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Fantasy IC - Chapter 1A: "Blood On My Hands, Dirt On My Boots" (Libertia)

King Ad Rock

Abednego
Roleplay Availability
The following was originally posted by @King Ad Rock in the previous IC



@King Ad Rock as


The Sexy, Suave King of Dance Ziek Sidane
______​


Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Between the first and second hour of morning (1:30 A.M)


______

"Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world, it's hard to get by just upon a smile, girl…"


The ales, wines, and meads were flowing. Drinking glasses chimed together as their alcoholic contents spilled over their rims, splashing on the old wooden countertops. The sounds of the lyres, lutes, and vielles strummed on all night due to a certain patron continuously tossing gold coin in the tavern band’s direction without fail.


The young, undeniably intoxicated man that, just a few hours before had tossed a bag of gold coin on the barkeep’s counter, now had each arm around his fellow peers and well-wisher’s necks, and was bellowing out a chant-y drinking song alongside a cacophony of drunken voices. Dancing of the wait staff to the music was not only asked for, but also almost comically demanded. The noises of joy and laughter echoed out of the old, wooden building, and off into the deep and dense Libertian rain forests. The egregiously loud singer, that had bought the whole tavern several rounds, was Ziek Sidane.


He had stumbled into this minor fortune, which was quickly dwindling, by slaying a Jungle Tral-el that was giving builders of the new Libertian city, Melsias a bit of trouble. This particular scaled beast was not massive like its ancient brethren, but it had speed and maneuverability that Ziek had not seen before in the gigantic creatures. The jovial drinker was no stranger to hunting the ferocious and fanged monstrosities of Zeldwa. Ziek spent the better part of the afternoon tracking it down to its nest deep within the Swazi Forest. The Tral-el put up a commendable struggle and fight, but ultimately was taken down and decapitated by the former mercenary. After dragging the enormous, severed head behind his back for several miles, he brought it to the leader of the city building crew. Ziek collected his rather hefty remuneration and made a straightaway for the local tavern in Jakka’s Crossing, Bergen’s Drink-Hole.

Jakka's Crossing, Berchen's Drinkhole
JakkasCrossing.jpg

No sooner did the burlap bag of Libertian currency hit the counter top did the festivities start with a sudden, thunderous strum of music and clanging of glasses. The local and usual patrons of the shady establishment gave each other half-smiles of missing teeth and wide-bloodshot eyes as filled to the brim glasses were slid down the counters and tables their ways. The drinks were flowing But all good nights and times of celebration and enjoyment must slowly ebb and come to an end. The tavern dwellers soon began to decline the paid for drinks, and chose to stumble their way back to their huts and ancient homes built into the trees of the forest. The band was now tired out from continuous strumming and their voices horse from the endless singing. They were packing their instruments and belongings and were now heading to the front door, pockets ringing with the sound of gold coins. Tavern-maids now had brooms in hand as they wearily swept broken glass and tracked dirt. The shorter and much more attractive of the two slowly closed her eyes and rested her flush cheek against her broom handle until a raucous holler jolted her from the momentary slumber.


There was only one person left that the tavern owner, Berchen Sandwater was having trouble getting to leave, and that person was currently shouting and swaying in the front doorway, using his large spear as a means from falling flat on his face. Ziek was still not ready to call it a night:


"Alright Ziek, We want to thank you so much for everything, but we’re goin’ to be closin’ up shop now. It's so much later than we usually close so-" Berchen could not get another word out before a sticky, ale-covered hand grabbed him by the shoulder and alcoholic soaked breath sailed from Ziek’s mouth, watering the elder Nomasdae tavern owner’s eyes.


“Hey-hey-h-hey… Calm down, calm down Berchen, my friend.” Ziek let out a slurred hush and put several of his dirty fingers lazily on Berchen’s lips, flicking his bottom lip, much to Berchen’s disgust and dismay. “I gotsch to ask- Oh, your lips are so soft *Hic* -I gotsch to ask you somethin’…” Ziek trailed off as his half opened, blood-shot emerald eyes were now looking past Berchen, back into the Drink-Hole, eyeing the two young Nomasdae tavern-maids who were trying to tiredly clean up his mess.


Berchen made a delicate attempt at removing Ziek’s hand from his person, only to have Ziek strangely put his palm directly on the man’s wrinkled forehead in a patting motion. A large, drunken smile crept across the boozed merc’s chapped lips:


“Ziek, please, it is almost dawn-“ Berchen's implorations were cut off and ignored yet again.


“I gotsch to ask.” Ziek’s words were slurred and almost incoherent. “Those bar-maids... *Hic*" He paused for a moment and appeared to swallow something before continuing. “You ever, after closin’ up the place, and you close and you’re a dirty-dog and you say ‘I’m the bossh’ and then you grab them from behind!” Ziek was rambling and incomprehensible.


He furrowed his brow, realizing his words were not making a lick of sense. The copious amounts of liquor he had consumed the hours before were fuzzing his thoughts and twisting his speech. His hand gestured to the female workers:


“You and them…?”


“Ziek-" The barkeep looked concerned about what was to come next.


“I-I mean, Holy Azae be damned, look-look at that tall one.” Ziek adjusted his weight against his spear in his off hand as he let out an exaggeratedly exasperated “Woo” at the end of his mumbled sentence.


Berchen stopped trying to interrupt his tipsy loiterer for a moment and looked confusingly back towards his employees. The taller barmaid, who was now wiping down the counters and table, looked up from her cleaning and grinned a toothless, haggard smile:


“Ziek, listen-" Berchen attempted his fruitless protests again.


“If I was you, you don’t know how you’d get any-any *Hic * of my work done. Just be lookin’ at em’. Starin’ at em’…” Ziek trailed off, as he appeared to fall asleep for several seconds, then shook himself awake:


“Goddamn hands would wander!” He shouted out of nowhere, acting as if he had never dozed off.


“And that lil’ one over there, right over there. Ohh- " Ziek pointed again but his praises for the women were interrupted by an unexpected belch.


“She looks like she’s played a few games of ‘hide the pickle’ in her day, if you know what I’m saying.” Ziek had an ear-to-ear grin as he looked past Berchen again into the tavern. “And I’m willin’ tah bet gold to assholes that she’s undefeated too.” Berchen spoke once more while Ziek ignored him and continued his inebriated ramblings.


“Ziek, those are my daughters” Berchen put emphasis on the last word. He was almost pleading with this last sentence.


During this revelation Ziek was making a parting motion with both of his hands in the air and sticking his tongue out in a crude manner; but upon hearing these words and allowing them to digest in his booze-soaked mind, Ziek froze and grimaced at his host:


“W-w-wait-wait. What?”Ziek stuttered and choked out. It appeared as if he refused to accept or process the information that was just given to him.


“Maybe he didn’t hear me.” This was a ridiculous thought, of course, considering Ziek had nearly shouted every word that had come out of his mouth for the past few hours.


“You are talkin’ about my daughters, Ziek.” Berchen’s face showed exhaustion more than any type of anger. At this point, all the old man wanted to do was lock the front door to his business and get home to his awaiting wife.


“Oh.” Ziek said lifelessly, followed by a much more emphatic, “Ohhh!” suggesting the idea was just occurring to him.


The wobbly drunk let out a sudden and sharp hiss of air as he gritted his teeth and winced:


“Shit, whoops...” Ziek's voice tapered off. "I'msshure she's doesn't even like pickles, and never hid any in her life, I bet *Hic*" Ziek, without intention, let one last hiccup escape to punctuate his poor attempt at an apology.


Berchen sighed quietly to himself and patted Ziek on the shoulder, almost knocking the drunkard off balance:


“Go get some sleep.” He said with an amazing amount of patience.


"But wait!" Ziek blurted out with urgency. Berchen paused in the doorway, the only light now in the city shining from behind him, and stared back at Ziek, "Yes?"


"Let me get one for the road you goddamn handsome sonofabitch." Ziek said with enthusiasm. It was the most coherent and straightforward thing he had phonated all night.


Immediately Berchen thought back to just an hour before when Ziek had been sick all over their floor, emptying several ale glasses full of his stomach contents:


"Goodnight Ziek." With that uttered, the tavern owner moved with haste to behind the threshold of his establishment and swung the door close, taking the light from Ziek’s person with it. Ziek stood there, not moving for several seconds, his nose just a few inches from the cracked, wooden door as he could heard a heavy lock being put into place. Finally, he turned and strolled over to the forest while speaking out loud to no one in particular,


“Motherfucker..." Ziek muttered.


He had hoped he had consumed enough of the God's nectar to bring the sweet slumber that escaped him more often than not. The drinking was always an attempt, never a guarantee, at sleeping. It didn’t hurt to be drunk either. The familiar urgent sensation in his lower regions was both the reason for his leisurely stroll and getting worse by the passing second.


The bright stars in the Libertian night sky were beginning to fade as the morning hours were creeping in. The cool night breeze that was blowing Ziek’s medium length, messy, black hair would be dying down soon and giving way to a hot and humid jungle day.


Down the main dirt road of Jakka's crossing was the inn that Ziek had rented a room in for the past few days, but before returning for attempted repose, he needed to handle nature's calling. The forest was eerily silent for these twilight hours. Had Ziek not been in an alcoholic stupor, or in a rush to empty his bladder, he might have taken notice. After making it several yards into the forest brush for a bit of privacy, Ziek found an appropriate tree and leaned his right hand out against it to steady his wavering balance as he started to relieve himself.


The feeling of relief was close to euphoric as he involuntarily let out a small moan into the night. Looking up, he noticed that what looked to be storm clouds were beginning to form and gather in the sky above the heart of the Swazi. A faint noise began to emanate from elsewhere in the forest. Some kind of buzzing sound was increasing in decibels from further within. Still very under the influence and naturally curious, Ziek finished up, grabbed his spear, and stumbled deeper into the rain forest. He followed the strange noise for several minutes as the sinister looking clouds continued to congregate and grow overhead. Ziek stared as the clouds smashed together and blotted out the setting moon:


"What the hell...?" he muttered out loud to himself as he stuck out his empty hand, waiting for rain.


A crash of blue lightning struck the forest floor with enough ferocity to gouge out a small crater just a few feet away from Ziek. The thunder roared like the sound of some hellish beast. He jumped back, shielding his eyes from the intense light. Heavy rain crashed down instantly from the ominous storm clouds and with force. That's when he saw it, the source of the hum. A glowing black orb with crimson tendrils lashing out with a chaotic vengeance, only to come crashing back into the orb, descended from the storm clouds high above head. Ziek watched as the cycle renewed, pulling everything back to itself as it tore itself apart once more. He could not pull his gaze from this otherworldly thing as it hung there by an unknown force. This terrifying scene filled him with fear, but for some inexplicable reason, he could feel a deep primal rage also growing from within inside of him.


Not being able to move his eyes away, he watched as the raven black and blood red ball of energy began to shape itself into what appeared to be the form of a man. A skeletal frame formed in the swirling blackness. Ziek could feel his legs begin to tremble, but they refused to take him anywhere as this unholy sight unraveled before him. The being that was assembling would tower over even the most tremendously sized T’Odis. This entity, whatever it was, stood at an immense ten feet tall. Bone and sinew materialized from the dark energy, creating massive arms and legs. The vegetation underneath this monster burned and singed from the creation.


A face, demonic in its appearance, wrestled itself to life from mass that was to be its head. Skin, dead grey in its color, stretched and grew over the muscles that were also coming into creation.


“What the hell was in that ale? Liquor doesn’t turn? Does it...? A bald headed, beast-man now existed, crouched and nude, with swirls of red energy dissipating around him.


The monstrosity brought his chin up to meet Ziek's eyes with his own inhuman snake-like pupils. It spoke, seeming to struggle with the words, with a voice Ziek could not have imagined,even in his worst nightmares. The words were just garbled noises in their first attempts, but eventually the beast’s lips formed the word in way that he could understand. “Fear.” One word is all it spoke, perfectly summing up Ziek’s current feelings.


Without realizing it, Ziek had started to hold his breath in awe of what had transpired before him. The hulking creature as if mocking him, inhaled and exhaled heavily while never breaking his gaze. The burning in the young man's lungs reminded him to finally gasp a mouthful of air. Oxygen seemingly being all he needed to break his trance-like state, he shook his head and snapped out of it, although the fear was still present in his mind.


Hearing the tremble in his own voice, Ziek spoke, "W-what the fuck is that…?” The frightened man was speaking to himself but the giant showed signs of understanding.


The beast-man paused before responding, his eyes darting back and forth, likely searching for the words in his mind. His mouth fought to form the words with a fiendish smile, the monstrous voice that escaped from it sounding like several men speaking at once creating a devilish echo. “Garnerge." It bellowed out.


It's enunciation of it's own name brought a sickening smile to its face. The otherworldly abomination that now had a name examined Ziek, letting his almost glowing eyes fall upon the spear that was tight in the man’s grip. A smile spread across Garnerge's face, pulling his dark lips from ear to ear, exposing inhuman fangs jutting from his bottom row of teeth:


"Creature, are you a warrior on this rock?" The words were coming more naturally to him now, although they had not lost their supernatural tone. "Come, help me test out this new body... If you manage to amuse me, I will make your death quick and painless" Showing no signs of letting his colossal frame slow him down, this bestial mammoth sprinted forth, raising his massive fists high above his head.


Instinct and over a decade of training kicked in as... Ziek turned tale and fled for his life. The jolly intoxication that Ziek had worked hard to achieve was now forgotten as adrenaline began coursing through his veins and terror steadily tried to invade his conscious. Darting through the trees of the forests with nimble yet still drunken speed. The thunderous sounds of his pursuer’s footsteps and the piercing cracking of trees being ripped apart and torn from the ground, echoed through the closing, silent night and drove him to move faster. Deep, guttural laughter stormed out from what sounded to be just feet behind him.


“Holy fucking Azae, is this how I'm going to die? Some naked giant is going to appear out of thin air and rip me apart? This has got to be a fucking nightmare.” Ziek could swear he could feel hot breath on the back of his neck.


Pumping his legs to pick up speed, his eyes narrowed in on a branch. He listened intently to the explosive stomps of Garnerge and tried to time his jump perfectly. Using a stone erupting and bulging from the earth for leverage, he leaped and reached with his left hand. His palm, rough and calloused, gripped the branch, and using the momentum from the vault, swung his body up into the air. He gripped the tree's appendage tightly, stalling himself upside down for split second. Ziek watched the mass of naked beast whirl by in a blur.


Releasing his grasp, he fell gracefully to the ground, his feet now reversing and taking him into the opposite direction as fast as they possibly could.


"A quick and clever one you are!" Garnerge roared.


With unrealistic agility for a being of his size, Garnerge came to a skidding halt and barreled through in the converse direction also, right behind Ziek, knocking over the trees in his paths as if they were mere sticks.


That's when the desperate young man saw his chance at survival. In his path, in the middle of the upcoming clearing to the forest, was a corl; a one thousand year old, tremendously tall tree found in the Swazi. Ziek ran full-speed at the tree, raising his spear and cocking it into throwing position. He let the weapon go with prodigious force and watched it soar through the air, planting itself deep into the trunk of the tree several feet higher than his head. Using it as a spring of sorts, he leaped on top of it and sprung himself far up the base of the tree, grabbing the nearest thick branch. Wasting no time, he wrapped his calves firmly around the branch, dipped himself upside-down, and with quick and forceful pull, plucked his weapon from the corl's bark. Pulling himself back up, he positioned himself in a sturdy stance, and watched as Garnerge exploded into the clearing.


Ziek’s muscles twitched with anticipation while his eyes scoped in intently. Coming to a stop and watching Ziek cautiously, Garnerge spoke:


"Are all the beings of this rock as cowardly as this one? Come and show me what this pathetic planet has got!" his voice was full of barbaric rage and fury.


"Here ya' go ya’ ugly bowl of shit!" was Ziek's response as he launched his spear from his perch on the tree with deadly accuracy; and watched as, within a split second, the gorgeously crafted, serrated steel tip plunged deep into the right eye of the taunting brute. The inhuman shriek of pain that escaped Garnerge’s jaws would have been music to Ziek's ears, had it not been so loud that it felt like his eardrums were about to burst. The force from the impact of the projectile had caused Garnerge’s enormous head to cock back suddenly, as he let out the piercing cry into the Libertian forest's sky. Ziek's dirt covered hands involuntarily flung to his ears, his fingers plugging them up.


He was still convinced that this had to be a drinking induced nightmare.


"Now that’s a goddamn bull's-eye." He chuckled nervously at his own terrible joke, only to have his laugh cut off by a much louder one from the forest floor.


The monstrous screams of pain screeching out from the giant had died out to become nightmarish guffaws. Any feelings of triumph quickly disappeared as fear and panic immediately washed over Ziek once again. He was frozen with terror, unable to move a muscle, as he watched Garnerge perform another feat only read about in books of fiction.


The giant slowly brought his head back to a prone position, his good eye, a shining, golden orb in the moonlight, fell upon the crouched warrior while his mocking laugh became almost hysterical. The spear was lodged deep within his right eye-socket with a grey blood-like liquid oozing from the wound. Garnerge lifted his tree-trunk sized arm and brought his gargantuan hand to his face, wrapping his fingers tightly around the weapon jutting from his head. With an effortless tug, Garnerge pulled it from his eye-socket, creating a revolting and wet sound. The entire right side of his face was decimated, his eye now a gaping hole. Despite the spear being longer than Ziek was tall, it looked humorously like a child's toy in Garnerge's grasp. Ziek could only flinch at the sound of his beloved weapon cracking in two as the otherworldly being clenched his fist, although it's loss was the least of his problems at the moment.


"You thought you had me there, didn't you creature?" Another fiendish smile crept across Garnerge’s black lips.


Ziek refused to believe what he saw next. The crater on the right side of Garnerge's face started to reform from nothing. The hole in his skull almost seemed to give birth to a new eye. Skin and muscle appeared, pulsating, and multiplied across his cheek. In nearly an instant, the monster's face was now entirely unharmed.


“Please, let this be a dream...” Ziek wasn’t sure who or what he was pleading with in his mind, probably just himself. The words echoed over and over again in his skull.


"I think it is my turn."Garnerge howled while storming forward at improbable speed.


There was no time for Ziek to react as the roaring giant's formidable arms stretched out, and his oversized hands slammed close around the corl's trunk. His fingers splintered the bark and penetrated deep into the wood. Ziek braced himself against the tree and watched his attacker in confusion. Garnerge squatted, and with horrific strength, ripped the corl from its roots. Large clumps of jungle earth fell by his sides from the gnarly root system. In a panicky, high-pitched, yet still defiantly sarcastic tone Ziek yelled down the tree:


"Hey! Cut that shit out!"


Ignoring his prey's laughable plea, Garnerge wailed "I see no wings on you creature, but let us see if you can fly!"


With all his might, the being known as Garnerge flung the ancient tree high up into the heavens. The wind blew around Ziek's greasy and unwashed hair, while he held on for dear life to his wingless ride as it spun wildly through the air.


What a sight it must of been, had anyone been in the area, to glance up and see this several stories tall tree move through the night with someone riding upon it like some kind of ship. The tree was only airborne for seconds, yet it felt like minutes to Ziek as dizziness and nausea set in. Everything was a green whirling motion blur. He could feel himself begin to lose consciousness as well as his grip to his out-of-control vessel. It was at this moment that he had come to the conclusion that he was not awake. That this was all a terrible, terrible dream and he has indeed been sleeping peacefully this entire time. It was only a matter of time now:


“Wonderful. I hope I wake up soon.”


The tree and Ziek's body plummeted back towards Azae at an alarming speed, like two crashing meteors.
 
Last edited:
The Following was originally posted by @noremac in the previous IC

@noremac as​


Pirate Captain Adam Durant​



______​


Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The second hour of morning (2 A.M)


_______



“... and tha mermaid wifth tha sheaweed hair


Hap’ly took my pearly necklace!”



A group of sailors and other intoxicated men finished their sea shanty. One sailor climbed atop a table and chugged a full pitcher of dark brown ale. The tavern cheered and egged him on. The grinning seaman wiped foam from his mouth and took an unsteady bow that toppled the table, sending beer and glass flying. The crowd’s laughter burst anew at both the sailor who had knocked himself out on the floor and at those who had been soaked with beer.


Adam guffawed from a corner table as he watched yet another one of his men pass out drunk. The crew deserved this night of debauchery. Today they had delivered all their cargo to the Melsias builders. The trip had been financially risky, with iron oxide from Mt. Zaldur, sand from Indoria, and limestone from Mt. Vagar. They had made it, and the payoff was very good. Two ship holds were now stuffed with Pashush, a potent plant that many in Libertia grew and smoked. Pash was illegal in Roadilia and fetched a high price on the black market. Now crew, and captain alike, were enjoying some much needed shore rest.


“Nef, why don’t you wake Silas, and the other passed out fools, and herd them back to camp.” Adam told the second mate, who was sitting at the table with the captain, quarter master, and carpenter. “If I hear of any trouble in the morning, you’ll be the one to answer for it.”


“Yes, sir.” Nef, a large T’Odis man, finished his drink before starting to wake the drunken sailors who were passed out under tables or in their chairs.


“How bouts Issshhhave anofer drink?” Silas slured as Nef lifted him to his feet by the collar.


“No,” Came the curt answer as Nef threw Silas out the door.


The best part about this night was that Adam’s crew had not paid for anything. Some tral-el hunter, who seemed to be in an increasingly good mood, scored big and had been buying rounds for the Drink-Hole all night.


The tral-el hunter was on the other side of the room, partying it up with some of the crew and locals. It appeared that a fight was breaking out between two of Adam’s men, one of them soaked with beer. The dry one punched the other in the face sending him stumbling over the fallen table. Nef interceded then, grabbing one man by the head and the other by the leg, he dragged them out of the Hole. The crowd cheered.


“Do you plan on drinkin all night, cap’n?” asked the carpenter, a Libertian man. The bar was beginning to empty. Only the hardiest of drinkers now remained. Adam, and his officers had taken it easy, however. A few lucid minds were always needed on such outings.


“Nah, we’ll stay as long as the lizard hunter is still drinking. Then we’ll help relieve him of the rest of his gold. Someone that pissed could get in trouble carry such heavy coin purse at night.” Adam hid his wicked grin by taking a sip of beer. The carpenter smiled, but the quarter master remained silent and grim, for he had little to say when he was not giving orders.


A few hours later, Adam had to compliment the hunter on his endurance, the free spending patron began emptying his stomach onto the floor. “It’s time to go,” the barkeep was beginning to kick people out. “Grayson, round up the drunker men and head back to camp.” The quarter master nodded and got to it, “Izem, take the rest and meet me around back.”


Adam, Izem, and two slightly less drunk sailors stood besides a window behind the tavern. One of them, a Libertian, brought out a tinder box. After some drunken fumbling he managed to spark up a shush. Another sailor, an Indorian who had taken liking to the herb, brought out another spliff, wrapped in a tobacco leaf, and lit it off the Libertian’s. Through the window, the four men listened to the conversation as they smoked.


“I wouldn’t mind taking home one of those daughters myself.” Said the Nomasdae, looking at the captain.


“Quiet, Mos! And put those things out, it’s time to go. Iz, keep an eye on this Ziek character, we’ll be further behind.” Izem knew how to travel quietly through these forests.


As Adam walked down the forest pass he was surprised how faded he was. The other two men stumbled slightly. Adam kept an ear open, listening for danger and the bird noises that he followed. Izem’s calls seemed out of place in the quiet forest, but Adam did not wonder why. A parrot squawk to the left stopped the trio. Izem slinked out of the bushes and whispered to Adam, “He stopped to take a piss, then followed that buzzing sound into the woods.” Adam could here Ziek crashing through the woods and just then noticed the buzzing. It was getting louder.


With a great crack of thunder, a lightning bolt struck the forest, though the skies were clear. A tumult of breaking branches and yells came from Ziek’s direction. The crashing moved away from Adam’s group, none of which had any notion to follow. A terrible shriek of pain came from the forest that made the pirates to step away, covering their ears.


“What the fuck was that?” Adam asked, knowing he could receive no answer. There came a tremendous cracking of branches and a whole tree shot into the sky. “Let’s check that out.” Adam did not want to mess with whatever threw it. Izem led the way as the four men fled the area.


At the crash site they found the tral-el hunter to be still alive. Certainly, the man was passed out and fucked up but he was still breathing. The captain started giving orders. “Mos, get the gold bag. Rat, pour some of that fire water you drink down this poor bastard’s throat then get back to camp with Mos. Iz, give him a few slaps. I want to find out what happened.”
 
The following was originally posted by @Crucified Fear in the previous IC





@Crucified Fear as

Exiled Kildran Noble Kael Gilgrend

______​


Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The 2nd hour of morning (2 A.M.)



_______​




Blood splattered on to the floors like red raindrops. Every thunderous crack of bone on bone enticing a chorus of cathartic chants and cheers. Kael hit the ground in a heap, his body bruised and discolored. The crescent wound above his eye bled freely, blinding him.


His chest heaved with every labored breath. Everything felt dissascotiative. He could hear the crowd that encircled him screaming for him to get up. Demanding it. Commanding him to win. Failure and their loss of profits wouldn't be tolerated. They might as well been a million miles away, their noise just a dull roar. Like a burgeoning headache.


He could feel the various minerals and particles that littered the filthy floor digging into his skin. But all that mattered was the pounding in his skull. His head spun, and without even looking, he could tell the mammoth Nomasdae man he had been matched against was boasting to the crowd.


Kael had to take it one step at a time. Even getting to a knee felt like a monumental victory. Up, you Kildran bastard! Fight! You pathetic little pink man! He wasn't the most popular man in Libertia, and was only moderately tolerated at Wenzo's, a large tavern in Jakkas Crossing known for its cheap booze, cheaper women, and the front runner for "Combat Entertainment."


Kael felt fingers clasp around his throat and force him to his feet. It was possible the former Kildran commander had bit off a bit more than he could chew. He had dispatched his first three opponents for the night with a distinct ease. And then he met Borde. He wasn't sure if Borde was a first or last name, all that mattered was the hulking beast was kicking Kaels ass.


"I know you and your family, Kildran. I hear your father begged for his life before they yanked off his tiny pink Kildran cock."


Kaels face contorted into one of rage. Anger tore at the lines in his face, and he reached for the man's throat, like a child trying to get his favorite toy back from an older sibling. Bonde just laughed, tossing him to the ground like a doll.


"You're a failure. A disgrace. A stain on the history of your people," Bonde snorted, and soiled Kael more with a loogey from deep in his throat, that stuck in Kaels hair, "I'll be doing Kildra a favor in killing yo--"


Kael had pushed himself to a kneeling position. Before Bonde could finish his thoughts Kael bounced to his feet unleashing an unholy hell of a kick into Bondes crotch, enticing a loud and long "Oohhhhhh" from the crowd. Kael wasn't happy with castration via trauma, however. As Bonde doubled over, Kael dropped the point of his elbow into the bridge of his nose, shattering it with a loud crack.


Bonde fell to his side, one hand tending to his crotch, the other his face. Kael sent kicks and stomps on violent succession. The once raucous crowd had been silenced. The only sounds were sloppy and sickly wet smacks with the occasional crunch. Kael stopped when he heard sobbing. Eyes scanned the crowd for the Asshole indecent enough to bring a child in a place of such destitute, not making an effort to hide his surprise when the source was Bonde himself.


Kael turned from the sack of flesh he left on the ground, and made for the bar, a sea of people parting for him. Nearly collapsing on the bar, he grabbed a cup, slamming it in front of the bartender.


"I don't want to see the bottom of this tonight, understand?"


The tender did indeed.


This went on for hours. Kael drained drink after drink, most of which were bought for him. He spent a good deal of time telling old war stories to bar whores, who in return told him how brave he was, pressing wet clothe to his wounds.


But eventually he had to pay for his own drinks. The whores filed out to find other lonely men with deep pockets, and all that was left was Kael and his bottle. The bartender was closing up the shop, a barmaid on her hands and knees scrubbing away blood from the floor.


Kael thought the vibrations were just in his head. A side effect of cheap whiskey. The rumbles grew louder and more violent, until the whiskey sloshed out of his glass. Kael stood, trading looks with the bartender, and headed for the door.


Now it was screams that owned the night. They burst through the door into the street, Smoke rose in billowing pillars, the soft orange glow of destruction polluting the once serene night sky.


It didn't take long to hone in on the attacker. It was more beast than man, and obviously had none of its humanity in tact, if it ever had any at all. It was building some sort of pyre, stacking bodies atop of bodies.


The thing was dragging two fully grown men now, their heads clenched in his massive palms, red chunks oozing between the spaces of his knuckles. Kael wanted to intervene. He wanted to say something heroic and give the beast a true lesson in humanity and decency.


All he managed was a half hearted "Hey!" followed by a murmered oh, fuck me when the beasts incandescent eyes locked into him.
 
The following was originally posted by @King Ad Rock as a joint post with @noremac in the previous IC

King Ad Rock King Ad Rock
as

The Sexy, Suave King of Dance Ziek Sidane


@noremac

as

Pirate Captain Adam Durant and his crew​

______​


Location: In the jungles a little outside of Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Between the third and fourth hour of morning (3:15 A.M.)




______

"99 red balloons floating in the summer sky

Panic bells, it's red alert


There’s something here from somewhere else

The war machine, it springs to life

Opens up one eager eye

Focusing it on the sky

As 99 red balloons go by."

______

It was fresh in his mind as if it were only yesterday. Two figures stood in a small clearing in the Swazi Forest facing each other. A young man, Ziek himself years ago, was facing off against an older Nomasdae fellow, his mentor Syler Hazule, in one of his first of many sparring matches. He was just a child then, his scars and muscles from years of battle and training were absent. His hair was the shortest it had ever been, cut close to his scalp and not yet grown out and unkempt. Gone were the darkened skin and bags under his eyes from countless sleepless nights. Standing there was a boy with his whole life ahead of him.


Syler was moving around a stationary Ziek. He was a bald, dark skinned man with contemplative features. Dressed in various trinkets, small weapons, and pouches; his life as a traveler was quite evident.


The memory played out perfectly clear in Ziek’s unconscious mind.


The young Ziek gripped the handle of the short sword in his palms tightly with both of his hands. He pointed the freshly sharpened tip towards Syler who was quickly sidestepping in a large circle around him. The Swazi forest was quiet in the humid night. Dripping with sweat from the heat, a single bead ran down his forehead while Ziek watched as the lantern illuminated the elder warrior in the darkness, accentuating his fluid dance-like movements. His long brown traveling jacket fluttered around his waist with the slight breezes that came through. Twirling between Syler’s fingers was his cane, ready to strike his student without hesitation. He was both mesmerizing and terrifying to Ziek.


Ziek kept his emerald eyes focused intently on Syler, waiting for his moment patiently. And then, there it was, a small opening in his defense. The young trainee lunged forward as quickly as he could and with all of his strength, just like Syler had instructed. There was no yelling out this time. No giving forewarning to his attack. He had learned from his previous mistakes, but still the blade only caught thin air as Syler stepped smoothly to the side at just the last second. The weight of the blade pulled Ziek’s arms down as it got further from his body. He felt his stance weaken and the sudden cut of air, as he knew what came next.


THWACK!


Ziek’s senses were heightened as he felt the biting sting of the tip of Syler’s cane across his cheek. A small but deep gash appeared, almost as if from nothing. Warm blood trickled down his face. The boy cried out loudly in surprise, pain, and anger. Syler called to him, while never stopping his movement,


“That was too pitifully slow young one. Try again.”


“Cocky piece of-“


“Fuck you, old man! I’m going to fuckin’ kill you!” Ziek answered in fury, He swung to his left at a horizontal angle with a wild stroke. Syler was there one instant, and gone the next as the short blade swiped the air yet again. This time, the response came too quick for Ziek’s eyes to catch. Only the slight whistle of the cane cutting through the air let him know he was about to feel that familiar pain once again.


THWACK!


This strike caught Ziek right between his eyes and left a much more open and serious wound. He would bear this scar for the rest of his life. More crimson red blood poured down his face as he brought both his hand up to cover it, dropping the sword to ground.


“You will not be killing anything if you continue to move like that, young one. Quite honestly, I’m surprised you caught our dinner tonight.” Ziek could feel the rage building up inside of him from Syler’s taunts. The numerous lacerations on his face and arms from the excessive lashes of Syler’s cane did not help matters. Pulling his hands from his face, he inspected the blood that had pooled into his palms. His sight and attention then switched to the sword in the dirt, just a couple of feet in front of him.


With a flurry of action Ziek dove for the short blade, and upon retrieving it, hacked desperately at Syler’s feet with every intention of cutting his toes off. The sword’s edge only chewed away at earth though, with Syler’s graceful leap out of harm’s way and over Ziek’s head. Panicked, Ziek spun around hoping to dodge or deflect the inevitable strike that was coming, but it was too late. The whistle was coming. Another familiar sting came to his already swollen cheek as his head jerked to the left and blood flew from his mouth.



______


THWACK!

A large and scabbed palm connected to Ziek’s right cheek with a deafening slap. The pain and sudden surprising sensation brought him back to the present. Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to get an idea of his situation while feigning unconsciousness. He could feel his body was covered in small, drying cuts, and his mouth was full of the recognizable taste of copper. The ground and leaves beneath him felt slightly wet, possibly with his own urine. It was not the first time Ziek had awoken with no memory of the night before and in questionable physical condition.


He swore he could smell smoke.


Ziek tried to listen closely to get an idea of how many people were around him. There was a slight breeze, but it was only barely touching him so he knew four or more people surrounded him. It was at that moment that he felt one of the men slip a hand behind his head, and begin to pour some kind of intensely strong alcohol down his throat. The never forgotten taste of “Fire-Water” filled his mouth, throat, and sinuses. It was all Ziek could do to not choke back up the burning liquid and give away his awareness. Before he knew it, he found himself gulping down the fiery drink. Then one of the men spoke,


"There's no gold, captain."


“Oh fuck, they’re robbing me. Did I spend all my gold? I think I spent all my gold. Fuck you guys. Pour more of that shit down my throat.”



Another more authoritative voice answered the first one, “Whatever, stick around then, looks like he's waking. Give him some more grog."


“You heard the man, more Grog.”
Ziek felt the change in the air and knew another strike and attempt at waking him was coming. His mind sent the signal to his right arm to catch the opposing swat, but all that returned was acute agony from up and down his shoulder as his arm remained unresponsive. He had felt this before and knew that his shoulder was severely dislocated. Then came the slap.


THWACK!



“MOTHERFUCKER!” Ziek made a mental note to slap the ever-living shit out of whoever it was hitting him at the moment.


Now a third voice came into hearing protesting the one with seeming authority, "but he already-"


"Izem, hit Rat instead. And give me his flask." Was the leader’s only answer. Some kind of scuffle commenced between the others and a slap, this time not Ziek’s face, rang out.


"Brown nosed, mother fu-“ answered one of the voices. More slapping could be heard again. Ziek was beginning to question what kind of bumbling idiots were trying to rob him. Then he felt the familiar breeze of the incoming strike. This time Ziek raised his left arm with swiftness and caught his striker’s wrist before he could make contact. Forcing his swollen eyes open to finally look upon his muggers, Ziek choked out,


“Stop. Slappin’. Me.”


The man who was slapping Ziek yanked his wrist from Ziek’s grasp. He had a round and very dark face with wild, bloodshot eyes that were full of expression. He smelled horrible. Or maybe that was Ziek. "Good morning, Ziek." He answered with a large grin on his face. "You're lucky I happen to be a doctor, of sorts." How did he know his name? It was at that moment that Ziek had a flashback to the night before.


The quick scene that played out in his mind’s eye showed him standing on the tavern’s countertop, kicking his feet into the air and wrapping his flailing, drunken arms around several men’s neck’s while screaming out, “I’M ZIEK SIDANE, THE KING OF DANCE!”


And that’s how you keep a low profile. Ziek winced to himself inwardly at his moronic behavior.


"Don't start with your amputation jokes Iz." retorted the authoritative voice. Ziek adjusted his focus and looked to his right. The voice was coming from a lighter skinned Nomasdae man of average height with short black hair. Judging by his stance and demeanor, Ziek could tell this was who was in charge of this motley crew. He tried to remember the man from the night before, but nothing clear was coming to him.


There was two other Nomasdae man standing around him as well, in a semi circle. The entire group reeked of booze. They didn’t seem like your typical Libertian bandits, but certainly had a questionable moral air about them. "Need a drink?" The leader stated while handing Ziek a flask.


“At least they’re polite thieves.” Ziek thought to himself while straining to sit up and take yet another sip from the alcoholic beverage.


The pain was almost too excruciating as he did everything in his power from crying out. He counted several broken ribs on his right side. He could breathe fine though, and that’s what was most important. The man who was slapping Ziek, the one who the leader called "Iz”, was now combing the forest floor for sticks.


"We saw your flying tree...Is this how you usually travel? Some would pay well for such technology." joked the leader. For the first time, he smiled a big toothy grin as if his crew did not just have their hands deep in Ziek’s pockets. No, this was not a man to trust. Ziek smiled back.


“What the fuck are you talkin’ bout?"


"I'm talkin' bout how one minute you're partying it up in the Hole, next yer fucking flying on a fuckin tree," As Adam spoke, Izem ripped a piece of cloth from Rat's already ragged shirt. Rat did not resist; one eye swollen, the little man's spirits seemed to have been broken at the taking of his grog. "We all heard that scream..." The thought made Adam shiver.


"You want me to fix that?" Izem cut in, gesturing at Ziek's right shoulder. The carpenter was already reaching for Ziek's wrist and forearm.


Adam squat down so that he was eye-to-eye with Ziek, "What ever was in those woods I figured it was best to find the tree and try to piece out what happened. Since you seem to have been involved, I am hoping you will cooperate." Adam smiled. His mien betrayed a hint of animosity, though his tone was innocent enough.


Ziek had not a clue of what the strange robber was babbling about. Try as he might, he could not bring up one clear memory of the night before. Just then, another fragmented memory unfurled in his head. A feeling of extreme panic and drunkenly climbing a tall corl was all he could recall. Was this what the man was inquiring about? What the hell was he doing the night before? What did he drink?


Before Ziek could give him an answer the leader would accept; Iz, who had stated he was some kind of doctor, grabbed Ziek by his right wrist and forearm and gave it an abrupt and forceful jerk, snapping his shoulder back into place with a sickeningly loud click.


As the morning hours crept in and chased away the night and stars, Ziek cocked his head back and let an ear-piercing cry of pain and cursing into the fresh jungle morning.


“FUUUUUUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUUUCK! Not even a warning, you piece of Tral-el shit!?” Ziek spat on the ground as his eyes watered and fumed at Iz. The pain was tremendous and almost unbearable. After the burning in his shoulder had finally subsided to a dull ache, he realized the foul smelling man had actually helped him out quite a bit. He did not want to have to do that himself. The injured man muttered a half-hearted, “Thanks” as he rested his weary head back against what felt like some kind of rock or stump.


Izem rolled back onto his haunches. "Now you gotta pay me. If you don't pay the doc, he might not patch you up so good next time." Izem smirked and eyed the flask.


Ziek ignored the drunk and turned his attention back to his questioner.


“Cooperate with you guys helping yourselves to the contents of my pockets? Guess I didn’t have much choice in that matter, now did I?” Ziek asked sarcastically while raising his bloodstained eyebrows. “Now I know the fuckin’ so-called doctor over here is Iz? Now, who are you good sirs?” The mocking tone in his inflection was obvious. The leader was about to give his answer and finally give Ziek his and the other’s names, when he was cut off by a womanly scream in the distance. He turned back to Ziek and the others with a concerned look.


"Obviously wasn’t me that time.” Ziek replied playfully.


He swore he could smell smoke.
 
Last edited:
The following was originally posted in the previous IC by @Crucified Fear





@Crucified Fear
as

Exiled Kildran Noble Kael Gilgrend

______​


Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Between the second and third hour of the morning (2:30 A.M)


_______​



Garnerge released the mangled bodies he had twisted in his hands like they were clay. A wall of smoke momentarily veiled the monsters body behind it, leaving nothing but it's hulking silhouette and the two red rocks in its skull it called eyes. Kael had been around. He had seen some shit. He had heard stories of sea creatures which size was truly incomprehensible. But Kael had never dreamed he would come across a beast such at this.


It wasn't the behemoths size or power that unsettled him, but it's pathological desire and lust for carnage. It was his complete lack of any semblance of conscience. Garnarge reached down and plucked one of the dead men's ears off his head like it was a daisy, tossing it into his mouth and lazily chewing, that blood soaked smile never leaving his lips. Like a shark.


"Are you going to inquire about me, creature?" Garnarge snorted with sarcasm.


Kael didn't answer for a few moments. He could hear wood crackle as flame ate away at it, dissolving homes into ash. He could hear the screams of Jakka's Crossing. Some in fear. Some in agony. Finally, he could hear the beast let out a low bellow of a chuckle from time to time. Like it was a child's game.


Kael would show him this was no game. "Do wolves ask the name of the sheep they prey on?"


Garnerge howled with laughter. Kael calmly reached behind his shoulders with both hands and unsheathed both of his Scimitars from their scabbards.


"You think you are different...Think you matter..small creatures... with your pointy metal sticks..." Garnerge's sentence structure was rudimentary at best, but he managed to get his point across. Kael shrugged off his words and stalked at a cautious pace at first.


Garnerge followed suit, matching Kael's pace. They sped up to a jog, and finally a full on war charge. Kael could feel the ground shaking, as if Azae was struggling to support this abomination that had invaded it. Garnerge let out his otherworldly battle cry a moment before he reared back to strike, his arms raising above his head to pummel down onto Kael.


The beast had widened his base, giving Kael his opening. Kael had let out his own cry, which was drowned out by Garnerge. Kael dropped down to a knee, and leaned backwards, sliding on a mixture of soot and mud. He glided between Garnerge's legs, slashing his blades the monsters ankles as he did.


Garnerge let out a few grunts of confusion as he went to walk and had nothing but stumps at the end of his legs. He collapsed to all fours, gritting his blood stained teeth.


Kael had not been a soldier for years now, but the killer instinct he possessed never went away. It was a part of him. He wasted no time coming up behind the creature and thrusting his blade through the back of its skull. Garnerge's eyes were wide with surprise. The blade had sprouted out of his mouth, slicing his lip in half and forcing a few teeth to splinter and bend outwards.


The blade shrieked as he pulled it back, the steel scraping the bone of Garnerge's teeth and skull. The beast fell face first into the mud.


Kael turned his back to Garnerge. The villagers had begun to come out of their hiding. Kael did his best to smile and and assure them things would be fine. Never the same. That was a lie even he wouldn't peddle.


Kael was too preoccupied playing hero that his senses and instincts failed him. If it wasn't for his battle rust he may have noticed the the stumps he made out of Garnerges legs scab over at an accelerated rate, the creatures body producing and building cells at an unfathomable rate. Two small bulges began to grow from the center of the stumps, contorting and twisting until they resembled feet.


The back of his head also began to close up, the large split down the middle of his bottom lip closing, strings of flesh melding together seamlessly. Overly damaged teeth simply fell away so replacements could take their place.


The feet had grown to match the rest of Garnerges body, new flesh spreading out to mend to the already existing skin. Kael's heart sunk when he heard the thunder coming from the beasts chest. Could feel the ground move as he brought himself back to his feet. Kael turned only to get a large backhand that sent him flying, and skidding across the ground and into a wall.


"Impressive, creature. Maybe you ARE different..but you will still meet the same fate.."


Kael had lost his weapons sometime mid-flight. He was struggling to get back to his feet when he was simply bulldozed by a charging Garnerge, destroying the wall at the same moment. A hand clamped around his ankle and Kael tried to hold on for dear life, digging his fingers into the floor, but he was still yanked back, ripping away his nails why they were at it, and tossed like a toy and hitting the ground with a wet thud.


Garnerge approached leisurely, lifting the great foot of his and driving it into Kael's sternum. And then again. Kael coughed, blood spouting out of his mouth. Kael reached up, almost pleading with Garnerge. Kael's wrist was vice gripped, the middle finger of his hand ripped clean off. Kael howled in agony.


And his consciousness failed him.
 
Last edited:
The following was originally posted by @Lord Zanicus in the previous IC


@Lord Zanicus
as

Vyran AKA The Assassin Var'Qo Zaat​


_____​

Location: On the roads just outside of Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Between the first and second hours of the morning (Sometime between 1-2 A.M.)


______​


What is that? A lightning storm?


Looks like it!


But what's that black globe? Ink?


Don't know.


Stay away from it, Vyran! Don't you dare think about it!


Too late!


He already did!


...Hew, nay, Danza, no longer lived...


Such a phenomenon usually have bad news—


I umm.. feel like we had this conversation before!


I agree!


Indeed!


We've seen this!


But was it the exact same thing?


Not sure!


Premonition!


What?


Ridiculous!


Back then, when it happened more than a month ago, from Kein, was a premonition of what's taking place now! A forewarning of sort!


What do we think it means?


We don't know!


Fate?


What?


Destiny...


Ludicrous!


Turn the carriage around, Vyran!


Get away from it!


One cannot alter what is laid before them!


But one can always take a different route!


Not as easy when one is on the road of destiny!


Pshaw!


Silence! He moved!


Vyran shook his head and tore his gaze away from the direction of the familiar yet no less strange phenomenon. He tapped lightly at his temple with the base of his palm, quietening the voices within. There was nothing supernatural about them nor was it in any way a special ability of his. They were simply his own train of thoughts. A mere debating session from the many characteristics he'd conjured within the council of his own mind.


Strong was the urge to just head down in that direction and see for himself what that outworldly thing was. His curiosity kept knocking on the door of his cold heart. Alas, he can't, for he have a mission to accomplish. It have been nearly two months since he'd been travelling now. The pirate attack, the death of Danza and Hilana's attempt at saving the boy, all happened about six or seven weeks ago. Along with the images he'd envisioned with what just happened in Libertia's woods not so long ago. Disguised this time as a merchant carrying herbs, spices and a few passengers; he's not about to abandon the task just to scratch an itch.


So Vyran snapped at the rein and hasten the already exhausted exotic beasts onward, startling the resting small crowd inside the carriage behind him. “Hey! What's the rush, old man!”


“We're.. almost.. there.. Sir..!” croaked his reply.
 
The following was originally posted by @Darkfeather21 in the previous IC



@Darkfeather21
as

The street thief Shasashi


_____​


Location: Pompoe, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The eighth hour of the morning (8.A.M)


______​

Pompoe
pompoe.jpg




"...So ya know what I did?" Shasahi asked. She was sitting on the rooftop of an inn, surrounded by some urchins. Spread out among them was a blanket and some food and drink, all stolen from the very inn they were sitting atop. She held up one of her small black grenades.


"I rolled one of these lil' buggers into t'kitchen and waited for one of them cooks to step on it. Lemme tell ya, it let loose a bigger stink than Lil' Jimmy there after a bit of cheese!"


The kids giggled, while Jimmy turned bright red. Shasashi chuckled, then threw a bit of bread at the young boy. He caught it and tore a chunk free with his teeth, already returning to his normal shade. She'd been here two weeks already and this little group of children had almost instinctively latched onto her. She wasn't complaining , but it was kinda interesting how everywhere she went, the urchins were led to her.


Perfect for planning break ins. Urchins and beggers both were almost invisible to most of higher society. All of them rich pigs didn't want to think about the poor folk who could use some of the money they had locked away in their homes. She preferred for that money to go where she felt it belonged: Half to herself, and half to the people of the street.


So, the rich and powerful talked about things in front of the poor and destitute that they wouldn't discuss among others. They remembered these things, and passed them along to people like her who could help even the playing field of the economy just a little bit.


For instance, there was a council member here in Pompoe who was just asking to be robbed. Lots of fat to be trimmed away from that pig. But for now...


"Alright, alright, who's ready for another story?" Shasashi shouted over the kids, getting their attention back. The kids quieted down and watched her expectantly.


"So, many years ago, in a land far away from here," and she began to weave another story for the kids to listen to as the hours of the morning passed.
 
Last edited:
The following was originally posted by @noremac as a collaboration post with @King Ad Rock in the previous IC

@noremac
as
Adam Durant & Pirate Crew (Nef and others)

@King Ad Rock
as
Ziek Sidane​


______​


Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Between the the third and fourth hours of morning (3:30 A.M.)

______


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jakka's Crossing-Nef's perspective

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​


“Yooo hooo, yooo hoooo ashh-shp-pirates life fer meeee.


Ah drwinnk uf da rum ishf-nishe in my tummm, when da guullllls arrr singin


But ah gurrrrlll in da lap, thummmb‘n ‘er twat ish bether, when shesh ah sqeeekin”


Silas sung almost incoherently as the group stumbled back to their camp. He had one arm wrapped around a comrade's shoulder, the other swung wildly and clutched a flask of grog. Nef had offered the group his own highly watered down ration of rum so that they might not think to procure something stronger.


“Gi-hic-ve mee thaaat d-dr drinnk, Silasss...Youu fuckin bastard!” Said a sailor, whose wet, beer soaked hair covered his face.


“GOooofffuck yerself, Yang! I aint sharin this horse piss.” Silas took a swig and spat it in the beggar's face.


“Fuckin hic-‘airy vag lickin Roadalian ho bag.” Muttered the sodden Parshum, as he clenched his fists, “Coxain ain’t even a real fuckin job.”


“You wanna have another go, fish fucker?”


"I take enough shit from you as it is!"


“Shut the fuck up.” Nef’s stern interjection was enough to quail Silas’s rambunctious. The large T’Odis man had a certain reputation.


Silas took another drink. “Neferius….Shiiiyytttt...Why you givin us this weak stuff ffanyways. Where’sh that Rat bastard when yah need ‘em...And why does my fuckin head hurt?”


The night was dark and full of silence. Quiet and still air was marred by a tumult of cheers and jeers coming from a nearby fight club. Only stars lit the treck home. A muggy atmosphere filled with heat and static gave the night an ominous tension. Nef alone, noticed that something was not right. At the far edge of town he stopped walking and listened to the forest. It was too quiet. It seemed as if all the creatures in the forest had fled in fear of some coming catastrophe. “Silas! Check the picket line! And I’m not taking any shit from you on this one.” The other men snickered. Silas gave them an evil look as he went to do as he was told.



In the middle of the night there came a blood curling scream. It was followed by a loud crashing and more shouts of terror. Nefarious was still awake, walking the perimeter. The captain and other officers had not returned yet. “Sir,” It was one of the men on watch. “Grayson is, back...He’s the only one…”


“What in Azae do you mean?” Nef growled.


The quartermaster lay on the ground clutching his side. Leading out of the pool of torch light was a dark trail of blood. Screams of agony erupt from the town, less than a mile away. Grayson breathed in rasps, “A...Monster.” The old Kildran took his hand away from his side. Four while ribs glistened in the firelight. The wound was in the shape of a massive bite mark. The pirates had seen similar wounds before, but never a bite so deep...And never in the shape of a human jaw. “It was…It…” Grayson closed his eyes. He lay on one side for one leg was twisted at a grotesque angle. The hallow voice fell to a whisper. “Pale white skin...Eyes of fire. It was a demon a monster I tell you...It grabbed me and… and...It fucking grabbed me with just one hand...And...Azae damn it. It was a fucking monster!”


Once, the quartermaster had been a renown knight, or so some said. Such a status fut with his stern and disciplined manner. But the man had snapped, “Unger… My king… Why did you kill me… The death. So many corpses. Oh Marie, I’m sorry! Anthony, I failed you. Oh Azae, why? Must I be reborn to this cursed land?” From the town, Wails of fear accompanied the crippled man’s rambling.


Most of the men stepped back in fear. Never had they expected the stoic quartermaster to lose his composure in such a gruesome way. Greyson was attempting to stand, bloody hands covering his face. He screamed, “That smile. Those evil eyes... The fangs! Azae, curse me! Those fangs. Unger, Anthony, Marie!” Neferios alone approached Greyson The mate put a hand on the raving man's shoulders and shoved a knife into his heart.


“Thanks for playing. Better luck next time.” Nef twisted and pulled the knife free. He wiped the blade clean on his own shirt, so that the other men would remember. A group of four had already gathered.“Wake the crew and gather weapons! Tonight we pillage and burn!"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Outside Jakka's Crossing-Adam and Ziek's perspective

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​


Expanding his arms, Adam spoke with a royal Kildran accent, "We are but humble merchants. You have met our good surgeon, Dr. Izem, his eager assistant is Rat, and the other idiot is Mosi." Adam dropped the accent near the end. Izem began tying a sling around Ziek, not caring to be gentle.


“That was odd,” Ziek thought to himself. Izem, who was blacker than the night, was now putting Ziek’s very tender arm into a homemade sling without a bit of ease. Ziek eyed the man to the left whose name seemed to be the most interesting. The little man had sat on a branch and was opening a tinderbox. The other man Mosi, appeared to be Nomasdae, but he remained too deep in the shadows for Ziek to get a proper look.


"I wish I had more of those damn fire sticks." Rat muttered as he struck a piece of flint across his knife.


"I'm-" The captain was cut off by the scream. The four pirates only shivered at the sound. Ziek got a very strange and suspicious vibe from the whole group. It was odd enough that they seem unfazed from the screams coming from the distance.


"I am captain Durant, but you'd might as well call me Adam."


Izem finished tying the sling. "Keep that on until you take it off." He said sarcastically. "Now, can you stand?"


That was a good question. Ziek went to push himself up into a standing position, using what he now realized was a large, downed tree behind him for leverage. Putting weight on his right foot sent sheer excruciating pain through his entire ankle. His assessment: a particularly bad sprain and possible break. The pain came as a surprise and caused his knee to buckle under his own weight. Izem caught him before he fell back to the ground.


“Stand? Yes. Walk? Doesn’t look like it.” Ziek answered grimly.


Another scream echoed off in the distance.


He scanned his immediate surroundings while holding onto the shoulder of Izem for balance, favoring his right side. It was dense, green jungle as far as his eye could see. He was having trouble pinpointing what direction the shouts were coming from. Where was he? Wasn’t he in Jakka’s Crossing the night before? All he did know was that he wanted no part in whatever was causing those shrieks of pain. There would be no heroic antics made by him, not today.


There was no doubt in his mind that he could smell smoke and wood burning in the jungle air, but there was also another scent now. It was something not as familiar and much more sinister. It took a moment for Ziek to identify the burning aroma, but once he did, his stomach began to turn.


The stench of someone on fire is a memory that never leaves someone. There’s something terribly unique about the way the odors of burning cloth, hair, and human flesh combine.


A pair of glowing yellow eyes and jutting inhuman fangs flashed in his head for just a second, and then was gone as quick as it came.


Two more terrifying cries escaped from south of their current position. Ziek could tell where they were coming from now.


“Gentleman, I think we should start moving away from those screams, what do you think?”


Adam paused in thought. He knew there was something frightening happening this night, "Azae damn you. Can't you remember anything? Did he hit his head Izem?" The carpenter shrugged. "Look around. Do you think a Tra-el did this? I have men back at in town so we are returning...My conscience wouldn't allow me to leave a concussed man out as lizard food. Best you stick with us until you can remember something. Mos! Pick him up!"


Mosi groaned. He had just gotten a shush lit off of Rat's little ball of burning cedar. He took a deep puff before handing it to Rat and going to lift Ziek in a fireman's carry. Rat, the wiry little rodent, hit the spliff then sniffed the air. "Smells like something is cooking. Hi hi hi hi ." His laughs came in little squeaks not uncharacteristic to his name.


Ziek let out a pitiful "Ohh" of pain, as the one named Mosi swung him onto his shoulders with no warning or bit of care. His broken ribs sent extraordinary amounts of pain through his whole torso. Mosi's body-order was a mixed stench of sweat and liquor. After Rat let out his terrifyingly inhuman squeak of a laugh, Ziek answered Adam, only half-joking,


"Oh Azae, leave me for the Tral-el..." Ziek's voice was weak and barely audible; and like that they were off through the forest, towards the screams and smell of burning flesh. Every bump of Mosi's jogging sending waves of sharp ache through Ziek's chest, while he struggled to breath. Grimy, Izem picked the way easily though the forest, only needing to follow the smoke, and the noise, and the terror.
 
The following was originally posted by @Crucified Fear in the previous IC

@Crucified Fear
as

Kael Gilgrend​

_____

Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The fourth hour of the morning (4 A.M.)


______


Kael was floating. In fact he wasn't even sure if he was within the mortal confines of his flesh. He felt different. Ethereal. In that moment all of the secrets the cosmos harbored were made clear to him. He saw stars coalescing into spinning clusters called galaxies, which reached out into the darkness with arms that reached out into unfathomable distances into the abyss. He saw worlds. He saw their civilizations. Their rise from their own primordial sludge. To their first steps and first words.


All of their wars and all of their love. He saw the life giving balls of light that these planets orbited expand and turn crimson, and devour these worlds. Erase them from the universe's record.


And then he saw more take their place.


Billions of years of life, evolution and knowledge.


In an instant.


The ephemeral nature of our being.


Love.


Madness.


War.


Resolve. Survive. Rebuild. Repeat.


And then the spectacular globs of light and sounds were gone. Azae's messengers grew silent. Kael found himself standing on a beach, lulling waves crashing behind him. Gulls chirped and bickered but a serenity still fell on Yensa. Before him stood a woman. He had never met her but knew who she was through the stories his father told.


She died many years ago, making the ultimate sacrifice.


Giving birth to Kael Gilgrend.


Her life for his.


Fair skinned with flowing brown hair, she was a true beauty and a jewel encrusted in the harsh Gilgrend name. The small rising at the corners of her lips have her an aura of wisdom, her mouth opened to speak.


Kael listened. But only silence. Such has been the lifelong relationship with his mother.


She stood their, mouth gaping and unblinking. Frozen in a pose of eternal question or perhaps terror.


And then her eyes became red and fierce. A predators eyes as incandescent as the sun. Deep from the bowels of her throat came a roar. A hungry snarl. A monster.


"Garnerge."



Kaels eyes snapped open, His visions forgotten. He was acutely aware of the fierce burning from his left hand. A large hand was wrapped around his waist, and toting him like a childs doll. The stench of rotting flesh overwhelmed him. He stared into darkness. Into the literal jaws of destruction, as Garnerge brought him closer to his gaping mouth.


Kael placed the palm of his left hand on the point of the beasts nose and pushed with everything he had. Garnerge simply found this amusing, and became like a child playing with its food. With a low chuckle, Garnerges tongue lolled out the tip flicking Kael across the cheek.


His opening.


Kael seized the monsters tongue with his right hand and yanked, sending Garnerge into a frenzy. The beast thrashed and spun, and Kael used the tongue that had been dried by smoke as a rein.


In a final act of desperation, Garnerge threw Kael to seperate them, but the former military commander was tenacious and refused to relent, the result being the tongue dislodging from the beasts skull with a loud popping noise. It felt like a drumstick being pulled off a chicken.


Garnerge howled, black goo flowing from his mouth.


Kael gathered himself as best he could, half running half limping into the tree line,leaving his weapons behind and not realizing he still had the tongue clenched in his hand.


Within minutes he heard voices deeper within the woods. Something about surgeons and Tral-El. He was still on his feet but moved at a crawl now.


"R..run...run..run...RUN" he gasped and shouted to the unseen folk.


From a distance, Garnerge let out a roar that shook the Earth.
 
The following was originally posted by @Lord Zanicus in the previous IC​


@Lord Zanicus
as

Vyran


______​


Location: Pompoe, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: the eleventh hour of night (11 P.M.)



_______​



On fours the foundations were set

Sight, hearing, words

Rise and fall, pain and pleasure

We study

On twos the pillars were formed

Strength, speed, endurance

Gains and loss, honour and treachery

We practice

And on threes the roof were placed

Experience, wisdom, purpose

Peace and war, life and death

We impart

Cycles of men,

~Anonymous poet.

* * * * *​


“He is here!” said a voice from the shadow above.


“Are you certain?” asked the heavily armoured horseback man, steadying his stallion by the tree, without looking up.


“...” a silent reply.


“How'd you know it's him?” he demanded assurance.


“It's easy when you know what to look for!” came the assured answer.


“How long 'til it starts?” he asked, not entirely convinced.


“Under a couple of hours, most likely!”


“Heh! The fool likes to rush into things, eh? He should have taken more time surveying the place!” the man smirked, almost smugly.


“Tch! You know nothing of how our kind operates!”


“I still think...—”


“Enough chatter! Arouse the men and have them in position!”


“...Aye!” he complied, reluctantly.


* * * * *​


The wheels of the carriage finally came to a halt. Dirt no longer flying from the stallions' hooves. The exotic creatures then whinnied, emitting clouds of vapour from their flaring nostrils. Exhausted. But this was normal. Even the hardworking stable-boy was accustomed to receiving weary horses. Especially at this late hour. Most of Pompoe's visitors were always eager to set foot into the city. Too eager perhaps for one who might leave lighter than they'd arrived. That's also if, they're lucky enough to even leave at all. For Pompoe is a gaming city. And games mostly comes with bets. And people adored betting! And that leads some to...


With a scrawny hand, the stable-boy rubbed an eye while reaching for the reins with his other. He yawned and looked up to the hooded figure seated up front. A pouch of coins came flying his way. The boy caught it and was wide awake as soon as he did, clearly satisfied with the weight in his hand. He flashed a row of chipped, black teeth before burying the pouch into his shirt.


“I'll take good care of both your horses and wares, sir!”


“I... know... you... would, ...lad!”


The boy watched impatiently as the old man struggled to get off from the carriage. Looking to the back, he noticed most of the passengers have already exited the vehicle. Get a move on already, he wanted to say, but out of respect — mostly for the pouch of coins he'd received rather than for the elderly — he decided to remain quiet. As soon as the veteran rider had both feet grounded, he patted the side of a stallion's neck and led them towards the stable, ready to free the leathers and steel off of them.


“Hey, laddy!” a man called.


“Yes, sir?” the boy spun his head around.


“Where did the old man, went?”


“He was... —” right there not too long ago, the boy thought, scratching his head.


* * * * *​


Arsya nodded off for a moment while she was still on her feet. She almost dropped the silver tray from her hands when she woke with a start. Wiping the corners of her lips with her sleeve, she nervously shifted her eyes left and right, hoping neither one of the men had noticed her. But to her chagrin, one of the guards did. Her gaze fell instantly to the floor, coyly.


Why must it always be around the good-looking one?


“Drink!” barked the only man sitting at the head of the table as he slammed the chalice in demand.


The girl hurried forward. She placed the tray down and poured the man more ale. She tried to ignore the oily and food-covered thick digits, wrapped around the cup, especially at the layer of dark soot under each fingernails. The sight never fail in leaving a disgusting aftertaste inside her mouth. Every time.


“Next time..—” Tsaruu Rari started before slurping at the ale greedily, tore a chunk of meat from the drumstick in the other hand and munched through it as he resumed, “dunwaytfurmeto..—” more munching, “asfurit.. Juspor!” the bulky man turned his head towards Arsya, flap of meat under his small chin swayed from side to side as he did. “Yugutme?” he asked, thick and juicy swollen lips smacking against one another, spattering bits and pieces of food all over.


“Ye-ye-yes, Sir!” she said wincing, trying not to appear as disgusted as she'd felt.


“Hmm!” the man nodded as his tiny beady eyes studied the female servant.


“Can-can-can I get you anything else, Sir?” Arsya asked.


“No! Aibesretaryer!” the man raised both his dirty chubby hands inches from his chest as if in surrender, then rocked slightly forward and side to side in an attempt to get out of the custom-built massive chair.


For as long as she'd been working in the mansion, she'd still not grasp what the man was truly saying with all those food in his mouth. But she understood the man's gesture. And that final one meant he had enough. At least for a few more hours. Arsya waited until the man left before she began clearing the table. She sighed to herself at the mess she'd to clean up. She'll need to make a couple of trips to and fro the kitchen.


It's like cleaning up after a pig's sty...


On her second trip back, the kitchen was all of a sudden dark. Arsya had to slow down her pace and squint her eyes for them to adjust as she walked down the corridor. She muttered under her breathe, cursing at both the wind and the fat rodents, blaming both of them for putting out the only light source inside that room. Guilty or not, she didn't care. Plates and pots clanked as she set the tray on the table, then gasped and jumped at the clattering chalice that'd fallen off the edge. Another curse escaped her lips. Feeling her way towards the drawer of a cabinet, she retrieved the flint stones. With her foot as feelers, she made her way towards the candle holder in the corner of the kitchen.


Once, twice and on the third try, as sparks flew, the candle was finally lit. Arsya smirked, impressed by herself. She took a moment to admire the kitchen's interior where light flickered. However, her triumphant celebration was brief. The candle suddenly roared ablaze. The girl gasped at the flame and backpedaled a couple of steps. She watched in horror as the element began creeping down the stand to then crawl across the floor.


Panicked, she reached for the bucket of what she assumed was filled with water, and threw its contents at the flame. Her hope was crushed when her action actually worsen the condition. The bucket must have instead contain something flammable as the flame spread wider, growing, almost as if alive. Arsya covered her mouth. Eyes widened with fear. Stumped for a couple of heartbeats before she finally made a dash out the door, oblivious to the fact that someone have clearly meddled with both causes.


* * * * *​


He took it a step at a time, literally, using only his sense of hearing to gauge the distance between him and the master. Why did the man insisted on staying in the master bedroom located in the second story of the mansion, given his physical condition, was anyone's guess. Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps, its something to do with status. Either way, Desdian have long stopped asking himself that. His opinion didn't matter.


Glancing over his shoulder as soon as he'd reached the top, he waited for the man to catch up. Looks were exchanged between him and the next man beside him. They almost rolled their eyes as the huffing and panting sounded. He looked back at the rest of the men, half a dozen more, eight guards in total, all armed and tasked with safeguarding the Council member. Apparently, the wealthy fat bastard who'd no sense of self awareness, had lots of opinions that mattered.


Desdian shook his head slightly, dismissively, with a smile. He then turned and lead the team towards the council man's chamber. Marching in step with the others except for the one in particular, they stride for the door through the quiet and dark hallway.


Dark? It ain't suppose to be dark here!


He frowned, kept his gaze fixed at the doorway and tried to recall if they'd intentionally kept it that way on their way down earlier. His gaze fell to the floor, brows furrowed as he went through his thoughts. Before he realised it, he was already standing in front of the door. His hand reached for the handle, turning it down. But as he was about to push it open, a cry for help came from below. Desdian released the handle, leaving the door to Tsaruu Rari's chamber slightly ajar as everyone turned to face the staircase.


“Well? Don't just stand there! Go see what the commotion is all about?”


“Immediately, my lord!”


Desdian gestured with his head for one of the men to go see what was happening. They could hear the servants and maids running and screaming. Water were being demanded. Fire was being exclaimed. Arsya, Desdian thought; it must have been the clumsy girl's doing again.


“Go see how bad..—” Desdian wasn't able to finish his order when all of a sudden, the head of the guard — who just broke rank to see what was happening — rolled down the front of his body. “Swords!” he barked, while he pulled Tsaruu Rari towards the chamber, motioning for the man to get behind him.


The fire wasn't caused by one's clumsiness... It was a distraction!


The door to the chamber burst open as the frightened council member scurried inside. Desdian and three others followed after him while the remaining three engaged their mysterious assailant. Their eyes widened as a shadowy figure leapt and bounced off the wall of the narrow hallway, spinning, ducking and weaving under every swing they'd thrown his way while spinning their own web of flashes and strikes. The distinct rattling of chains suddenly sent shivers down the men's spine. One after another, their comrade fell.


* * * * *​


The guard in the front swung his blade horizontally towards Vyran's midsection. He rolled under the singing steel as it sliced the air. His Graku — sickle — then sunk into the foot of the second guard. The unexpected man yelled as Vyran got back up on his feet, turning his body towards the first while delivering a rising strike with the other sickle, cutting the man's front vertically before the blade buried under the jaw, it's tip exiting through the mouth. Vyran then spun on his heel and sent the still yelling guard behind him flying across the room with a kick to the side of the head.


All in a fluid motion. Swift and deadly.


The first guard crumpled to the floor, his lower jaw ripped from the body to hang bloodily over the assassin's weapon. Fountain of blood sprayed from the man's throat. Whereas the second man flew over the bed, spearing through the pillars to the silken canopy atop of it, to then crash into the bottom of a wardrobe on the other side of the room, with the sickle still stuck on a foot.


Vyran then dashed for the third guard, leaping over the sword going towards his knees. He kicked at the wall nearest to him in midair, altering his own trajectory and made his way behind the third while at the same time, wrapping the loose chain — where its sickle was stuck in the other guard's foot — around the third man's neck. Vyran pulled his hand down while pressing his back against the now struggling strangled man. He looked up just in time to tilt his head sideways, avoiding the blade from the final guard.


His hood gave way, splitting from the clean cut, revealing the assailant's skeleton mask for them to see. Vyran's target stumbled backwards, tripping over himself to then crash into the bedside table. His guard, momentarily distracted, glanced back.


A huge mistake!


Tsaruu Rari trembled as Desdian's head fell to his lap. “WAIT! Wait, please, wait!” the councilman croaked, pleading. “I-I-I'll pay you double! Double of whatever they're offering you! J-j-just spare me! Please! I got gold!” he slapped the head away, kicking the body as he negotiated.


Vyran scooped Desdian's sword with his foot, flinging the blade up into the air before he caught it and threw the weapon across the room. The sword then pierced through the chest of the remaining guard who was groaning at the pain in his foot. Now, finally silenced at the finishing blow. Then, he finished his job, planting his other sickle into the skull of his target right after dropping the body pressed against his back. Tsaruu Rari's mouth fell agape, his eyes rolled slightly up and his body stilled.


Retrieving his other Graku, it was time to make his exit. Vyran headed for the window. But before he could leap through, a flash of steel forced him to raise his forearm in defence. The bolt got deflected by the chains wrapped around his forearm. He frowned and peered out the window. More bolts rained through, dotting themselves along the window sill as well as at the ceiling.


He turned and made for the door. Planning to go towards the opposite wing of the mansion. However, troops of heavily armoured man blocked his path. They came pouring into the hallway from the staircase. With shields out in front of them, and spear jutting, there was no way he could leap over them. They were also packed tightly together. Disciplined. Determined. Trained.


And Vyran got a gut feeling, they were also well-informed..


“DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!” their in-charge commanded.


Vyran had no other choice but to comply.


“Apprehend him!” the man ordered. “Try anything foolish and it'll be the end of you, Var'Qo Zaat!” he then turned to another man, “See to the bodies!”


Soon, Vyran was in shackles. Kneeling but still with his masked-face held high.


They knew we were coming!


They were expecting us!


Our exits were covered!


They knew!


Treachery!


Betrayal!


We got back-stabbed!


But who else would know?


The Light Hand?


No!


Can't be!


Why would they?


But if they knew, why come now? Why come right after the job is done?


Politics!


We are their scapegoat!


They need someone to blame!


The Light Hand!


They'll deny it! They'll deny having any part in this!


We are caught!


Not good!



Getting caught is as good as dead!
 
The following was originally posted by @Darkfeather21 in the previous IC

@Darkfeather21
as

Shasashi

______​

Location: Pompoe, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The eleventh hour of night (11 P.M.)

______

Shasashi strolled through the city market, watching as merchants started setting up their stalls and wares. Gaming city this may be, people still needed a central place to buy things. Stores were great and all, but this... Outdoor markets were something almost every city she'd been to had. A near constant of all societies.


As were beggars.


"Grandpa Romas," she greeted the old T'Odis man sitting on a carpet with a small bowl in front of him. It already had a few coins in it, though she suspected those were placed there by Romas himself. No one ever wanted to be the first to donate, so it was a good idea to start the ball yourself.


Despite his age, the elderly man was still obviously quite capable, save for his blindness. He was a very large, muscular man, with a few obvious scars from his days spent as a mercenary. His skin and hair betrayed his heritage, though his blue eyes were clouded, leaving them milky white, with only a faint tinge of the original color.


"Hello, my child," the elderly man nodded as she sat next to him. He perked up as he head a few coins hit the bowl. "I presume you have questions for me."


"I was wondering what your keen ears might have overheard," she murmured, dropping her head to mimic his position. "A city like this, there must be much wealth to... Redistribute."


"Indeed there is, my child. Indeed there is," Romas replied, shifting his position ever so slightly. "A councilman by the name of Tsaruu Rari holds a great deal of wealth that could be redistributed."


"Tsaruu Rari," Shasashi nodded. That was a name she'd heard spoken by others in this city. A fairly important man, constantly guarded. Would be a fair test of her abilities.


"I've also hear rumor that an assassin has been hired, possibly by rivals on the council," the T'Odis man continued. "Meaning the security at the mansion will be in chaos."


Shasashi grinned. Even better. No one would notice someone as small as herself slipping in and making off with a bit of coin. She might even be able to do so multiple times, depending on how careful she was.


"My thanks, Grandpa Romas," Shasashi thanked the old beggar, dropping a few more coins into his bowl. Romas smiled and gestured his thanks as she walked away quickly.


~~~~~

The sun was just peeking over the horizon as Shasashi slipped over the wall around the Councilman's mansion. She quickly moved through the gardens, avoided guards as they patrolled the area. Clearly the assassination attempted hadn't started yet. Or the assassin was more the type who slipped in and out unnoticed. Less of a statement killer. More serious.

Rather annoying and usually kind of full of themselves for it.


Making sure there were no guards nearby, Shasashi quickly scaled the side of the mansion, clambering quickly up some ivy-covered lattice work. Normally a bad idea, as lattice was notoriously fragile. She, however, was a very small woman, and so the wood was able to hold her negligible weight.


The window to the second floor at the top was open, letting the morning breeze blow in and sweep the stuffy night air from the building. The perfect entrance for a thief like herself. People really needed to learn how to close these.


As she thought this, a maid turned the corner of the hall, carrying a large load of sheets. They were clearly obstructing her vision, allowing Shasashi a moment's grace to slip through a door directly across from the window.


Unfortunately, that turned out to be a linen closet, that the maid opened moments later. Shasashi immediately lashed out, striking the maid in the temple with the butt of her dagger. She immediately crumpled to the floor, with a sick crack as her head struck the ground. Shasashi quickly lifted and shoved the possibly-dead maid into the closet, along with the sheets, and latched the door shut, before moving on.


The house was eerily silent, save for the occasional guard patrolling the hallways. According to the information she'd picked up on her way here, this was expected, as the master bedroom was on the other side of the house. Most of the guards would be clustered around that area, most likely.


So Shasashi made her way towards the other side of the floor, looting rooms as she passed, amassing quite a haul of coins, jewelry, and a few small weapons, all packed away in a burlap sack she'd carried with her into the mansion. A bit stereotypical, yes. But effective.


As she neared the master bedroom, she heard a commotion ahead. Sounded like fighting. So the assassin was the showy type, it seemed. Good. A bit of chaos meant no one would be looking for little old her. She approached the corner of the hallway and peered around, watching the assassin fight through numerous guards while chasing his quarry. Unfortunately, his quarry escaped into the master bedroom, meaning the guards would go there.


Growling in disappointment, Shasashi turned back to go the other way, only to see the butt of a sword flying towards her-


~~~~​


"Secure her," the captain called over his shoulder, rushing past. "She's probably involved in what's going on ahead."


Everett quickly pulled his shackles and bound the wrists of the small Nomasdae woman. Or at least, he tried to. The shackles proved too large for her small wrists and hands, quickly slipping over her hands and falling off.


Sighing, Everett looked around for something else that could be used, and eventually settled on tying her wrists together with his own belt, before peeking in the sack she'd been carrying with her. It was filled with gold and jewelry. Huh. Nothing but a common thief, it appeared. Still. Orders were orders.


Looking around the hallway, Everett reached in and pocketed a necklace with an emerald gem when no one was looking at him. The Councilman probably had more jewelry than he knew what to do with. Surely no one would miss one necklace. And Heide would love it.
 
The following was originally posted by Kayso Kayso in the previous IC


Kayso Kayso
as

Mhisri Mhornn

_____​


Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The first hour of morning (1 A.M.)

_____


Mhisri found solace every time she found a library. The people weren't bad - in fact, most people didn't seem to mind her at all - but people were dynamic. They were impulsive, unpredictable, explosive. Books did what they were expected, and they presented her with glorious facts, lyrical stanzas, rules. She could feed her hunger for knowledge here, and escape the erratic real world for a little while. She could breathe in ink and dust and breathe out love and perfection. Breathe in, breathe out...


This library was no different than all the rest, in that she was the only one there, other than the bookkeeper. The old man had looked startled, then pleased as she walked in and buried herself in a dusty, lamp-lit corner, just like all the others had. "That's a good one there!" they had all thought as they watched her, occasionally directing her to some section or another. She would return to each library for days, picking over the shelves, delight in her eyes and lips and fingers as she found a brightly colored tome she hadn't yet read, or an old favorite she couldn't get enough of. She would be sad to leave, not knowing how long it would be until she found another. She would be sad to leave this one. She had found a collection of letters between Parshumians and their loved ones in T'Odis during the war, and it brought a smile to her lips. It made her think of her grandfather, and the home she wished they had.


Mhisri sat for a long time reading, learning, wishing. "The Art of Basketweaving" by Raevena Lark - not her most exciting read, but it killed a few hours. She'd paid for her last night in the loft of Mawdry's Tavern, and was on her way to the next town, and hopefully the next library. She'd have to keep close to lakes and rivers so she could pay her way with her fishing, since most people loved the flesh and she sold relatively cheaply. She didn't need much by way of money, and could catch twice as much as anyone else, so she did well. It was a relatively easy living, and relatively quiet. Just the way she liked it.


This night wasn't all that quiet though. In the distance, from where she had come, was a sound like rolling thunder and a taste like fear. If a storm was coming, she would need to find shelter soon. Or maybe she could stay in her cozy corner here in the library and wait it out. The bookkeeper didn't seem to have anywhere else to be anytime soon. He brought her a steaming mug of something sweet.


"Here, dear. It feels like it's going to be a cold night."


"Thank you" she replied. "It smells like honey and Kenunyha."


"Yes, my dear. It'll warm you up."


"Kenunyha is often used as an anxiolytic."


"Yes, well, it tastes pretty good going down, regardless."


"Thank you." she said again, and he walked back to his table. He had a cup for himself waiting there.


An anxiolytic. She didn't know why, but it seemed appropriate tonight. The storm seemed to get closer. It looked like she would be staying here for a while.
 
The following was originally posted by King Ad Rock King Ad Rock in the previous IC
(This is where King Ad Rock takes over the control of all pirate characters including Adam Durant from now on)


King Ad Rock King Ad Rock
as
Ziek, Adam Durant, and the Pirates

_____​


Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, day 15


Time: Between the fourth and fifth hour of morning (4:15 A.M.)

_____​

I fell into a burnin' ring of fire

I went down, down, down

And the flames went higher

And it burns, burns, burns

The ring of fire, the ring of fire

_____​


"With me boysh!" yelled Silas, who had kind of sobered up. He was leading five other men with the purpose of hunting down whatever had attacked Grayson. Silas carried a large spring powered harpoon that he was fond of. A battle-axe hung at his waste. Three other sailors carried crossbows and had nets strapped to their backs. Nef was in the back, holding an ornate longsword that had once belonged to the ex-quartermaster. All the weapons were primarily used for battling sea monsters, but they worked just as well on most creatures. The five remaining crew were left to their own devices. One man had stayed at camp.


"Melander guide me! It really is a monster. Oh Azae! It’s going to eat that guy!" One of the men with a crossbow began to panic. The group stopped in awe as they watched the soon to be snack grab the beasts tongue.


"Woah!" Even Nef was shocked when the giant threw the man, effectively ripping out its own tongue.


"UUOOOOOOHHHH!" Crimson sparks exploded from Garnerge's mouth as he screamed.


"Now'sh da chance!" Silas's high energy made him an effective leader in a fight. "Zweal, Goro, Gregory! Flank that thing while I distract." The drunken Roadalian advanced towards the beast. "Hey, fuck face! You want some of this?" Silas held the harpoon at waist level and made some pelvic thrusts in Garnerge's direction.


"Blou splink blou gah bousst blee." The words were unintelligible through the black globules of bile pouring from the beast’s mouth.


"Thought ya'd like dat!" With a twang and a zing the harpoon buried itself in the monster's chest. Garnerge roared again, this time louder. A net flew out of the darkness, attached to three crossbow bolts, and snarled itself around Garnerge's left arm and head. The giant attempted to face the new attackers but Silas yanked the line attached to the harpoon, keeping the beast attention on him. "That's right! Come to papa. Come get so- Oh SHIT!"

_____​


Several buildings in Jakka's Crossing had been reduced to rubble by the sizable beast that was Garnerge. Large wooden splinters, some the size of whole planks, riddled both of his knuckles. The beast had used his fists like two tremendous war-hammers, smashing the old wooden buildings as if they were made of mere parchment. He had ripped men, women, and children apart with his bare hands, shoving their limbs and entrails into his ferocious chops. The night had turned into one of those horror stories that soldiers whisper to one another during wartime.


Several small fires were burning around the village now, possibly caused by knocked over torches, or caused purposely by Garnerge himself.


He had tossed his first opponent on this puny rock far into the night’s sky, which had now welcomed a terrifying morning. His second opponent gave a bit more of a fight while cutting him down and ripping his tongue out of his putrid, gaping mouth. Garnerge could feel a terrible itching and burning sensation as his tongue slowly grew back within his jaws. But this opponent too proved to be only good for one round, now defeated and groaning in the grass.


"Hey, fuck face! You want some of this?" screamed another tiny challenger. Garnerge turned his massive frame to face the calling taunt. The minute little man had some type of large and pointed weapon in his hands, while gyrating his hips in Garnerge’s direction in a heckling way.


"Blou splink blou gah bousst blee." Garnerge made an attempt to respond to the curious creature, but his tongue had not yet grown back and globs of coagulated blood flew from his purplish lips.


In a split-second the pointed end of the man’s weapon shot from his grasp and lunged itself deep into the chest cavity of Garnerge, creating a devastating wound. He roared out in a horrifyingly inhuman manner. Some type of trap net mechanism shot from the projectile and wrapped around his left arm and head.


Despite his cries of pain, Garnerge was ecstatic. If his master had deemed it fit to grant him a body with anatomical correctness, his attackers would have seen just how ecstatic. They were fighting desperately for their lives, and there was nothing Garnerge enjoyed more then feasting on the flesh of those who fought back.


"Thought ya'd like dat!" His attacker shouted at him. Garnerge could sense others with the intent of combat moving on his left. The man made a feeble attempt at pulling the gigantic Garnerge towards him. It was a pathetic game of tug-of-war that he had no chances of winning with the beast-man.


"That's right! Come to papa. Come get so- Oh SHIT!" The man’s last words were shouted while flying through the air. Garnerge had tired of his unintelligible mocking, and with a quick and effortless pull of his left hand he both tore the net with ease and pulled his opponent hurdling towards him.

_____

Pinch me

Pinch me

Cause I’m still...Asleep…

Please God, tell me

That I'm still asleep

_____



During the run back to Jakka’s Crossing, Ziek had managed to hook his uninjured left arm around Izem’s chest and swung his body onto the man’s back, allowing him to ride in a piggyback carrying style. Izem was bewildered, angered, and protested the entire time, but Ziek fought for his more comfortable position regardless. The awkwardness of wrapping his legs tightly around his carrier’s waist bothered him not. As they moved through the jungle, he even began slapping the rear end of his ride in jest while giving hearty “Hyahs” into his ear. He was impressed with how Izem handled all of this, for Ziek was not a small man.


But despite the comical façade, Ziek felt a pang of dread deep within the pits of his stomach as they moved closer and closer to the scent of burning corpses. What choice did he have in the matter now? And when they finally broke through the mass of trees into the small clearing of Jakka’s Crossing, his eyes widened in horror. He now knew why he felt the way he did.


Almost as if a key had entered some kind of lock in his mind, the memories of the night before came flooding back to him. The storm cloud, the dark orb that descended from it, and the beast-man that formed from that. His attempted escape up the enormous corl, and the monstrosity’s ability to rip the massive tree from its roots and toss it like a pebble. It was all real.


The entire village was on fire. Every small wooden shack and home was ablaze. Screams of terror and pain filled the morning. Buckets of blood stained the luscious grasses and bushes of each destroyed building. The smell of rusted iron filled the air. There were several piles of bodies collected spots around town. Some were on fire themselves, the smoke from their carcasses lifting off into the jungle. In a hellish display, corpses were skewered onto trees and placed over the sizable fires, many also seemingly made from bodies.


Ziek had seen traumatic battlefields in his days, but this trumped anything his mind’s eye could conjure.


Standing amongst the chaos, every detail of his nightmarish appearance now visible with sun in th


e sky, was the behemoth whose name Ziek could now remember –


“Garnerge.”


His inhumanely muscled back was turned to Ziek, Adam, and the rest of the pirates. At their moment of entry into this macabre scene, Garnerge was swatting a man out of the air as if he were some kind of insect, sending him crashing and rolling into the dirt. Ziek, with his right arm still in the sling and his left hand clutching Izem’s neck and shoulder just a bit too tightly, shakily spoke,


“Turn around… Run the other way, NOW!”


He had only uttered the last word just a decibel above a whisper, but Garnerge cocked and turned his head around as if hearing it acutely. His yellow almost glowing irises and slit-like pupils met and locked directly with Ziek's gaze. Garnerge slowly smiled from ear-to-ear.


“Holy Azae…” This time it was Adam who spoke, the shock clear in his voice as he took in the ghastly view.


"R..run...run..run...RUN!” A voice called out from their right, behind some bushes.


“See? Even the plants are telling us to hightail it out of here!” Ziek pleaded with Izem. A bearded and burly Kildran man, who had looked like he had seen better days, burst through the brush and limped towards them at a hurried but slow-moving pace. He was covered in dirt and small cuts, and blood dripped from both of his fists, collecting in a trail behind him. It appeared he was holding something tightly in his right grip.


Somewhere further back in town, a woman’s voice cried out, audibly crystal clear as many of the other screams had died out by then, “My Child! Oh holy Azae, why did you take my daughter from me!?”


“It’s a person, and they look hurt.” Izem answered, apparently still not noticing the goliath whose attention was now fully on them.


"Look around, dirt-skin. Everyone is fuckin' hurt! There’s a person walking around over there without his fuckin’ arm! Let's get outta here!" Ziek was now shaking Izem by his shoulder and neck somewhat violently to get his attention and show that he meant business.


“Izem! Take a look at that man! Rat! Mosi! Let’s cut this ugly bastard down! I can see Nef and the others on the other side of ‘im!” Adam barked the orders at his crew. Ziek’s demands of retreating would not be taken seriously. Adam drew a long dagger from its sheath at his waist and cautiously made his way forward with Mosi and Rat by his side, each pulling their own short blades.


”Fuck this Ziek had tried to warn them, and with his warning now ignored, he decided to ditch his clueless ride. Without even a moment to think it through, Ziek released the grip of his legs around Izem’s waist and attempted to put all of his weight on his injured right foot. Flashes of light burst inside of his head as blinding pain sent him crashing into the dirt floor. His tailbone now hurt as well.


“Oh no, pick me back up! I’ve made a mistake!” But Izem, now free from his literal burden, jogged forward to meet with the other injured man, who was now beginning to collapse onto his knees. Izem reached the Kildran warrior and was able to get his arm around his shoulder and helped him back up to his feet. A slab of some kind of meat was still clenched tightly in the warrior’s right hand. It slapped Izem in his puffy cheek as Kael swung his arm around Izem’s neck. Izem looked at the bloody slab with confusion and revulsion. A black mark of goo was left on his face.


“Come, let’s get you to safety.” Izem assured his new companion. He helped the man limp back towards the trees and forest that the group had came from and away from the fiery chaos of the town clearing. As they got towards Ziek, he reached out to them,


“Yeah, me too.” Izem continued past Ziek, ignoring him. “Wait! Hey! Don’t leave me!” Ziek started to crawl through the dirt and grass, on just his uninjured left elbow and two knees, after the two men.
 
The following was originally posted by King Ad Rock King Ad Rock in the previous IC


King Ad Rock King Ad Rock
as

Garnerge and the Pirates

_____​


Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Between the fourth and fifth hours of morning (4:45 A.M.)


_____

The T’Odis pirate named Nef held his long sword in front of him, trying his best not to shake with fear. He recalled the stories his grandfather told him as a boy of his days lost in the Dark Seas. He told him stories of finding an island of giants and washing up on their shores. His father would tell young Nef that his grandfather was a senile old fool. But now there Nef stood, just over seven feet himself, and this man beast easily had a couple of feet on the T’Odis and possibly hundreds of pounds with its rippling muscular body. The creature that stuffed human limbs into its gullet was not like anything he had ever seen before. And he had seen some extraordinary things in his time with Adam and the others. He now knew in that exact moment that otherworldly abominations could exist.


Nef gathered himself, realizing the monstrosity was eyeing him from just a few feet away, with what appeared to be a grin plastered on its hideous face. The fires in Jakka’s crossing were becoming tremendous blazes roaring around the few survivors with large clouds of black smoke billowing into the sky. He could feel the heat as the sweat dripped down his forehead. Silas was lying some yards where Nef could still see him. His back was turned to him. Nef hoped his companion was still breathing. He held his trusty sword in position, and charged Garnerge with everything he had moving in his legs. Moving closer with each passing step, he watched as his oversized intended target stayed motionless, waiting for Nef’s arrival.


“Now boys! While Nef has the monster distracted!” A voice shouted from a top of one of the few building left in the village that was not destroyed. It came from Zweal, one of the other pirates. Him, Goro and Gregory had scaled one of the nicer and bigger buildings in Jakka’s Crossing to get better vantage points with their crossbows while Silas distracted Garnerge. They had hopped over a railing and gotten onto the second floor balcony. With Goro and Gregory kneeling on each of Zweal’s sides, they shot in unison. The sounds of their drawstrings were almost indistinguishable from each other. The bolts flew from their weapons.


Garnerge did not move, or even turn his head to the sound of Zweal’s voice. Instead, he lifted his left arm in a lazily fashion, allowing two of the bolts to sink into his forearm. The third bolt was from Zweal’s crossbow and was more accurate. It found its way into Garnerge’s cheek, knocking out several of his sharp, wolfish teeth. He plucked it from his face as if it was nothing but a thorn. At this time, Nef had finally made his way to the beast. Summoning the strength of his T’Odis blood, he raised his long sword up high above his head and went for a downward killing blow to the sternum of Garnerge, but the blade would not find his chest.


Garnerge reached quickly with his massive right hand and used his palm to block the blow. The blade of the ornate sword went between his middle and ring finger and dug deep into hand, almost separating it into two halves. Before Nef could pull his sword back and go for another more devastating blow, Garnerge wrapped his gargantuan finger around the weapon as his darkly colored blood oozed from his open palm onto the blade. Acting as if there were no resistance from the other end, Garnerge violently yanked the sword from Nef’s grips.


Nef was mortified, but not deterred. He quickly reached for the dagger he usually kept sheathed on his chest, but he was not quick enough. Garnerge reached out with his left hand, the two crossbow bolts still sticking out of his forearm, and engulfed Nef’s entire head within his fist. The T’Odis pirate tried to scream out, but his cries were instantly muffled out by Garnerge’s palm.


“Fire again!” Zweal called out in desperation. Goro and Gregory had already reloaded and aimed. They pulled their triggers in unison yet again. All three bolts hit Garnerge in the left side of his throat, usually a killing blow, but he again made no reaction to them.


“Nef! Rat! Mosi! Hurry the fuck up! He’s going to-“ Adam began racing ahead of Mosi and Rat to try to get to Nef in time, but stopped dead in his tracks and cut himself off when Garnerge flexed his arm.


Nef’s squirming body became limp in a split second. Blood, chunks of flesh, and brain matter, almost impossible to tell which was what, oozed out between Garnerge’s fingers. His colossal shoulders started to heave up and down. He was chuckling.


“He’s killed Nef!” Adam turned to his two men as he tried to keep his composure. He needed to stay a leader if they were to kill this thing. They had someone to avenge now. “Are you ready?” Mosi and Rat, although visibly shaken, both agreed.


Silas came to consciousness while face down in the earth. He lifted himself up and spit blood and dirt from his mouth. Something wasn’t right. The front of his face burned worse then the nether regions of a Libertian whore. He had never felt a pain like this before, and to make things more curious, there was something invading the vision of his right eye. Bringing himself to a seating position, he brought his hand up and touched what he thought was something stuck to his face. The pain surged to levels he did not think was possible. What he thought was something stuck to his cheek under his eye was in fact his nose, knocked all the way to the right and severely broken.


“Come on you fucks, aim for his damn face! Fire!” Zweal, Goro, and Gregory sent another volley of bolts at Garnerge. Perhaps spurred by Zweal’s words, all three shots found some connection with Garnerge’s head. One hit him in the jaw while the other two found themselves in close proximity on his upper brow. This time Garnerge did turn his attention to the bowmen. He dropped Nef’s headless body, temporarily abandoning his plan to lick his palm clean. He crouched down and bent his mammoth knees into a squat position and in an amazing display, launched himself high into the air in a forward and diagonal direction, towards the building the three men were occupying. His gigantic frame somehow flew through the wind with grace. Zweal and his two allies watched on with obvious looks of fear. Zweal tried to call out to them.


“He’s coming right for us! Jump down n-“ Garnerge came crashing into building like a comet. Debris flew in all directions and the sound of wood cracking echoed out as he disappeared into the hole he created in the balcony and sidewall of the building. The three men who once stood in the now destroyed part of the balcony were gone, nowhere to be seen.


“Son of a…” Silas spoke to himself and trailed off. His nose was destroyed. He would show this demon the meaning of the ancient King Amollus’ Laws of Kildra. Eye for an eye. Limb for a limb.


“Nose for a nose, you fucker!” Silas shouted as he rose to his feet. His harpoon was now gone to an unknown spot. He pulled the battle-axe that hung at his waist and began sprinting towards the building that Garnerge had just crashed into, with a bit of a limp from his previous failed attack.
 
The following was originally posted by Kayso Kayso in the previous IC


Kayso Kayso
as

Mhisri​

_____​


Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The fifth hour of the morning (5 A.M.)


_____​


Mhisri was dreaming. They were not of the pleasant sort, however, but of strange contorted figures and unrecognizable sounds. She found herself trying to listen, trying to see. After all, she had read that dreams were just a collection of thoughts, ideas, memories, and external stimuli manifesting themselves during the various restful periods of the brain. She was a heavy sleeper too; her dreams were often vivid. Though she couldn't help but think that this particular dream was more subject to the 'external stimuli' bit. She listened more closely: the unrecognizable sounds became haunting, hollow screams. The contorted figures grew thin and began to become bathed in a dull light. The screams grew louder.


The librarian was shaking her. Mhisri opened her eyes fully and turned her head to face him. Had she stayed too long? Was the library closing? He didn't look angry or tired though. In fact he looked absolutely terrified.


"My dear, you must go, something is coming and it leaves death in its wake!"


"What? What did you say?"


"Go, NOW!"


Mhisri was fully awake now, the reality of her dream weighing in on her. The screams were real, and they were coming from outside, not very far away. The abundance of books lining every crevasse of the library walls had provided a thick, papery insulation that muffled many sounds, including those of terror. Mhisri jumped to her feet, a pile of books falling noisily to the ground, and ran to the nearest window. The librarian protested and begged her to leave again.


"Where will you go?" she asked him as she wiped the dusty glass with her sleeve, peering outside. Fires were blazing, and people were dead in the streets. How could so many people die in such a short time?


"There is a vault - all libraries have them for the more important literary specimens. There is no time for you to leave; you must-"


"There are vaults? In all libraries?" Mhisri asked, distracted. How did she not know about this?


"My dear, we must go, NOW!"


"Go to the vault, and I will meet you there. There are likely people out there who are hurt and need medical assistance, which I can provide. I've read all the books by Wheedin."


"But there are 206..." the librarian muttered, half to himself. He quickly regained his consciousness of the severity of the moment, however, and urged her to reconsider. "There is no hope for them, my dear!"


"There is always hope." Mhisri replied, picking up the book on basketweaving and the mug that held her tea, now only the thick lump of kenunyha leaves.


After a brief moment of recognized defeat, the librarian wished her luck, and headed to the back, making his way down a small set of stairs to the vault, which Mhisri heard open, close, and then seal with a heavy click. It was only a moment later that a fierce crashing sound and its physical counterpart destroyed the roof of the library.


The heavy wooden planks of the roof structure came crashing down with an alarming sound that filled every corner of the library, assaulting Mhisri’s ears and causing her to lose her balance. According to “The Art of Peaceful Combat and Self-Defense” by Bradyn Bhonse, a counterbalance could be achieved with a calculated backwards movement of the left leg, and Mhisri was able to remain standing. The force of the blast caused a rumble to erupt throughout the entire building, however, and the immense bookcase behind her tipped with alarming speed, and, gravity taking its hold, fell heavily upon her, knocking her to the ground in a shower of books and trinkets and bruises. Stunned and in pain, she lay under a small mountain of the shelf’s spilled contents as a figure emerged from the rubble.


Mhisri thought the figure to be only a large man, but the blurred outline of the rising creature kept growing, her unease becoming heavier and more caustic, until it stood nearly the height of two men, and almost as thick. As her vision sharpened and her awareness returned, Mhisri noticed a thick, black substance around the monster's mouth and several crossbow bolts stuck in his arms. He seemed to be interested in the ground around him, peering at the rubble with tiny, blooded eyes. He soon deserted any semblance of carefulness and plunged his hand into the closest pile of rubble, flinging the massive debris toward the back of the building. Smaller pieces fell on top of Mhisri's spine-bound camouflage, pressing the dulled corners of the books deeper into her skin. She didn't dare make a sound. She knew she didn't have the strength to fight this abomination. But she might have the wits to escape.


The monster had found what he was looking for. From the mound of rubble that he had assaulted with his fist he produced a body, which had flown with the wreckage to the back of the library, or what was left of it. The hulking beast walked to it, in only two or three massive steps, and picked it up. The body was limp, clearly lifeless. Mhisri had not seen it before, and wondered if it had been a result of the crash that had brought the monster inside. She didn't have room in her thoughts to wonder long, however, because the monster immediately placed the body in its mouth and, with a sickening CRUNCH had removed the torso from the rest of the limbs, one leg remaining between the creatures lips while the other leg and both arms fell to the floor. He chewed only enough to make Mhisri immediately sick to her stomach before swallowing and breaking loose another section of rubble on the floor. Perhaps there were more bodies, Mhisri thought. How long until he searches her section of the wreckage?


Mhisri needed to get out, hopefully while he was distracted with his body search. The mug she was carrying was shattered on the floor beside her head, close enough for her to push the lump of tea leaves into her mouth without moving many books. For the anxiety, she thought. Now for the escape. Her head was mostly covered, but there were a few gaps from which she could see out. Too much rubble lay heaped up on the floor and edges of the walls; the door would be inaccessible and the windows took too much time to open. The back way only led to the vault, and Mhisri didn't want to endanger the hiding librarian. It looked like her only means of escape was through the gaping hole in the ceiling.


Mhisri calculated the vertical distance to the roof and the difference between that and the height of the bookshelves that were still standing. Luckily the hole was massive and more than one bookshelf was in the ideal vicinity. Her 142 pounds of weight and the right angle would allow for the ability to cross that difference, though not without some effort. The standing shelves were only standing precariously, and she would have approximately 2.6 seconds before her added weight would tip the balance and begin a quick descent. The chair she had sat upon earlier and a minor distraction would be necessary to make it up and out before the monster could reach her, which would be about 3.1 seconds, according to his earlier jaunt to the back of the library and allowing for more speed which would likely be incurred by his discovery at finding something still alive and kicking in the rubble.


Another crash and shower of debris. The monster had found another body. This time he pulled the appendages from their sockets and chewed them one by one, seeming to savor this body a little more than the last. Putrid fluid ran down his chin. Now was her chance.


Grabbing hold of a mid-sized book, Mhisri pressed lightly against her paper cage, gauging the area of the heaviest weight. Finding it to be the space that weighed down between her shoulder blades, she pressed hard against it to make her emergence quicker. Books fell to the floor with a sound surprisingly softer than she had expected. It did not matter - the beast turned his head to see, a red and meaty arm dangling from between his teeth. But she was already on the move. Running to the chair, she jumped, her full weight pressed downward, and sprang up against the adjacent wall, kicking against it and launching herself in the opposite direction, landing about 2/3 up the height of the nearest bookcase, an action which propelled her higher than her own leverage would have managed. She clutched the shelf desperately as she heard the hulking mass at the other end of the room give a frightening chuckle and begin his chase. Just a split second more...


She threw down the book she had picked up, aiming for the unstable leg of a nearby shelf, which took the hit hard and began to tip in her favor. She continued to scramble up her own shelf toward the roof, her weight bringing it down as she suspected, before leaping one final time toward the splintered edge of an exposed support beam. The shelf that had been hit by her book fell now, right on schedule, as the beast reached the target of its heavy wooden structure. He caught it easily, however, and pushed it aside as if it were a bedsheet. But the distraction proved effective in that the second shelf, the one which Mhisri had climbed upon to the roof, now fell as well, its corner landing hard upon his massive foot. He didn't even flinch.


"Was that supposed to cause me pain, human? You will be very disappointed to know that I didn't feel it at all!"


I only wanted you to be hindered, Mhisri thought, as she swung her body to a solid section of the roof, lifting herself with her legs. And I have managed to do that, at least.


Mhisri ran - a grove of large trees was huddled at the edge of the library, and with enough speed and the right degree of force, just like she had read in "The Basic Law of Velocity" by Hugo L'Ironn, she just...might...make it...


The beast burst from the ground below, creating a new jagged hole in the roof, right behind Mhisri as she ran. She had no time to calculate her jump, but was rather thrown from the edge of the crumbling roof, her destination coming toward her much faster than she had anticipated. She hit the trunk of a tree with alarming force, shattering her collarbone and a couple ribs, thoroughly knocking the wind out of her. She managed to hold on to the large branch below her, and continued to hold on tight, the strain on her broken bones causing tears to form in her eyes. She looked up between sweaty wisps of hair.


Where was the beast?
 
The following was originally posted by @King Ad Rock as a collaboration post with @Kayso in the previous IC


King Ad Rock King Ad Rock
as

Ziek

Kayso Kayso
as

Mhisri​

_____​


Location: Jakka's Crossing, Libertia

Date: Month 6, Day 15

Time: The sixth hour of morning (6 A.M.)


_____

Ziek crawled as fast as he could after Izem and the Kildran he was helping. They made their way to just outside the clearing of town and through the trees. A panting Izem placed his companion against the trunk of a tree. He was struggling with carrying the heavyset warrior. Ziek came behind them, digging through the grass and panting himself. He was still just using his left arm and knee to get around, while dragging his injured right leg behind him.


“I can’t… believe… you left me…. After all… that we’ve been through.” Ziek jested as he found his own tree trunk to prop himself up. He barely got the sarcastic words out between pants of breath. From where Ziek was sitting, he now had an open view of the majority of the village. It was a hellish visual with body parts strewn about the grass and large fires burning almost every structure. The smoke was collecting in a thick cloud above the village in the bright sunny sky. Nearby cities would be aware that something was going on soon if they were not already. It appeared there was no one left alive.


There was one building still in tact about ten yards to the right of the group just outside the trees where the village clearing began. Ziek could hear crashing within its walls. Izem ignored Ziek and looked the man over. While doing this he tried to keep him conscious by talking to him. “What is your name?”


“…Kael…” He coughed out. His middle finger on his left hand was missing and the wound was bleeding profusely, already collecting blood on the dirt beside him. Izem tore a small bit from his pants and tied it tightly around his hand trying to stop the bleeding.


“I need you to hold on to th…” Izem trailed off when he looked at the Kael’s right hand. Clutched tightly in his grasp was a chunk of meat that seemed to Izem to be some kind of gigantic tongue. At the wound point of where it would have been disconnected from whatever it came from was uncharacteristically dark and dried blood. Izem attempted to hold back his gagging. It twitched and Kael jerked in sudden surprise.


“What the fuck is that?” Ziek questioned, now also aware of it due to its movement.


“I think you can let that go now my friend.” Izem said while moving to take the tongue from his hand. Kael yanked his hand back, refusing to give up his souvenir. It seemed he was somewhat out of it, possibly from the pain of internal wounds. Izem shook his head as if to say, “Fine, keep it.” He stood from his kneeling position by Kael and turned to Ziek to address him directly for the first time since meeting him.


“I must go help my comrades.”


“Listen, guy. I think your friends are done for. We should be all working on gettin’ as-“


“You may be right. They may all be dead. But I must go check.” Izem interrupted Ziek while turning back to the burning Jakka’s Crossing.


“Come on! You saw that thing! You’re gonna-“ But before Ziek could finish his thought, Izem ran full pace into the village clearing.


“Die…” Ziek said the last word to himself for Izem was gone and Kael was lolling his head around, in and out of consciousness. “I guess it’s just me and you now, huh?” Ziek asked Kael, not expecting an answer. It was at that moment that the sound of bursting and breaking wood came from the building beside them. Something hit the top of the tree that Ziek was leaning against causing its trunk to vibrate, and before Ziek could react to the very close sound of Garnerge’s roar, a body was on top of him.

_____​


The branch Mhisri clung to did not hold and she fell, though the drop was not a long one. As she braced herself for a solid collision, she was surprised when her body landed on something else. It wasn't soft, but it wasn't the ground, and it somewhat lessened the impact. Searing pain ripped through her shoulder and chest and she cried out in pain, struggling to sit up in order to take the pressure off her broken bones. The mass underneath her shifted and groaned, and Mhisri jumped, startled by the movement.


Ziek almost caught the mass of female body directly in his lap. The weight knocked the wind out of him with a quick “Whew!” The woman’s back crashed into Ziek’s right shoulder, still in a sling, and her rear end landed in his uninjured left hand. The pain shot through his arm yet again, but Ziek grimaced and bared it. Realizing who and what was in his hand, he gave a few gentle squeezes and said playfully but breathlessly,


“Oh squishy, thank you, but you need to get off of me.”


The woman was immediately recognizable as being Parshumian, but her hair and eyes were the first things that stuck out in Ziek’s mind when she looked up at him from his lap. Her hair seemed white like a T’Odis, but had waves of purple in it. He had seen people use dyes from the jungle to permanently change their hair color before, but this was more unique. Her eyes were also a piercing crystal blue. Ziek felt like they were gazing into his soul. He had never seen anyone like her before and for a moment he was frozen.


"Hey, I'm trying." she replied, wincing. "Give me a moment; I just fell out of a tree."


"Kael, I think our luck might be turning. Beautiful women are falling out of trees."


"Speaking of that, the odds of me falling out of a tree and having someone underneath to break my fall were about 28,466,159,013 to 1. Your timing was impeccable." She sat herself up, attempting to pull herself onto her feet.


Ziek stared at her in disbelief. “Uh… What!? You hit your head?”


"Mostly my clavicle, sternum, and thoracic region, actually. My head appears to be just fine, albeit slightly concerned at my being groped in such an inappropriate situation as this."


Mhisri stood, clutching one hand to her rib cage, the other against the trunk of the tree to keep her steady. It was hard to breathe. She noticed another man slumped on the ground against the trunk of the tree, an unsettling amount of blood flowing from his hand. She bent over to get a better look, ignoring the pain in her chest, and inspected the wound. His finger was completely gone. It would need to be stitched or cauterized.


A commotion caused her to pull her attention from the bleeding man and look toward the center of Jakka's Crossing. There was the monster, surrounded by a few men who still stood. Could they take him on? Could she help in any way? She could help this man, and maybe the other, who had broken her fall. She needed to get back into the library. She turned to tell the first man to watch over the other while she went back inside the building, but a rumbling sound interrupted her. The walls of the library began to crumble.

_____​

"Gigantic beast men that come from the sky and eat people? Probably the end of times? I can see no more appropriate time as this." Ziek joked while squeezing the air.


Ziek watched the walls of the library come crashing down under their own weight in an explosive display. A cloud of dirt and dust kicked up into the air surrounding them.


"Hope no one was in there." He said in a tone that hinted that he really did not care either way.


"That thing came from the sky?" Mhisri asked, an eyebrow raised in unabashed skepticism. "That seems highly unlikely, as he is not of the winged variety, and is far too heavy for any alternatives." She watched him continue his squeezing motion as she spoke. "You are stroking the air." she said to him. "Is fondling women a reflex of yours?"


“When they look like you, and it may be my last moments on Azae, then yes, absolutely.” Ziek said matter of factly.

_____​

As Garnerge exploded through the roof of the library, he could see that his destructive exit had caused the creature he was chasing to be propelled off of it and into the forest trees. He used his massive hands to pull his gargantuan frame from the wreckage. Pieces of broken wood, dust, and debris slid off of his head and long shoulders while he rose. With each thunderous step, the wood below his feet crumpled and the building shook. He slowly approached where he could smell the small creature in the canopy. With a deep breath in through his putrid nostrils he could determine that it was a female. Females of any species always had such sweeter meat.


Before Garnerge could leap from the rooftop and into the leaves of the corls right next to the library that the woman disappeared into, a harpoon pierced cleanly through his right shin. The harpoon was attached to a rope that instantly pulled, tugging Garnerge’s leg back. He turned his neck and head, still covered in crossbow bolts, to find the source of the shot.

About twenty yards from the west side of the library, in the middle of the village was Adam, Rat, and Mosi. Mosi had found Silas’s spring loaded harpoon launcher lying in the dirt. He had pulled on the rope and found the harpoon, covered in bits of the beast’s flesh and reloaded it. Now all three men were pulling with their lives on the rope, trying to bring Garnerge off of his feet.

Garnerge mockingly chuckled in their direction. The harpoon had passed all the way through his shin and was pushed up against the back of his calf. With their combined strength, they were succeeding in pulling him closer and closer to the edge. His right leg was raised in the air while left leg dragged and broke wood under his weight. Deciding to give them what they wanted, Garnerge leaped from the rooftop of the library and landed on the ground two stories below in a cloud of dirt.


Adam turned to his two companions and gave them a short speech in an attempt to boost their confidence.


“This beast has killed Nef, Zweal, Goro Gregory, and Silas. We can’t let it get away with that.” Adam was shaking, not with fear, but with another feeling altogether. One that didn’t make sense in this time and place. Adam was shaking with rage. “We are goin’ to rip this fucking thing’s head off and mount it to the front of the ship, do ya hear me?”


“But-“ Rat began to protest, the fear evident on his face.


“I SAID ‘do ya hear me?’” Adam restated the question. His teeth were gritted in obvious anger. Sweat dripped down his forehead to his cheek. Rat and Mosi had never seen him like this before.

“Aye, Cap’n!” the two pirates said in unison. They held their short swords up, on the ready. Mosi looked over Adam’s shoulder, who had slightly turned his back to the beast. Garnerge was now slowly making his way over to the group of men. In an almost epic display, had the monstrosity itself not caused it, the walls of the library began to crumble under their own weight behind him. The building came down almost in an instant, sending clouds of debris following Garnerge as he slowly moved towards them.


“He’s comin for us!” Rat yelled while pointing his sword in the behemoth’s direction. Adam quickly turned to find Garnerge picking up speed and closing the distance between them at an alarming rate.


“I guess he doesn’t feel like wastin’ any time! Ne’er do I!” With that said, Adam began the charge at the oncoming murderous creature with no hesitation. Pausing only for a slight moment to exchange glances that said more then they ever could with words, Mosi and Rat followed suit. As the three pirates got closer to the beast, Rat and Mosi widened the gap between them to try to flank Garnerge’s sides. With just a few yards between the opposing parties, the two men swiftly slid to their knees with the gained momentum from running behind them, and slashed away at his legs. The blades of their short swords sunk deep into the bulging muscles of Garnerge’s calves.


Mosi was able to make it by untouched, while Rat met a much different fate. Garnerge grabbed the pirate by his torso with his colossal hand as if he were nothing but a child’s doll, and tossed him like a living pebble high into the Libertian sky. Mosi watched in horror as his friend flipped around in the air, gaining so much propulsion that he disappeared over the Swazi Forest, his screams fading out in the distance.


AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!


Mosi did not have much time to even comprehend Rat’s terrifying death when a swinging backhand from Garnerge’s left fist struck him with the force of a boulder and sent him soaring off his knees and into the air himself. He hit the grass with a sickening limpness as his limbs flailed around like loose chunks of meat.


At the same time that Garnerge was making quick work of Mosi, Adam, who had ran in a straight line, had reached his target with a leap into the air with his sword drawn and pointed at the middle of Garnerge’s hulking chest. The tip of the blade pushed through the skin despite the strong resistance. Adam tried to put his entire leap into the thrust in an attempt to break through the sternum. The sword struck Garnerge’s bone and stopped suddenly. Adam yanked on the sword in an effort to pull it back and strike again but it was firmly stuck in Garnerge’s chest.


More mocking guffaws game from Garnerge’s monstrous vocal cords as he raised his blood-covered fist to bring down on Adam’s head. Adam gave up on his struggle with the sword when he released the hilt to his weapon and without wasting time, dove into a barrel roll through the opening of Garnerge’s legs.


There was no time to think for the pirate captain. The roll was almost flawlessly executed, and with an exploding jump, he was instantly upon his feet in a run from Garnerge. He had no plan. He had no weapon. His entire crew was dead. Yet there was still this nagging feeling in the back of his mind, cutting through his more serious and sudden thoughts. It was a voice that was telling him to go back and fight the unstoppable creature. An unexplainable rage burned deep within his chest and mind. But it was not this voice that caused him to stop dead in his tracks and turn around, but another more familiar one coming from behind him,


“SOMEBODY HELP ME! CAPTAIN!! HELP ME!!”

_____​

The dirt kicked up from Adam’s hasty skid to a halt. The voice was Izem’s, who Adam had forgotten he had left with the Tral-el hunter. But now there he was, inside the clutches of Garnerge. Had he attacked the beast while Adam was running away like a coward? He did not know. Izem was shouting, screaming furiously, and begging Azae for his life.


“AZAE! PLEEEASE! NO!NO!NO! OH GOD!”


Both of Garnerge’s gargantuan hands were wrapped tightly around Izem’s entire body with only his head and shoulders visible at the top and his feet dangling from the bottom. Garnerge was looking at Adam’s long time friend as if he was a child with some kind of treat, licking his lips in anticipation.


“ADAM!! HELP ME BROTH-“


What came next that silenced Izem was the most gruesome sight that Adam had ever witnessed. Garnerge opened his mouth in an unbelievably wide manner, and in a split second, brought his teeth down on Izem’s face. He did not take the pirate’s head in one chomp, instead taking the entire front portion of Izem’s face in a single clean bite, ripping it off as if were a mask to be detached. The last bit of skin stuck to the throat and eventually stretched and ripped like an undercooked piece of bacon. Fresh crimson blood sprayed forth from the skinned, writhing mug of Izem and covered the forehead and eyes of an ecstatic looking Garnerge with a red mist.


It was clear from the body convulsions and gurgling sounds coming from where Izem’s mouth once was that it was a not a quick death. Garnerge slurped his latest victim’s face skin with a frightful grin. Adam was frozen where he was while watching this, not being able to get his mind to take control over his muscles and continue to flee. The naked giant that had taken the lives of the brothers that Adam had held dear.


Blood mixed with saliva seeped from the corners of Garnerge’s mouth as he chewed. With a swallow, he was ready for his next, more filling bite. He brought his massive jaws down with a repugnant “click” of his jagged teeth on the neck of the still wheezing Izem, taking the pirate’s whole head now into his mouth and decapitating him. Garnerge chewed the mass in his cheeks with stomach churning crunches of Izem’s skull with each maneuvering of his jaw.


Adam watched on, his gaze never breaking and his feet never moving. Smoke filled the air as most the fires burned all around them. Not a cry or scream could be heard in the village anymore as they had all died out. The only noise left was the roar of the fires and Garnerge’s loud chewing. Then, in a trance like state, Adam called out to the still feasting Garnerge,


“What are you…?”


Garnerge looked up from his bloodied meal after tearing into Izem’s chest cavity with a look of interest. Unidentifiable organs hung from the sides of his mouth. Instead of swallowing his mouthful, he spit the disgusting contents onto the Libertian earth so that he could answer the pitiful creature,


“I am the one who has come to rid this rock of its festering life.” Garnerge’s words were unexplainably more articulate and understandable now. “I am the one who has come to bring a slow and painful death to each and every one of you delicious bags of flesh.”


Adam let his muscles succumb, dropped his weight, and fell to his knees in defeat. The beast did not give him a direct answer, but it was satisfactory either way. Garnerge was curiously eyeing the captain. After a moment, he tossed what was left of Izem’s corpse to the ground and made a slow stroll over to Adam. As Garnerge approached him, stopping a mere two feet from him, Adam’s eyes slowly closed. He could feel Garnerge’s hot breath from his nostrils. He tilted his head back slightly and his mouth opened to let out a whisper of two names:


“Maria… Chassi...” They would not get the life he had promised them.


Adam awaited his fate. To join his brothers in death. But all he heard and felt was Garnerge’s chuckle yet again, stomping, and the ground shaking beneath him.


He waited.


And waited.


And nothing.


Adam finally opened his eyes after what seemed like an eternity. His head darted back and forth, desperately scanning what was left of the village.


The beast was gone.

_____

Silas had watched Garnerge fly into the last intact building in Jakka’s Crossing like some kind of comet. He hobbled on his injured legs after him as fast he could with his battle-axe still drawn. The blood was now gushing from the open wound in his face where his nose once was. It was pooling into his mouth and in the back of his throat in alarming amounts, but it bothered him not.


In normal circumstances, Silas would have turned tail and fled after regaining consciousness, but a baffling rage was burning deep inside him. An urge to gain revenge on this inhuman garbage that destroyed his face and disfigured him for life that was too primal to ignore.


It took him a bit with his limp to get to the newly created entrance to the building with the destroyed wall. Silas struggled but successfully climbed over the wreckage and knocked over wall to get inside. Once inside, he discovered the building was a pretty elaborate library. The insides of which were now destroyed. Most of the tall shelves were knocked over or broken in half completely. Books and papers covered the floor to the point it was barely visible.


What Silas didn’t notice was that several of the supporting beams for the building were also taken out.


Above Silas, on the second floor, came the commotion. He laid his eyes directly on Garnerge just as the beast was exploding through the ceiling of the library. Silas took a deep breath in and bellowed out to the beast in a frenzied manner,


“HEY YOU STUPID, UGLY BASTARD! COME DOWN HERE AND GET ME! LET’S FINI-”


Garnerge either did not hear Silas’ taunts or did not care, for he continued his ascent to the roof through the newly created hole he just bashed in.


“Aye, you fuckin’ coward…” Silas trailed to himself. The stairs to the second floor were also brought to pieces on Garnerge’s initial entrance to the building, although it looked like Silas could use several bookshelves knocked into each other to climb onto the second floor.


While gingerly making his climb up the shelves, hoping not to dislodge anything and send the whole thing crashing down, Silas continued to grumble to himself,


“I’m goin’ tah cut off his nose an wear it roun’ my fuckin’ neck, I am… Giant fucker will remember the day he me-“


Before Silas could finish the thought the piercing sound of wood cracking and breaking under weight cut through his ears. It was in this very last moment that he realized what was happening.


“Fuck…”


The walls and roof of the library came crashing down.
 
The following was originally posted by Whisker Whisker in the previous IC​


Whisker Whisker
as

Abraxas​


_____​

Location: Swazi Forest, 6 KMs from Jakka


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Early Morning

_____​


KRACK! KRACK! WISHKRAK!


“HUUUUUUUUURAGHHHHHHH.”


Abraxas emerged from the undergrowth, grunting and sweating with his axe in hand. Vines roped his form, and he was covered from the waist down in muck and mire. To top it off, he was only wearing a single boot.


“VOKK!”


Fuck it all, indeed.



When he had fled his homeland on a Kildran mercenary vessel, he had expected life would get easier for him. He was largely ignorant of the world outside of the Lawless Lands, but he had heard rumor from the foreigners of green fields, huge cities without Justices, and so much wildlife that you couldn’t so much as go for a piss without spottin’ em in the fields.


For the longest time, he’d dismissed it as bullshit. Hogwash brought on by the grog. If those lands were so perfect and plum-ripe, then why wasn’t every jack whore and their grandmother packin’ the hell up and going back where they came from?


It wasn’t until he’d met that up-jumped holy man that he’d reconsidered his stance. When he spoke in those calm tones, he could make anyone believe. Didn’t matter he was talking about nonsense like magic words spouting from stones like snow in a summer storm. It was the way he did it. While other men had largely been chortling over the chipped rims of their tankards, he’d been as sober as Ol’ Whitebeard Varxas himself.


Conviction … No, Faith is what they called it.



But no amount of it was enough to turn Abraxas into a saint. He’d seen enough of the world to be suspicious of men who acted like their shit didn’t stink.


Even so, just a small amount of that self-same conviction had broken the spell. He left with no resentment, no regrets. The Yka Krups and all that bad luck could go hang themselves as far as he was concerned. Only … Well, not all the bad luck seemed to have deserted him. The last week or so was proof of that!


It started when that fat Kildran fuck in charge ran their vessel aground in the middle of the Swazi Forest. Punctured and taking on water, the ship had listed and spilled man after man into the torrential, churning white of the meandering river. Abraxas had been drunk when it all went down; he couldn’t even remember when he’d gone down, and how he hadn’t been sucked away like the rest – a bloody miracle, he supposed.


When he’d come to, he was half-buried in the muck some a hundred meters away from the vessel. He still remembered the shit-like taste in his mouth mixed with his own blood. It’d taken him nearly half the night to first peel himself out of the muck, light a fire, and then deal with the abhorrent amount of creepy slug-like things (leeches) he’d found wiggling about in his pants.


And that had only been the beginning.



When he’d awoken, he’d nearly been blinded about the sheer amount of green shit all around him. Everywhere he looked, green, green, green. It had taken him almost an entire morning to figure out that those twisty, gnarled leafy things were Libertia’s idea of trees.


Trees!


In T’Odis, you could walk for days in some places without seeing so much as a twig if you were unlucky. And in the event you did happen to find some stout oaks enough to build a fire, they were often thick, and devoid of vegetation save in the very early reaches of the season when you could find them awash in reds, oranges, and browns. But he had never once encountered trees of this kind.


Must be something wrong with’em. Poisoned, most like. No touch.


And thus had begun his slow, lumbering journey east with his axe in hand. If anyone had been around to see him, they’d have probably bust a gut from laughing. After all, how many hop-scotching, tree-avoiding, bug-covered albino giants did one see thrumping around the jungle?


Probably not very many who had heads still to speak of.



Even so, he continued, whacking foliage out of his path as he went like some otherworldly version of Paul Bunyan. This afternoon, however, he’d had the misfortune to rile up some small lizard beast while trying to kick back for a swig left in his only usable skin. The beast had come charging out all in a tizzy, and in his surprise, the big giant had toppled off the edge of the hill, rolled down and plopped right into another mud pit.


By the time he’d come out, his left boot was missing and he stank like the dickens. Now, sitting and brooding on his stump, he found himself sulking more than usual.


I hate this place …



But his body wouldn’t let him sulk for long. The sun was beating down on him so hard he could scarcely stand it. Reluctantly, he left his secure stump to move back towards the sick-trees where shade was sure to be found. As he approached them and started to lean beneath the branches, he paused … and then drew up right again. It could’ve been just his imagination, thanks to how bad this shit hole smelled, but it could’ve been he detected a whiff or two of smoke … and something far worse.
 
The following was originally posted by King Ad Rock King Ad Rock as a collaboration post with Kayso Kayso in the previous IC​


Kayso Kayso
as

Mhisri Mhornn


King Ad Rock King Ad Rock
as

Ziek Sidane, Kael Gilgrend & Adam Durant​

_____​

Location: Jakka’s Crossing, Libertia
Date: Month 6, Day 15

Time: 9th hour of the Morning (9 A.M.)

_____​


Dust swirled in the air, coating Mhisri’s hair, skin and clothing as she braced herself against the final collapse of the library. She opened her eyes, taking in the sight of the pile of debris before her, no longer walls, roof and comfort contained therein, but shattered stonework, a single support beam, and a bittersweet memory. She suddenly remembered the old librarian - she would have to make sure he survived.


Moving as quickly as she could, still wincing in pain, she headed toward the edge of the rubble, taking hold of a section of wall and pulling herself up. The action of putting her weight on her arm caused a searing pain to rip through her collarbone, shoulder and chest, and she fell to the ground again in a struggling heap. Devising another method, she located a more gradual sloping entryway, stumbling her way up the large piles of stone and wood, the dust still settling. What she saw when she reached the top made her forget her search.


The beast, a short distance away, tossed a man’s corpse to the ground, or at least what was left of it. His interest had apparently shifted from what was in his hand to what was on the ground before him: another man, on his knees. He walked slowly, the ground still shaking, toward him. Mhisri almost cried out to distract the beast, but she needed a plan first. Anger swelled within her, making her blood boil and flush the skin around her throat and chest. Looking around her she saw many jagged and dangerous pieces of the building that could be used as weapons, but she wouldn’t be able to wield them as such. She could construct a rudimentary cheval de frise and lure him to it, though. She began attempting to lift split wooden beams and construct them as such, the pain in her body only fueling the new anger that had swiftly arisen and she ignored it. She would destroy this beast or die trying…


She realized after a moment that the noise had died down. Vibrations no longer moved through the ground, signifying the movement of the beast. There was only the crackling of fire and… nothing. The beast had gone again, only this time she felt it was for real.

_____

Ziek brought his left, uninjured arm over his face in an attempt to shield it from the oncoming dirt and debris cloud from the collapsed library. Particles slammed into his face and flew into his eyes and up his nostrils as the cloud reached them in a speedy huff. Dirt and fragments of wood forced their way into his lungs causing him to hack and cough violently. As the dust settled, Ziek brought his arm down to find his female companion scurrying towards the downed building through the still settling cloud.

“Hey! Where the hell are you going!?” He shouted to her, but she paid him no mind and continued on. Ziek watched her struggle to get herself over the wreckage of the downed walls and into what was left of the building. He took this moment to get a good look at what he was working with and ogled her from behind just as she was bent over part of wall.


“Not bad at all.”


The smell of charred bodies and burning wood filled the air. Ziek was doing everything in his power to keep at bay the memories this specific smell brought up. Despite his aloof façade, Ziek was internally struggling with everything he had experienced and witnessed in the past few hours. It was eerily silent all around them, save for the sound of the crackling fires.


“The end of the world in the form of a cannibalistic beast-man appears from the clouds and everyone decides they’re just going to keep running towards it, eh Kael?” Ziek spoke out loud to his other companion. The Kildran warrior was now slumped over on his side and gave no response. From his position, Ziek could not see any rhythmic movement that would be signs of him breathing, and could not tell if he was just unconscious or dead.


“Hey! Numbers girl! We need ya ova here!”

_____​

As the rage within her bubbled down to a simmer, Mhisri heard one of the injured men call out to her.


"Hey! Numbers girl! We need ya ova here!"


Ignoring his request, she stumbled over to the back of the library, searching for the staircase the old librarian went down, only to find it covered in the remnants of the back wall. She would not be able to move it all herself. Looking around, she tried to see if there was anyone still alive; anyone that could help. There were her two injured companions, and the man on his knees. Things did not look promising. She shouted down below.


"Is anyone in there? Hello?!" She didn't hear a reply. Heartbroken, she stepped away from the caved-in staircase. "If you're down there, hold on! I'll get help!"


Walking back to the edge of the building, Mhisri picked up a few things that would be useful: A few sturdy books, the cushion of a chair, a broken lamp that still held some oil. She reached the dusty slope she had climbed up, where the two men still sat among the trees, and hurriedly climbed back down to the ground. The man with the missing finger was leaning on his side in an unnatural manner. She ran over to him, dropping her gathered supplies to the ground. Searching for a pulse, she found it - very faint, but still there. She would need to act quickly.


"This man has lost too much blood. I'll have to seal the wound." she said aloud, talking to herself being a bit of a habit she had formed over the years. She pulled a small dagger from a satchel she carried, letting it catch the strained sunlight as she searched for a fire. Fortunately, and yet not, there were fires everywhere. The beast had caused so much damage, taken so many lives, and the evidence was everywhere. Sick to her stomach but burdened with a sense of responsibility, she ran to the nearest blaze, a building across a charred cobblestone road, placing the blade of the dagger inside it. She did not dare look inside the building.


After a minute at the fire, her small blade glowed red. Running back to the man against the tree, she wasted no time, pressing it against the bloody stump where his finger used to be. He didn't wake up; didn't make a sound. The sizzling and the horrible stench filled her ears and nose, but it was only momentary. Soon the skin had been cauterized and the bleeding stopped. Taking the cushion, she cut into it with the knife, breaking the threads of the seam. She then tore the fabric into strips with her hands, one of which she used to bandage the man's hand. "Covering the wound will allow for faster healing, and prevent a dangerous infection." she mumbled to herself. Her job finished for now, she laid the man down on this back, checking for other injuries. He was pretty banged up, but would hopefully pull out of it. Suddenly, she turned to the other man.


"As for you..." she said as she approached him.


Ziek flashed his teeth, giving the nearing woman an ear-to-ear grin. It was quite the odd sight considering their surroundings and recent experiences. He had watched her carefully the entire time as she moved about to cauterize Kael’s wound. Seeing the woman pull her own dagger from a bag she had reminded Ziek of his own small blade that he kept hidden at the small of his back. He leaned forward and reached behind his back but-


“Gone. Sheath and all. Fuckin’ thieves.”


Ziek turned his attention back to the woman. She was moving at a slower pace then she was before, with less urgency. Did this mean the monster was gone? He raised his left arm up and gave his fingers a giddy wiggle in a greeting-like fashion.


“Hello.”


Mhisri did not reply, but began to examine him. She could tell from the way he had been moving that his arm, leg, and possibly rib cage were damaged, broken, or worse. "I'm going to need your help if we're going to get him out of here, which means you're going to need to walk." She carefully removed his boot, poking and prodding along his foot and ankle. Finding a couple breaks at the bottom of his tibia, Mhisri gathered her strength.


“Hey! Like everyone else is the world, my feet are ticklish, ma’am.” Ziek protested while doing his best not to wiggle his foot.


"You have a broken leg. I'm going to set it."


“I actually think it’s my ankle and it’s only sprai-“


She ignored his response, immediately pushing down on the area of leg just above his ankle, feeling the bone slide back into place with a faint CRACK.


The anguishing cry of sheer pain that escaped Ziek’s mouth as he cocked his head back violently almost appeared to shake the treetops above them. Two slight tears forced their way from the corners of his eyes and streamed down his dirt-covered cheeks.


“AHHHHHHYOUUUUU FUCKIN BI-why, why, why?” Ziek’s scream became a low pleading with these last few words. “Why does everyone keep doing this to me!? It’s called a fuckin’ ‘warning before I manhandle the bones in your body’ dammit.” He was obviously wrong with his initial assessment of his own damage. His leg was broken. And he somehow managed to walk on it. Ziek was actually impressed with himself. The pain was still almost unbearable, but he was able to grit his teeth and somehow manage.


Crossing her arms defensively and glaring at him with exasperation and a slight tinge of anger, Mhisri made no move to apologize. "Calling me names at such a high vocal frequency will do nothing more than perhaps bring back that monster and his propensity for human flesh, and I will be inclined to leave you here as I escape him, seeing as how my legs are functioning at normal capacity!" Her own voice had risen to a shout as she proceeded with her scolding, and she realized she wasn't helping. Noticing again the carnage that lay around them, she attempted to humble herself. "And besides," she continued, her voice dying down as she looked over his leg again, "shouting and whining when you don't get your way is a quality found in children. You are evidently an adult, so work with me for just a little while longer. We can get you both to a safer location and then I'll be on my way."


Ziek was about to protest that he had not actually finished what he hollered out, but decided against it out of exhaustion.


Gentler now, Mhisri began to wrap his leg. Taking the books she had gathered from the library remains, she began tearing out the pages, leaving only the hard, straight covers. Taking more of the strips of fabric she had torn, she began to fashion a splint for his ankle.


"You called me 'numbers girl' earlier." she laughed softly as she worked. "I'm assuming this is because I understand the basic principles of statistics?" Ziek cocked his head slightly, as a confused dog would, before answering her.


“Yeah there’s that, and the strange fact you decided to spout them at me in the face of pure fuckin’ carnage. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or just think you’re insane.” He managed to mutter out while wincing in pain from her attempted delicate handling of his battered appendage. He noted that she was wrapping his leg with obvious knowledge of how to do so. Regardless of her mental state, this woman was clearly more intelligent than average.


"Like anyone, I was given a name at birth. You can call me Mhisri. Especially if you're going to continue needing my assistance." The Parshumian woman responded, possibly a bit agitated at Ziek’s brash words. Although it was somewhat obvious by her appearance, the first name now fully gave away that she was at least partially Parshumian.


“Well I’m Ziek and it is certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, although I wish we could have met under more enjoyable circumstances.” Ziek introduced himself while holding out his uninjured, yet still filthy, hand to the wildly colored haired Mhisri. He attempted to make eye contact with her yet found the task slightly difficult due to her intensely blue, T’Odis-like eyes. “And sorry for that outburst, but it’s not like having someone set a bone-“


A nearby rustling in the jungle brush interrupted Ziek. A feeling of powerful dread swept over him like blanket as he instantly cut himself of and his eyes widened in fear. Mhisri had mentioned the monster had left, but apparently she had been mistaken. His pulse began to quicken as Mhisri looked up from bandaging his leg with her own expression of concern. With no real weapon between them or time to react, they awaited their approaching doom.


Just then, another simultaneous movement through the trees came from behind them. And then again on their left. Multiple people or creatures were surrounding them on all sides. Before either one of them could ascertain the situation, a commanding voice came from behind the trees just a few feet away from them.


“NOBODY MOVE! PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS!”
 
The following was originally posted by Whisker Whisker in the previous IC


Whisker Whisker
as

Abraxas

______
Location: Jakka’s Crossing, Libertia


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Morning

______​


By the time the sun had dropped low enough for the bad-tempered giant to get his wits about him, the fetid stench of smoke and decay was so strong that it nearly knocked him right the fuck out again.


Sgymks pursa hyka e plura's omnamgyumedhas ym lara!


(It stinks like a whore’s unmentionables in here!)


Fucking Libertians …


It wasn’t enough that they lived in an apparent hellhole filled with bugs the size of his old boss’s fat head. They now needed to burn the damn thing down, too!


Rubbing his bloodshot eyes, the T’Odis mercenary rose groggily and gave the clearing a once over. It was much the same as how he left it before falling asleep save for the greyish film that lingered in the air right along with the perverse stink – a barren field with very little redeeming qualities to speak of.


He needed to be moving on. His stomach was rumbling like a carriage. And with how soaked his spattered rags were, he could only guess at how much sweat he’d lost, a gallon or more likely as not. If he didn’t get one or the other soon, his B.O or blistered left foot would no longer be the pinnacle of his concern. But where would he go? He had lost all sense of direction wandering through these woods. In T’Odis, one could navigate by looking up at the stars. Down here, one star looked just about the same as the other.


Too fucking far away to be of any damned use!



Grabbing his axe from where it lay embedded halfway through the stump, he commandeered it as a walking stick and pressed on, searching for the largest vantage point he could find.


It took him about 20 or so minutes of stumbling through the undergrowth until he found what he was looking for: a sloping cliff devoid of the sick-green that lined the area like a maze.


He made the climb and stood over the edge, one hand over his eyes to shield his vision from the sun and smoke as he scanned the area until …


Bingo!



To his complete surprise, the jungle didn’t appear to be on fire. The smoke was clustered in a thick viscous black cloud over one section just off to his right. It was hard to make out any details through it, but one thing was for damned certain. The fire was strong, wicked strong. And as there hadn’t been a storm out here in a week, it had to be caused by some kind of lifeform.


Relief washed over him. He stumbled. Tears strung his eyes and he was forced to rub them to keep the hydration in. Wasting no more time, the T’Odis mercenary lumbered through the brush, keeping the smoke right in his line of vision.


He’d even forgotten about the odd trees and landscape around him that had been the center part of his bitching for days. All that was on his mind now was the smack of red meat turning gently over an open blaze, the curve of a maiden’s hip pressed against his own, and the cool rush of brewed mead fresh from an open barrel that had been sitting in the cellar for god knows how long!


That was the stuff any man worth his chest hairs could appreciate. After a few days of that kind of therapy and a nice long soak, he’d be right as rain.


But as the smoke got thicker and thicker, he didn’t hear the tell-tale signs he expected. There were no peasants on the road, no war hounds braying. Deep within, a subtle chill, a touch of instinct, ran up his spine and set his nerves tingling in alarm.


Somethin’ aint right … A raid? No … It’s weird … I can’t peg it.


The axe came up into two hands. His eyes narrowed, the amiable spark leaving for something more cold and unsettling. Keeping his weapon at the ready, he limped forward, onward around the bend in the road, and then stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening at the sheer devastation around him.


Vokk …


There was nothing more to say. In some situations, a good swear was all one could say. And when faced with such a scene of sheer malevolence and desolation, it was the only thing that jumped to the tongue.


This hick town wasn’t so much as destroyed as it was annihilated – like it had been run over a half dozen times by a steam roller and then burned to a pile of ashes. There wasn’t a building standing. And the streets were lined with the bodies of women, children, and men of all races, not so much corpses as they were desiccated remnants.


He dropped to his knees. Taking the axe in one hand, he gave another whispered oath and closed his eyes. When he next opened them, it was with an unexpected game plan in mind:

  1. Find another pair of goddamn shoes
  2. Scavenge the fuck out of the place
  3. Hit the road

There wasn’t much he could do in this situation. Besides, it would all just go to waste otherwise, right?


Pulling up his tattered scarf up over his nose to block out some of the smoke and stench, he inched forward towards the closest body and began examining the boot sizes.


Nope, no good.



And the process repeated. And again. And again. And again. And again. Until he started to wonder if every Libertian pig’s boots only came in women’s sizes.


But finally, thanks to the grace of the White, he came upon the body of a fellow Kinsmen on the outskirts of the rubble. His boots were still a little bit on the small size, but anything beat the shredded scraps of his old pair.


Abraxas tugged them off with some difficult and examined them on his own feet.


Not bad … Not bad at all!
 
Last edited:
The following was originally posted by King Ad Rock King Ad Rock , Kayso Kayso , and Whisker Whisker in the previous IC


A collaboration post with

Kayso Kayso as Mhisri Mhornn
King Ad Rock King Ad Rock as Ziek Sidane & Adam Durant
Whisker Whisker as Abraxas G'Auldr
______​

Location: Jakka’s Crossing, Libertia
Date: Month 6, Day 15
Time: Half past the sixth hour of the Morning (6:30 A.M.)
______​


The voice that barked out angrily at them from outside the clearing in the dense forest was seemingly disembodied with no visible source. Then, with a quick side-step, a tall, leather-armored man appeared from the brush. The appearance was almost magical in its suddenness. His thin but layered leather mail was splashed in various shades of dark greens and browns, the cause of his camouflage. Stitched intricately into the middle of his chest was a detailed design of a large tree, the official sigil of Libertia. Although his toned arms were without protection, they too were covered in a paint-like substance of similar colors that led to a pair of brown leather greaves. With obvious Nomasdae blood, his skin was as dark as one's could get, although it was hard to tell with the thick layer of mud and dirt that was caked on his face to assist with his blending in. His black hair was fashioned into Nomasdae hair knots, which themselves were tied back in a bun on the back of his head. Gripped tightly in his hands and raised to his right eye for aim was a deadly and accurate looking crossbow. It was pointed right in Mhisri's direction.


This was a Libertian Ranger, one of Libertia’s highly trained forest defenders.


Ziek caught the slight bustle in the canopy above them that gave away that there were a few more stationed high in the trees. How long had they been watching them? He chided himself internally for allowing them to get the drop on him and the other two survivors. Had they seen the monster? Judging by the intense and bewildered look in the ranger’s eyes and the fixated position of the sleek crossbow, it was clear he saw them as perpetrators and not survivors. They were in for a world of confusion.


The morning Libertian sun gleaned down on the unmoving crossbow, shining off of it's fine polish. An exceptionally large and well crafted bolt was cocked and at the ready. His hand was steady, and you did not want to test a Libertian Ranger's aim.


Tckt, Crackt



The noises just behind them were faint but close. Ziek's ears were now alert and picking up everything around them. He assessed that there were at least two more on their rear. It would have been a near impossible escape even if he had the use of all of his appendages. They were surrounded.


While raising his right hand slowly in a sign of peace, and mustering the cheeriest voice he could manage in the circumstances, Ziek spoke out to their would-be captor,


“Hello friend! Thank Azae you stumbled upon us! As you can see, we are in need of some-”


“Shut your mouth!” the guard cut Ziek off with a tense and halting tone. “What have you done here…?”

_____​

Upon hearing a rustling of leaves coming from the bushes and trees around them, Mhisri abruptly stopped talking and lowered her head, slightly tilting it for better listening. She continued to wrap Ziek's injured leg, a sinister look evident in her gaze. Had the beast returned? No... no, this was a much smaller creature, though standing on two legs-a human, tall and heavy. There was another sound to her right; how many were there? Why were they being surrounded?


As she finished tying the final knot on the bandage, she heard it:


“NOBODY MOVE! PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS!”


Mhisri was startled, but began to raise her arms, the knife she had been carrying quickly and quietly tucked into the lining of her boot before she turned to face the hulking man who now stood before them. Others emerged from the surrounding foliage, dressed in a similar manner and wearing a similar visage. She noticed immediately that a fierce-looking crossbow was pointed in her direction. One small movement and it would hit its mark; it was a well cleaned instrument, which contrasted sharply with the filthy hygiene of men who spent their lives trekking through forests and jungles day and night. So this was a man who knew his weapon; was proud of it. The way he held it in his hands proved that he was very good with it-he didn't grip the handle too hard, his joints were not locked, and his finger was eased over the trigger as if he knew exactly when he needed to pull it to get the outcome he wanted. She couldn't outrun this type of soldier.


“Hello friend! Thank Azae you stumbled upon us! As you can see, we are in need of some-”


“Shut your mouth!” the guard cut Ziek off with a tense and halting tone. “What have you done here…?"


As she listened to Ziek try to talk to the group, she began to feel trapped. Perhaps they would listen to reason.


"It wasn't us." she quickly replied.


Well that was brilliant…



The ranger turned his gaze toward her, though his crossbow had never moved. "Oh? And who did!?"


Mhisri was always keen on honesty, but she knew it wouldn't do any of them any good at this point. She went on with it anyway. She wasn't about to start lying now.


"A beast from the sky." She held her head a little higher as she spoke, as if that would validate things... things she was still trying to believe herself.


The ranger looked appalled. He moved his eyes over the ghastly scene beyond them as a noise of disgust rose in his throat. "Are you fucking mad!?"


Mhisri couldn't stop herself. "It's obvious that the three of us couldn't cause such an exorbitant amount of destruction in the time it took you to get here. If you had half a brain you would just look at the fires and see how brightly they are still blazing and how little of the wood has so far been consumed and you would be able to deduce that virtually 86% of them began to burn merely fifteen minutes ago while the remainder began about twelve minutes ago. It would take that long simply to decimate one of these buildings to the level of destruction in which they currently and regrettably are through the effects of either fire water or cannon shot, neither of which is present here, and with sixteen buildings destroyed, that would mean that we would have to start nearly four hours ago, and seeing as how we-"


"I SAID SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" the ranger cried out, the flames in his eyes mirroring those of Jakka's Crossing. His finger was now tightened on the trigger.

_____​


Ziek had only internally flinched at the snapping command of the ranger, showing no external reaction as he lied there on the forest floor. Speaking out softly from the side of his mouth, he warned Mhisri,


“Cool it ‘Numbers’, he's half an inch away from launching that bolt between your eyes. He's not going to believe anything about Garner-” Ziek realized he knew the beast’s name, but could not place how. Did it reveal it to him? It felt as if it was now imprinted deep within his mind. It felt like a nagging, lingering tingle on the back of his neck that he could not shake off.


“We already have what's left of your accomplices that were camped by the river bank in custody.” The ranger answered curtly.


Accomplices? Camp? Ziek had no idea as to who the ranger was referring to. Then it hit him. The leader of the thieves that happened upon him in the jungle and brought him back had mentioned having a camp somewhere close. The Libertian Ranger, as any logical person would, was assuming that they were the culprits; and that the three of them, Mhisri, the unconscious Kael, and himself, were apart of them.


They would rule out a Tral-el attack, as the rangers were highly trained in tracking these beasts, and any one large enough to cause this much destruction would have left an obvious trail. And they certainly were not going to believe anything about a giant beast-man from the sky if they had not seen it with their own eyes. Ziek knew this well and was not going to bother trying to explain anything, although it was apparent Mhisri wasn't making the connection. Ziek had witnessed it himself and still did not believe it. He was exhausted and honestly still in shock himself over the course of events. The stench of burning corpses that still hung in the air had him close to vomiting, although the hangover that beginnning to kick in could have been to blame for that as well. He just wanted to close his eyes…


“Just go along with them for now. They’re not going to listen. We'll figure it out later.” He whispered to Mhisri


Before anyone could make a further response, another ranger fell from treetops above them, landing beside the crossbowman with a hard but graceful impact. His landing was beautifully silent. The first ranger remained perfectly still, trusting his cohort’s accuracy.


“Commander, Abeni and the others have reported that they have apprehended who they believe to be the ring leader. They found him in the middle of the village, standing over one of the bodies. He tried resisting but they took him down quickly. Zoza has also reported having it out with a T’Odis that was observed looting the bodies.” He said to the now confirmed commander. During all of this, the other rangers had each stepped out into clearing one-by-one. Although it was hard to tell due to their mud and paint coverings, it looked as if the ranger group was comprised of an even amount of Kildran and Nomasdae men.


“Get the fuck up now!” The commander demanded of Ziek viciously. Despite his convincing tone, Ziek, of course could not.


“I-” he began.


"In all my years of service, this is the most gruesome aftermath of a raid I have ever seen!” The commander shouted over him. “You people are monsters. Now I am not going to say it again, get-the-fuck-up-NOW!” The commander enunciated these last few words perfectly while punctuating the end of the command by snapping the crossbow in Ziek's direction.


“I can't.” Ziek finally managed to get out in a plain voice.


"He can't." Mhisri stated, matter-of-factly and simultaneously with Ziek's own assertion.


The commander observed Ziek's injury as he theatrically pointed to his freshly wrapped leg. With a quick chuckle to himself, the commander spoke again,


“Looks like the townfolk put up quite fight, huh?” Without wasting a moment and while keeping his weapon ready, he continued back to Mhisri. “Whore, I saw you attending to the unconscious one. Is he alive?” The man was still shaking with rage and hissed every time he put words together.


As the ranger's eyes rested upon her once again and she realized that he had addressed her, she was taken aback. "Oh, I'm not a whore. I have plenty of money that I earn in a far more creditable manner, and therefore have no need of paid promiscuity, which typically causes a substantial decrease in enjoyment for sport, and I have no desire to attain that. As for the unconscious one-I don't know his name-he is alive, though hardly, and requires further, more professional medical assistance."


“Agh!” He turned his head and spat on the dirt. “Should put a bolt in the back of his head now and save myself the trouble of carrying him.”


"That doesn’t sound like the Free Republic of Libertia I know. I believe we’re all entitled to a fair trial in this country, are we not?” Ziek replied both mocking and sarcastically. All of the rangers simultaneously looked at Ziek, then to each other, and then started laughing together in a conjoined guffaw.


“Oh, you’ll get a trial eventually, but the system is so backed up its own ass that you won’t see that day for about five years!” The commander informed him between the laughter. “Until then, it’s Bali Boro for you three.” He expected this revelation to depress Ziek, but instead the injured man calmly let a sly smile creep across his face before slowly joining in with the rangers in their joined laughter, his own deep laughs overly exaggerated.


“Shut your damn mouth you scum!” One of the other rangers shrieked at Ziek vehemently.


“What!? I thought we were all laughing joyously together?” Ziek asked with the child-like smile never leaving his face. The ranger commander completely ignored the jocular merc and vociferated orders at the others while his weapon was still fixed on its position tightly.


“Kafele! Alex! Search the woman and then tie her to the unconscious one. Then search our ‘Jester friend’ over here and subdue his hands and feet. Then gently help him back to the Bora Teshes while the rest of us meet with Abeni and the others.” Ziek could tell by the way that he said “gentle” that the commander meant it to be done in no such manner. He was not looking forward to what was about to happen. Two of the other rangers, including the one who fell from the canopy, moved towards Mhisri.


“Don’t resist. It’ll be alright.” Ziek let out in a hushed tone that only Mhisri could hear.


Succumbing to brutal injustice obviously wasn't preferable in Mhisri's opinion, and would prove to be a roadblock she would rather not need to climb, but for the moment perhaps Ziek was right. She had already realized she couldn't run or fight, and conversation was also proving inadequate. Where many others had given up on pursuing their malevolent objectives simply because they couldn't refute her or understand her (or, likely, even be in the same room with her any longer), these men seemed of a more determined nature, and appeared to be acting within the law as far as they knew. So she would have to wait. Wherever they took her, she could escape from it. Tools or no tools, she was determined. "There is no tool like intellect, my dear. With it you shall always be equipped." Not a day went by that she didn't remember these words of his. She would live them here too.


Closing her eyes so that she wouldn't get the urge to attempt to thwart their advances, Mhisri allowed herself to be confiscated. After being shoved and roughly checked for weapons, her wrists were bound tightly behind her to the point where she could tell that her circulation was already cut off. Clenching and unclenching her fists to initiate blood flow, she was jerked toward the tree and her fallen, nameless comrade. Upon reaching him, she suddenly received a heavy, uncalculated blow to the stomach which caused her to double over in pain, slipping to the grassy ground, gasping for breath. She was kicked several times until she was in the desired position next to him, her legs drawn up closer to her body to protect her vital organs, absorb some of the shock and disperse some of the pain. A hand grabbed her hair, jerking her up into a sitting position. She never uttered a word or a cry from her bruised and bloody lips, but only glared at the face that belonged to the hand above her, tears visible, but overtaken by the look of sheer detestation that only a downtrodden woman could give.


"Gag her insufferable mouth." the leader spat out to one of the men while the other moved stoically toward Ziek. Mhisri saw through dirty, ragged strands of her hair that the smoke hung low in the crossing, and the dust of only minutes ago seemed to have settled on the town, or what was left of it, as uneasiness settled into the empty, untouched corners of herself. She almost sank into its inviting waters - almost decided to dwell on it, obsess over it, let it spread to the further reaches that made up the rest of her, but she stopped. She fought it. Her mind retreated into the only activity that gave her comfort, and she began to plan instead.


Ziek watched helplessly as three rangers circled Mhisri and began to rain blows upon her.


“Hey! There’s no need for that shit! Get off of her!” Ziek protested loudly. Two more rangers approached him, and before he could get any more words out, they lifted him from the forest ground with a recklessness that shot searing pain through each one of his injuries.


“Come on guys, let’s be a bit more care-” The ranger that had lifted Ziek’s lower half gave him a sinister smile before squeezing his possibly broken leg, forcing his mouth closed from the agony.. The fireworks of pain that exploded in his brain caused a blinding white light to take over his sight. He gritted his teeth with such an intensity that it felt as if they would crack. And before he knew, his consciousness left him once again.


______​


Adam stood over the brutal sight that was Nef’s body. No matter how much he tried, he could not pull his eyes from the bloody, pulpy mess of his crushed skull. There was not much left that one could even call a skull, just crushed bits of brain matter strewn about the ground around the stump that was his spinal cord. The crimson red of the blood had mixed with the colorless gray of the brains to form a sort of paste with a pinkish hue. Tattered bits of white flesh, teeth, and mounds of white hair were all recognizable in the horrid pile.


Thick smoke from the nearby fires billowed around him, but he seemed not to notice or care. Soot was beginning to accumulate on his cheeks under this eyes. As if in a trance, Adam’s zoned-out gaze was particularly fixated on the single undamaged light blue eyeball that was attached to some kind of fleshy string. Nef's eye.


Adam had met the T’Odis sailor over a decade and a half before when they were both arrogant young men. The towering warrior had started a fight he could not handle despite his size in a tavern in Yensa that Adam’s then crew had stopped in for a drink. Adam was only a first mate in those days, not yet a captain of his own vessel. He had used his gift of gab, still being refined then, to peacefully quell the raging group around Nef. After some congratulatory drinks at a different tavern, Adam was able to use some more quick talking to convince his captain to take the experienced sailor into their crew. He had been a loyal friend and brother ever since.


Izem’s body was somewhere close. Adam refused to go searching for it, knowing it was more than likely in worse shape than Nef’s. Plus, this was an expected end for Nef, being a warrior, but Izem was a gentle soul who neither deserved nor expected such a death. They were the closest ones to him in the crew, and the only two he allowed back at his home to meet his family. Both of them were beloved by his wife and daughter who treasured their visits.


A voice carried on the wind just behind him, but outside of the bubble of haze he currently resided in. He neither heard it or paid it any mind, instead choosing to focus on the dagger clenched tightly in his right hand. It was smaller than the one he used to fight the beast, more of a tool than a weapon. Adam had pulled it from a sheath in his boot not long after the monster had left. The thought of plunging into his own throat to escape the guilt of letting down those who counted on him danced momentarily in his mind. Where was the rage that flowed through his veins like adrenaline and consumed his entire being just an hour before? Now he felt like a drunk waking up from a week long bender: depleted, exhausted, and withdrawn.


Again a voice shouted. Louder. Angrier. Closer.


No, he could not take the coward’s way out. He still had to get back home to his wife, Maria and his daughter, Chassi. Just saying their names in his mind brought back a renewed vigor. If he could get back to camp there might be some survivors of his crew left. The beast might not have ever made it to them at all. He would need their help to man his ship, the Ononette, and get back home to Yensa.


The voice was right behind his ear now, snapping him back to reality. How long had it been there?


“I SAID TURN AROUND SLOWLY AND MAKE YOUR HANDS VISIBLE YOU SONOFABITCH! I WILL PUT THIS BOLT IN YOU!”


Adam could feel how close his verbal assaulter was. There was only a fraction of a second to react. With a tight grip around the handle of the dagger, Adam swung around on his left in a swift half-circle and plunged the blade in an overhand downward arch. The movement was quick, precise, and in no way telegraphed, but would not find its mark. The target was quicker with their defensive retaliation. The intended victim of the stab grabbed the wrist of Adam faster than the drained pirate captain could blink, and twisted it in a violent jerking motion sending immediate excruciating pain through the contorted muscles of his arm causing him to drop the knife.


Standing before Adam and holding him down in a tight armlock was an armored Libertian Ranger. He had Adam pinned down with one hand while holding a crossbow in the other. Despite it feeling as if the leather clad ranger had snuck up on Adam, the reality of the situation was that the ranger had been slowly approaching and calling out to Adam for several minutes. As arm writhed in pain. Adam cursed himself for being in such a distracted and vulnerable state. Try as he might, he could not pull himself back up into a standing position; his upper body forcibly bent over due to the ranger’s expert hold on his wrist and arm. Just to add even more pain to the maneuver, the ranger twisted and applied just a bit more pressure.


“GAH!” Was all Adam could manage to spit out. The ranger was calm and poised in his demeanor as he continued to hold him down with seemingly little effort. Adam was able to strain his head up vertically just enough to see several other armored and mud-covered figures circling around him, each with crossbows and short swords drawn.


“Do not move or we will put you down right now!” The ranger screamed hot breath into his ear. Fires were still burning all around them with some flames even getting to near out of control proportions as they caught onto the nearby trees of the jungle. Adam was just now finally noticing the heat and the pregnant beads of sweat dripping from his own forehead. The middle-aged pirate was nowhere near full strength, not that he was much of a combatant to begin with, especially against a Libertian Ranger. After a few more embarrassing moments of being manhandled by the trained soldier as he hollered orders to those around him, Adam finally released the defiant tension in his muscles and succumbed his weight into the ranger.


“That’s right, now stay down!” The ranger yelled while slamming Adam’s face into the muddy Libertian earth, an elbow pinned deep into his back. Adam could feel an intense wave of pure exhaustion sweep over him like a blanket. The voices calling out above him began to dull and fade out. Unconsciousness descended upon Adam like a gift from the heavens as the rangers surrounded him and began tying his hands behind his back.


The last morbid sight that his vision took in before his eyelids closed tight was Nef’s undisturbed eyeball poking out of the flesh heap that was once his head.

_____​


After giving his toes an experimental flex to make sure his new boots fit, Abraxas turned to survey the wreckage around him. Splintered two-by-fours interlaced with a sunken pile of cracked brick lay directly off to his right. Smoke billowed from the pile though there was no sign of a flame.


His eyes moved onwards, skimming right over a severed leg that already showed signs of bloat fly infestation, to rest on a likely looking mound 100 yards or so behind it.


It wasn’t smoking, or at least not yet anyways giving how the fires were like to spread before long, but even from this far away he could tell that the foundations of the structure would topple over in even the slightest breeze. Already the roof had buckled inwards, boards jutting out from every angle to resemble a Tral-el’s backside, and the door, or what he guessed had once been a door, had been ripped off its hinges and smashed into billion fragments right on the step as though something gargantuan had crushed it under foot.


Just the sight chilled his blood.


Bad fuckin’ luck, holy man.


No matter how far he ran, it was always following him like a goddamned shadow.


And judging by the scenery, he had just walked in to a place that was meant only for the dead and the dying. A story the Yka Krups used to yarn over a mug around the fire on a starless night still as clotted blood.


Shouldn’t be here. Damn, this place gives me the creeps.



Hundreds of times in his career, he’d seen villages ransacked just as bad as this one. But never had any of them given him quite the strange chill this one had – like he had just trod upon the grim reaper’s cloak.


In any other circumstance, Abraxas might have abandoned his desire to scavenge right then and there and simply left the area to his 6’ o clock never to return. However, three days of crawling through the stinking, unfamiliar jungle with no food, no grog, and no sign of anyone living or dead kept him rooted in place.


He recognized plainly that if he didn’t find at least two of three soon, this ghost village would be the least of his problems.


Pulling up his ragged mantle to serve as a mask against the smoke, the large T’Odis turned in place and moved immediately in the direction he guessed to be the center of town. Villages like this, he had come to realize, were almost always the same. The outskirts would be houses, courier stations, and the occasional barracks for non-civilians. The center had all the good stuff; inns, taverns, stores, and markets all set up right around each other in the bullseye.


If there was any chance of finding what he wanted, that would be where he had to go.


Along the way, he would stop from time to time to examine the bodies. Most were so utterly ravaged that the chance of finding anything was absolutely nil. On one corpse, however, he managed to pull out a traveling pack – undamaged, despite the owner’s head being decapitated and impaled by a log on the tree behind. He ripped it open, his mouth watering.


The very first thing he managed to pull out was an apple – brown spotted and smooshed.


It was the most beautiful thing Abraxas had ever seen.


He closed his eyes and took a bite. The juices dribbled down his chin.


He might have taken another but in the next instant there was a loud twang followed by a thud as an arrow buried itself in the pack he had been holding in his left hand.


“ARRRRRRGH!”


Abraxas stumbled and dropped the apple. Behind him, there was a ripple of laughter followed by bowstrings stretching taunt. He reached for his axe.


“You got lucky the first time that I aimed for that leather in your hand instead of your fat head, thief! You’ve got 10 seconds to drop everything in your goddamned hands or I just might rectify that mistake.”


Abraxas turned his head just a tad to get a bead upon the speaker.


The Libertian was standing maybe 20 feet away with the bow aimed right at his back. He was flanked on either side by two hard-bitten men with crossbows also aimed in his direction. They were slathered in mottled camouflage paint and masked; the one he guessed to be the leader, on the other hand, wore no mask, but was instead hooded so that only his thick, knotted beard could be glimpsed.


“Sluug na unn yhh smew gpyt unn jen yg ow …”


(Shoot me and I’ll jam that twig up your ---)


The crossbowman on the left rose and gestured threateningly.


“Shut up, you piece of shit. You were given an order. Drop the weapon or die here and now. Your choice.”


The grey eyes of the T’Odis darted from one face or the other. He only understood bits and pieces of what they were saying, but the tone of authority was unmistakable.


Reluctantly, he let the axe slip from his fingers and fall to the ground.


It seemed to be a signal. The moment he straightened up, they were on him, scything his legs out from beneath him and wrenching his arms behind his back.


This bitch of a day just seemed to go from bad to worse.
 
Last edited:
The following is a collaboration between King Ad Rock King Ad Rock , Kayso Kayso , and Crucified Fear Crucified Fear


Kayso Kayso as Mhisri Mhornn & Abraxas G'Auldr (temporarily taking over for Whisker Whisker )

King Ad Rock King Ad Rock as Ziek Sidane & Adam Durant

Crucified Fear Crucified Fear as Kael Gilgrend

______​

Location: Post starts in Jakka’s Crossing, Libertia and ends in Bali Boro, Libertia)

Date: Post starts on Month 6, Day 15 and ends on Month 6, Day 29

Time: Post starts on the seventh hour of the Morning (7:00 A.M. of Month 6, Day 15) and ends on The sixth hour of night (6:00 P.M. of Month 6, Day 29)

______
Ziek watched with mild interest as the Bora Teshes spit large streams of water from their long snouts at the fires spreading from what was left of Jakka’s Crossing to the Swazi Forest. Although he had seen a many in the wild and had heard that tamed ones could be trained to do such things, he had never seen it with his own eyes. He watched the Libertian Rangers move quickly with these beasts to put out the conflagrations, all while being hogtied on the back of one himself. After each spray from their trunks, the men directed the animals to take another snoutful from the bulging leather bags of water they had draped over their mammoth backs.

boratesh-jpg.344853

Bora Tesh​


The corl trees surrounding the razed village were hearty living things that were resisting the kisses of the intense flames. The rangers had shown up just in time to make sure a wildfire did not break out into the jungle. It was job they were well known for accomplishing along with defending the forest villages and cities from bandits and criminals alike.

Once the fires were finally defeated and put out, their captors finally had them on their way to the infamous prison city of Bali Boro. Ziek’s ability to walk on his own would be gone for sometime. The rangers realized this and tied him up with some spare rope tightly with no intention of being delicate with his injuries. They did the same to the unconscious Kildran and threw him belly first next to Ziek. The young man watched helplessly as they tied the Parshumian girl’s hands, (Mhisri he thought she said her name was), to a long rope tied to the back of the Bora Tesh. Her rope shackles were tied to the pirate captain’s wrists. Adam was it? Ziek was having trouble remembering his name as well.

They were going to make them walk the length of the way. Ziek tried to make eye contact with Mhisri in an attempt to communicate through his eyes that things would be all right, but she appeared to be too distracted by everything around her. She was more than likely in shock still.

They also had a fairly large T’Odis man in their capture. Ziek was not sure where they had found him, possibly one of Adam’s crew. They were forcing him into a wheeled wooden cage that was a bit too small for his naturally considerable size. Perhaps they were afraid of him breaking free or overpowering them. T’Odis rarely found their way south of Kildra and the ranger men probably had little experience with the “Ice Giants”. Ziek could faintly hear him curse in his native tongue as they prodded the heavy man inside the mobile cell and it made him smile a bit.

That smile did not last long however.

With a loud “H’yah!” the rider on the neck of the Bora Tesh commanded it forwards, causing the others to follow suit behind it. The Bora Teshes were mostly slow creatures, but could work their way up to decent gallop. Nowhere near a horse mind you, but covering a fair amount of ground nonetheless. They made excellent travelers of the jungles and swamps with their natural camouflage and incredible amount of weight they could sustain. Each one appeared to be covered in a type of moss or plant-life, that were actually a part of their fur and skin. Said fur was a colorful mixture of golds, greens, and browns, complete with a golden beard-like mane around their thick throats.

As the small caravan of captors and captives began their long journey from Jakka’s Crossing, Ziek’s eyes fell upon the rubble that was once Berchen’s Drinkhole.

The rangers who were staying behind were looking for survivors possibly. One of them, with a long beard of Nomasdae knots hanging from his hooded face, was pulling a half burned corpse from the wreckage while another of Kildran descent looked on with a mournful shake of his head. There were two other unrecognizable bodies lying in the burnt grass by the side of what was left of the building.

Ziek knew who they were.

A small pang of sadness filled his heart before he slowly succumbed to exhaustion from the jostling of the Bora Tesh’s stride.

_____

Mhisri had been in a state of thoughtful delirium since she had been acquired and beaten by the Libertian Rangers. It was a coping mechanism of sorts - she would retreat into her mind and deliberately explore her intellect, taking more time than she was usually able to in order to exhaust every option and look at unconventional solutions that might escape her consciousness under more hasty circumstances. She couldn’t escape the feeling of panic, however, as hard as she tried. Usually she would be out of danger by now, having escaped or evaded it before any sign of terror could even make itself known to her. This was different; she didn’t know how to escape at this point without losing her life, and that was a foreign feeling. The thought of not knowing terrified her even more than the thought of a painful death, in fact. But she knew there was a solution somewhere, she just needed to think harder on it.

As she searched her surroundings yet again, looking for inspiration or an opportunity or who knows what, she noticed the injured man who called himself Ziek looking at her. His gaze seemed to be an attempt at comfort, but she quickly diverted her gaze-quicker than she intended-back to the various corl trees that lined the broad path they followed. She wasn’t about to let anyone see her in a state of weakness and fear now. She didn’t even want to acknowledge it herself.

The trees rose tall on either side of them, long strands of brilliantly-colored mosses and dead leaves hanging from the branches above their heads and casting rope-like shadows on the floor beneath their feet as they trudged along behind the bora tesh. She would slow her speed here and there and receive a jerk from the beast that led her through the shaded and damp, stagnant air that lay like a cloak on her shoulders. She found herself thinking wistfully about her surroundings and not calculatingly, like she should be. If she stopped looking for a solution in favor of taking in the scenery, she might miss something important, and then where would she be? Dead in a prison cell? No thank you. This forest though… it would be pleasant to look at under different circumstances…

At the gruff, perpetually-disgusted encouragement from one of the Libertian Rangers, the bora tesh ahead of her picked up speed, forcing her to walk more quickly and then almost run, then slow down a little again as she gained too much speed and rush forward as she had slowed too much again. The rangers kept the beast at just the right speed to make her uncomfortable: she could not walk quickly, nor could she full-on run. The awkwardness of her motions kept the rangers laughing for quite some time, but she tried to ignore them. She could hear the man tied behind her struggle until he stumbled, jerking her to a stop, which didn’t last long as she was soon pulled forward by the bora tesh, the tension from each direction painful to her wrists and ankles, making her stumble in turn.

Soon they were both being dragged along the floor, Mhisri unable to right herself as the weight of the man behind her kept her from achieving enough balance to stand up. The ground was riddled with stones and roots which scratched and stabbed relentlessly, bruising her body even further. She couldn’t help but cry out, which made the rangers laugh harder. Suddenly she felt the tight ropes behind her slacken, and a shaking hand attempted to pull her upwards. The other bound man had made it to his feet and had run up to her, lifting her with only a little effort, bound though his hands were. As she struggled to regain her footing while moving, she noticed a strange sort of lethargy in his sooty, bloodshot eyes. He must have lost something back in the carnage of Jakka’s Crossing. She muttered a hoarse “thank you” and he fell back in line, silent, at the jeers and cursings of their cloaked captors.

Mhisri was too tired to think at her regular capacity any longer, and she resorted to simply walking, head down, thoughts quiet. It was almost peaceful, except for the persistent cloud of doom that hung overhead like the smoke from the decimated village. With this new silence, Mhisri heard something she hadn’t been able to hear since they began their trek to Bali Boro: the muted, somber cursings of a T’Odis man.

“Afari uma uv iuu - drukam eg ni vaag.” (every one of you - broken at my feet.)

Mhisri’s ears perked at the language she recognized, the language of her beloved grandfather. The T’Odis man in the cage, maybe 50 feet away - she hadn’t noticed him speaking before. She called to him.

“Y en surri iuu ehsu para kewgorab.” (I am sorry you also were captured.)

The man quickly turned his head round to see who had spoken to him, obviously surprised to hear his native tongue coming from someone else. Upon seeing her, he began to reply, “Iuu kmup traeg hemtoeta uv-” (You know the great language of-)

Something hit the rough wood of the cage he was confined in, and a ranger cursed at them, yelling, “No conversation with the other prisoners, you filth!”

“Drukam eg ni vaag.” (Broken at my feet.) the T’Odis man finished.

______​

2 Weeks Later...

BaliBoro.jpg
Bali Boro​

Bali Boro lies not too far from the beginning of the Swazi Forest, nestled within the jungle just 60 miles east of Jakka’s Crossing. It is an impressively massive structure that was built as a dungeon for the enemies of a long deceased Kildran noble family, the Pomerans. They constructed it from the enormous slabs of rock found near the Rey Ho River. The Libertians built and added upon it over the years, converting it into a well-guarded prison for the most heinous criminals of the country. It is several stories tall with hundreds of individual cells found inside.

The façade is that Bali Boro gives kinder treatment to its prisoners than the surrounding nations of Zeldwa, but this couldn’t be farther from the truth. Due to a lack of funding, the employed guards have become fewer and underpaid. Those who have stayed have done so out of either desperation or a sadistic appreciation for their power over the prisoners. Food is scarce and given out only once a day, just enough to keep those contained within alive. The judicial system that Libertia had once prided itself of in the past was now severely backed up meaning that many captured persons would find themselves locked behind its walls for years before getting a proper trial.

Within these mossy walls and damp, dark hallways was a strangely cheery voice singing out from one of the cells, the man’s melodic words bouncing off the stone bricks and echoing throughout the usually dismal building. Even despite the horrid conditions and occasional maniacal screams, his tone remained sprightly.

This singer belting forth his off-key tune was the sexy and suave King of Dance, Ziek Sidane.

“So you were born, and that was a good day
Someday you’ll die, and that is a shaaame
But somewhere in the between was a life of which we all dream
And nothing and no one will ever take-“​

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” A random voice interrupted his artistic ballad.

“YES! ENOUGH!” Another voice chimed in. Then, with that heard, a few other unseen voices yelled in unified agreement. There were even a few claps of approval that rang out.

Ziek’s dirty cheeks were pressed firmly against the rusted metal bars of his putrid smelling cage as he sung one of his favorite drinking songs. His right leg was still no good to walk or put weight on so he lied on the cold, disgusting floor of his cell. His shoulder was more or less completely healed allowing him to grip each bar on either side of his face.

“Oh, alright! You guys want something a little more… Upbeat and jaunty! I'm more than happy to oblige!” Ziek called out to his detractors, unfazed. With a deep breath inward, he howled out another, faster tune, each word coming out at a rapidly successive rate,

“I-got-blood-on-my-hands-and-dirt-on-my-boots
Oh-what-could-I-say-or-what-could-I-“​

CRASH!

A small container, possibly a cup, came flying from an unknown origin and collided with the bars of his cell, splashing a rancid smelling liquid all over Ziek’s face and body. As the mystery substance dripped down his forehead and over his mouth, he smacked and puckered his lips a couple times in order to taste and ascertain just what it was.

“That’s… No… Yup… That’s piss.”

Ziek licked his lips clean and then immediately spit once he realized what he was doing.

“NO! STOP THAT YOU IDIOT!”

“Bleh.” Ziek said to himself while trying to desperately rub the urine off of his tongue with his filthy fingers. His back was now turned and leaning against the front of the cell. “That was actually impressive! Good aim!” He called back over his shoulder to whoever interrupted his merry-making.

“You fuckin’ ingrates…” this one was just a whisper to himself.

“KEEP IT SHUT YOU SHIT!” One of his many fellow prisoners responded back. “NEXT TIME IT'LL BE SOLID!”

“You know, you were somehow a better cellmate when you were throwing up all over yourself and shitting everywhere.” A voice from the shadowy corner of the cell said sarcastically to Ziek. Lacking any type of windows to let moon or sunlight in, the majority of the prison was covered in darkness save for the few dimly lit lanterns that hung every thirty or forty feet from the hallway walls. The small amount of illumination exposed just a single leather boot belonging to Ziek’s cellmate.

The cellmate that spoke these words irritably was the pirate captain, Adam Durant, who currently found himself lacking a crew to captain. The Nomasdae man of the ocean had spent the past five days since they had arrived at Bali Boro watching Ziek go through what was known as the “liquor trembles”, or at least that's what most sailors knew it as. A body got used to daily drink and with sudden discontinuance it would eventually begin to expel from every orifice while also going through intense tremors. Adam had witnessed this affliction many times while out on the sea, especially when the rum ran out halfway on particularly long voyages.

Adam had witnessed Ziek do something else that was almost as upsetting. He fiercely sobbed during what little sleep he got, calling out what sounded like a woman’s name over and over.

“I’m sorry to disappoint. I can go back to that if you’d like?” Ziek responded with a smile. Adam snorted his answer.

The captain was a bit impressed with the younger man’s apparent altruism while going through his own hellish ordeal. The prison guards had thrown the barely breathing Kildran in the cell with the two, not even bothering to shackle him up as they did to them. They were expecting him to die any day now, but Ziek would not allow it. To try to ensure Kael’s continued existence, Ziek gave up most of his measly scraps, chewing them up and then forcing them down the unconscious man’s throat to Adam’s disgust. Maybe this was the reason why Adam gave Ziek similar treatment during his own tremors, but instead pouring water down the shaking man’s throat. Dehydration was how most men going through the trembles met their end and Adam knew this.

“You bastards don’t know a wonderful serenade when you hear it.” Ziek said with a playful pretend hurt in his voice. His throat burned from the near non-stop projectile vomiting and his ass itched from lack of cleaning.

“How’s the leg?” Adam question while lifting his shackled hand into what little light they had and pointed. The two were able to cobble together a rudimentary splint from torn bits of their clothing and some bones found in the corner of the cell.

“Hurts like hell, but I think it might heal decently in time. That woman seemed to know what she was doing when she set it.“ Saying this made Ziek think of Mhisri for the first time in a couple of days. They were separated upon their arrival to the prison considering women were kept on the opposite side to avoid issues with rape, not that the more despicable guards did not partake in such monstrous activities. He hoped she was somehow faring well, but she did not seem like the type to take to these surroundings.

Ziek had been in worse.

Adam and Ziek has gotten to know each other slightly over the past few days, at least in between Ziek’s bouts of puking. They had swapped a story or two, but there were a few things that remained unspoken between the pair, Ziek kept his full name and who he really was under tight wraps, while every time Adam told a story of his crew and realized who he was talking about, his voice would trail off and his eyes would cloud over in a thousand yard stare. Ziek knew enough to leave him alone with his thoughts when this happened.

There was one more thing that neither man brought up or was ready to speak of:

What had caused both of them to be there.

Before either man could speak another word to each other, Kael stirred beside them. This was not the first time during their imprisonment that their out-cold companion had done this, but then he did something that he had not done once since they first laid eyes on him.

He picked up his head.

_____​


In the two weeks that he was unconscious Kael lived a hundred life times. Its incredible, really, how the mind dealt with trauma. The brain flooded itself with chemicals and endorphins, neurons and synapses firing and communicating at the speed of thought to create the simulations that we call dreams, while our corporeal self healed. A hundred life times, a hundred universes created and destroyed in a sick syllogism of god hood.

Some lives were in this world, as a beggar and as a king but never as the killer that he is. In some his father lived and in others he was orphaned. There were worlds full of towers that prodded the sky and machines that broke the boundaries of his imagination with their defiance of the principle forces of the universe. Yet he never felt more at home. Never did he feel out of place or confused. A hundred lives, a hundred lovers, a hundred deaths, a hundred lives he would of rather had than this one.

In the moments leading up to his awakening, he stood in a large green prairie, his world bordered by ice capped mountains. The breeze felt good on his face, which was now haggard, unclean and unshaven. The disfigurements, both physical and mental, had begun to bleed into his subconscious from the real world.

"Its time to go back, Kael" his father said. Kael had not known he was there, but at the same time he did. It was part of the beauty of it. He both knew all and nothing, twisting the universes to his whim and never needing to know he actually wanted for something at all.

"I'm happy here..There is peace."

Artimedes Gilgrend snorted a sort of laugh in mild agreement. "Aye, there is," he said, "but at what cost? Toiling in this..place? While the world around you burns down?"

Jakka's Crossing flashed briefly, like a dagger shoved into his subconscious earning a physical recoil. The glowing red eyes in the ink stain of darkness causing the hair on his arms and neck to stand at end.

"Yes, Kael..Are you going to let that beast continue it's rampage? What if it isn't a village in Libertia this time? What if it's Roadalia? Kildra?"

Kael didn't answer immediately. His eyes had gone to the sun, which had hung as a small orange globe in the sky, but had began a steady growth since the conversation with his father began. He held the silence for a few moments longer, the only sound between them was the gentle whispers of the breeze. Kael realized he could no longer feel it.

"I suppose I don't have a choice, father."

Artimedes smiled at his son. Or rather the portion of Kael's mind that remembered his father, for now he remembered his father is dead. "No. I suppose you don't."

More and more of the outside world was intruding. What was once a trickle was now a flood. His hand was missing fingers from his battle with the beast. His once impressive physique was now sunken from malnutrition and, and by the Gods, the pain that racked every nerve and sensor of his body.

Oh, and the sun. The glorious ball of light had grown until the entire sky was a sea of soft orange and yellow plasma, the light growing brighter, and brighter until he was blinded by white. And then there was noise. Screaming. Banging. Singing? There was a putrid and acrid smell hanging in there that Kael could taste, causing him to wretch. Kael lifted his head once he realized he was on his back, his vision blurry and uncooperative. With a struggle he propped himself on his elbows, groaning in effort as he did. He could make out he was in a small enclosed space, and could make out two figures in his proximity. He even thought they may have been speaking but it was hard to make out with the cacophony blaring behind them.

"Where am I? Who are you..? What the fuck happened?"

His memories were fractured, like a broken mirror and he struggled to fit the pieces back together. More depressing though, was like most dreams, the memories of his 100 peaceful lives were quickly fading. Just as he created them, they would be destroyed.

____

“The lightest supersymmetric...
Non-electromagnetic particle interaction…
Predominantly baryonic stability… thermal production requires particles with thermally averaged annihilation…”

“Is she at it AGAIN?”

A heavy boot edged with jagged metal trim struck the back of Mhisri’s head, knocking her into the corner of the two adjacent stone walls she had been slumped against. The pain that should have been intense was only dull and floating, the blood dripping between her eyes barely noticeable. It reached her mouth - the taste of it was nothing. Was there such thing as taste? Yes, there was.

“Trigeminal messages… anterior insula…”

“That is IT, I told you if you didn’t shut your stupid little whore mouth I was going to kill you, didn’t I??” A voice screamed into the darkness. The boot returned, this time hitting her in the jaw, the back of her skull coming into hard contact with the wall. Nothing.

“Nociception differentiation…”

Pain erupted from her stomach now, and her body’s natural response was to slump to the ground in front of her, though the information kept coming, dulling her senses, shutting her off to the stimuli of the real world. Strike after strike continued to rain down on her face, her back, her stomach, legs, even her fingers. Voices rose in the background, some distant, some near, cheering and laughing, jumbling with the voice in her head; her own voice. But Mhisri could not feel it. She vaguely felt herself for a moment-distant and quiet, seeing as if she were separated how she allowed herself to be suppressed, if only she could be alone. So the calculations took over. Blocking the signals her body sent to her brain, it was protecting her, but now the physical harm was growing - she would not survive if it didn’t do something.

The woman’s fists now were pounding on the back of Mhisri’s head, neck and shoulders. Bruises, welts and ragged abrasions covered most of the body, a millisecond-long assessment revealed. Respiratory and permanent brain damage soon. Possible death if continued. Vocal attempts had ceased. The woman’s fist was in mid-air when Mhisri’s hand reached out and grabbed it on its path toward her jawline.

“Hey, what do you think you’re- AAAHHHHH!!”

Mhisri’s fingers twitched mechanically as they dug deeply into the woman’s flesh, in between the radius and ulna of her right arm, near the wrist. Mhisri barely felt how the bones and tendons stretched and separated, making way for her fingers as they dug deeper. The woman continued to scream and Mhisri let go, still lying on the ground. The woman, shrieking curses and holding her wrist, backed up to the stone platform on the opposite side of the room. The other voices had become quiet, dozens of eyes staring at her in the heavy blackness. Someone from the adjoining cell attempted to pull her hair through the rusted and flaking iron bars, but Mhisri’s hand again stopped the assailant’s arm with one swift movement, jerking the arm into one of the bars before letting go. She heard a crack, a scream, and more voices. They faded away as a cold, fuzzy feeling crept from her neck to the top of her head, filling her forehead and the space behind her eyes. All was silent. It was neither bright nor dark, neither warm nor cold. She couldn’t even tell if she WAS, and in all truth, she didn’t really care to know. She remembered for an obscure moment the feelings of failure, of helplessness, of despair; but even that was fading into the new feeling of nothing.
 
The following is a collaboration between King Ad Rock King Ad Rock and Crucified Fear Crucified Fear


King Ad Rock King Ad Rock as Ziek Sidane & Adam Durant

Crucified Fear Crucified Fear as Kael Gilgrend

______​

Location: Bali Boro Prison, Libertia

Date: Month 6, Day 29

Time: The sixth hour of night (6:00 P.M.)

______
Ziek smiled brightly from filthy ear-to-ear at the now rousing Kael, but one would not be able to make this out in the shadowy cell. He watched as the previously unconscious Kildran tried to bring himself to a sitting position but seemed to be having understandable trouble after being out for so long. Kael was the most visible thing in the pair’s sight being close to the cell door and somewhat illuminated by the hall’s lanterns.

“Well, hello there sleeping chum! The name’s Jerrin, and that fine fellow over there in the dark corner is Adam! And we're in the fine resort known as Babi Doro!” Ziek replied with unusual cheer. The fake name he gave came to him in that instant and he had hoped that Adam would not call him out on it.

“Bali Boro, you idiot.” Said Adam flatly from his chained corner.

“Yeah, that.” Ziek commented back with the sarcastic joy never leaving his voice. “Hey Adam, being in that dark corner with that skin tone, we can barely see you! Give us a beautiful smile so we can see your teeth and get an idea of where you are!”

“Go fuck yourself, half-breed.” Adam responded. He sounded offended but there was a hint of a smile with these words. The chains around his wrists rattled loudly on the stone floor as he readjusted his position.

"Hey now, no need to get that way my gorgeous friend." Ziek answered with a saucy wag of his finger and a raise of his brow.

“You don't remember what happened…?” Adam was incredulous hearing Kael’s mind boggling question. He would never be able to forget what happened that night no matter how hard he tried.

Adam did not miss Ziek’s given alias and took note on it. He was not sure why the man would give a fake name to their cellmate, but he had no intention or interest in ratting the loudmouth out. After sighing quietly to himself, Adam gave the man a bit more information,

“It’s a prison. We’re in a prison in Libertia.”

Kael squinted for the brief moments he was able to hold himself up with his elbows, the shit lighting in the cell not helping his eyes best effort to adjust after such a long lay off. He was able to make out one silhouette of the two men. The other he would had never known was there if not for the rattling chains and charming retorts. Kael fought, but ultimately submitted to his bodies insistence to lay back.

"Bali Boro..." He said in a way that almost sounded wistful. Oh, he knew what it was though he never had the (mis)pleasure of being a guest. The prison was actually the focal point of a popular piece of Kildran slang when Kael was just a school boy. Rumor has it that Bali Boro was created to keep Lord Pomerans many mistresses a secret from his overbearing bitch of a wife. As all rumors and legends, the stories took many different paths, some insisting Lady Pomeran knew of the prisons extramarital purposes and took revenge on the poor women in heinous bouts of torture, and others declaring her completely aloof. Though there was never any proof of such acts taking place, the boring truth was that the prison was probably never used to hide Pomeran sexcapades, but boys will be boys thus "having a girl in your Bali Boro" was born to signify hiding a mistress.

Kael indeed had a habit of locking away many secrets during that time but that didn't matter anymore. His memory being questioned, along with the subliminal suspicion in the man's tone grounded him back into the present.

"I remember..." Everything? Nothing? The ambiguity to his statement was intentional, but the otherworldly nature of the events at Jakkas crossing were jarring even now. He remembered the eyes. Those fucking eyes that were like two jewels forged in hell. He remembered screaming all around him. He remembered losing two fingers which he instinctively tried to wiggle.

Most of all he remembered not being able to kill it.

After a few more moments of listening to the incoherent mutterings coming from the others cells down the corridor with the light crackle of torches,

"The both of you were Jakka's crossing?...Did you see it? Did you see the beast?"

A blanket of silence overcast both Ziek and Adam as Kael’s question hung heavy in the air alongside the feeling of dread that it had brought with it. The one object of discussion that the pair had managed to purposely avoid in an attempt to maintain their sanity was now being brought up without hesitation by their freshly awoken cellmate. The two men tried to exchange glances under what little light they had, but neither of them could make out the other’s expression. It seemed as if they were trying to communicate something without the use of any words. Simultaneously, they both gave up on whatever it was they were trying to convey, but each with different intentions on how to continue the conversation.

“Why yes we were, but honestly, I don't recall-” Ziek started before Adam interjected,

“I saw the beast.” he said with a bluntness to his words that was so cold that one could almost see the vapor from his breath despite the humid conditions. Ziek was quite surprised that Adam was no longer willing to paddle up the river of denial with him, instead choosing to dive head first into the waters of reality. A reality that was still so incomprehensible to Ziek, that he was not ready to even dip his toes in yet.

“Garnerge.” just letting the name that the beast had given him escape his lips brought back a flood of feelings and gruesome memories to Adam’s mind. The image of Nef’s head being crushed like a grape between Garnerge’s fingers was soon followed by the sight of Izem’s face being torn off by the monstrosity’s blood stained teeth. Their final anguished calls for help repeated in a torturing collection of noise within the walls of his head.

Despite the unrelenting pain and sorrow that remembering these moments brought him, there was one somewhat foreign feeling undercutting them all in the back of his thoughts. A feeling that was strengthened each time Adam pictured the beast or thought his name.

It was a raging bloodlust.

This emotion was far from overwhelming though, and felt more like a residual feeling, not unlike the slight intoxication a drunk would wake to in the morning after a heavy night of drinking. Adam had recalled how intense and controlling this feeling was when he first laid eyes upon Garnerge. It was a bubbling enragement that felt as if it would consume him from the inside out. It forced him to confront the behemoth head on with his crew, an incredibly foolish and brash decision that he knew, deep down, he would have never have made under normal circumstances.

“Normal circumstances…”

These words managed to cause an internal morbid chuckle within his mind while he still looked deep in thought.

“Regardless of what any of us think we saw-” Ziek tried to continue before Adam snapped from his thoughts and raged suddenly at him,

“You saw it too, you bastard!” Adam even lunged from his position, as if to pounce on Ziek with these words, but the chains around his wrists held him back with loud clank that rang out. His teeth clenched down tightly against each other as he struggled to regain his breath. Ziek legitimately flinched back and raised a single eyebrow in confusion at the nearly foaming Adam. “In fact, you must of seen it before any of us! Me and my crew saw yer goddamn ass fly over the jungle on the back of that uprooted corl. It must of bee-”

“It doesn’t even matter what actually happened.” Ziek interrupted him with deflated and defeated tone, his palm raised up to the ceiling. “It was gone by the time the Rangers showed up. We were all that was standing there. Thus, we are the ones placed with the blame for the murders and burning of the village. Lumped in with your crew as raiders and rapists, Captain.” Ziek shifted his attention over to Kael’s direction. “How does that sound? I’ve always wanted to be a pirate, myself. Well actually, there was this time when I was younger…” Ziek trailed off once he caught a quick glimpse of Adam’s pained facial expression in a chance flicker of light from the hall lantern. It was clear he was striking quite a nerve. He realized it was more than likely the mention of Adam’s crew and felt a pang of regret for his choice of words.

“Ah shit, Adam I’m just-” Ziek tried reaching out his dirt covered hand in a gesture of apology, but Adam turned away to his opposite side as much as he could. It was the position he usually took to sleep.

“We haven’t ate yet.” was all Adam responded despondently. Ziek’s stomach told him that this was certainly true.

“Now, I’m not trying to say that I’ve become an expert on telling time down here, but you’re damn right. We should have been served our delicious meat-piles a few hours ago.” As Ziek finished these words, an exaggerated cackling laugh came from the cell across the hall.

“Elrich iss back in charge of Ward 8 ssstarting today.” The floating voiced hissed from inside the dark cell. “Be prepared to get hungry.” Adam poked his head back up to try to hear better.

“Who is that and what do ya mean!?” Adam shouted back to the man. Ziek leaned over toward Adam and whispered to him,

“Psst, ask him if he is, or if he knows who is, the guy who threw piss at me” Adam stomped on the stone ground in Ziek’s direction in an effort to get him to shut up.

“Ugly Kildran shit, sssuposssssedly wasss a knight for sssome horssse-fuckin noble family. Musssta took the wrong ssside in that war they had few yearsss back and hisss miserable asss ended up here.” The eerie voice informed them. “Bassstard only shows up with the ssslop every other day, and that’sss only if he’sss in a good mood.” As if on cue, Ziek’s stomach let out a ferocious growl into their cell. As Adam laid his head back down, he chuckled out loud, perhaps in an attempt to mock Ziek. With a slow shake of his head, Ziek looked back to Kael with a tired expression working its way into his face while his neck pivoted.

“Well, that sucks.”

_____
"Garnerge.." Kael said tentatively, like he was testing how it rolled off the tongue. He wasn't sure if the monster declared this to be his name or not, most of those nights events just a painful blur, but it felt right. It was nonsense but as far as he could tell there was no other word fitting enough to label the big Bastard.

Kael was taken aback by Adams sudden outburst, "Jerrin" had slight case of denial but he didn't see any harm in it. It was pretty standard for folk who endured traumatic events. Kaels features curved into a curious glance towards Adam when he heard about the man flying through the air like a freak show.

Jerrin was sly with his side step, directing focus on here and now, and a plight they all shared. So, what? Local con artist? Town drunk? Just at the wrong place at the wrong time? All of the above, maybe. Either way there was an interesting story behind Kaels new long statured friend, and he was very much interested in knowing the rest of it.

But alas, the mere mention of food was enough to make it feel like his stomach was caving in. How long had he been out? It felt like he hadn't had a good meal in ages.

The news that their meal had been indefinitely delayed sprouted anger inside him. It was deep rooted, and primal. The animalistic need to feed. He knew all to well it was enough to kill over. It pissed him off even more hearing he was going to be starved by some piss ant Kildran.

The name didn't strike him familiar, but "ugly Kildran shit" robbed a soft chuckle from him. It was probably a back woods country knight like the fellow across the hall hissed. Those were the worst. Peasants mascarading as nobility and pissed at the world because there was little more for them to fuck then livestock.

And then there was the possibility of Elrich recognizing his fellow Kildran. Kael could only imagine the can of worms that would open for him. The Bastard had his ass kicked from one end of The country right on out the other, and he had an enemy commander in chain right under his nose. The thought earned an audible scoff from Kael.

For now, there was nothing to do but wait. Kael tenderly turned on his side, his back facing his cell mates, and using his arm as a cushion. He doubted he would sleep. His dreams were too dangerous, and there was enough to worry about right here. He knew the morning would come soon enough, along with all the problems it presented.
 
Last edited:
Kayso Kayso as
Mhisri Mhornn

Location: Bali Boro Prison, Libertia
Date: Month 6, Day 29
Time: The eighth hour of night


Could one think while they were inside their own head? Or was it simply another level of the same thought?

Mhisri contemplated her own consciousness as she sat separated from the real world, staying comfortable in the numbness that she had become. It felt so natural, and yet so strange to be where she was - inside but not - able to feel everything that came with having a mind, yet not be aware of the body that must house it. How did she get here? What was she doing again? For the first time in what seemed like forever, she began to wonder about her circumstances.

Why is there nothing? Shouldn’t there be… something?

A flash of light erupted her concentration, followed by a quick and muffled sound, both of which made her shudder at the unfamiliarity of such sensations. They had gone as quickly as they had come, and Mhisri wondered where they went. They had appeared after she had searched for a something somewhere, so she tried again. Another flash of light, this time tinted with a faint color that seemed familiar. Another sound came with it: a high-pitched metallic creaking of some sort, changing in volume every 1.246 seconds. Yes, that seemed like something she should know. But it was gone again. This time she knew what she had to do to concentrate, and found the light again, almost without effort. It was larger this time, and another sensation, along with the sound, singed her nervous system: heat. She could barely feel it, but she was sure she remembered it. The moving light, the creaking noise, the heat, it had to be-

“EEAAAHHHHHH!!!” The sound came from Mhisri’s own body, echoed in the barren place she had nestled herself. A new feeling poured into the space, overwhelming everything else, making her withdraw and cry out and convulse. This was pain, and swiftly-fleeting memories of another woman-her boots and fists and anger-suddenly flooded her mind, pushing her further back into the safety of the numbness she had grown accustomed to. Heaving and pulsating, the pain gone again, she searched for those memories of the woman who had beaten her and pushed her into this numb chasm of thought. What had happened again? She knew she would remember if she went out there, but she didn’t want to if that was what life was like. She wondered if she could observe without feeling the pain, or if that was impossible. Could she shut off that particular stimulus while using the one that had let her see the light? Reluctantly, she searched for the light again, attempting to ignore the feeling of heat that had opened the floodgates of the nervous system and the unbearable pain that had accompanied it.

The brightness of the orange flame returned, and was smaller - farther away this time. The heat was not returning, and Mhisri could begin to see through blurred vision a figure appear, the one who was holding the light. It was another woman, rough edges, dark features, but eyes white. She was far away, and...frightened? Her mouth twisted in what seemed like anger, and as she focused on that mouth, sounds began to flutter in and out, sharpening her senses. The sounds were loud and hysterical, and judging by the way she looked, Mhisri determined that something was wrong with her too. The woman pointed something sharp and glinting at her and backed out of the room they were in, the walls made of bars and very poorly lit. She closed some kind of door, also made of bars, and yelled something else before running out of view, her arm sagging and her leg moving in an odd manner.

As she continued to watch, she noticed more eyes appear as the light vanished from all crevices of her surroundings. They all appeared to be fixed on her, which she thought strange since her body shouldn’t be moving or drawing any attention whatsoever. She wondered if she should venture out in full consciousness and face whatever pain awaited her. She suddenly felt terrified by the thought of being trapped in this void forever. She attempted to feel something to gauge the pain again, see if it was as bad as it was before, and noticed that her body was lying on the floor, her cheek against the stone. She should be able to feel that if she tried. A cool sensation began to creep into her skin, a slight gravelly texture, the dips and dents of the mortar and slate. Then the pain came again: an intense feeling like burning all over her body. She tried to endure it longer, but she started to feel like she couldn’t survive it. She suddenly saw out of the corner of her eye her arm moving of its own free will. Her hand balled itself into a fist and pressed against the cold, painful ground, lifting her body and turning it so she lay on her back, pain shooting through all her extremities as she did so, but a pain below her ribcage seemed to subside a little. Her lungs would have punctured had she not changed position; she understood now the logic in her body shifting, but… how did her body understand that without her logic telling it so? She only had a moment to consider the possibility before recognition of the pain returned and out of reflex she fled again into the nothing.

What a coward. How did she let this happen? How did her body move on its own? Was it trying to protect her? Perhaps her thought had become so mechanical and thorough that she simply was able to think and move without knowing she was doing so. Perhaps her grip on mentality was strong enough that she could subconsciously control the inner workings of herself. Too many possibilities, but it didn’t really matter at this point; she was too weak to take control of herself again. But she could still think. She began to consider the events that brought her here and they slowly rebuilt themselves into her memory. A beautiful library, crumbling walls, settling dust, a red-hot blade, a monster, rope-burns, a prison cell… That’s right. She was trapped - imprisoned - and there was no way to escape. At least, she couldn’t figure out how. That’s what got her here. Still, she couldn’t have just abandoned those two men who needed help. She could have escaped but she didn’t; she chose to stay behind. It’s what her grandfather did… stay behind. At the thought of him, another forgotten emotion aroused her sharpening senses and filled her with a new pain: sadness. She didn’t know if she could cry or not in the nothingness, but she wanted to.

~

In the adjoining cell block, a feral-looking woman nursed her broken arm, waiting for the guard to return with medical supplies that she would likely forget in the interest of fixing her own injuries. She wanted to kill this girl for what she had done to her, but she was too afraid. She hoped none of the other prisoners would notice her fear, for they all seemed to be a little on edge since the girl’s outburst a couple hours before. The cellmate whose arm she had torn into had been removed and the girl was alone, unmoving except for a scream or two that had come from nowhere. One of the guards had arrived in the middle of the night, apparently wanting to see the freak for herself. She arrived with a smirk on her lips, but soon left screaming, with a dislocated arm and leg. She didn't know how the girl's seemingly lifeless body could fight off every attack, even the covert ones, but that's what had happened. She sat in the corner farthest from their adjoining cell walls and tried to tie up her arm in a makeshift splint using her shoes and some torn pieces of her shabby cloak. The other prisoners had begun returning to sleep since the guard’s noisy departure, and only she noticed the mysterious girl lift an arm and push herself onto her back, the glint of a single tear barely noticeable in the dim lantern light.
 
The following is a collaboration between King Ad Rock King Ad Rock , Kayso Kayso and DarkianMaker DarkianMaker


King Ad Rock King Ad Rock as Ziek Sidane & Adam Durant

DarkianMaker DarkianMaker as Wan the Mole

Kayso Kayso as Kael Gilgrend

______​

Location: Bali Boro Prison, Libertia

Date: Month 6, Day 30

Time: The Twelfth hour of night (12:00 A.M.)


______​

Heavy footsteps, attempting their best to remain soundless, echoed off the dark hall corridors of Bali Boro. A lonely light in the deep blackness of the windowless night flickered and lead a pair of tiptoeing guards. The fuel of this lamp was kept at an intentional low flame so as to draw the least bit of attention to themselves.

It was the middle of the night in the infamous prison and the melodies of snores and heavy breathing were accompanied by the percussion of heavy dripping from every corner. A taller, pale-faced Kildran guard was leading them with a hurried yet careful pace. This man was Erich Helligrin, a former knight of the now gone House Florian of Kildra, and now current prison guard at Bali Boro. The pitiful flame of his lantern illuminated the scars on his weathered face that he had gained during the war as he lead his would-be partner to a metaphorical scar on his life.

The Nomasdae guard, who was the shorter of the two and followed behind almost reluctantly, was Akinya Luust. The frail young man with sunken eyes and short Nomasdae hair-knots had only been working at the prison for a mere six months before the day, just two weeks before, when Elrich approached him with some stunning information and a crazy plan. Akinya was barely out of his teens and this was more than apparent in his oversized leather armor.

Akinya’s superior, Captain Elrich, was not cared for by the other guards of the stretched-thin facility. He was seen as arrogant and clearly felt he had a racial superiority over his Nomasdae colleagues. There was also his unwarranted mistreatment of prisoners that certainly rubbed the more conscientious guards the wrong way, but he seemed to get along somewhat with the meek Akinya. Akinya was a lover of history and particularly interested in the recent War of Royalty that Elrich had taken part in. The eager young man would spend his days working up the nerve to pester the cranky Elrich with all kinds of questions. At first, it appeared that Elrich was quite annoyed by Akinya’s attention, but over the months he seemed to welcome at least some human contact in the dreary hellhole.

Maybe this was the reason that Elrich enlisted Akinya’s help in what he had planned when the most unlikely prisoner fell right into his lap. Of course, Elrich knew he could not pull it off alone and once he explained just who this prisoner was to Akinya, it was enough to get the boy leaping at the opportunity to meet what he considered a “historical figure”.

But once the scheduled night finally fell to enact their carefully prepared and rehearsed plan, Akinya’s usual fears took over and it took every ounce of willpower he had to take every step. He was about to commit a crime possibly punishable by death after all and damned if that thought would not leave his worrisome mind.

“A-a-are sh-sh-sure it’s him?” Akinya’s stuttering voice whispered to Elrich. The nervousness in his bass-less voice was more than evident.

It was the two’s scheduled first night to make the rounds of Ward 8 and feed the near-starved prisoners, but Elrich had stopped Akinya back at the barracks and forced him to partake in a drink while lending his ear to Elrich’s dangerous plan instead.

Akinya was not convinced of Elrich’s recognition of one of the new prisoners. He had seen the injured man with his own eyes and he did not seem to fit Elrich's descriptions of a “twister of death” or an “unrelenting killer”.

All Akinya saw was another low-tier criminal who had been projectile vomiting all over himself from the moment he was processed.

Surely this could not be the infamous warrior from Elrich’s nightmares? Akinya had heard the tales of the “Mercenary Butcher Boy” from Kildra’s War of Royalty who supposedly took the lives of over a thousand men single-handedly. Some stories came from his fellow cadets back at the Libertian Military Academy in the capital of Par Quan. Akinya did not have what it took for military service and found himself bouncing around Libertia until landing at the dismal Bali Boro where he met Elrich. That was when he got the pleasure of listening to the muscled brute’s firsthand accounts.

Apparently, the tales of the “Child of Death” being only twelve or thirteen were strikingly exaggerated according to Elrich. The former knight estimated the “boy’s” age to be somewhere around twenty during the mid-years of the war.

But Elrich had told Akinya, and anyone who would listen, that the young, bloodthirsty mercenary’s skill on the battlefield vastly surpassed that of which was whispered among drunkards in taverns. But Akinya found himself much more terrified of the assassin locked up in the underground that murdered council member Tsaruu Rari.

“As sure as I am you should stick it in a whore’s ass over the slit.” Elrich scoffed. Akinya winced behind him at his vulgarity. “I would never forget those damned eyes. That dirt-” Elrich stopped himself from uttering the slur, almost forgetting his comrade’s ethnicity. “He’s older and looks like shit, but that’s him alright.” Akinya could hear the firm certainty in Elrich’s tone.

“Then what makes you think we can-”

“I would not go anywhere near him if he did not have the lame leg,” Elrich answered his accomplice before he could finish.

“D-Did he really k-kill a thousand men?” Akinya whispered his skepticism as they continued down the long hall.

“More than likely not. A knight's restraint in storytelling is as existent as the gods.” Elrich grimly joked while raising his lantern to check the inhabitants of the current cell they were passing. It was the El-Didarre brothers sleeping soundly. This meant they were getting close.

“It is just-W-what if we get caught? We could-” Akinya continued to stammer before Elrich shut him up with a surprisingly loud retort through gritted, grimy teeth.

“Enough you spineless welp! If you are not going to help me the begone with ya!” This hiss from the elder guard made Akinya stop for just a moment. He thought back to his home with his sick mother and burdened father surrounded by his younger siblings. His mind then shot to the riches Elrich promised them if they could pull everything off.

“No! I have made my decision Elrich. I am with you” Akinya assured him as he chased the fleeing light of Elrich’s lantern. They had shuffled past many a cell as they made their way through the damp halls with the small flame briefly lighting up each one. Most of the prisoners made no reaction to the pair as they continued their movement.

“Don’t worry. The shits got a broken leg and can’t walk. He won’t be able to do a thing.” Akinya replayed this earlier assurance from Elrich over and over again in his mind as they finally approached the cell that housed the new prisoners. Elrich held his lantern higher so as to create a larger radius of light over the cell. The lantern lightly clinked against one of the metal bars as the weak illuminance covered the front half


______​

Ziek would not let sleep take him again. Not after the hellish nightmares that had just jolted him awake. He had seen the faces of those who had passed, screaming in agony. He had seen the faces of those he had killed, staring blankly at him without a sound, their expressions frozen in pain and anguish. And there was one more face that appeared and snapped him from the horrific dream.

An inhuman one.

Now that Ziek was awake, he found that he had somehow rolled over to the corner of the cell despite his injury. His filthy face was squished against the front bars of their confinement. Ziek went to readjust himself but quickly lied perfectly still once he heard the whispering of two approaching voices. He could see the bobbing flame of a lantern coming in their direction. Going with his gut, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. There was no need to draw attention to himself, a bit of advice that Ziek usually never followed.

He could hear Kael and Adam both snoring in their respective corners. Right away he noticed two shadowy figures standing at the entrance to their cell. Despite being jolted awake, Ziek did his best not give away that he was to the mystery pair. He could now hear one of his other cellmates shuffling awake in the shadows.

“There he is, Akinya. That is the infamous ‘Black Talon Butcher Boy’. I think his first name is Zeech or some shit.” Elrich spat.

This was an unfavorable coincidence.

How did this man know him? And he had used the title that Ziek absolutely detested. Here Ziek was, over two-hundred miles from the border of Libertia and Kildra, and yet somehow here was this unsightly, foul-breathed Kildran smugly eyeing him over like some beggar who had just happened upon someone's secret stash of coin.

And Ziek still could not walk.

This was truly an unfavorable coincidence.

Although if Ziek could walk, he doubted that they would of have been able to successfully apprehend him, and then he would not even be in this mess. Now all he had to rely on were his terrible acting and lying skills, something he was never really adept at and certainly not for lack of trying. The missing pinky on his left hand was evidence enough of his lack of ability in deceit, forcibly removed when he was caught cheating at Parshumian dice with a certain pirate.

Ziek tried to internally question the moment as fast as possible. Who was this? How did he know who he was? And what did he want? His accent was a thick Kildran one, that’s all Ziek could tell for sure. He tried to open one of his eyes just a bit to get a peak of the unwelcome visitors, but Elrich locked his gaze with him immediately.

“Aye! I see you awake boy! No use in pretendin’. We know who you are.” Elrich grinned as he brought the lantern to his face. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle with a madness in the lantern’s light.

Ziek sat up slowly against the cell wall and shrugged nonchalantly.

“And just who am I?” He asked them. Elrich’s crooked toothed and increasingly smug smile grew even wider.

“‘Syler Hazule’s Butcher Boy’. ‘The Nomasdae Blood Child’ ‘The Slayer of the Legendary Lord Etton Florian’. You had quite a few different titles during the war, didn’t you?” Elrich said with gleeful pride. He could still not believe the luck that this monster had somehow wound up right in his hands. The person who helped take everything from him was also the key to getting it all back. And there he was.

“You killed so many right before me. You tore apart my men like they were nothin’”

Ziek gave an intentionally long pause before responding. “I’m sorry, but who? Are you talking about him?” He asked while pointing to the still unconscious Kael. It was obvious to Ziek by Adam’s shadow that he was awake and watching the situation silently himself.

“W-What if we are wrong, Elrich?” Akinya whimpered.

“Shut up!” Elrich hissed back at his partner.

Elrich turned his sight to the slumped over Kael. Guards had been taking the usual bets whenever a sickly prisoner came in on whether or not he would make it and when he would finally die. It took some creativity to pass the time while watching over the imprisonment of the monsters of Libertia. With one look Elrich figured the hulky prisoner had already croaked and chuckled.

“No, no my friend. I admire your last-ditch efforts at trickery, but we know it is you.” Elrich said as he smothered any hopes Ziek had that he could manipulate himself out of this one. Elrich then addressed the third prisoner in the cell, Adam.

“Hey shad-” Elrich cut himself off yet again and internally chided himself for almost using another slur. “Hey, you! Over there in the back. Do you know who you are sharing a cell with?” Elrich questioned Adam.

“No.” Adam replied plainly. He did not know before, but he knew now. “Syler Hazule’s Butcher Boy” was the second most wanted person in all of Kildra only to Syler Hazule himself. The price on his head was a goldmine.

“Well, let’s just say that little shit-smelling killer is my-” Elrich corrected himself once more while slightly turning to Akinya. “Our ticket out of this dump. And if you play along nicely, he could be yours as well. If not, we can just slit your throat and be done with it.” Elrich’s grin somehow seemed to grow even more into an almost inhuman and villainous caricature. Ziek’s mind was racing. No, this would not be it. Not by a couple of clowns in a dungeon like this.

“Again, you have the wrong person. The name’s Jerrin. How do you do?” Ziek did his absolute best to try not to sound sarcastic, but the tone seemed infused to his voice these days. There was an overall nihilistic attitude that he just could not shake. Elrich slowly shook his head and chuckled again.

“Aye, play it that way if you wish. I know exactly who you are. We don't need your confirmation.” The bearded guard stood to his feet allowing the lantern to shine enough light on his partner and revealed him to be a young, scrawny, and reluctant looking Nomasdae man. The Kildran guard, who Ziek was now realizing must be Elrich, raised his lantern so that it dressed light on the other two in the cell.

“So what say you in the back? Ready to get out of here?” Elrich called out just above a whisper. Adam and Ziek’s gazes locked at that moment and Ziek hoped that there was a successful silent communication between them. He gave slight, almost unseen nod to the seemingly still unconscious Kael.

“Yes, let’s go.” Adam spoke with still no emotion in his voice. The gratification was nearly beaming off of Elrich’s face now. Everything that he had planned for the past two weeks was coming to fruition.

“Hand me the keys Akinya.”

______​
Kael almost sighed audibly in obvious disgust at being awoken at such a late hour. Even though he had spent nearly two weeks unconscious his body was still exhausted and his mind was still trying to get a grip on the reality of past and current events. He wanted his damn sleep. As he stirred, however, he quickly realized that the conversation that had awoken him was hushed and looming above him, and the voices were not directed at him. Kael could tell through closed eyes that pale lantern light peered in through the bars of their cell, and through alert ears he could hear the words the face behind the light spoke.

“‘Syler Hazule’s Butcher Boy.’ ‘The Nomasdae Blood Child.’ ‘The Slayer of the Legendary Lord Etton Florian.’ You had quite a few different titles during the war, didn’t you?”

Who was this drunken wretch talking to? The Butcher Boy was rumored to be dead, though in other circles he was also rumored to be alive. It’s a funny thing for a dead man to accumulate such a handsome bounty on his head, but still, he had often wondered himself which rumor was true. He supposed to himself that it would take either a clever bastard or a simple-minded fool to confront the notorious Blood Child, dead or alive, and for whatever reasons kept this mystery man in a lowlife prison such as this, he figured he was of the simple-minded sort. Kael continued to listen, unmoving, a deep realization beginning to set in as he heard the next voice.

“I’m sorry, but who? Are you talking about him?”

The jokester with the bad leg? They think he’s the Butcher Boy?

“W-What if we are wrong, Elrich?”

“Shut up!”

Kael changed the direction of his thoughts, going back to the blood-drenched fields of the War of Royalty. Had he ever seen Syler Hazule or his protege? He didn’t know. Regardless of whether or not he did, he’d heard the stories, and knew the man behind the name. They even shared a connection of sorts: both given the nickname “Butcher” during the war, both betrayed by the Kildran Queen who had employed them. And if the Butcher Boy had survived, which was likely, both were outcasts of a sort. Both might want revenge on the one who had destined them to a fate worse than death, and with a companion as powerful as that, how could they fail? He could be wrong, though. This man who had shown up in the middle of the night could be confused, drunk… But what if he wasn’t...?

“Well, let’s just say that little shit-smelling killer is my - our ticket out of this dump. And if you play along nicely, he could be yours as well. If not, we can just slit your throat and be done with it.”

He was talking to the other man that shared his cell: the pirate. They certainly were convinced. Whether his cellmate was the Butcher Boy or not, it sounded like they were offering Adam his freedom for keeping quiet while they turn in that silly-faced joke of a man. And they hadn’t bothered to wake him. Either they think him dead, or plan on leaving him out of the deal. He may be weak as a young horse, but he still had some fire in him.

“So what say you in the back? Ready to get out of here?”

There was a small, silent pause. The pirate spoke, flatly.

“Yes, let’s go.”

He couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by.

Kael could almost hear the satisfaction in the man’s face. He was obviously a guard, for the gasp of devilish delight had accompanied the sound of jingling keys as he quietly opened the cell door and made his way past his own inert frame to the waiting Adam. The other man, probably another guard, stepped into the cell but stayed near the opening. He was either keeping watch or had some hesitation. He may not be that difficult to take down. Another clicking lock pinged the silent night air and Adam stood to his feet but didn’t make any moves. The next click freed Jerrin - the Butcher Boy - whoever he was - from the wall and he was pushed toward the door, roughly and abruptly, but near silently. He also did nothing. Apparently, the freedom of all three of them rested on Kael. He listened for the guard to step aside and let the pirate step through the door first. He then pushed the unknown man through, the sound of clinking metal rings still puncturing the darkness, signaling that the men’s hands were still chained together. The guard followed slowly.

Kael raised himself to his feet, a slight swaying making his head feel unstable. But he stood his ground. The guard almost didn’t comprehend it, as the darkness was still deep, the weak light partially deflected from the inside of the cell. At the sound of his movements, the guard had become a bit disoriented, turning his face to the opposite direction before swinging it to face Kael, who was already braced for a powerful kick that met the guard’s unprotected abdomen and sent him violently backward, almost airborne, into the bars of the still-open cell door. A few voices stirred in the bleak background. Kael bent over the guard’s slumped body, whose eyes were still blinking wide at the pain, and grabbing his head by the hair, slammed it into the bars once again. He slumped to the floor, unconscious. More voices joined the surrounding prisoners’ quiet cacophony, rising in tone as they tried to discern what was going on. Kael turned to his cellmates, now freed from one set of bars that were holding them in. Looking at Ziek, he stretched his shoulders and neck, balling his hands in and out of fists.

“I don’t know you, but if you’re who they say you are, we’re going to need some of that.”

He bent over the guard’s body again, taking the set of keys that were still clasped in his sweaty hand. The footsteps of the other guard faded as he ran.


______​

Adam would not allow the fleeing guard to succeed in alerting the others. With his wrists still chained together, he chased after the slow-paced man. The clanking together of the dangling chains were the only sounds in the hall besides their footsteps. Years of hard shipwork had strengthened the stout but powerful legs of the pirate and allowed him to catch up with ease. The Nomasdae guard heard the steps of his pursuer gaining on him and turned to face him at the last possible second. There was a look of pure terror upon his face as Adam pounced on him with outstretched arms. Both men came crashing down on the stone floor of the hall with a great splash, their silhouettes appearing to be one beast of limbs in the dimly lit hall.

Adam made direct eye contact with the fearful man now underneath him. The guard, Akinya, tried pleading with him while simultaneously trying to fight him off. The prisoners around them all began to stir and several called out in a reinforcement of Adam's actions, although the ones that did were not too loud about it. Several others snapped back at them to hush. There was a sense that a once in a lifetime opportunity was about to show itself.

"Please, please don't-" Akinya whimpered. Adam was attempting to force the chains that bound his wrist shackles together down onto the guard's throat before he could call out for help. Akinya's eyes told the story of a frightened young man who realized death was close. Adam wished that it did not have to be this way, but he would do just about anything to get out of this wretched place and back to his family in one piece. Especially now that there was an apparent "pot of gold" waiting at the end of the tunnel.

Despite the guard grabbing at Adam's wrists, the chain gradually tightened around his larynx. Adam whispered "I am sorry" to his hapless victim while his eyes bulged and gurgles escaped his mouth. The sight was too gruesome for Adam to look directly upon so he averted his gaze. It took what felt like an eternity for the struggling to cease. With the writhing coming to an abrupt stop underneath him, Adam released the choke and brought his eyes back to the motionless body. Akinya's young face was now forever twisted into a terrified, gasping cry. The whites of his eyes were a deep red with burst blood vessels throughout. Adam slowly reached out his hands in unison due to their still chained state and closed the eyelids of Akinya.

"Please forgive me, but I must see them again. Nothing can stop that now."


_____​
Ziek could not believe what he had just witnessed. Their slumped over companion had snapped to life and clobbered Elrich with a swift ease. Ziek applauded Kael from his leaning position in the cell doorway with an excited look plastered across his mug. The excitement was over in nearly a flash though and once it was, Adam had burst down the hall after the second guard, nearly knocking Ziek over in the process.

With a hand grabbing the metal bars for balance, he leaned through the doorway on his good leg and tried to make out what was going on in the shadowy hall. He could tell that Adam had caught the man and it looked as if they were struggling on the floor, and it sounded like their scuffle had caused the prisoners around them to awake.

The excitement was only growing.

Ziek turned back to Kael to thank him properly for his rescue and their hopeful escape but was met by Kael's words before he could. He could barely make out the man's outline as he was further back in the pitch-black cell.

“I don’t know you, but if you’re who they say you are, we’re going to need some of that.”

Ziek threw his right hand in the air and shook his head in mock disbelief at this statement. With a pointing of his finger downward towards his still-mangled leg, he answered Kael,

"Guy, even if I was, what am I going to do like this." In fact, Ziek had no idea how he was going to hobble around during this little breakout. His leg was far from being in a state where he could even put the slightest bit of weight on it. It did not seem like a realistic plan to hop around the entire time. What he cursed the most though was that he could not suitably defend himself.

Kael seemed to shrug off Ziek's protests, or perhaps did not hear them, and bent over the unconscious Elrich. He wrestled a set of keys from Elrich's grasp. They appeared to be a set of "Skeleton Keys" for the doors of all the cells, possibly for just this ward or possibly the whole prison.

Before either one of them could continue their conversation, a voice rang from across the hall, trying to get their attention. Ziek still had trouble seeing Kael in the darkness of the cell, but motioned towards the sound of the voice with a nod of his head.

"What do you say? Think you could help me over there, sleeping beauty? Let's see what the creepy mystery voice wants.


______​

Wan had been a prisoner here for over a year and in that time he had carefully laid his preparations and scouting ahead of him in his scheme to break out of this prison just because he could. Why else would he let himself get captured? He would've smiled to himself if things hadn't gotten complicated recently. Just as he had tattooed the final part of prison plans on Pasha the Mute's back some fresh faces had been brought into his quiet hallway. Not an unusual sight except for one face that seemed familiar. 'It would be peculiar if it truly were you Bloodchild...' His suspicion was confirmed when he heard the man sing, yell and keep a happy-go-lucky attitude that only a few people he knew had. Wan knew that sooner or later someone was going to catch onto Ziek's identity and that would be the moment to move, not ideal but a necessary evil to get them both and Pasha out of this hole.

He spent most of his time meditating in silence, conserving his energy and giving Pasha some extra from his own rations to give Pasha the strength he would soon need. Him and Pasha didn't get much abuse from the other prisoners as they mostly kept to themselves but had a bark that few would try to mess with. Sometimes the guards would take them out of the cell and made them do the cooking of the prisoner food as a reward for good behavior. It was a shit job but at least they got some fresh air in the process, well, fresher air. They'd even get to visit to women's wing on rare occasions to hand out the food. It provided an opportunity to map the area, not that he thought it would come in useful but it is always useful to know more about one's surroundings. All of this information he tattooed onto the back of Pasha with ink and needles that a guard smuggles in for him in exchange for Wan using his influence to stop prisoners from throwing piss at the guard if he was on patrol.

Ah yes, his name Wan, it's also been years since somebody last called him that. Nobody in this prison knows him by that name, they know him as Karver. He would've taught Pasha the signs for his name but he couldn't risk being exposed by someone else knowing sign language. It was when he was meditating that he heard two sets of feet walking through the hall, both familiar and it spelled trouble and opportunity. He quietly rose from the ground and started listening for what was going on down the hall as he stepped closer to the door. Whispers but the message was clear, Elrich had found out about Ziek. He nudged Pasha awake and listened for sounds of what was going on whilst looking down the hall at the faint light. Then he heard the thud, the running of steps, excited voices, a man being strangled and then short silence. "Hey you loud shit, why don't you get your ass over here and break out someone with a brain?!" He called out in his gruff voice that he mostly used before to rile up other prisoners. "Coz getting out of your cell is one thing, getting out of the prison is a whole other thing!" In the background, Pasha got the few things they managed to gather for this scenario.

Kael ignored the cheeky jest and lifted one of the Blood Child's arms around his shoulder, aiding him across the hall to the brusque whispers that beckoned to them from the shadows of a nearby cell. The depth of the blackness and the throbbing in his head made his steps uneasy and his head faint, but with each confident movement he felt his strength returning and the hot coals of a violent grudge building within his weak but willing physique. The grim images that had haunted his dreams were slowly being replaced by desire - no, stronger than that. It was a lust - for freedom, revenge, and purpose. At the mere suggestions of freeing this “prisoner with a brain,” he began to entertain the denouement that a messy and uncivilized manner of escape would offer them. And he liked it.

“What do you know?” he asked the darkness.


______​

Without word, Kael swung Ziek's lanky arm around his muscle of a neck to help the injured loudmouth cross the hall towards the beckoning voice. Ziek was a bit surprised by Kael's silent familiarity and took the chance to rib his new ally,

"Whoa, alright. Just goin' to grab me like that, huh? That's no problem." Ziek smiled widely at Kael as they shuffled side-by-side out of the cell and into the dim hall light. "Let me guess, you must be the strong silent type. Well, that's just my..." Ziek looked upwards and trailed off before finishing as if he realized something.

"...type... Dammit! I messed that one up."

Kael gave no impression of being perturbed by Ziek's words and jests as they reached the door to the other cell. Despite the small amount of illumination from the hall lanterns, Ziek could not make out any details of who was inside. He squinted into the swirling shadows and craned his neck for a better view while Kael questioned them directly,

“What do you know?”

Almost as if to purposely juxtapose Kael's serious sounding inquiry, Ziek sang out into the pitch-black cell with a tone one would normally speak to a dog with,

"Does someone want to cooome ooouut?"

Ziek was not sure if his intended target for his facetious question was hit, but he was sure it landed everywhere else. As if on cue, voices began to ring out all around them,

"Wot the fuck is goin' on!?"

"They're killin' guards!"

"Those guys're out! People're out!"

"Letusout! Letusout!"

"DO NOT let those two out!"

"Slog vokk ow, Y'n griymt gu shaaw!"

The prisoners were now stirring awake all around them, and many had already been watching the spectacle of the sudden escape. Ziek slowly turned his head to come face-to-face with Kael while sporting a grimace of shame.

"I think I may have woke some of the kids..."


______​
Wan waited patiently until the fresh escapees made their way over to his cell. 'They're slow, this might be a problem.' He thought to himself as he looked at the two as they arrived. He didn't recognize the smaller, broader man but the limping one was the Blood Child for sure.

"What do you know?" The smaller man spoke before the Blood Child sang out "Does someone want to cooome ooouut?" in a clear attempt to rile everyone up. Amusing but also annoying because he once again acted before thinking. Pasha rushed up to the bars of the cell, banged against the iron bars once and put his finger to his lips. Wan shook his head slightly and stepped forward to the bars as well and calmly looked at the two of them before looking at Ziek with a look of annoyance.

"In case you missed the hint, be fucking quiet you shit." He hissed at the poor guy whilst very subtly showing the tattoo on the inside of his wrist next to the bars of the cell door so it would be out of sight for Ziek's companion but visible enough for Ziek as Wan put his hands on the bars. He then looked at the broader man. "I'm Karver, this is Pasha and we happen to know this prison like the back of our hand." He told the man calmly and quietly. "You want to get out of this place in one piece and we can accommodate that desire, all you need to do is to let us out and listen to my every order to the letter. Do you think you can do that buddy?" Pasha gave his dumb, creepy grin at the mention of the word buddy. 'Nothing is more perfect than a T'Odis mute acting like a simpleton.' He mused to himself before looking at Ziek again with burning eyes. "And you will be quiet unless I tell you to be loud otherwise I won't tell Pasha here to haul your crippled ass around." He hissed.

There were only two men in the dreary cell from what Ziek could see, and one of them sure was being mouthy for talking to the guys with the key. Ziek could not make out any defining features and his accent was perplexing.

"I ain't your buddy, pal." Ziek mused to himself.

The mouthy man held out his wrist as if trying to show Ziek something, but Ziek took it as the man wanting to hold hands, so he tried reaching out and caressing his hand, just missing it as he pulled it back inside the cell. The man's silent cellmate wore an eerie smile the entire time that rubbed Ziek the wrong way. There were a few prisoners shouting from their cells now. They did not have much time before more guards would come to investigate. Ziek looked down at Kael, then slowly back to the cell, and then back to Kael again before speaking,

"Kael, I honestly don't like the looks of these two. And they smell bad too. Let us go and try our luck with the next cell, whaddya say?" he jested. Right after Ziek comically offered this option, Adam sauntered over to the pair as they stood outside of the cell. Ziek pointed at him with his free hand in an accusatory manner.

"You were going to let them take me, you bastard!" Adam raised his still-shackled hands to give an exaggerated shrug.

"I saw an opportunity present itself, so I took it. And then another opportunity presented itself, so I took that one instead. What would you have had me do?" Adam responded nonchalantly. A faint smile and a sharp breath of air through his nostrils was the only indication that he was amused by this. But his voice did hint that he may not have had any intention with going along with their plan. He looked into the cell they stood before with a squint. "Who are these two?"
 

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