morning I’ll have one of the villagers show you where the farm is.”

“One last thing before we go” interjected Cadmus. “This temple seems rather grand for an out of the way place like this.”

“Ah, well if you were to go back several decades, you would have found this village was a thriving way point on the trade routes. The temple was originally built to worship the Master of Coins but was abandoned when the merchants chose other trade routes. Followers of the Bringer of Law held it for a while, using it as a base to patrol the region from, but with little to protect they moved onto other more glamourous places. The temple has extensive workings beneath where they had a barracks and food stores. Perhaps on your return I can show you around.”

“My thanks Father. I think I really would like to see beneath the temple” said Cadmus is a strange, almost far away voice.

With that Father Morgan returned to his book, leaving the others to make their own way out of his room. Outside, the night was quiet. The Kings Head shone like lantern in the dark but was silent. The threesome walked towards the inn, not speaking until about half way to their destination Val spoke up “Was it just me, or was he a bit creepy?”

Cadmus grunted and replied “I found myself not trusting him fully. Still there is no denying that something is attacking the village. I say unless we find proof otherwise, we take the job, see what we can salvage from the old man’s place and put whatever evil awaits down.”

Zolis laughed. “Just because the man can read does not make him sinister or evil. I am sure everything he told us is true.”

Val and Cadmus exchanged despairing glances but said nothing more, instead heading towards the welcoming light of the Kings Head and the free drinks awaiting within.

 

In the morning Cadmus awoke early. It was just before sunrise, a time he had been accustomed to rising at in order to perform the first ritual of the day and greet the rising son as another day was blessed by the Lord Solar. He prayed for the spiritual power to defeat his foes and do his gods will, then checked his gear and headed downstairs, ready for whatever adventure awaited. Val was already down there, having a grey looking gruel for breakfast. “Let me guess, Zolis drank too much again and is still sleeping in his room.”

She shook her head. “He was still drinking when I went to bed. When I came down this morning I found him still passed out under the table.”

Cadmus peered under the table and indeed the wizard was lying there. Cadmus could tell he was breathing through his nose, mostly because someone appeared to have bundled his beard up and shoved it in his mouth. “He snoring again.”

“Yup. One of the locals must have got fed of him. He is still breathing, I checked.”

Cadmus sat down and gave the prostrate mage a hefty kick to wake him up. “Get up you drunken fool. We have travelling and maybe some fighting to do, and you have a hangover!”

A low moan issued from below the table as Zolis stirred. He slowly climbed back onto the same stool he had doubtless fallen from.

“Damned fool,” swore Cadmus “get upstairs and your spells together. We need you clear headed, not throwing up every half hour.”

Zolis looked very pale, shot up out of his seat and ran for the outhouse.

 

It was much later in the day than they had planned when they finally set off. Cadmus had wanted to leave as soon as he had performed his morning rituals, but if Zolis didn’t have some time to study and memorize which spells he wanted to use that day then he’d be no use at all. It had crossed Cadmus’s mind to attempt this job without him, but the wizard did have some useful powers that just might make the difference between success and failure. A substantial crowd had gathered to see them off, headed by Father Morgan. He offered them a blessing in the name of the gods to wish them success and introduced them to a thin youth by the name of Felick. He would take them at least part of the way to Anton’s farm, although he would be leaving them early enough to get back before dark. It would take around six hours to get to the farm on foot he informed the group. If they had expected cheers from the villagers as they marched off, then they were to be disappointed. The expectant eyes of the crowd watched them leave in silence, perhaps fearful of what would become of them should their chosen champions fail.

 

Although the rain had finally stopped falling and the sky was clear the road underfoot was still muddy. Felick proved to be sullen and untalkative companion. Val wondered if he had perhaps drawn a short straw and been forced into being their guide. Still, the day was pleasant and only the worry about what dangers lay ahead stopped them enjoying the day. Sillas had been good enough to provide them with some food. Simple fair, but it would be a welcome change from hard rations.

 

After a few hours travelling where their guide trailed behind them instead of leading from the front the group decided to stop for lunch. Val and Cadmus sat on their cloaks while Zolis chose instead to perch on a fallen tree. Unwrapping the package Sillas had given them they found a loaf of bread, freshly baked that morning, some cheese and a jar of some brownish sauce. It turned out to have a tangy taste. Taking pity of their unwilling guide, Val even offered him some which he gratefully accepted and wolfed down as if he hadn’t eaten much recently. He seemed to cheer up a little and even spoke to them about where they were going. “You keep going along this road, it’s the only farm still going. All the others were abandoned. Folks say the warlock cursed their crops to fail just so he’d have more peace and quiet. Aye, old Anton wasn’t one for company. He only came into the village a few times a year to buy supplies. Didn’t speak to none that he didn’t have to. One time I remember a couple of young bravo’s travelling through tried to rob him. He beat those two black and blue and sent them on his way. Might have been an old man, but he knew how to handle himself. At harvest time he’d come in for the festival and do fortune telling for those who wanted it, maybe get drunk and cause some trouble. People said he’d a horde of gold he’d sold his soul to the devils for and that he worked all sorts of magic.”

Cadmus leaned forward, and asked “Did you ever see him do anything evil, or cast any spells?”

The young man reddened and looked down at the ground, but before he could answer, he leapt to his feet and pointed at something at the roadside. He vomited noisily, and then ran off abandoning the group, shrieking about devil dogs. Zolis peered into the undergrowth where the boy had been pointing. “Oh look, it’s someone’s hand!”

Cadmus and Val jumped to their feet and came to investigate for themselves. Most of the flesh and muscle had been torn from the hand, leaving only a few strips of tattered white flesh and bloody tendons holding the rest together. One finger still had a plain gold band. Carefully Val removed the ring noting an inscription on the inside, a simple devotional to a wife. “I think we have found part of the woman attacked yesterday.”

Cadmus nodded. “We should at least bury the hand rather than leave it for the animals and birds.” He delved into his canvas backpack and found some cloth to wrap the remains in while Val dug a shallow grave. Zolis merely shrugged his shoulders and pointed out it would still be eaten, only by insects instead of animals. Cadmus shot him a look that convinced the mage that he should hold his tongue and make no more comments.

“We should keep the ring, see if we can return it to her family” said Val. Cadmus nodded in agreement.

 

After they had buried the hand, and Cadmus had said a few generic words over the grave the group decided to continue. No one felt like finishing the lunch.

 

Weak sunlight dappled the ground, but it was still gratefully received by the trio after the weeks of rain that had left them sodden and muddy on a daily basis. It did little to dispel the days chill though. Each person walked along quietly, deep in their own thoughts. It took them all by surprise then when a pair of snarling dogs ran out of the overgrown flora at the roadside. Zolis reacted first, calling on his arcane powers he caused magical fires to burn on his hands, hoping the fire would scare the animals off. It seemed to have the opposite effect as both animals snapped and tore at his legs, ripping chunks of flesh. Zolis collapsed in the dirt as the dogs continued to bite at him tearing a gout of his skin and muscle free with every bite. Val pulled her crossbow, flicked the safety catch and fired a shot without aiming. It was incredibly lucky that one of the dogs raised its snout to snarl at her and the bolt went down the animal’s throat, lodging deep inside it. The dog made some strange coughing noises and collapsed. Cadmus meanwhile grabbed his mace and swung clumsily at the other dog. Off balance, his swing came closer to the unfortunate Zolis’s head than it did the dog. Val moving with her heightened reactions, reloaded her crossbow and sent a second bolt thudding into the flank of the other dog which squealed and tried to limp away. It staggered a few steps, then fell to the ground as its body finally realised it was already dead.

 

Zolis was lying on the ground, moaning feebly while blood soaked the dirt beneath him. His bird, disturbed by its master collapsing flew in tight circles around him, cawing loudly. Cadmus dropped his mace and lifted the wizards robe away from the wounds for a better look at the injuries. A large part of the back of his right leg had been bitten off leaving a gaping hole through which he could see the muscle twitching spasmodically. He put his hands on the wounds and called on the power of the Lord Solar, making his body a conduit for the holy energy and speeding up the healing. Val watched in horrified fascination as the injury knit itself back together rapidly. Cadmus’s hands glowed faintly with the power he channeled and in a few seconds the leg was completely healed, a patch of scar tissue the only sign there had ever been an injury there.

 

And of course, Zolis’s shredded and blood-stained robe. Cadmus was breathing heavily from the exertion of healing the injury while Zolis’s whimpers and cries subsided slowly.

“Oh man up you big baby. Cadmus has healed you. You can walk again.”

“It still hurts!” the wizard protested.

“Come on, if you don’t get up we’ll never make it before dark.”

“Don’t… do… that… again Zolis” panted Cadmus. “The Lord Solar grants us only a small amount of his power each day. If I have to keep healing, you then I will quickly run out. Guess what happens when I run out?”

“We all go home?” said the mage in a hopeful voice.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
*****

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« Reply #101 on: June 01, 2019, 05:52:28 AM »

Chapter Two. The Warlocks Lair.

 

After a few hours walking, punctuated frequently by Zolis complaining that his legs still hurt they reached the end of the road. A wooden gate lay partially submerged in mud that had once blocked the path. At the right-hand side of the road a faded sign read “This farm is the property of Anton Senet. Hawkers and travellers are welcomed only by my hungry dogs!”

“How charming and inviting,” mused Zolis.

“Well we didn’t come all this way just to turn back because of a sign.” Cadmus replied. “Besides, from the look of the footprints in the mud, it didn’t put the Karltoner’s either. Those dogs that attacked us earlier, did they look particularly demonic to you?”

“I was too busy being eaten alive to judge them on appearance.” Zolis said wryly and unconsciously touched the fresh scar on his leg.

“I know what you mean Cadmus” interjected Val. “They looked half starved.”

“Maybe such creatures are always hungry for souls. They were certainly hungry enough for my leg!”

They continued along the path. Tall trees lined either side, lending the walk an oppressive air. Rounding a corner, the treeline ended, and a single-story farmhouse could be seen. Part of the building appeared to have been set on fire, although at a guess the recent rains had prevented it spreading. Behind the farmhouse a wooden barn could be seen. From a lone tree near the farmhouse, hung a body. Although they were too far away to make out details it seemed a reasonable assumption that this would be the body of the alleged warlock, Anton.

“Well, I guess we know how he died. And it doesn’t look like he has returned from the grave to take revenge.”

“He didn’t get a grave.” Zolis commented drily. “I can see him hanging there. Look, he is swaying in the breeze.”

The other pair sighed at their literal minded companion. Val decided a conversation about this with Zolis would go nowhere and just be frustrating. “Let’s go check him out first” was all she replied. The wizard however interrupted her, “Hold on. Let Black Adam check the area out first.”

“Who is Black Adam? You hiding someone under that robe or something?”

“Black Adam is my raven. I’ve mentioned his name to you before.”

“You called your bird, Black Adam? And he is going to scout out the farm for us?” asked Val, the disbelief clear in her voice.

“Oh yes, yes. He can do that. Just watch.”

Zolis carefully moved the bird from his shoulder and held it in his hand. He spoke softly to the bird, which cawed back in return, then in a much louder voice Zolis said “NO! You can’t eat any stray eye balls you come across! Fly over the farm. Come back and tell me if you see anything unusual,”

He sat Black Adam on the ground, letting him loose. The bird stretched its wings and then took to the skies.

“Now, we wait.” The wizards looked at the other two, a triumphant look on his face, puffing his chest out.

“Zolis,” said Cadmus “your bird has flown straight to the hanging body, has perched on its shoulder and unless I miss my guess is pecking at the eyes. If there are any left.”

Crestfallen, Zolis seemed to shrink a little and deflate. “He… needs some extra training. Work in progress, yes that’s it!”

“Well since our scout is busy filling his belly, I guess we should do our own reconnaissance.”

Val patted the mage on the shoulder and walked past him, heading over to where the raven was feasting.

 

“Well, he is definitely dead.” Cadmus peered at the decaying remains suspended in the air. The weather combined with the attention of local insects and animals had not been gentle with the body.

Val looked at the priest sideways. “I am so glad we brought you and your healing skills along. I could never have worked that one out myself.”

Zolis’s only comment was to retch loudly as Black Adam continued to peck at the remains.

“EAY!” yelled Cadmus, waving his arms in an attempt to frighten the bird off. It merely stared at him curiously, before returning to its meal. “Hmm, that’s odd.”

“Cadmus, you ever see dead bodies hanging from a tree and think it is normal? You must have grown up in a bad place.”

“I was thinking about the legs. They seem to have been chewed almost to the bone, whereas the rest of the body is a bit more…”

“Fresh?” finished Val.

“Yes. I would guess a dog around the same size as the ones that attacked us, on its back legs could eat the flesh off the legs, but not be able to reach the rest. We should bury the body.”

“Eeeew, you touch that, and it is going to fall to pieces,” squealed Zolis.

“You are going to have to learn how to be less squeamish Zolis. During my training we regularly had to prepare dead bodies for burial. One thing I found is that death is no respecter of the mortal condition.”

Val drew one of her blades, a wicked looking narrow stiletto and started to cut through the rope. It was thick, and the dagger wasn’t the best suited item for the task, but eventually she cut through the rope.

The body came crashing down to the ground. The rotted skin on the chest burst splattering the group in semi decayed fluids.

 

Even Cadmus threw up this time.

 

Once they had cleaned themselves up as best as possible, Cadmus and Val dug their second shallow grave of the day. The body was carefully moved into it and quickly buried, with the same words said over the body as had been said over the hand previously.

Finishing up the burial rite, Val suggested they go check out the farmhouse. The door had been kicked in. It led to the kitchen which had obviously been the area the fire had been lit. Part of the roof over the burned area had collapsed in, doubtless saving the rest of the building in the process. Beyond that, it seemed like a typical kitchen, taking up perhaps half the house with nothing to suggest anything overly sinister on the part of the owner. Two doors led further into the house. Zolis examined the ruined part of the house. “It was not some stray spell that set this alight. Someone piled up firewood and broken furniture and set it alight. “

Agreeing, Cadmus walked over to check the other rooms. The first one was apparently a bedroom. A plain bed and a chest of drawers stood against one wall, and at the foot of the bed sat a very ornate and expensive looking chest, of the kind a wealthy traveller might take on a long sea voyage. The wall above the head of the bed bore a large painting of a sun, rays of light emanating from it. Cadmus recognised this symbol immediately. “It seems strange does it not, that an evil warlock would have the symbol of the Lord Solar over his bed.”

Nodding Val replied, “There does seem to be a few differences to what we were told and what seems to have happened.”

“That chest. Looks large enough to hide a body inside, certainly that of a young girl and yet it is still closed. Seems odd if they were looking for a missing girl that it would be left closed.”

Zolis finished nosing around the kitchen and joined them. “Perhaps they couldn’t find a key?”

“It’s a farm Zolis. I am sure if they looked around, they’d find an axe somewhere.” Cadmus sometimes wondered about the wisdom of bringing Zolis with them. True he was in certain specific ways highly intelligent, but he seemed to be a complete void when it came to common sense. Oh well, it was too late to look for another spell caster. It had been hard enough just getting a threesome together to go wandering the world looking for adventure, never mind looking for a perfect group. Sighing inside, he shrugged his shoulders and turned to Val. “Can you open it?”

She flicked her red hair over her shoulder. “Maybe. I’ll give it a go.”

She knelt beside the chest and pulled out a set of slim tools from her leather armour, selected one and went to work on the lock. After a few minutes with an audible click, she pronounced it unlocked, her face beaming with pride.

 

The three stood around the chest. “Might be his fabled treasure inside,” said Zolis in his hopeful voice.

“Might be his dirty laundry,” retorted Cadmus. “Let us open it and find out.”

 

Val put her hand on the lid and slowly opened the chest.

 

They all stood there, looking down on the contents of the box. They were silent for a few seconds and the Val spoke.

“Well, that was not what I was expecting.”

“Truly not,” agreed Cadmus.

 

The inside of the box was lined with a white silk. It contained a single item. A plain black mask, such as might be worn as a masquerade ball.

 

“Perhaps it is magical? Let me see.” Zolis looked carefully at the mask and started chanting softly to himself in a language Val had never heard before. Concentration was carved in every line in his face. Suddenly, Zolis let out a shriek and collapsed, a thin rivulet of blood running from his nose. Cadmus quickly moved to his fallen companion. “He is still breathing. I am going to take that as a sign not to touch the mask.”

“Agreed. Can you wake him up?”

“This is not the kind of injury my magic can heal. I think given time, he’ll wake up on his own though. Or…”

“Yes?”

A broad smile broke on Cadmus’s face. “I could try pouring some cold water on him. The shock might bring him back. It would be a slight misuse of my gods’ gifts to make the water cold, but I think it would be worth it. Besides, he is fond of the odd practical joke himself.”

With a throaty laugh Val agreed and produced her water bottle. Cadmus prayed to his god, and Val felt a chill as if she was standing in an icy cold wind. She could feel the water bottle getting colder. “It’s ready, go ahead Val.”

She uncorked the bottle and tipped it out over the prone form lying sprawled at their feet. Zolis immediately awoke, coughing and spluttering. It took him a second or two, to get his bearings but as soon as he did and before either of his companions could stop him, he dived for the chest, picked up the mask and put it on his face.

 

Cadmus and Val were too shocked and surprised to do or say anything. Before their shocked eyes, the mask seemed to sink into the impetuous wizard’s face, disappearing.

Zolis’s hands ran over his skin trying futilely to grab at the material. As the mask disappeared completely, Zolis sighed and collapsed again.

 

Val and Cadmus exchanged glances, shrugged their shoulders and grabbing a leg each, dragged the supine mage from the bedroom to the kitchen. Cadmus took a quick look through the second door, “Ah, the privy. I don’t think we need to search in there. If he hid any treasure down there, he can keep it.”

“Well then, the only place left to check is the barn outside. Unless we want to try digging up the fields.”

Dragging the still unconscious Zolis along behind them, the other two headed out to the barn. Although the barn doors were closed, there was a hole in the door from the ground to a foot or so up. Getting closer they could also see something had dug under the hole, creating a gap certainly large enough for a gnome or halfling to get through. Or a large dog. Pieces of wood scattered around seemed to indicate something had broken the door getting out, rather than getting inside. Listening carefully Val said in a low whisper “I can hear things moving about inside. Sounds like dogs. No surprise there.”

Both pulled out weapons, preparing for combat and forgetting about Zolis lying behind them. He sat up and loudly asked “Huh. What is happening?”

Alerted by the voice outside, the animals inside snarled and barked. Val could do nothing more than shoot an angry look at Zolis before one of the dogs came scrabbling out of the hole. Before either of the others could react, Zolis found himself struggling with a dog, its teeth sank deeply into his arm. He grabbed his dagger with his other arm and flailed at the beast assaulting him. Normally, Zolis was completely ineffectual in a melee, however the bared teeth worrying at his arm seemed to inspire him and he managed to stick his blade deep into the dog’s stomach and then ripped the blade back up towards him, spilling the guts of the dog over him.

This display of bravado complete, Zolis felt the waves of pain washing over him and sank back into unconsciousness with a soft sigh. Seeing the wizard bleeding heavily yet again Cadmus shouted at Val to keep the dogs at bay. She stood in front of the hole as a second tried to worm its way out. Cadmus again called on the power of his god, invoking the healing powers to stop Zolis bleeding to death.

Val was slashing and stabbing with her rapier at the dog and it had taken some severe slashes but was ignoring its wounds and had managed to get out. A third dog was working its way out. Cadmus finished his prayer and seeing the wounds knitting back together, left Zolis in the care of his god, then gripping his iron mace moved over to help Val. Cadmus crushed the skull of the dog Val had already wounded, killing it, while Val’s rapier found the heart of the third beast.

No more flesh-eating hounds came out of the barn.

“These ones look as emaciated as the others” said Cadmus, examining the corpses.

“Huh?” replied Val. “Is there any chance you could stick to speaking the same language as the rest of us?”

“They look half starved. No wonder they have been attacking people.”

The pair of them looked around at Zolis again. He was still lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, although the worst of his injuries had been healed up. His once fine robe was tattered and torn in several places. His eyes were open.

“He going to be ok?” asked Val.

“Physically yes. I have my doubts as to his mental state, but that has nothing to do with the dogs biting him.”

“I guess we should check inside the barn.”

Grabbing the edge of a door each they pulled them open, dragging the poorly maintained doors through the dirt. Although the interior was dark, streaks of light from the ill-fitting boards on the wall letting enough light to see by. A litter of four pups came yelping over to the intruders.

“Ooh so cute!” exclaimed Val.

Camdus stared at her, one eyebrow raised but said nothing. The four puppies ran out into the day light, playing with each other and mock fighting with Zolis, pulling on his robe and tearing it more. Zolis just groaned and lay there, letting the dogs play with him.

“This is the worst day of my life ever” he groaned.

 

Zolis picked himself up, looking sadly at the remains of his ripped and bloodstained robe. “Showing a bit of flesh there Zolis old boy. Might want to cover up a bit if we are going to return to the village.” Val snickered.

Looking down at himself, he intoned the strange language of magic. The well of arcane power he held within him came forth, surrounding his robe in a purplish aura, streaked through with bolts of a dark green. When the light show faded, some of the rips and tears in his clothing had been repaired. At least enough to enter an inn and not cause undue comment. “I will repair it a bit more tomorrow before we reach Karlston. I don’t want to exhaust all my magical power before we are safely back there.”

“Given how useful your magics have been so far I see no reason why you shouldn’t just use it all right now. All you’ve done is collapse on the ground and been carried by me and Val.” Cadmus’s voice was harsh, and the already crestfallen wizard seemed to shrink further inside himself. In a small, sulky voice he replied “Hey that isn’t fair. You are wearing metal armour. I just have just these robes. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO STAND BETWEEN THEM AND ME!”

Val jumped between the two, “Hold on you two. Let’s just see if we can find the girl first and then get back to the village.”

Cadmus glowered at the mage but walking into the barn leaving Zolis to deal with the pups. “I do not like the idea of travelling back through the dark, but I don’t like the thought of staying here either.”

Val nodded “Out of the two, I’d rather sleep here. At least we can fortify the bedroom. We wander through the night and get attacked, then we have a real problem.”

“I’m with Val. I need a good night’s sleep to recover my magical energies. And you can count me out of keeping watch. I nearly died twice today, and I deserve a good night’s sleep!”

They scoured the barn but found no trace that anything, but the dogs had ever lived there.

“Well, if this is a wild goose chase the villagers have certainly fooled us. I see no sign of any missing girl, dead or alive. Nowhere nearby looks as if it has been dug for a grave recently. Zolis, what are you doing with those pups?”

“They won’t leave me alone.”

“You petting them isn’t helping.”

“Well I can’t just leave them here. Either they will starve to death, or if they survive they’ll just end up attacking people when they get bigger!”

“He has a point Cadmus.”

“Fine, but you are carrying them. I am not sure how much of a welcome they will get at the village. And if we are staying here overnight they are sleeping in the barn.”

Zolis’s face broke into a broad smile and he gathered up the pups, taking them back to the barn. He called back over his shoulder “I’ll plug up the hole in the door, so they don’t wander off.”

“Damn,” swore Cadmus. “I was hoping they’d get lost during the night.”

 

While Zolis dealt with the pups, he and Val returned to the shelter of the farmhouse. Cadmus started poking around the burnt part of the kitchen, while Val sat on one of the unbroken chairs. “Cadmus, I was just wondering… why doesn’t Zolis use his magic to heal his own wounds?”

“That is actually quite an in-depth question. I can only heal injuries the way I do because each morning when the sun rises, my god grants me a tiny portion of his power. Other gods share their power at times sacred to them. I can do other things too with that power other than healing, but that is what I choose to do with most of it. The kind of magic that a mage uses comes from another source, one that does not come from the divine. As healing is reserved for the gods he cannot do it. I could go on and explain the differences between the different types of magic, and how some rare people can master both types, but I think this answers your question without getting lost in the theories of magic.”

“And why are you both out here in the wilds, rather than somewhere warm? I mean I guess I can see you wandering the world, but Zolis seems so… unprepared for being anywhere outside a library.”

“Ah, well that is much easier to explain. For Zolis, it is like a strong man. The more he uses his muscles, the stronger he becomes. Thus, Zolis wanders the world to use his magic. The more he does, the more he will come to understand it and the greater his mastery. He will learn to perform things that to your eyes will seem miraculous. Well, if he doesn’t accidently walk off a cliff or something. He could improve his powers by staying home and practising, but actually using magic in practical situations works much faster. For myself, the more I use the Lord Solar’s power to help people, the greater the share of his power I receive will be and the more good I can do out in the world. Like Zolis, I could have stayed home and helped people in my home city, but I felt there were already enough priests there. Ah, this might be interesting.” Said Cadmus, pulling a charred object from underneath a pile of burned wood.

“What is that?”

“A book,” he flicked through a few pages. “Much of it has been destroyed, but it seems to be some kind of diary. Perhaps if I study it, we might glean some useful information. I’ll go sit in the bedroom and see what I can find out. Can you keep a look out for Zolis, make sure he doesn’t do anything more stupid than usual.”

Val sighed heavily. “It isn’t that he is an idiot. He seems highly intelligent. He just doesn’t think things through.”

“I am sure some time in the world will work wonders for him.”

With that, Cadmus disappeared into the other room.

Val got up and wandered over to the doorway, gazing out towards the barn where she could see Zolis rolling around on the hay playing with the puppies and feeding them some of his hard rations. Sometimes it was hard to believe the man had the rules of nature wrapped around his fingers and could easily tug them loose. Still, it would be nice if he’d occasionally do some tugging while they were fighting for their lives, earn his share of the treasure.

 

If we ever find any treasure she thought unhappily. She watched as Zolis finally finished playing with the dogs, closed the barn door and piled some sacks of feed up to cover the hole. As he headed back over to the farmhouse, she returned to the table, digging some food out from her backpack and uncorking a bottle of wine. She took a swig from the bottle and then passed it to Zolis as he entered and sat down on the edge of the table. The wine was thin and vinegary tasting, but it had been free. Zolis gulped down some of the wine himself, and then coughed.

“Cadmus is in the bedroom. He found a book mixed in with the bonfire. He is giving it a read in case it throws any light on the situation. We’ll make sure the door to the bedroom is shut tight in case there’s any more dogs out there and hit the road in the morning.”

 

The pair drank the rest of the bottle in silence before moving through to join Cadmus. Val dragged the chest of drawers over to the door while Zolis ambled over to Cadmus. “Find anything interesting?” he enquired.

“Well most of the book is ruined. I got bits about how the so-called warlock was an adventurer in his younger days but retired to devote himself to the study of some mask. I get the impression it is an item of unusual power. Good job no one found it and it anything really stupid with it then eh Zolis?”

The mage had the good sense to blush and stare at the threadbare carpet as Cadmus continued.

“Most information he had on the mask has been burned. In some way it makes the wearer stronger. I did get that he is hiding it from something, although I don’t know if it is a person, or some organisation and that there are other masks out there. I still have more to look through. How have you been feeling since you put it on?”

“Oh, uhm, well, me?” Zolis seemed startled by the question. “I guess since I put it on I have been feeling a little different. I have an urge to sneak around quietly, and for some reason I seem to know how to hide really well and… ok watch this. Val, can you lock that chest again?”

“I can, but why would I?”

“Please just indulge me.”

“Fine.” Val finished with the drawers and turned her attention to the lock. “I’ve never had to redo a lock. Normally when I open one, it stays open and we were too busy taking whatever was inside and running away to relock it. Once had to open a safe while two fellow guild members kept an angry pig at bay, but I’ve never had to, ah hah got you!”

With some pings and clicks, Val quickly had the lid resealed. She attempted to lift it back up just to show it was definitely now locked.

“Can I borrow your lockpicks?” She arched one crimson eyebrow at this request but handed them over. “You break any Zolis, you be buying me a new set.”

He cast a critical eye over the assorted tools, selected a few and then went to work. It took him considerably longer than Val, but eventually the lock clicked open again.

“I’ve never seen a set of lockpicks before, but suddenly I know how to use them.”

“Not very well though,” said Val, snatching her precious tools back and checking them for even the slightest trace of damage.

Zolis beamed with pride.

“So, the mask has taught you how to be a thief? Well, that would be incredibly useful if we didn’t have one already.” Said Cadmus, and then in a harsher voice “I hope much like out esteemed companion you will of course not use these talents save in the service of our adventuring. I will not have you randomly stealing things every time we enter a town or city.”

“Noo, of course not. I would never even think of such a thing. Although the extra mon.”

“ZOLIS!”

The mage decided not to press the issue.

 

Cadmus awoke first the next morning. Long years of waking up before sunrise had ingrained it as a habit in him. He avoided stepping on his sleeping companions, stripped to the waist and went outside to perform his daily ritual of greeting the rising sun and then praying to his god to renew his spiritual strength for the day ahead. Arms outstretched he felt the warmth of the new day as the first rays of light touched his torso. He felt his gods power reinvigorating him and preparing him for another day. Cadmus thought back to his time as an initiate, seeing the senior clerics, their eyes glowing with the glorious power of the sun god. By the time he had finished his morning worship the others had awoken and were breakfasting. Cadmus pulled his shirt on and then mail hauberk on top, grabbed a hurried meal of hard rations then declared himself fit for the day ahead. Val leaned back in a chair, her scrappy and well-worn leather armour contrasting with Cadmus’s highly polished mail. Zolis announced he was just going to the barn to collect the pups. With a sigh Cadmus said to Val “I was rather hoping he’d have forgotten about them overnight. Not that I want to leave them here to starve, but it is hard enough looking after him, never mind him and four pups.”

With a mischievous grin, Val put on a matronly voice and said “Well, you should have thought about that before you decided we should have a child.”

“Hah! Can you imagine if that were true? Only time I’d ever have wished my order were celibate.”

There was no real malice in his voice, just friends mocking each other.

Zolis returned. He had wrapped the four pups up in his cloak and was trying to carry them in his arms. The pups for their part appeared to be doing their level best to wriggle out the cloak (with some success it must be said) and climb up his arms to lick his face.

“He certainly seems to have a way with animals” noted Cadmus.

“Yeah,” said Val “If we meet a hungry bear we can run away while he makes friends with it.”

“You read my mind.”

 

Despite the diversions provided by Zolis attempting to hold on to four squirming puppies and their occasional escapes and recaptures the group were making good time on the road back to Karlston. Val was ahead of the other two, not really scouting just in the lead, when she stopped suddenly, crouched down and motioned for the others to stop. She slowly inched forward, looking through the greenery at the side of the road, trying to see what lay ahead around a bend in the road. After watching for a minute, she moved back to the others, still crouching over. “Goblins”, she hissed “I can see eight of them, might be more around. If we wait a while perhaps they will move on.”

The others nodded and they all moved into the cover of the trees, far enough in to be invisible to anyone passing by, while being able to keep an eye on the road. After over an hour had passed, Val’s keen ears could still hear the Goblins chattering away.

“I don’t think they are planning on moving anywhere” she told the others.

“Could we try circling around them through the woods?” asked Cadmus.

“Possibly, but if there are more of them around I’d rather fight them in the open than risk an ambush in the trees.”

“A stand up fight it is then.”

“One second, I just need to wrap the puppies up and tie my cloak, so they can’t go wandering. Now Bertram, Michelle, Little Val and Little Cadmus, you all behave yourselves. Daddy has some work to do and he’ll be right back just as quickly as he can, oh yes he will.”

Val didn’t dare to look at Cadmus’s face as she suppressed a fit of giggles.

“Ok, we go around the corner. Me and Val will hit them without crossbows while you fire some spells. When they get close we’ll take them hand to hand. Zolis, use your spells as best you can and just try and keep yourself upright. I need a moment. There is a trick of my god’s I wish to use.”

Cadmus intoned words again in the language of the gods which neither of his companions could understand. The air just over his shoulder shimmied and started to glow as a shape began to form. Indistinct at first, it quickly coalesced into a brightly glowing flail, with numerous spikes protruding from the head. “This is an aspect of the weapon the Lord Solar uses in battle. It will fight independently and help us, but it will not last long so let’s be quick.”

He strode off towards the bend in the road, crossbow in hand and floating weapon following closely behind. Val jogged to catch up, while Zolis strode along at the rear, his hands glowing with a purplish arcane energy in preparation for unleashing it on the unwary Goblins.
Logged

But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
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Karma: 1556
Posts: 12599



« Reply #102 on: June 01, 2019, 05:53:28 AM »

Chapter Three – A Confrontation.

 

“Press your hands down on his wounds as hard as you can, it will slow the bleeding while I heal him. I just hope I have enough left!”

Cadmus words were quickly spoken and sounded harsh thanks to him still being out of breath from the fight. The bodies of the dead lay strewn around them, and the yellow ichor that passed for blood in these creatures stained Val and Cadmus’s weapons and armour.

The fight had started well. The Goblins had either not noticed the group or been too surprised to react as they’d walked around the corner. Both crossbows had found their targets, leaving the first pair of Goblins gurgling their last in the dirt of the road. The power held in Zolis’s hands had taken the form of a flight of arrows and flew into the midst of the small throng, killing and injuring several more. To their credit, the normally cowardly creatures had turned and charged their attackers.

In hindsight that should have been a warning they had more fellows nearby. Goblins never stood and fought unless the odds were heavily in their favour.

They’d even managed to get a second round of bolts off while Zolis had melted the face off another of the foul creatures by summoning a ball of some corrosive liquid and throwing it into the few survivors on the road. Then, more of them had come running out of both sides of the forest. Cadmus stepped forward, crushing bodies and skulls alike with his heavy iron mace while Val was more like a lithe dancer, her arm and rapier extending delicately, but leaving a still deadly wound behind. She felt a warm glow enveloping her as Zolis surrounded her with an additional layer of magical protection. The Goblins tried stabbing at the pair with crudely made spears, occasionally finding a hole in their defences and leaving a minor wound, but the worst of the damage was taken by their armour. Zolis lacking any such protection himself stood back dagger in hand and ready to use his magic should more Goblins appear. So, intent was he, however in watching the trees and fight in front of him, he was completely unaware of the Goblin creeping up behind him until he saw the point of a spear suddenly protrude from his stomach. His fingers fumbled at the sharp tip, and he muttered “Oh dear”, before collapsing into the dirt.

Val had saw him fall and cried out his name, distracting Cadmus. He turned around to look at what was happening and very nearly had a flint spear thrust into his head. Luckily it was slightly off aim and instead tore open a deep wound along his cheek. In reply he lashed out with his mace, crushing the ribs of his foe who fell to the ground coughing up blood. A second blow to the creatures head caved its skull in and finished it off.

Val charged the creature that had snuck up behind Zolis. It had pulled its spear out of the prone mage and was waving it victoriously in the air, droplets of bright red blood scattering around as it did so. Val felt as if time had slowed down to a crawl as she closed with it, plunging her thin blade deep into the Goblins chest, piercing its heart and killing it before it even knew it was under attack. At this, the surviving Goblin’s broke and fled, their high pitches voices chittering and laughing as they ran. Cadmus struck at some of the cowardly creatures as they routed, killing a few more, and then ran over to Zolis. Val was holding his him, trying to reassure him. Cadmus ignored the blood streaming down his face from his torn cheek and ripped the mages robes away from the wound, so he could better treat it. The spear had punched a hole the size of a gold coin clean through his back and out of his guts, but if there was life still in him then Cadmus could stop him dying. He concentrated, praying silently for his god’s intervention and calling on the power granted to him, he channelled more healing power than he had ever used before, forcing Zolis’s body to heal itself at an accelerated rate. The raged edged of the hole started to knit itself back together. Zolis’s breathing became less ragged and his eyes fluttered open. “I hurt,” he moaned.

“Relax, Zolis. You did well. I’ve healed as much as I can just now, but you are going to have to take it easy for a little while. Not many men can survive the wound you just took.”

“My robe is torn again.”

“Don’t worry about it. We can get you a new robe.” Cadmus told him in a soothing voice. “Just rest a while, get your strength back.”

While Cadmus was reassuring Zolis, Val opened her pack, collected some firewood and started a fire to brew up something hot for them to drink. They prepared a quick meal, Cadmus reading more of the badly charred book, occasionally reading out an entry. “It seems our so-called warlock sought the good Father Morgan’s help with the mask he had found, but the man rebuffed him. Anton thought perhaps he was jealous of his superior learning.”

“Are you thinking he used the girl going missing to raise a mob against him?” asked Val.

“Ah yes… the missing girl. She had slipped my mind. We still need to find her. As to your question, I might be adding two and two to make five, but things are not fitting in place the way they should be. I found three mentions of Father Morgan being increasingly hostile to the writer. Nothing is conclusive, but when you put all the little pieces together…” His voice trailed off into silence.

After an hours rest, Zolis declared he was fit enough to walk again, although he seemed weak on his legs. Still, it was safer to travel with him this way than wait on the road. He tried to gather up the pups, but his legs seemed rather wobbly, so Cadmus offered to carry them for him. The Goblins might return and if they did it would be in greater numbers. It was slower going than before but spending the night in the open did not feel right to any of the group. As the light started to fade the group could see the welcoming lights of Karlston not too far away. Val noticed Cadmus was frequently touching the wound on his face. When he was talking his jaw seemed to be a bit stiff. He’d had no power left to heal his own injuries or Val’s, after saving Zolis’s life. The wound was already swollen and angry looking. He would have to treat it, or an infection would set in. Goblins were hardly the cleanest creatures out there and had been known to deliberately use poisons and other less palatable methods to deliver wounds that would weaken or kill their foes long after the wound had been dealt. She figured he would know the dangers and since none of them could do anything about the injury right now, to leave it for the moment.

 

As they entered the village, they could hear voices raised in song coming from the temple. The villagers here might have little to be thankful for, thought Val, but they certainly do sound grateful for what they do have. “How are we going to handle this?” Val asked in a low whisper.

“Well, I think it is fairly obvious a lynch mob killed the old man. If he was some demon dealing warlock, then I am the First Dawnbringer and High Priest of the Lord Solar.” Cadmus’s face had an expression of righteous wrath, made all the more terrible looking by the angry wound on his face.

“So, you are just going to storm in there in the middle of their evening service and call out the village holy man as a liar and the entire populous as murderers.”

“Pretty much!”

As he spoke the last word, he kicked the temple door hard, slamming it open. The whole congregation stopped mid song, save for one elderly man who being hard of hearing continued singing the words to a devotional he had learned the words to as a child and sung thousands of times over the years. His eyes were closed as he sang slightly out of tune, his head swaying from side to side.

Father Morgan stood behind an ornate stone pulpit, obviously a relic from the older origins of the temple as carved into it were the holy symbols of the Master of Coin.

“FATHER MORGAN!” exclaimed Cadmus, as he stormed up the aisle, followed by Zolis (his arms full of squirming dogs) and finally Val, her crossbow held loosely in one hand.

If Cadmus had hoped to catch the man by surprise and gain an advantage he was sorely disappointed. The man rallied magnificently, drawing himself up to his full height. Having spotted the dogs being carried by Zolis, he pointed at the group with one outstretched accusing finger and thundered “They are in league with the demons! Look, they have brought the spawn of the devil dogs into this hallowed place. You must immediately destroy them!”

“There is but one demon in this place false priest,” retorted Cadmus “and I have come to cast you down.”

Morgan made some arcane gestures, and a gout of flame shot from his hands, aimed at the pups cradled in Zolis’s arms. The mage spun around, protecting the animals, using his body as a shield for them, and knocking Cadmus out of the way where he landed heavily on a couple of seated villagers, before tumbling to the stone floor. The congregation screamed and panicked, attempting to flee the temple by climbing over pews and each other. Val brought up her crossbow, but Morgan saw her attempting to aim at him and came running at her, intoning another spell. His hands glowed with a dark green, almost black energy as he attempted to grab a hold of the thief. She ducked and swayed, avoiding his outstretched hands and whatever magical mischief he had planned for her. Stepping back, she pointed her crossbow at the man’s face, twisted in anger and pulled the trigger.

The world seemed to freeze in place for a few seconds as with a twanging noise, some vital component of the crossbow snapped inside, and the bolt merely rolled off the side to clatter on the stone floor.

She dropped her now useless weapon and fumbled for her dagger as the magical energy in Morgan’s hands seemed to fade and die. He too unsheathed a dagger and swung wildly at Val. Cadmus picked himself up, shaking his head to try and clear it. He had banged his head quite hard on the floor and his vision was swimming and blurred. He could see the black, crow like figure of Morgan attacking Val, his robe billowing out behind him. Forcing himself to his feet he gripped his heavy mace and swung at the back of Morgan’s head. Unfortunately, in his slightly befuddled state, the weapon missed and slipped out of his hands, crashing through a stained-glass window and landing somewhere outside. Alerted by the breaking glass he spun around, and seeing the unarmed priest before him, jumped at him, plunging his dagger deep between Cadmus’s ribs with a maniacal cackle. A gasp of air was forced from Cadmus’s mouth as first fell to his knees and then toppled over slowly. Val scooped up Zolis’s crossbow and fired it at Father Morgan, but fired cautiously, not wanting to accidently hit Cadmus and her shot went wild despite the almost point-blank range. Morgan kicked out at her backwards, catching Val in the solar plexus and driving the wind from her lungs. Unable to breath, she stumbled and fell against someone moving behind her. Morgan, the focus of his attention still on Cadmus raised his dagger above the prone priest, the lit candles of the temple reflecting off the polished metal blade. He arms started their downward plunge, inevitability to the priest’s chest. Morgan’s head jerked violently to the left and the dagger went flying from his nerveless fingers as he slumped sideways. As Cadmus’s vision swam and faded he could see Sillas standing behind the priest, heavy cudgel from the bar in hand.

 

Cadmus blinked as consciousness slowly returned. Light stung his eyes forcing him to close them for a few seconds and open them more slowly. He tried to move, but quickly discovered his hands and feet were bound. Looking around him he could see his companions in the same condition, although with Father Morgan, who in addition was gagged. His eyes bulged, and veins stood out on his bright red face. Light filtered in through the dirty windows.

Several villagers stood around, looks of concern on their faces. Someone spotting Cadmus stirring nudged Sillas. Turning around he walked over to Cadmus and squatted down beside him.

“I have no idea what is happening around here. I am told you walked into the middle of the temple, denounced the most respected man in the village and then started a fight. Father Morgan has been apoplectic with rage. I’d to have him tied up with the rest of you, and then gagged him to stop the stream of curses.”

“Your most respected man in the village had a man killed simply because he was jealous of him. We checked the farmhouse and it was pretty obvious what really happened” retorted Cadmus.

The villagers in the room suddenly seemed very interested in staring at their shoes. A couple headed straight for the door, trying to leave as quickly and quietly as possible.

Sillas recoiled slightly from Cadmus, even though the latter was securely tied up. “You come into our village making these accusations. I really hope you have some kind of proof.”

“The temple! When the girl went missing did you check the temple?”

“We looked all over the village and the nearby farms. We might be simple country folks; don’t mean we are stupid.”

“When he spoke to us Morgan told us it had been built on top of some older temples. Did you check the cellars?”

The innkeeper looked round at the remaining villagers who muttered into their beards. Morgan, on hearing Cadmus increased the ferocity of his struggles and seemed to be trying to chew through his gag. “I think it might be worth checking out below stairs, just to be on the safe side.” Sillas said this quietly, almost to himself. Morgan heard it though and tried to lash out with his feet to kick Sillas. “I’ll be keeping your hands bound for now, but I’ll free your legs, so you can walk. We’ll go check the temple and if the girl is there then you and your friends can go free, but if we find nothing, then well… I guess I’ll have to deal with that when we get there.”

Sillas untied Cadmus’s feet and helped him stand up, then collected a lantern from behind the bar. “I use this when I go down into the cellar, I’m sure it’ll work just as well beneath the temple.”

The pair headed out, followed sheepishly by a couple of the villagers. They entered the now darkened temple, lit only by Sillas’s lamp and the moonlit windows. Although the building was empty now, it still held the traces of scorched wood in the air. Sillas headed straight for a door behind the pulpit. “There is no direct way to get from the Father’s rooms at the rear to the main temple. I’ve always wondered if the rooms were added later” explained the innkeeper.

Behind the door lay a set of worn looking stone steps descending into the darkness beneath the earth.

Sillas raised his lantern higher and carefully started down the steps, followed by Cadmus. The air down there quickly chilled and felt clammy. It looked like centuries of random detritus had just gathered and been stored down there. Wooden crates and barrels were mixed in with broken farming equipment and stone statues. Some misshapen items could not be guessed from the grotesque shapes they presented.

“I’ve never been down here before” said Sillas. His voice had a slight shiver to it that may not entirely have been down to the cold.

“Me neither” replied Cadmus laconically.

None of the peasants who followed them to the temple seemed to want to enter the underground. Both Cadmus and Sillas separated and started looking around the cellar, although with his hands still tied, Cadmus was unable to move things without great difficulty, but he did shout out when he peered behind a stack of crates and saw a young girl tied up and gagged.

Sillas darted over and taking the dagger from Cadmus’s belt he cut the girls bonds. Tears streamed down her face, rivulets running through the smudged dirt on her face. She threw her arms around Sillas and sobbed. He lifted her speaking to her soothingly and carried her back out of the temple. Cadmus guessed her age as being in her late teens. She looked like she needed a good meal, but if he was any judge there was no serious physical damage as far as he could see, and she should make a full recovery, save perhaps for bad dreams.

 

Sometime later, when all the fuss had died down the three adventurers sat with Sillas in his inn. Morgan was still tied up in one corner. No one was willing to untie him and risk him casting any more spells. Sillas had mentioned he had a pet familiar, a brown rat he called Jenkins, but no one had been able to find it. The four sat around mostly in silence, sipping at mugs of ale with short conversations occasionally breaking out.

“How did you know she was down there?” asked Sillas to Cadmus.

“I didn’t. Well, not for sure. Something just didn’t feel right about the whole situation. I was pretty confident he was up to no good though. If I’d have accused, him right out at the beginning we’d have been ran out of town. I had to get some proof something was wrong. When there was no sign of the girl at the farm I just had to think where would have been a good place to hide her? If she was still alive, the only logical place seemed to be in the temple. Hiding her in the woods or a nearby farm would have had a high chance of being seen and him dragging a young woman around would be commented on. My guess is he saw the girl as a means to get rid of someone he viewed as a rival. The dogs were an… unexpected complication. What will the girl do now?”

“She is staying with friends. Her parents died a few seasons ago. The bigger question is what do we do with him.” Sillas pointed at the still struggling form of Father Morgan. “We have no lord to try him for his crimes, he was our leader and no other village elder to judge him.”

Zolis eagerly piped up “We could take him to the nearest city and hand him over to the watch.”

“Well,” exhaled Cadmus “I can’t imagine anyone being interested in taking on someone else’s criminals, but equally I can’t think of a better idea.”

Val involuntarily shuddered. “I think something just went badly wrong with the whole world.”

“As for the town leadership, Sillas I can think of no finer man here to take the reins than yourself.”

Sillas’s eyes widened in shock “No, I can’t. I am no leader. Besides I think I have other plans. These people murdered an innocent man. Even if I wanted to lead them I wouldn’t want to. No, they can pull themselves out of this mess. I’ve spent my entire life here. I think it’s time for me to move on. I’ll guide you to Yavroa if you don’t mind the company and then decide what I am going to do with my life.”

“Oh, is Yavroa a city? It has been a while since we were last in one. Maybe I can get a bath there. Perhaps I can study some new spells. Wine! I hope they have good wine. Maybe they will have a magic store. I’d like to buy some items.”

Zolis just seemed unable to stop talking once he started. Neither Cadmus or Val interrupted him to point out that since their adventures had brought them no financial rewards and they wouldn’t be able to afford any of those luxuries. All they could hope for was that the authorities in Yavroa would be willing to pay some reward for handing Father Morgan over to them. Cadmus ran his fingers along the scar on his jaw. He’d rested enough and prayed to his god, then used his power to heal his face. The new flesh was still shiny and raw looking. It would settle down into an impressive looking scar.

Zolis’s outburst had thrown everyone off their train of thought but Sillas remembered what they had been talking about first. “I have a cart we can use to transport him. It will cut the time it would take us to get to the city in half.”

“Then it is settled,” said Cadmus. “We should leave as soon as possible. I suggest tomorrow morning.”

Val nodded her head in agreement while Zolis just beamed vigorously. Black Adam had evidently picked up on his masters excitement and cawed loudly, spreading his wings and causing Zolis to sneeze as his feathers tickled the wizards nose.

 

The next morning, Sillas awoke the rest of the party as the first touch of daylight was on the horizon. “I think it would be best if we left before the rest of the village woke up” he whispered. Val wasn’t quite sure of who he was worried about overhearing a conversation in his own inn but complied. Sillas had prepared a breakfast for everyone, even spoon feeding the still tied up Father Morgan, removing his gag with a stern warning that at the first hint of magic being used, he’d pummel him into unconsciousness and would do the trip without food. Once they had finished eating, Morgan was bundled into the back of the wagon. Sillas and Cadmus sat up front while Val, Zolis and Morgan were in the rear. The wagon was designed to carry barrels of ale and was roomy, although the trip was less than comfortable thanks to the uneven road. With a crack of his whip the pair of horses lurched forward and soon Karlston was receding into the distance.

 

The first day’s journey was eventful. Father Morgan would lash out with his feet trying to kick anyone who got too close off the wagon. This got him more than one hard kick back and meant when the party stopped for meals they decided not to untie him, although they did ungag him, so he could drink some water. While they were eating however, they could hear some giggling from the nearby trees. Val and Cadmus went to investigate, but the sounds disappeared, and they could see no source of the noise. Shrugging her shoulders, Val turned back towards the cart, only to have a hail of acorns bounce off the side of her head and another fit of giggles erupted from the foliage.

Sillas and Zolis ran over, abandoning the still struggling Father Morgan, but no one could spot where the sounds or indeed the acorns were coming from. Cadmus was still rooting around in the undergrowth. Realising he had left Morgan with his mouth ungagged, Zolis turned to head back to the cart only for him to come under attack from another stream of acorns. Angered by this affront to his dignity, Zolis picked up and acorn and threw it with all the force he could muster. The acorn disappeared into a leafy tree, and a high-pitched squeal was heard.

 

All the giggling suddenly ceased.

 

For perhaps a minute the group stared intently into the woods, but no more laughter or acorns came hurtling out of the greenery. With a satisfied grin, Zolis announced that he had obviously scared their tormentors off. He smugly went to walk back to the cart, only to go sprawling and fall flat on his face when he discovered his shoe laces had been tied together. He rolled over and sat up with his back against a tree when there was a shuddering from the branches above and he was doused in freezing cold rain water that had collected in the leaves above. Cursing his luck, he untangled his lace before storming over to the cart. He gave Morgan a hefty kick for good measure as he passed and then squatted in the back of the wagon. It was all Val could do not to burst out laughing seeing him in a huff. She was interrupted by a further hail of acorns, all hurled with much more force and accuracy than the previous throws. Sillas, Val and Cadmus all retreated to the cover of the wagon, apparently out of range of their unknown tormentors.

“Should we fight back?” hissed Val.

“Whatever they are, I think we are outnumbered. They haven’t done us any real damage. Let’s just get the Hel out of here.”

As he spoke Cadmus climbed up to the front of the wagon, took the reins and shouted for everyone to jump on board.

They beat an ignominious retreat, riding off into the afternoon sunshine, to a chorus of high-pitched tittering, answered only by Zolis’s yipping puppies.
Logged

But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Alex
B-Movie Kraken
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« Reply #103 on: June 01, 2019, 05:54:30 AM »

Chapter Four – An eventful journey continues.

 

The cart rumbled off down the dusty track, fleeing their mysterious ambushers. Over the sounds of the cart creaking and the hoofs beating a tempo, Sillas yelled that he’d always heard stories that the woods were haunted by fae spirits, although he had never before encountered them. He wondered if they were attracted to Zolis’s magical powers.

Zolis merely sat in silence, his robe still soaking wet.

A couple of hours later it was agreed to stop and make camp for the night. Everyone busied themselves in making up a campsite. Zolis took a deep draught from his water skin, only to spit it all out, and fall the ground retching. The others dropped what they were doing and ran over to check on him.

“Urgh, my water… disgusting.”

Val picked up his water skin and sniffed, wrinkling her nose as she caught the smell rising from it. “Where did you fill this Zolis? It smells like horse p**s!”

“I filled it back at the inn, the same as the rest of you.”

The others checked their water, finding it perfectly drinkable. “What did I do to deserve this?” he wailed.

“I think you better check everything in your pack,” Cadmus informed him. “Make sure they haven’t destroyed your spell book.”

With a yelp, Zolis dived into his pack and pulled out his prized possession, flicking reverently through its pages. “Well my spells seem fine.”

He continued digging through the rest of his gear. Most things were still ok, but all his food had decayed seemingly in just a few hours leaving a noisome black fungal mess. The smell made him throw up again and he’d to find a nearby stream to wash the taint from his pack as best as he could. The others shared some of their rations with the disconsolate mage.

Morgan was dragged out of the cart and unceremoniously dumped on the grass, his back against a tree. He seemingly had ceased his attempts to wriggle free, although his hate filled eyes glared at them fiercely.

Val and Sillas agreed to split the night watch between them. Cadmus offered to take a turn as well, but the others said they would rather their spell slingers got a good night’s rest. Val took the first watch and the others quickly settled down into a deep sleep. She found herself chuckling about how Zolis had set up his bed as far from the treeline as possible. Their journey so far had certainly been a learning experience for him.

Some while after the others had fallen asleep, Morgan started kicking his feet and trying to speak through his gag. Val walked over to him and tugged the gag loose from his mouth. The preacher breathed deeply. “Thank you for that small mercy my child. I apologise for my earlier behaviour. I may not deserve it, but could your kindness possibly extend to giving me some food and water?”

Feeling wary but deciding that even Father Morgan didn’t deserve such treatment she recovered her waterskin. For a second, she wished they hadn’t emptied out Zolis’s water. Seeing Morgan drink that would have improved her mood considerably. She then fed him some rations which he thanked her for profusely. When he had finished she went to replace his gag, but he moved his head to one side and said “I am afraid now I have broken my fast, that I have one more favour to ask. Alas my bladder demands relief, unless you want me stinking up the card for the rest of the journey.”

Val nodded, “You can go behind the tree if you need privacy.”

Morgan blushed as he spoke next “Erm, I am afraid unless you ahem, want to hold things for me and shake afterwards that I need my hands freed.”

“Hold on one moment.”

Val went over to her pack, retrieved a length of rope and tied it firmly around Morgan’s leg. “Can’t have you disappearing into the woods now.”

“It’s ok my dear,” he replied with a smile as Val untied his hands. Morgan stepped around the tree and Val turned the other way. At the exact moment she heard chanting coming from behind the tree, she realised she had made a huge mistake. She tried to turn back around, but she was overcome with a feeling of incredible lethargy and tiredness. Her vision swam, and she felt her muscles be overcome with fatigue as she fell into a deep sleep.

 

When she next awoke, Cadmus was shaking her roughly “What happened? Where is Morgan? Are you ok?”

The stream of questions confused Val initially, as her brain adjusted to being awake. She rapidly recovered her wits though

“That bastard Morgan! I let him have some food and go for a pee. He cast some spell on me and I passed out.”

“Well, he has taken all our food and water. I guess we should be thankful he didn’t cut our throats while we slept.

Val’s face reddened with anger, directed partly at Morgan but also at herself for falling for his trick. “If I ever see him again, argh! I can’t believe I let him fool me.”

“I guess you can chalk this one up to experience and learn a lesson for the future. Sillas, how long before we reach the next settlement?”

“One day, maybe two. We’ll go hungry, but we won’t starve, and we can drink from some streams on the way.”

“Which way did he run?”

Val looked ready to chase after him and ran a finger along the edge of her blade.

Cadmus signed sadly “I have no idea. I am no tracker. If he heads back to the village I can’t imagine he will receive a warm welcome. If he continues along this road we should overtake him, and I think he is smart enough to know that, but it is either those or go into the deep woods. A man could easily get lost in there for years and never find his way out. Can’t imagine a man like him has much in the way of survival skills in the wilderness. We might have to rely on Mother Nature to serve justice in this case.”

With nothing for breakfast, or indeed for any other meals short of reaching the city everyone tightened their belts and climbed on board the cart as Sillas hitched it up to his horse.

“Seems odd that he didn’t take old Bess here,” he said, affectionately slapping the horse’s rump.

“He might have put Val to sleep magically, but he couldn’t be sure it had affected the rest of us and that we wouldn’t wake up if he made too much noise I’d imagine.”

Zolis cried out, a heart wrenching wail of despair. “He has taken the pups! If he has hurt them, I swear I’ll stake him out in the middle of a desert and slowly burn the flesh from his body and then I will rub salt into the wounds and then, and then, well I will think of something that hurts even more to do to him.”

Val walked over to the distraught mage and gave him a supportive hug, not even protesting when a sobbing Zolis blew his nose loudly on her cloak. Cadmus could see her expression though and thought to himself that at some point in the future, Zolis would no doubt pay for that.

“Well, there is alas nothing we can do right now. I think that somehow, someday our paths will cross with that man again.”

Cadmus felt that this was a lie, and that when their supplies ran out Morgan would most likely eat the pups and when they ran out starve to death himself, but that right now would not be the best time to point this out to Zolis.

Val helped Zolis onto the back of the cart while Sillas and Cadmus got up in front.

 

A few hours later, they spotted a few men on the road up ahead. A dozen or so men stood in a half circle around another figure with a massive dog standing beside him and a magnificent black stallion behind him. The figure with the dog and horse wore a wide brimmed hat and cloak, concealing wither it was a man or woman underneath. All the individuals had weapons in hand, and their stances suggested a fight could break out any moment.

Sillas brought the cart to a halt and Val told them, she’d sneak through the woods at the left-hand side of the road to listen in on what was happening. The right-hand side of the road held only a steep slope, rising up some twenty feet or so. So intent were the people up ahead on each other none of them had noticed the cart.

She snuck through the lush foliage until she was just a few feet away and could hear the conversation clearly. The lone figure was being menaced. The others, bandits judging by their filthy clothes and demeanour demanded that he hand over all his money or goods. She leaned forward for a better look at the cloaked figure when a twig went snap. For a second, everyone’s attention was on where the sound came from and they looked around. Everyone but the cloaked figure. This gave it the opening it was waiting for, and in an explosive burst of action the figure whipped out a long blades sword and plunged it deep into the neck of one of the men. Simultaneously the dog leapt at the throat of another. It’s slick fur coat bulged with muscle. The bandits stood slack jawed for a few seconds and the blade sank deep into the side of another of their numbers, but the rest quickly recovered from their surprise, defending themselves and striking out with their own blades.

It was clear that the lone figure was a superior swordsman to any of his opponents, but their sheer weight of numbers allowed them to land the occasional blow. Soon tiredness and cumulative small wounds would take their toll. Seeing this, Sillas cracked the reins of Bess, sending her running towards the melee. Two of the bandits plunged into the woods, looking for Val and she quickly found herself under pressure and desperately trying to stave off their attacks. Both men circled around opposite sides and it was all she could do the fend them off as she tried to make her way back to the road.

Sillas brought the wagon to a halt and jumped to the ground, standing with his cudgel beside Bess while Cadmus and Zolis ran over to the fighters, trying to help Val first. She already bore a number of light wounds, but blood was flowing freely from them and it was only a matter of time before a deadlier wound was inflicted. The strangers dog was tearing at the arms and neck of the man it had dragged to the ground. Even just a glance told Cadmus the man was already dead. He just didn’t know it yet.

One of the men Zolis was running up behind somehow sensed him coming and turned around as the mage attempted to grab onto him, seeing to cast some spell on him. The man’s arm came out to fend off the flailing wizard, and more by much then judgement the hilt of his short sword caught Zolis a meaty smack on the side of his head. Stunned, Zolis collapsed to the ground, the arcane power he had summoned dispersing into the ground in a shower of deep blue sparks. The bandit’s strike however left him open to Val and she sank her dagger into the man’s chest. A sigh of air escaped his lips as he fell with a look of horrified fascination at the hilt protruding from his breastbone. This however left Val weaponless. She retreated, dodging a hail of blows from her remaining foe. She retreated, dodging a hail of blows from her remaining foe. She missed one of the dead man’s legs as she gave ground, falling backwards as she lost her footing, her head smashing into the unconscious Zolis’s groin. For half a second, everyone fighting paused and gave an “Oooow,” of sympathy. Cadmus almost laughed when he thought “Well, I said he’d pay for blowing his nose” as he swung his mace and crushed the skull of a man doing his best to cut a hole in the priest’s belly. Cadmus found himself facing a burly looking individual next. His face was filthy, and his hair matted, but the reinforced mail armour he wore marked him out from his companions. It was badly fitting but serviceable. “If I am any judge you’ll be the leader” hissed Cadmus as he closed, swinging his mace in a broad arc.

With the bandits facing him being thinned out the stranger was able now to go on the offensive. The bandits now facing more than just him in his dog were rapidly losing confidence despite their greater numbers. Their original opponent flicked his blade out like a tongue of fire, reaping a bloody harvest. Every time his sword lashed out, it drew blood. Cadmus meanwhile was finding the chief of the outlaws was no easy fight. He was strong, and if he managed to get through Cadmus’s defences he would do serious damage. Cadmus though was the more experienced of the pair and kept the pressure on, swinging his mace and forcing the big man to back up. He deliberately aimed for his sword, the ringing clang of metal on metal sounding out over the battlefield. He knew he was leaving himself open for a counter attack, but his opponent appeared not to be an experienced swordsman. Too used to using his size to bully others into doing his fighting for him thought Cadmus. The chief’s arms were soon tiring under the priests assault, his movements getting slower and when Cadmus saw an opening, he switched tactics, from swinging the mace in front of him to an overhead strike bringing the metal head down heavily on the bandit’s shoulder with a sickening crunch of bone. His sword dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers and he dropped to his knees, his mouth open in a shocked and silent scream. A second strike from the mace hit him full on in the side of the head which burst open like an overripe water melon.

Soon there was but a single bandit left. Seeing his companions dead or dying, his spirit broke and dropping his weapons he turned to run away. The man growled a command at his dog and it left the man it had been worrying to chase after the last bandit. It caught him before he had made ten yards, ripping a chuck of flesh and muscle from the back of a leg. The bandit collapsed howling in pain and fear, cries that were cut short by the dog shortly afterwards, his throat ripped out.

 

The stranger wiped his blooded sword on the clothes of one of the dead men. In a deep voice, he simply said “My thanks” before checking his wounds. Satisfying himself none were serious he sheathed his blade and whistled. In answer his dog came running, its muzzle soaked in blood. He petted the dogs head, and then after tearing some cloth from a dead man’s clothing, used the rags to wipe as much of the gore from his pet as possible. Slightly nonplussed about the man (for Cadmus could now see his face beneath the shadowed brim of his hat), and perhaps expecting more talk, he introduced himself to which the man nodded and replied “Kano” before continuing to clean up his animal. Further attempts at conversation were met with answers that did not invite further questions. He managed to get out the man that he was hunting and travelling east although when Cadmus had asked him about where he was travelling to, he pulled out an ornate looking compass and looked at it before answering. Even Val who prided herself on getting any man to talk was unable to get any further information.

Finally, Cadmus asked the man if he had any supplies to spare that they could buy from him perhaps.

“Nope. The bandits might camp nearby. Try them.”

It was the longest reply they got from him.

He thanked them once more for their aid, tipped his hat and then mounted his horse and rode off. The group looked around at each other and with a collective shrug of their shoulders, split up to go look for the bandits camp. Sillas and Zolis went to the left-hand side of the road, while Cadmus and Val climbed up the steep slope to the right-hand side.

Evidently these particular bandits saw no need to put a safe distance between their camp and the road. Cadmus and Val found their encampment as soon as they reached the top of the slope. With an unspoken agreement that they would search the camp and then shout the other two, just in case they found something Zolis shouldn’t touch.

The camp consisted of a few cut down logs scattered around a campfire (currently unlit), and a rough wooden cover over a hole dug in the earth. The cover was perhaps four feet in diameter. Heaving the cover out the way, the pair expected to uncover a small treasure trove, or at least the supplies.

What they saw was a man, bound hand and foot lying at the base. He had a nasty bruise on his forehead, and a muscular build. He had been struggling against his bonds but ceased when he saw Val and Cadmus standing there, waiting to see what they would do. A worried expression crossed his face when Val pulled out her dagger and jumped down into the pit. His expression changed to one of relief when she cut the ropes holding him. They helped him out of the hole, hollering for the others to come join him. The captive man had been stripped down to just a loin cloth. He bore a number of minor bleeding wounds and bruises over his torso. Evidently his captors had not been gentle with him.

“Thank you, strangers. I owe you my thanks and my life.”

The stranger spoke, rubbing his wrists to get the circulation going again where he had been tied up. Sillas and Zolis climbed up the hill and looked quizzically at the stranger as he and Cadmus spoke to each other.

“No problem at all. We had disposed of this human refuse and since we lost our victuals earlier we were hoping to replenish them from the bandits own stores, but I am alas not seeing anything.”

The stranger had a short coughing fit, then replied “They have a cave nearby. They took me there when they first captured me. Took my sword and armour from me and were arguing over who should get them. Then they took turns kicking me until I fell unconscious. When I recovered, I was in the hole you found me in. Oh, my name is Zagan. I’ve was working as a sell sword in the south, but an outbreak of peace left me without a job and I’ve been traveling on the lookout for a new employer.”

“We are traveling to the city of Yavroa. I think my companions would agree that you are more than welcome to accompany us.”

Val and Sillas nodded. Zolis scowled somewhat but didn’t say anything.

“I think that would be a good idea. It is hard to keep a watch when you are sleeping alone. Follow me and we’ll see what loot these thieves had gathered!”

 

The cave was more of an overhanging rock. Inside was a disappointing collection of stolen goods, but not a surprising one. No one had passed any merchants traveling along the road, so it was no surprise to find a lack of treasures. “Those men must have been truly desperate to try and make a living off this road” Val mused, then let out a squeal of joy as she found a small bag of coins. It turned out to be full of brass pennies with a few silver coins. Not enough to retire on, but it would serve for a few nights room and board. Zagan found some equipment he claimed was his, some clothes and a heavy looking two-handed sword. He cursed at not being able to find his armour though. Zolis cheered him up a little when he suggested that perhaps one of the bandits they had killed on the road would be wearing it and they could recover it from the body.

They recovered enough usable food to last a few days, took anything they thought might be usable or sellable and returned to the road. The dead bodies had already attracted scavenging birds. Black Adam cawed loudly in Zolis’s ear. The wizard looked shocked and spoke to the bird “No, you cannot go and peck out some eyes! I don’t care how tasty they are.”

The bird flew off regardless, landed on a corpse and spread it wings. The other birds did not like this new intruder, but Black Adam was significantly larger than a normal raven and after a show of protest, flew over to other bodies for easier feeding. He then started pecking at one of the dead man’s eyes.

Zolis turned a shade of pale green, and valiantly tried not to lose his last meal, but it was a losing battle.

Val ran over chasing all the birds away, including Black Adam. He however he managed to fly off with victorious, gripping an eyeball by the optic nerve. He landed in a nearby tree and continued his meal.

“They will just return when we have left Val, unless you plan on digging them all graves” yelled out Cadmus.

“I was going to strip them of their gear. We might not get rich from their horde of coins, but I am sure we can get something for their gear. We can load them on the cart, save us from heaving them around with us.” was her reply.

“Hmm, good idea.”

Cadmus, Val, Sillas and Zagan set about stripping the bodies. Zolis tried to look in any direction where there weren’t dead people lying around.

“That man can blow a hole through another person, and yet at the first sign of blood and gore he throws his guts up. Well he’ll get used to it soon enough. I remember the first time I’d to look after the sick and dying during my Initiate. First thing we priests learn. Some of the diseases those people had… I was sick a few times myself.” Cadmus chuckled at some memory of those days.

Zagan shouted out that he’d found his armour. The man Cadmus assumed was the leader appeared to be wearing Zagan’s missing suit of mail. Although he was happy to have his armour back, he was less enthused about the gore he’d have to clean out of it.

Having stripped the bodies of anything the group though sellable they were unceremoniously dragged to the side of the road and left for the birds to return to. Zolis called over to Cadmus “Are you not going to say some words over them?”

Cadmus spat in their direction and barked “Good riddance!”

And with that the wagon rolled on into the day.

 

As the day progressed a smoggy haze became visible in the distance. Sillas told them that was Yavroa. Between the escape of Father Morgan and the assault of whatever woodland sprites Zolis had offended and the fight against the robbers they had been delayed enough that it would be another day before they reached the city walls.

 

The woods they had been travelling through had gradually been getting thinner since leaving Karlston and now ended completely revealing a wide-open vista of rolling hills. They passed the occasional sign of civilisation, distant farms, shepherds and even the occasional traveller, who would cast worried glances at the armed group. Cadmus done his best to reassure them with welcoming smiles and wishing them a good day.

 

Eventually they reached a small town. Compared to Karlston it was a bustling metropolis. Val noticed that Sillas kept glancing enviously at a large inn, its outside obviously freshly whitewashed. The buildings had a certain uniformity of design and all bore bright red roof tiles, the people looked healthy and for the most part healthy. Sillas stopped the cart and suggested they rest here for an hour or so and have a meal. They had hardly gained a fortune off the bandits, but a hot meal was certainly now within their reach along with an ale or two. Since it was a pleasant day it was decided to sit outside and eat. They were served a thick stew along with some freshly baked bread. A dozen or so riders, each wearing a bright green cloak rode past. “Road wardens” explained Sillas through a mouthful of bread. They patrol out to half a day’s ride from the city and keep the peace. If Yavroa comes under attack, they are the first line of warning. They’d all be called in from patrol to make up the core of the army along with whoever they get force to hold a sword and whatever mercenaries happen to be around.”

The conversation moved on to wither they should just get rooms here for the night or press on as far as they could and arrive in Yavroa as early as possible. While the thought of a soft bed and good food was tempting they very reluctantly decided against staying the night, reasoning that they’d need money for the city. Their finances would however stretch to another round of ales.

 

Regretfully they finished their drinks are continued on with many a backward look at the picturesque town.

 

They travelled on through the afternoon and into the evening only stopping when the light started to fade. A few hours travel distant, the lights of Yavroa blinked on as the group set up camp. Zolis immediately announced (as he did every night), that his arcane powers demanded a full night’s sleep and that he would be unable to carry out a stint on guard. Privately, the Val and Cadmus thought this was a good thing as no one was quite ready to trust Zolis. If someone was going to fail to notice a rampaging horde of creatures of the night coming through camp and slitting everyone’s throats it would be him. Cadmus offered to take a turn at guard, but the others insisted he get a full night’s sleep. No one wanted to risk a healer not having his healing magic ready. Val and Zagan agreed to split the night between them and as the spell users drifted off to sleep, the last thing they saw was the pair talking quietly, illuminated by the flickering light of their campfire.

 

When Cadmus awoke, it was to Zagan shaking his shoulder. The smell of breakfast cooking filled the air as Val made a meal from some of the supplies liberated from the thieves camp. One of the pair had caught a rabbit which was even now roasting over the fire. Zagan asked Cadmus if he wouldn’t mind waking Zolis while he finished trying to clean out his armour. The mage was fast asleep, one hand clutching his ear while he slept, and the other hand had his thumb jammed in his mouth, sucking on it. Cadmus’s brow furrowed as he wondered (and not for the first or last time) if the mage was really cut out for the rough and tumble life of an adventurer. The side of his temple was swollen where he’d be hit the day before, an ugly greenish lump marking the spot where the hilt of the short sword had met skin and bone. Using the tip of his foot, he nudged Zolis’s leg until he someone dazedly awoke. He looked around, his eyes filled with sleep and mumbled “Sup?”

“Get your spell book out Zol. Grab some breakfast and be ready to move.”

In many ways mages were a drag on the resources of any adventurers. They rarely did guard, were hopeless at cooking or setting up camp. A lifetime of bookish study had done little to prepare them for the rigours of the outside world and travel. On the other hand, once sufficiently powerful Zolis would be quite capable of taking out the rest of the group with a few words of power. It was not a comforting thought.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Svengoolie 3
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« Reply #104 on: July 23, 2019, 06:36:39 AM »

Rise of the revanent destroyers.



It was without warning Szarekh, the silent king of the necron,  race received a missive from his agents in the triarch of most disturbing events on a small throneworld thought lost.

Triarch forces had reached the throneworld of the Ra' Mephis dynasty, a small one but still a world under the mandate of the triarch, To their dismay they found a gutted ork hulk in orbit, ork life signs on the surface and, curiously, readings that were unmistakably necron but did not comport with any known Necron forms.

With a sense of urgency, a team of praetorians was dispatched to gather data.Were these anomalous necron forms a threat to the race? Had the orks somehow with their vile ingenuity created an altered form of necron? Neither scenario could be allowed to continue.

Careful observation over time revealed the anomalous necron reading to be an apparent amalgamation of necron and canoptek construct, a horror and blasphemy in necron eyes. The forms had bodies similar to the wraith construct, tho with definite alterations. The wraith face plate bore a necron head, the scythes of a wraith were replaced with a weapon that appeared to be a pair of immortal gauss blasters merged into a single weapon that fired in a manner indistinguishable from a gauss cannon. The other scythe was replaced with a necron arm, apparently from an immortal and usually gripping a blade much like those normally mounted on immortal gauss blasters.

The anomalous entities were clearly not automata like wraiths, and showed intelligence and behavior that were near identical to that associated with destroyers.

Continued observation was ordered, and a pattern was found. The unknown necron units would wait until a new wave of orks emerged and had had time to spread their spores, then launch a calculated wave of attacks that resulted in the annihilation of every mobile ork on the planet's surface in an orgy of raging hate and cold calculation that left even the praetorian observers at least slightly shocked.

Orks were routed, allowed to retreat and regroup then assaulted again over and over in a clear effort to make the slaughter last as long as possible.

The strange necrons would withdraw, new orks would emerge from the ground, grow, spread spores, and the cycle would repeat. Evidence suggested it has been going on for over a century, as men reckoned time.

Eventually the praetorians were ordered to make contact with these mysterious necrons and determine if they were a threat or possibly a resource.

Messenger scarabs were sent. and destroyed on sight, more and more were sent until one was apparently allowed to deliver it's holographic communique'.

Not long after a new form of necron appeared, similar to the others but with the head of a high ranking necron lord affixed to it's fore, and approached the praetorians.

The Lord of the unknown necrons spoke, with some difficulty, and told the story of how the orks had assaulted his throneworld before it had awakened and wrought horrific carnage upon it before the defense batteries could open fire and rip the attacking vessel asunder.

But by then orks beyond number had landed, and the central tomb complex was overrun, the destruction of the still dormant necrons nearly complete.

But only nearly.

The phaeron barely survived despite much of his form destroyed, as did his greatest cryptek, likewise maimed. The two were driven by despair, hatred and thirst for vengeance.

The cryptek assayed the resources the orks left them and began to work with efficiently. Combining parts of necrons with intact mindcores with the forms of canoptek automata in a normally unthinkable operation he created powerful combat units that were as effective as they were abominable. To a necron, there was a sharp and unbreakable division between a true necron, even the humblest, most mindless warrior , and a construct . All necrons were at one time living, feeling beings with souls and minds. To merge one with a construct was a phantasm of horror and an unspeakable obscenity to any necron.

Perhaps thru pure hatred and need for vengeance the lord and cryptek ignited sparks of renewed sentience in the inert mindcores of the rebuilt necrons. Deathmarks were chosen first due to their intelligence and cunning to be the minds driving the metal chimeras that emerged, and the destroyer combat model was used as a template to imitate.

As the orks claimed ''their" new world they were unaware that the "junk" they had discarded was being reanimated in a new, twisted and deadly form driven by hatred and a need for vengeance that was both blazing and frigid at the same time.

The attack caught the greenskin filth unprepared. tho they rallied and fought with their customary speed and enthusiasm, it was too late, the enemy was upon them and their thirst for vengeance would not be denied.

Within a month the last functional ork was naught but carbon dust in the winds.

Within a year new orks were emerging from the ground, in an act that initially enraged the lord of the reverent necrons, but then intrigued him. The most stable minds at his disposal were assigned to study the situation and concluded the "orks" as they called themselves, were likely a seriously degraded form of the Krorks created by the Old Ones and, just as the silent king predicted, had degenerated and decayed over time to a far smaller, weaker, more anarchistic and less combat effective form that reproduced by spores with grew underground and produced a functional and so called "educated" individual capable of combat almost upon emergence.

A joy colder than the depths of interstellar space grew in the Lord's memory of a soul. they would allow these beasts to grow, spread their spores, then savor the joy of massacring them over and over.

And so it was.


To the horror mof the praetorians it was found the crypteks spent their time not involved in killing orks creating more of the revanent destroyer abominations and there were millions of wrecked bodies to continue working on.

The lord of the revenant necrons then, with great difficulty, asked the triarch to find out if other worlds of his dynasty still existed and if they could be saved from a fate like their throneworld. It was clear that to feel or express concern for the welfare of his former fellows was difficult for the wretched abomination before them, and the praetorians felt tremendous respect for him to be able to do so as he now was. Clearly he had been a leader of great nobility, once. Even as a warped perversion of a necron he retained some traces of his former self.

They assured him they would seek out his former fellows and do all they could to aid them, and made plans to destroy the entire planet to erase this horror upon the necron race.

Szarekh himself stayed their hand, recognizing that these atrocities were indeed unspeakable, yet were a useful resource to his race. In exchange for allowing them to continue to exist and create more of themselves, numbers of these revanent destroyers would be taken to serve other dynasties. Better such abominations be used and expended in battle, doing the killing which they craved so fanatically, than intact necrons.

There was no protest from the revanent lord, and the monsters he had created took their place fighting for the future of a race they were now an abhorrence to.
« Last Edit: July 23, 2019, 06:38:59 AM by Svengoolie 3 » Logged

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