mayor
Heart & Mind
oh you don't have to worry about that. I am, I definitely am 
Hammer and Steel
- Thread starter Tycho
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Tycho
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You were warned once before. Stop your actions now, or you will not be treated fairly and decently. This is your final warning.
You think you scare me don't you? You honestly think that by prattling away at me, you can silence me and get rid of me, like the dissapearing vagrants? I will not go quietly. You shall never silence a voice that cries out an ideal, one that is just and fair.
I'm going to have to go soon fellows. I have a feeling that they are tracking me. But as promised, I will tell you everything that I know.
The Deep Roads, the Project, the agent program, everything that I have talked about before. I have to bring it to light. If they should try to kill me, I'm not going down without a fight and without condemning them in the eyes of the world.
About the vagrants and the homeless... ever wonder why there is so few of them? They test them, using chemicals and poison gas on them. Black Mountain, Gray Mesa, Thundrfist of God, all three of those places are testing facilities for that sort of stuff. They do whatever they want, then turn the bodies over for experimentation so horrible that it can not be put down into words. And Washington pays a hefty price for it. All of it.
The Deep Roads... they've been using them somehow. I don't know how but they have killed a bunch of people over it. The Bell Incident, the Spyglass Affair, the death of Alfryn Bates, the assassination of General Worthington. Everything that has happened from the shadows has been THEIR doing, because those people stumbled into stuff they were not supposed to. You right now could be in danger of what I have said, but I had to say it to spread the word. This can not be allowed to continue to happen.
Hell, prisoners of war are being used in testing at this point. Berlin, Rome, Moscow, they've all condemned it, but that does not stop them from doing the same thing. They aren't saints, and they are eager to use the results of these testings as well.
The Project I know almost nothing about except that it is based in the Deep Roads and it threatens the very stability of world order. If the Project is used, it will crack open all that we believe in, and expell it out into the light. God save us at that point.
Finally the agent program. You see-
You were warned. You continued to do what you insisted upon doing. For that crime, prepare to be arrested. Resist and die.
The forums wish all of our forumgoers a merry Christmas.
Snowbell stepped lightly over the slumped form of Cambridge. It was a pity that she had had to stab the poor man in the eye socket, but he was the one that would have raised the alarm if she hadn't gotten him. He still sucked air in and out of his lungs, his heart not failing and remaining stable. That was good. Very good actually.
She crouched on the balls of her feet outside of the doorway into the next room. Snowbell couldn't very well stay here for the rest of the time and let each one of the agents trundle in one by one. Epsilon and Oxford might do that, but Delta would never fall for that trick. He'd pull out a Dai-Ichii weapon and put enough lead in the walls to kill even the rats.
Snowbell pulled out her blackjack, a large metal one thin and heavy, enough to knock a person out with just a few hits. It was already stained with blood from two days ago when she had murdered dozens with it. She smiled as she remembered that fondly.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, slow down the heart, relax, do not be nervous. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
She burst through the doorway like a bullet, hitting Yulai squarely in the face with it as he was turning around to continue his pacing. A resounding crack sounded as his nose was dislocated as he fell backwards. Theta and Nova were looking up from their television, and Delta finished the polishing of his prized weapon.
Epsilon was looking up from his game of checkers as the blackjack smashed across his face with ease. His nose and his jaw cracked as he smashed into the table, red and black pieces flying everywhere. Oxford rose ponderously to his feet, the blackjack catching him in the throat with heavy force, three hits in rapid succession, another catching him in the groin. He screamed like a little girl, coughing up blood just before the blackjack caught him in the temple. He too fell, into a desk and crushing it in half, papers with black words written on them flying everywhere.
Nova and Theta attempted to surround her, but she was too well trained for them. Jumping up into the air, one leg hit Theta in the throat as another collided with Nova's head. Both of them staggered around before Snowbell's blackjack struck them.
Delta had his pistol out and took dead aim at her, squeezing the trigger. The bullet richocheted around after Snowbell ducked, the bullet bouncing back into Delta's hand. He grimanced as the blood seeped through his glove, and attempted to fire again. Snowbell grabbed his arm and forced it upwards so that the bullet buried itself in the stony cieling. Delta still struggled around, attempting to wriggle out of the iron grip Snowbell had on him. That is, until Snowbell headbutted him. He fell back onto the couch, the sniper rifle that was his prized posession leaning against the opposite wall and fired off as a stray finger hit the trigger.
Smoke and cries of pain from the concious agents filled the room, Yulai attempting to get up onto his feet. He clutched his head in pain as he looked around the room, noticing Snowbell last of all. He turned to run to the door.
He didn't make it. Snowbell grabbed the thin man's collar and slung him bodily into the wall. The sound of five ribs cracking was highly audible, and Yulai seemed to be in some pain. For his credit, he didn't scream out at all, but attempted to hobble away from Snowbell, bloody saliva dripping out of his mouth.
She grabbed his collar again. "Not so fast pretty boy," she purred at him with malice in every single note. "Where do you think you are going?"
"Away from here," he said through a bloody mouth.
"Rhetorical question." Her hand wrapped itself around his neck, squeezing hard. He thrashed in pain, more agony welling up from his broken bones. "Now you are going to tell me something that is very dear to me. Where is the location of the Project?"
"I don't know," he mumbled out.
"Wrong answer." She squeezed tighter, and Yulai let out a little scream of pain. "Where is it?"
"...Northward... it's at... the array... Cassius Array.... really... that's all I know."
"Good. But let me tell you this. If you lied to me, I will come back and choke the life out of you." She let go of him, Yulai dropping to the floor. He gasped for breath and wheezed.
"Can I at least have some painkillers?"
Snowbell pulled a few out of the emergency supplies she carried. Turning her hand over, the three pills bounced along the floor. "Enjoy."
She took her leave at that point. She had succeeded in what she had set out to do so far.
You think you scare me don't you? You honestly think that by prattling away at me, you can silence me and get rid of me, like the dissapearing vagrants? I will not go quietly. You shall never silence a voice that cries out an ideal, one that is just and fair.
I'm going to have to go soon fellows. I have a feeling that they are tracking me. But as promised, I will tell you everything that I know.
The Deep Roads, the Project, the agent program, everything that I have talked about before. I have to bring it to light. If they should try to kill me, I'm not going down without a fight and without condemning them in the eyes of the world.
About the vagrants and the homeless... ever wonder why there is so few of them? They test them, using chemicals and poison gas on them. Black Mountain, Gray Mesa, Thundrfist of God, all three of those places are testing facilities for that sort of stuff. They do whatever they want, then turn the bodies over for experimentation so horrible that it can not be put down into words. And Washington pays a hefty price for it. All of it.
The Deep Roads... they've been using them somehow. I don't know how but they have killed a bunch of people over it. The Bell Incident, the Spyglass Affair, the death of Alfryn Bates, the assassination of General Worthington. Everything that has happened from the shadows has been THEIR doing, because those people stumbled into stuff they were not supposed to. You right now could be in danger of what I have said, but I had to say it to spread the word. This can not be allowed to continue to happen.
Hell, prisoners of war are being used in testing at this point. Berlin, Rome, Moscow, they've all condemned it, but that does not stop them from doing the same thing. They aren't saints, and they are eager to use the results of these testings as well.
The Project I know almost nothing about except that it is based in the Deep Roads and it threatens the very stability of world order. If the Project is used, it will crack open all that we believe in, and expell it out into the light. God save us at that point.
Finally the agent program. You see-
You were warned. You continued to do what you insisted upon doing. For that crime, prepare to be arrested. Resist and die.
The forums wish all of our forumgoers a merry Christmas.
Snowbell stepped lightly over the slumped form of Cambridge. It was a pity that she had had to stab the poor man in the eye socket, but he was the one that would have raised the alarm if she hadn't gotten him. He still sucked air in and out of his lungs, his heart not failing and remaining stable. That was good. Very good actually.
She crouched on the balls of her feet outside of the doorway into the next room. Snowbell couldn't very well stay here for the rest of the time and let each one of the agents trundle in one by one. Epsilon and Oxford might do that, but Delta would never fall for that trick. He'd pull out a Dai-Ichii weapon and put enough lead in the walls to kill even the rats.
Snowbell pulled out her blackjack, a large metal one thin and heavy, enough to knock a person out with just a few hits. It was already stained with blood from two days ago when she had murdered dozens with it. She smiled as she remembered that fondly.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, slow down the heart, relax, do not be nervous. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
She burst through the doorway like a bullet, hitting Yulai squarely in the face with it as he was turning around to continue his pacing. A resounding crack sounded as his nose was dislocated as he fell backwards. Theta and Nova were looking up from their television, and Delta finished the polishing of his prized weapon.
Epsilon was looking up from his game of checkers as the blackjack smashed across his face with ease. His nose and his jaw cracked as he smashed into the table, red and black pieces flying everywhere. Oxford rose ponderously to his feet, the blackjack catching him in the throat with heavy force, three hits in rapid succession, another catching him in the groin. He screamed like a little girl, coughing up blood just before the blackjack caught him in the temple. He too fell, into a desk and crushing it in half, papers with black words written on them flying everywhere.
Nova and Theta attempted to surround her, but she was too well trained for them. Jumping up into the air, one leg hit Theta in the throat as another collided with Nova's head. Both of them staggered around before Snowbell's blackjack struck them.
Delta had his pistol out and took dead aim at her, squeezing the trigger. The bullet richocheted around after Snowbell ducked, the bullet bouncing back into Delta's hand. He grimanced as the blood seeped through his glove, and attempted to fire again. Snowbell grabbed his arm and forced it upwards so that the bullet buried itself in the stony cieling. Delta still struggled around, attempting to wriggle out of the iron grip Snowbell had on him. That is, until Snowbell headbutted him. He fell back onto the couch, the sniper rifle that was his prized posession leaning against the opposite wall and fired off as a stray finger hit the trigger.
Smoke and cries of pain from the concious agents filled the room, Yulai attempting to get up onto his feet. He clutched his head in pain as he looked around the room, noticing Snowbell last of all. He turned to run to the door.
He didn't make it. Snowbell grabbed the thin man's collar and slung him bodily into the wall. The sound of five ribs cracking was highly audible, and Yulai seemed to be in some pain. For his credit, he didn't scream out at all, but attempted to hobble away from Snowbell, bloody saliva dripping out of his mouth.
She grabbed his collar again. "Not so fast pretty boy," she purred at him with malice in every single note. "Where do you think you are going?"
"Away from here," he said through a bloody mouth.
"Rhetorical question." Her hand wrapped itself around his neck, squeezing hard. He thrashed in pain, more agony welling up from his broken bones. "Now you are going to tell me something that is very dear to me. Where is the location of the Project?"
"I don't know," he mumbled out.
"Wrong answer." She squeezed tighter, and Yulai let out a little scream of pain. "Where is it?"
"...Northward... it's at... the array... Cassius Array.... really... that's all I know."
"Good. But let me tell you this. If you lied to me, I will come back and choke the life out of you." She let go of him, Yulai dropping to the floor. He gasped for breath and wheezed.
"Can I at least have some painkillers?"
Snowbell pulled a few out of the emergency supplies she carried. Turning her hand over, the three pills bounced along the floor. "Enjoy."
She took her leave at that point. She had succeeded in what she had set out to do so far.
hoplitejoe
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For one moment I was reading a Civ'ed story 
Tycho
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A Mad King, Part 5
A Muder of Crows
"Troika," Nathanial said meekly. "I was being serious. There was something back there... something that was not an echo at the very least. We should leave this place. Now. Quickly. At least soon."
"Nathanial." A tired note had crept into Troika's voice. They had been walking for most of the day with the lanterns and torches leading them deeper into the tunnels as they descended and ascended almost at random. Miles upon miles they had traveled, till they couldn't tell if it was night or day above. "Not right now please. There is nothing back there, nothing to worry about."
Zach and Zane had fallen into step with the trio of Havnar, Nathanial, and Troika, wisecracking as they kept up the trek. Havnar still muttered to himself the entire time as he wringed his hands again and again and again, mubling prayers and curses, holy words and passages. Troika talked little and Nathanial even less until finally all of the talking dropped off and died like a man dropped off a cliff. Instead, they all looked in wonder at the drawings that covered entire stretches of walls. Some of it was like normal, thin sticklike characters, others bulged and grew hairthin, appearing deformed and broken in an odd manner. They had many colors of well, greens and reds, hues of blue and purple, black and white, sometimes drawn in the shape of people, but a race with deformed faces. Lips that bulged outwards and were the size of hands, eyes either too far apart or smashed in together, themselves in a multitude of dress colors and different forms of clothing that appeared alien and unnatural.
They walked in silence for awhile, Troika concentrating upon putting one foot in front of the other, Havnar still off in space, and Nathanial looking at the walls with Zane and Zach. "Do you know what these are fellows?"
"No idea," piped up Zach with a grin on his face. He enjoyed talking apparently. "These have been down here for as long as we remember, and the ones before us as well. We don't even know where these come from or why they are here."
"Do know anything about them?"
"Only that they are easily dissolvable by water and those people have some serious deformities with them." Zach laughed to himself, Troika chuckling as well. "Other than that nothing. They don't appear to be from this time though..."
"So what, from the past?"
"Maybe Nat, I don't really know for certain." Zach gave him a sheepish look with that.
"Don't call me Nat."
"Okay then, so what do you want me to call you then?"
"How about Nathanial?"
"Lord Nathanial sounds appropriate."
"Are you mocking me now?"
"Who, me? Never. Never at all Lord Nathanial." He grinned.
They made camp that night in a large open area made out of smooth stone covered in dust, lichen, and moss. It was soft and comfortable, and indeed several of the men preferred to sleep on that rather than the sleeping furs that they had brought with them. A ring of torches was set up around the perimeter of the camp, with watches organized by the commander as he moved about, ordering the men to do this and that. A sharp eyed, hook nosed man, the commander was very cautious and careful, having them set up a ring of spiked logs so as to deter any unwanted visitors during the night.
"What would bother us during the night?" Nathanial said as he dipped a spoon into the bowl of stew that had been given to him. "I thought that this was a rather peaceful thing to do?"
Troika laughed at that. "It usually is, but that does not stop lions and bears from occassionally getting inside of the tunnels. That's happened before, and it is not a pleasant thing to wake up to."
"What is there to wake up to?"
"Usually screaming from the people. Though once Havnar had the bear screaming for it's life when he attacked him." Troika gave a bodily shudder. "Sounded like bear claws dragged across a wall of chalk. Horrible, horrible sound."
"Not as horrible as that time Commander Joska killed that one lion." Zane spoke quietly as he stirred his soup gently. "She howled like a demon out of the bowels of the thirteen hells. Then she swatted off his arm, and died before he did."
"Still remember that." Zach mused to himself now as he quaffed some ale. "Was he not the white haired raving man?"
"No, you're thinking about Lu Zi there. Lu Zhou was the better one though, pity he had to retire."
"To an early grave. Caught a chest cold and died, the third commander to die of natural causes."
"Three out of thirty seven at this point. Great ratio all things considered."
Nathanial was incredulous. "Great ratio? How do you say that?"
"Well scouts are supposed to do their job, and dying is not really a part of that."
"Zach, I'm asking a serious question here, and you are giving me a mocking answer. Please stop and tell me why you all think that that is a great ratio?"
"Deeply sorry Lord Nathanial, but I was giving you an honest answer. Dying is not really a part of the job. You are supposed to remain alive for as long as possible, then retire in peace."
"How many have retired then?"
"Two."
"Well isn't that just a great job to look forward too."
"Position has been cursed during the days of Humphrey, gods bless his soul on it's way to Paradise. He lost two sons during the riots in Washington, one hung by Joshua himself, and Humphrey suffered plenty of wounds and ailments during his time as leader. He died a bitter man, a deeply unhappy one at that."
"Deeply saddening." Troika drank from a giant horn of ale and pressed his fingers to his temples. "But all men must die. Whether it be because we want to, or we are ready, or we are unfortunate, and have had good or bad things happen to us, we all die. Humphrey was grooming his sons to become leader after he passed away, but they died before that leaving behind just one other son."
"Hmm. Wonder who his descendent is now?" Nathanial ate some more stew and drank a bit of water.
"Well Zane and Zach could tell you, couldn't you two?"
"Shut up Troika," muttered Zane. "You stay out of that business right there."
"You see Nathanial, the twins are descended from Humphrey himself through his youngest son, and therefore they are one of the most ancient families in Washington today, so now you have plenty of information to taunth them wit-"
"Deeply sorry Troika, why is that you can't breath?" Zane continued to spoon stew into his mouth from his position around the campfire as he slowly choked the other man. "Couldn't catch that, say it again?
"Stop it Zane," Zach said with a merry smile on his face. "Before Troika punches you in the face."
"Going to be hard doing that with a crushed windpipe." Zane let go anyways.
Troika gasped for breath as he slowly said a multitude of curses, some of which had never been heard before by Nathanial, obviously made on the fly. "... and I swear to the creator that I will one day take your manhood and a knife Zane, and slowly peel it like a-"
Havnar jerked upwards so fast his bowl of stew clattered to the floor of the place, spilling it's contents. "They are here." He said quietly, his lilac eyes wide. "They have arrived."
"Who has?" Nathanial asked. That's when he heard it; the howls of wolves.... no, not wolves. Something else.
A shout was raised up along the perimeter. "To arms scouts, enemies approach!"
A Muder of Crows
"Troika," Nathanial said meekly. "I was being serious. There was something back there... something that was not an echo at the very least. We should leave this place. Now. Quickly. At least soon."
"Nathanial." A tired note had crept into Troika's voice. They had been walking for most of the day with the lanterns and torches leading them deeper into the tunnels as they descended and ascended almost at random. Miles upon miles they had traveled, till they couldn't tell if it was night or day above. "Not right now please. There is nothing back there, nothing to worry about."
Zach and Zane had fallen into step with the trio of Havnar, Nathanial, and Troika, wisecracking as they kept up the trek. Havnar still muttered to himself the entire time as he wringed his hands again and again and again, mubling prayers and curses, holy words and passages. Troika talked little and Nathanial even less until finally all of the talking dropped off and died like a man dropped off a cliff. Instead, they all looked in wonder at the drawings that covered entire stretches of walls. Some of it was like normal, thin sticklike characters, others bulged and grew hairthin, appearing deformed and broken in an odd manner. They had many colors of well, greens and reds, hues of blue and purple, black and white, sometimes drawn in the shape of people, but a race with deformed faces. Lips that bulged outwards and were the size of hands, eyes either too far apart or smashed in together, themselves in a multitude of dress colors and different forms of clothing that appeared alien and unnatural.
They walked in silence for awhile, Troika concentrating upon putting one foot in front of the other, Havnar still off in space, and Nathanial looking at the walls with Zane and Zach. "Do you know what these are fellows?"
"No idea," piped up Zach with a grin on his face. He enjoyed talking apparently. "These have been down here for as long as we remember, and the ones before us as well. We don't even know where these come from or why they are here."
"Do know anything about them?"
"Only that they are easily dissolvable by water and those people have some serious deformities with them." Zach laughed to himself, Troika chuckling as well. "Other than that nothing. They don't appear to be from this time though..."
"So what, from the past?"
"Maybe Nat, I don't really know for certain." Zach gave him a sheepish look with that.
"Don't call me Nat."
"Okay then, so what do you want me to call you then?"
"How about Nathanial?"
"Lord Nathanial sounds appropriate."
"Are you mocking me now?"
"Who, me? Never. Never at all Lord Nathanial." He grinned.
They made camp that night in a large open area made out of smooth stone covered in dust, lichen, and moss. It was soft and comfortable, and indeed several of the men preferred to sleep on that rather than the sleeping furs that they had brought with them. A ring of torches was set up around the perimeter of the camp, with watches organized by the commander as he moved about, ordering the men to do this and that. A sharp eyed, hook nosed man, the commander was very cautious and careful, having them set up a ring of spiked logs so as to deter any unwanted visitors during the night.
"What would bother us during the night?" Nathanial said as he dipped a spoon into the bowl of stew that had been given to him. "I thought that this was a rather peaceful thing to do?"
Troika laughed at that. "It usually is, but that does not stop lions and bears from occassionally getting inside of the tunnels. That's happened before, and it is not a pleasant thing to wake up to."
"What is there to wake up to?"
"Usually screaming from the people. Though once Havnar had the bear screaming for it's life when he attacked him." Troika gave a bodily shudder. "Sounded like bear claws dragged across a wall of chalk. Horrible, horrible sound."
"Not as horrible as that time Commander Joska killed that one lion." Zane spoke quietly as he stirred his soup gently. "She howled like a demon out of the bowels of the thirteen hells. Then she swatted off his arm, and died before he did."
"Still remember that." Zach mused to himself now as he quaffed some ale. "Was he not the white haired raving man?"
"No, you're thinking about Lu Zi there. Lu Zhou was the better one though, pity he had to retire."
"To an early grave. Caught a chest cold and died, the third commander to die of natural causes."
"Three out of thirty seven at this point. Great ratio all things considered."
Nathanial was incredulous. "Great ratio? How do you say that?"
"Well scouts are supposed to do their job, and dying is not really a part of that."
"Zach, I'm asking a serious question here, and you are giving me a mocking answer. Please stop and tell me why you all think that that is a great ratio?"
"Deeply sorry Lord Nathanial, but I was giving you an honest answer. Dying is not really a part of the job. You are supposed to remain alive for as long as possible, then retire in peace."
"How many have retired then?"
"Two."
"Well isn't that just a great job to look forward too."
"Position has been cursed during the days of Humphrey, gods bless his soul on it's way to Paradise. He lost two sons during the riots in Washington, one hung by Joshua himself, and Humphrey suffered plenty of wounds and ailments during his time as leader. He died a bitter man, a deeply unhappy one at that."
"Deeply saddening." Troika drank from a giant horn of ale and pressed his fingers to his temples. "But all men must die. Whether it be because we want to, or we are ready, or we are unfortunate, and have had good or bad things happen to us, we all die. Humphrey was grooming his sons to become leader after he passed away, but they died before that leaving behind just one other son."
"Hmm. Wonder who his descendent is now?" Nathanial ate some more stew and drank a bit of water.
"Well Zane and Zach could tell you, couldn't you two?"
"Shut up Troika," muttered Zane. "You stay out of that business right there."
"You see Nathanial, the twins are descended from Humphrey himself through his youngest son, and therefore they are one of the most ancient families in Washington today, so now you have plenty of information to taunth them wit-"
"Deeply sorry Troika, why is that you can't breath?" Zane continued to spoon stew into his mouth from his position around the campfire as he slowly choked the other man. "Couldn't catch that, say it again?
"Stop it Zane," Zach said with a merry smile on his face. "Before Troika punches you in the face."
"Going to be hard doing that with a crushed windpipe." Zane let go anyways.
Troika gasped for breath as he slowly said a multitude of curses, some of which had never been heard before by Nathanial, obviously made on the fly. "... and I swear to the creator that I will one day take your manhood and a knife Zane, and slowly peel it like a-"
Havnar jerked upwards so fast his bowl of stew clattered to the floor of the place, spilling it's contents. "They are here." He said quietly, his lilac eyes wide. "They have arrived."
"Who has?" Nathanial asked. That's when he heard it; the howls of wolves.... no, not wolves. Something else.
A shout was raised up along the perimeter. "To arms scouts, enemies approach!"
mayor
Heart & Mind
TYCHO!!! What is it with you and posting updates on moments I decide to call it a night......
*sighs and starts reading*
EDIT: After reading... I don't really mind who gets killed as long as it isn't Nathanial or Havnar... and anyway I like it better not knowing
and...and...and.. what are those things that howl???
*sighs and starts reading*
EDIT: After reading... I don't really mind who gets killed as long as it isn't Nathanial or Havnar... and anyway I like it better not knowing
and...and...and.. what are those things that howl???
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 3,240
TYCHO!!! What is it with you and posting updates on moments I decide to call it a night......
*sighs and starts reading*
My aim is to slowly kill off a person's life until the only thing that occupies there mind is "read story, read story, read story".
Plus I live on the East Coast of the US so when I get home from school and start typing, it's barely four in the afternoon.
I was going to randomly pick a person out of the five man band and kill them off depending on who got a low amount of saving votes. Nathanial will not be killed off in this storyline; that would just kill off the storyline.
You'll see, you'll see.
Too bad I can't find a pic to show off the grin that is on my face right now (more like a slasher smile really.)
mayor
Heart & Mind
My aim is to slowly kill off a person's life until the only thing that occupies there mind is "read story, read story, read story".
I figured as much
I was going to randomly pick a person out of the five man band and kill them off depending on who got a low amount of saving votes. Nathanial will not be killed off in this storyline; that would just kill off the storyline.
yeah but still, I felt the need to stress that
You'll see, you'll see.
Too bad I can't find a pic to show off the grin that is on my face right now (more like a slasher smile really.)
You're just pure evil
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 3,240
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 3,240
They are still tracking me fellows and I'm afraid that I will have to move soon. But I have some news. I have recently gotten ahold of millions of documents stored on the servers at Washington. I've finally gotten it fellows, and I plan to upload it soon!
But in the meantime, I just have to say, thank you for supporting me for all this time.
May we all soon see the light.
The lights were dim, the voices quiet. Cambridge's eyes were barely cracked open, looking up into a white, circular bulb of heat that seared his eyes. His throat was parched and his lips were dry, and whenever he tried to speak all that came out was a dry clatter.
He moved his hand barely an inch as he struggled to get up. His head hurt like hell, though he knew why that was. That Snowbell had jumped him with her blackjack and smashed his damn skull until he'd fallen unconcious. That's right....
Fury gripped him as he struggled up through a well of pain and a tunnel of blackness. Snowbell, that stupid . Her laughing face still haunted him as his fingernails dug into the leather lining of the table he was on. When he found her, he was going to rip out her lungs and choke her until she turned as blue as the ocean.
A doctor came over, papers and a clipboard in hand, and bent over to examine Cambridge. "Nurse," he said quietly. "I believe that the patient is waking up. Could you be so kind as to fetch me some-"
Cambridge's arm lashed out and grabbed the man by the throat. Driven by pure fury and rage, he brought the man's face close to his own. "Get. Me. Painkillers. And spice. Now."
Cambridge and the others were unceremoniously dumped off in a waiting room, whitewashed and bare except for a few flag pictures and sigils. That was it, that and the hallway to the left and right of the waiting room. Not even a television to occupy their time.
They told him not to smoke, but telling Cambridge not to smoke was like telling a starving dog to not eat a warm steak in front of him. When they nodded disapprovingly, he threatened to rip their skulls out and beat them to death with them.
"That doesn't seem physically possible." Observed one doctor.
"That's what two guys used to scream for twenty four hours. 'How is this physically possible?!' Got damn annoying towards the end." He took another puff on the cigarette.
Yulai had been in intensive care for five days before he was released. They had to bind the bones with titanium and give him painkiller patches, but even so the man was pale as a ghost. He apparently had had to scrabble around for three painkillers to last him for forty two hours until the evac chopper arrived. By the time they had gotten there, Yulai had fainted and Epsilon was close to death.
Close but not quite. The big man had survived and pulled through, though these days he had massive and sudden head pains for no apparent reason, though he still functioned barely. Oxford had unsurprisingly survived and was only sore from the bashing that Snowbell had inflicted upon his body and his pride, and still muttered out that stupid Beatles song, Maxwell's Silver Hammer.
Theta and Nova made it through, though the doctors had had to work some serious magic to make sure that they would keep their larynxes and their throats. Both had suffered serious damage when Snowbell had done her little gymnastics routine and sent them hurtling into the wall. Delta had woken up when two paramedics had touched him and had snapped their necks, killing them instantly before being sedated with enough tranquilizer to put down an adult bull rhino. Needless to say, he was also the first to recover and the first to injure multiple doctors with a hospital gown.
All of them were cross, and they had a right to be. Their moods were not improved when they got word about Augustus and Maximus. Both had been strung up and killed on their way back to the safehouse before Snowbell infiltrated, making them casualties four hundred thirty two and four hundred thirty three. The two agents had been sent back home to their families, who would never know why they had been killed.
"I swear to god once I find that , I will twist her neck around till it pops off her shoulders." Cambridge took a puff on the cigarette clamped between his teeth and smiled an evil smile. "She's going to really pay for what she did."
Yulai was in no mood to hear it, and rubbed the white gauze that circled around his chest and his head. His nose had had to be reset twice because of the damage Snowbell caused, but at least he was still alive. "Shut up Cambridge."
"What are you going to Yulai? Leave my door open at night and hope to god that little Snowbell comes and kills me before slicing your throat open?"
"One could hope it would be in that order."
"One would hope you would not happen to have the misfortune of being killed by her. Don't worry Yulai, I'll kill you quickly after I slice you open like an apple."
"Shut up both of you," Oxford rumbled as he steepled his fingers. "Let's just be quiet."
Cambridge instead rounded on him. "Why should I? Were none of you prepared in case she showed up at the safehouse? Especially you Oxford, I'm surprised she took you down. I always thought that the mighty Oxford would go down with twenty bullets in his throat, not a blackjack to the nect and a tap to the groin."
"That little black coated wench almost tore a rut in me," he said frowning. "I have a bruise that goes from the tip of my manhood to my naval, and hurts like hell every time I move. And you should not talk, she just whapped you a couple of times on the head."
"Besides Cambridge, she spared us all." Yulai continued to scratch at his bandaging. "Not what I can say for Maximus and Augustus."
"They don't matter."
"Oh? And why's that?"
"They were never a part of our group."
"Doesn't make them not a part of our organization."
"And your point is? You didn't feel anything for three hundred murdered agents in the woods."
"Actually I did. And that was horror. And empathy for their families. Try to learn what it means Cambridge."
Cambridge jumped to his feet at that, his face contorted with rage. "Do not presume to lecture me on empathy and whatnot, you had me murder a man over the course of seven days! I've done more than my fair share of being empathetic and I am sick and tired of it."
They were quiet for a few minutes after that as the doctors and nurses in the facility went about their business.
"Can we get some pancakes?" Epsilon said in a querying voice. "I'm rather hungry for roadside pancakes."
"No." They all said at once.
But in the meantime, I just have to say, thank you for supporting me for all this time.
May we all soon see the light.
The lights were dim, the voices quiet. Cambridge's eyes were barely cracked open, looking up into a white, circular bulb of heat that seared his eyes. His throat was parched and his lips were dry, and whenever he tried to speak all that came out was a dry clatter.
He moved his hand barely an inch as he struggled to get up. His head hurt like hell, though he knew why that was. That Snowbell had jumped him with her blackjack and smashed his damn skull until he'd fallen unconcious. That's right....
Fury gripped him as he struggled up through a well of pain and a tunnel of blackness. Snowbell, that stupid . Her laughing face still haunted him as his fingernails dug into the leather lining of the table he was on. When he found her, he was going to rip out her lungs and choke her until she turned as blue as the ocean.
A doctor came over, papers and a clipboard in hand, and bent over to examine Cambridge. "Nurse," he said quietly. "I believe that the patient is waking up. Could you be so kind as to fetch me some-"
Cambridge's arm lashed out and grabbed the man by the throat. Driven by pure fury and rage, he brought the man's face close to his own. "Get. Me. Painkillers. And spice. Now."
Cambridge and the others were unceremoniously dumped off in a waiting room, whitewashed and bare except for a few flag pictures and sigils. That was it, that and the hallway to the left and right of the waiting room. Not even a television to occupy their time.
They told him not to smoke, but telling Cambridge not to smoke was like telling a starving dog to not eat a warm steak in front of him. When they nodded disapprovingly, he threatened to rip their skulls out and beat them to death with them.
"That doesn't seem physically possible." Observed one doctor.
"That's what two guys used to scream for twenty four hours. 'How is this physically possible?!' Got damn annoying towards the end." He took another puff on the cigarette.
Yulai had been in intensive care for five days before he was released. They had to bind the bones with titanium and give him painkiller patches, but even so the man was pale as a ghost. He apparently had had to scrabble around for three painkillers to last him for forty two hours until the evac chopper arrived. By the time they had gotten there, Yulai had fainted and Epsilon was close to death.
Close but not quite. The big man had survived and pulled through, though these days he had massive and sudden head pains for no apparent reason, though he still functioned barely. Oxford had unsurprisingly survived and was only sore from the bashing that Snowbell had inflicted upon his body and his pride, and still muttered out that stupid Beatles song, Maxwell's Silver Hammer.
Theta and Nova made it through, though the doctors had had to work some serious magic to make sure that they would keep their larynxes and their throats. Both had suffered serious damage when Snowbell had done her little gymnastics routine and sent them hurtling into the wall. Delta had woken up when two paramedics had touched him and had snapped their necks, killing them instantly before being sedated with enough tranquilizer to put down an adult bull rhino. Needless to say, he was also the first to recover and the first to injure multiple doctors with a hospital gown.
All of them were cross, and they had a right to be. Their moods were not improved when they got word about Augustus and Maximus. Both had been strung up and killed on their way back to the safehouse before Snowbell infiltrated, making them casualties four hundred thirty two and four hundred thirty three. The two agents had been sent back home to their families, who would never know why they had been killed.
"I swear to god once I find that , I will twist her neck around till it pops off her shoulders." Cambridge took a puff on the cigarette clamped between his teeth and smiled an evil smile. "She's going to really pay for what she did."
Yulai was in no mood to hear it, and rubbed the white gauze that circled around his chest and his head. His nose had had to be reset twice because of the damage Snowbell caused, but at least he was still alive. "Shut up Cambridge."
"What are you going to Yulai? Leave my door open at night and hope to god that little Snowbell comes and kills me before slicing your throat open?"
"One could hope it would be in that order."
"One would hope you would not happen to have the misfortune of being killed by her. Don't worry Yulai, I'll kill you quickly after I slice you open like an apple."
"Shut up both of you," Oxford rumbled as he steepled his fingers. "Let's just be quiet."
Cambridge instead rounded on him. "Why should I? Were none of you prepared in case she showed up at the safehouse? Especially you Oxford, I'm surprised she took you down. I always thought that the mighty Oxford would go down with twenty bullets in his throat, not a blackjack to the nect and a tap to the groin."
"That little black coated wench almost tore a rut in me," he said frowning. "I have a bruise that goes from the tip of my manhood to my naval, and hurts like hell every time I move. And you should not talk, she just whapped you a couple of times on the head."
"Besides Cambridge, she spared us all." Yulai continued to scratch at his bandaging. "Not what I can say for Maximus and Augustus."
"They don't matter."
"Oh? And why's that?"
"They were never a part of our group."
"Doesn't make them not a part of our organization."
"And your point is? You didn't feel anything for three hundred murdered agents in the woods."
"Actually I did. And that was horror. And empathy for their families. Try to learn what it means Cambridge."
Cambridge jumped to his feet at that, his face contorted with rage. "Do not presume to lecture me on empathy and whatnot, you had me murder a man over the course of seven days! I've done more than my fair share of being empathetic and I am sick and tired of it."
They were quiet for a few minutes after that as the doctors and nurses in the facility went about their business.
"Can we get some pancakes?" Epsilon said in a querying voice. "I'm rather hungry for roadside pancakes."
"No." They all said at once.
MoreEpicThanYou
The most Epic.
That was funny and dramatic at the same time. 
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 3,240
Thank you METY .
Also, if you want to get a grip on how large Cambridge's hatred for Snowbell is, here's a comparison between two stars. The smaller one is Cambridge's hatred for Yulai. The other is Snowbell.
Comparison.
.Also, if you want to get a grip on how large Cambridge's hatred for Snowbell is, here's a comparison between two stars. The smaller one is Cambridge's hatred for Yulai. The other is Snowbell.
Comparison.
Verarde
Pondering Wearing A Hat
Pancakes.
I am interested in seeing more of the game though. At this point in time (in game) what year is it?
I am interested in seeing more of the game though. At this point in time (in game) what year is it?
Optical
The Fall of the Eleventh
Too... many...great... updates...
I think my brain just overheated. Once again, brilliant work!
I think my brain just overheated. Once again, brilliant work!
mayor
Heart & Mind
game? what game??
ooh right...
this is a Civ story isn't it
I keep forgetting that 
(and that's a compliment )
MoreEpicThanYou
The most Epic.
This is a Civ story? 
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 3,240
Pancakes.
I am interested in seeing more of the game though. At this point in time (in game) what year is it?
We are about one turn later than the initial one that I showed in the last picture so far in this story. That's because I am stretching it out a bit to allow some surprise with the next guest that will show up.
thank you as always mayor for your support. I hope sincerely that you enjoy everything that I am making for this story.
And you as well METY, it's always nice to have support.
Tomorrow's Dawn
Heroes Never Die
I've gone four updates without a single screenshot in between before.
Let Tycho do his thing at his own pace.
Screenshots will come eventually when the story calls for them.
Let Tycho do his thing at his own pace.
Screenshots will come eventually when the story calls for them.
Tycho
AFK Forum Warrior
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2011
- Messages
- 3,240
A Mad King, part 6
All Men Must Die
"To arms, to arms!" The shout was resounding throughout camp now as scouts raced about, picking up weapons and overturning cook pots, bowls and tents. Torches jumped up and down furiously as their holders rushed about, everything in a general state of confusion. "To arms brothers, to arms! No we defend ourselves against beasts!"
"They have come!" Shouted out by Havnar, the man's brow had taken on a furious look as his eyebrows knitted together. "In the halls of the Creator and the Wanderer, we march now against the black tide of war and lift our blades high to smite down all that stands before us.... may the Creator have mercy upon the souls of my enemies, for I shall have none, and may all perish justly and like cowards before my blade! Repent beasts, for now is the time of your reckoning!" So saying, the man leaped backwards, grapping a bitterglass sword and moving forward to the front lines.
Howls split the air now, their crackling notes running down a man's spine like cold sweat of fear. At least two scouts were praying, and as Nathanial, Troika, Zach, and Zane wandered about, Zane tripped over a body of a suicidee. The man's face was rent with horror and his neck had been sliced ear from ear in a red smile.
Someone pressed an obsidian longsword into Nathanial's hands, dashing away and giving spears and swords to the others, dual axes and shields of pine and leather. "To arms, to arms brothers! Fight now, fight now! Hold the line!"
"Follow me Nathanial, you as well Zach and Zane, we had best keep close during this." Troika's gravelly voice was quiet and sharp, his eyes darting about and assessing the situation. He slowly drew the rendstone sword out of it's sheath, the dark, polished needlelike blades along both lengths of it glistening in torch light. A two handed bastard greatsword, powerful and large enough to cut a man down into two pieces. "They shall have no mercy from me," the giant of a man said.
They pushed forward with the rest of the scouts to the edge of the perimeter with the loudest screaming. "Dammit to the pits of the thirteen hells, shut up!" Zane howled with all his might, drawing his own sword and clamping his hands to his ears. His gray eyes flashed with hatred for everything around him as they crept forward with the brothers.
Then, there they were. On the frontlines, giant wooden stakes driven into the stone floor with enough force to crack it. Large, shapeless forms hung on some of the stakes, as well as men, fire burning along several bodies as more crackled deeper into the tunnels along a trail of liquid as more screaming of the damned sounded out from the darker areas.
A single low warhorn sounded, and all men stopped and stood still. The lord commander, commander Yaren strode forth and shouted out into the blackness as the scouts behind him fell quiet. "Show yourself now, cowards, and face the true might of the Flock of Humphrey the Crow!"
All was silent. The screaming had stopped or silenced, whichever one Nathanial could not tell.
"Show yourselves now, or do you intend to make us come for you out there?!"
A thin, dry chuckle boomed out of the darkness, a cackling madness that clutched the very soul and heart of a man and squeezed it until he knew no hope no more. Slowly, more chuckling and laughter joined them as a host of amber eyes winked open in the darkness, thin rows of white teeth illuminated by the distant candle light showing off.
"You dare to challenge me mortal man?"
A single spark flashed out in the darkness, coiling into a rope of flame. Snick, it went and so it did, upwards at the top of the cieling of whatever cavern they were in, a cascade of sparks raining down. As they bounced along the floor and danced across the stone, all men could see what they were facing.
Wolves. With the features of men. Long talons lancing forth from their paws, blood dripping from many a mouth, and golden eyes of hell that shone with a fiery light. Their leader? A man wrapped in the blackness of the darkest soul in the world, pale skinned and with no eyes. Only stitches.
"I do dare to challenge you fool, and do you dare to challenge me?"
A mirthless laugh echoed out from the darkness. "Do you think I am so stupid mortal? You can burn with the dead. Die in agony."
A black shape hurtled out of the darkness and smashed into Yaren. The man did not say a single word as the wolfman tore out his throat, crimson blood spilling out everywhere. Screams of fury howled out as the scouts moved forward in a torret of humanity as the wolves moved forward as well. Stone met bone and flesh as claws did likesie tearing into men and wolves alike. Nathanial moved forward as well, hacking and slashing left and right, hacking away at anything that crossed his path.
Zane was right beside him the entire time, slashing at other wolves as Troika racked up a headcount equivalent to a small nation. Zach was moving around has well, stabbing with a dagger. Havnar appeared out of nowhere here and there, having dropped his sword and traded it in for dual hatchets which he used to great effect.
Not to say that the scouts were doing better. More than one scout screamed out in pain as a wolf hamstrung him, ripped off his leg or arm, and cut open his throat or ripped out his heart. Four were ripped apart as the stitched man grabbed them by the throats and snapped them open with fury to shove bones into their skulls.
As Nathanial spun around to slash at another wolf, he came face to face with said stitched man. "You," he snarled out. "I did not expect to see you here." His hand flew up and gripped Nathanial's neck as he began to choke. "Now stay here while I deal with these men."
Nathanial was tossed to the floor, a crack resounding where his head connected with the stone as everything went black.
Light cracked through his eyes now as he struggled to stay concious. Torches burned from still living holders as bodies and wolves were lit on fire as everything scattered. A dull pounding was felt at the back of his skull as he struggled to rise from the well of blackness that wanted to consume him and suck him back into it's darkness.
His eyes cracked open wider, searching for friendlies. A booted man dashed bay, kicking up dirt as a wolf chased him down. Fire lapped up around two bodies, wolves or men he could not tell. A broken spear was buried almost shaft deep into a wolve's body starting at it's mouth. In death it still snarled.
That's when he saw it; Troika and the stitched figure fighting to the death dozens of steps away, rendstone and a thin white blade clashing with a furious array of strikes. As Nathanial watched, Zane and Zach joined them, then Havnar as the pentet slashed ans whirled across a wasteland of broken bodies and burning figures.
The thin blade slashed outwards, catching Troika in the arm as the rending blade came down to slice the man a new section of body part. The latter howled in pain as he stepped backwards, Zach and Zane taking his place as Havnar circled around to try and surprise the man.
Get up. The voice echoed in his head now. Get up, do not lie there like a weakling.
In response, he struggled up, his head pounding with pain as he rose, bruises and cuts pulsing with pain as Nathanial ground his teeth in pain. Help your friends.
White flashed out once more, striking into the shoulder blade of Havnar. He sunk to the ground as he dropped his weapons, gripping his shoulder as the stitched man riased the blade to deliver the death blow. A sword passed through his abdomen though, courtesy of Zane.
Hurry.
The sitched figure turned around, leering at Zane as the latter struggled to pull his blade out. Nathanial hurrried on, but it was as if they were at the end of a long tunnel, everything happening in slow motion.
The blade lashed out, crimson droplets trailing.
Zane's eyes grew wide as he let go of the sword.
Thin white, it smashed into his throat, driving him to the ground with heavy force. "Kneel."
And with that, the entire world turned red.
Nathanial ran now, his arms reaching out. The stitched man was pulling the blade out of Zane's neck as he turned around, just in time to see Nathanial sieze him by his clothing and slam him into a stone pillar. Chunks of rock and splinters sloughed off and cracked, a fine dust filling the air. All Nathanial could see was red now.
"Repent!" he cried savagely as he gripped the eyeless man's throat and drove his fist into his face. A crater formed behind the former's head as he slammed backwards. "Repent!" Another crater. "I. Told. You. To. Re...pent!" His fist thundered down with enough force to drive the man through the pillar and strike another one as blood trickled from his mouth and his empty sockets.
"I'm sorry Nathanial," the man said quietly. Each syllable was punctuated by a bit of bloody spittle. "I can not do that."
Nathanial moved forward, his anger lashing against the inside of his head. Kill him, murder him, torture, make him pay for what he did, make him repent for what he caused, kill him, burn him, torture him, scourge him, you are the hand of the gods, strike him down and deliver him to the Wanderer's light and make sure he SUFFERS. All the voices railed aginst him now as he strode forth.
Nathanial listened to them.
All Men Must Die
"To arms, to arms!" The shout was resounding throughout camp now as scouts raced about, picking up weapons and overturning cook pots, bowls and tents. Torches jumped up and down furiously as their holders rushed about, everything in a general state of confusion. "To arms brothers, to arms! No we defend ourselves against beasts!"
"They have come!" Shouted out by Havnar, the man's brow had taken on a furious look as his eyebrows knitted together. "In the halls of the Creator and the Wanderer, we march now against the black tide of war and lift our blades high to smite down all that stands before us.... may the Creator have mercy upon the souls of my enemies, for I shall have none, and may all perish justly and like cowards before my blade! Repent beasts, for now is the time of your reckoning!" So saying, the man leaped backwards, grapping a bitterglass sword and moving forward to the front lines.
Howls split the air now, their crackling notes running down a man's spine like cold sweat of fear. At least two scouts were praying, and as Nathanial, Troika, Zach, and Zane wandered about, Zane tripped over a body of a suicidee. The man's face was rent with horror and his neck had been sliced ear from ear in a red smile.
Someone pressed an obsidian longsword into Nathanial's hands, dashing away and giving spears and swords to the others, dual axes and shields of pine and leather. "To arms, to arms brothers! Fight now, fight now! Hold the line!"
"Follow me Nathanial, you as well Zach and Zane, we had best keep close during this." Troika's gravelly voice was quiet and sharp, his eyes darting about and assessing the situation. He slowly drew the rendstone sword out of it's sheath, the dark, polished needlelike blades along both lengths of it glistening in torch light. A two handed bastard greatsword, powerful and large enough to cut a man down into two pieces. "They shall have no mercy from me," the giant of a man said.
They pushed forward with the rest of the scouts to the edge of the perimeter with the loudest screaming. "Dammit to the pits of the thirteen hells, shut up!" Zane howled with all his might, drawing his own sword and clamping his hands to his ears. His gray eyes flashed with hatred for everything around him as they crept forward with the brothers.
Then, there they were. On the frontlines, giant wooden stakes driven into the stone floor with enough force to crack it. Large, shapeless forms hung on some of the stakes, as well as men, fire burning along several bodies as more crackled deeper into the tunnels along a trail of liquid as more screaming of the damned sounded out from the darker areas.
A single low warhorn sounded, and all men stopped and stood still. The lord commander, commander Yaren strode forth and shouted out into the blackness as the scouts behind him fell quiet. "Show yourself now, cowards, and face the true might of the Flock of Humphrey the Crow!"
All was silent. The screaming had stopped or silenced, whichever one Nathanial could not tell.
"Show yourselves now, or do you intend to make us come for you out there?!"
A thin, dry chuckle boomed out of the darkness, a cackling madness that clutched the very soul and heart of a man and squeezed it until he knew no hope no more. Slowly, more chuckling and laughter joined them as a host of amber eyes winked open in the darkness, thin rows of white teeth illuminated by the distant candle light showing off.
"You dare to challenge me mortal man?"
A single spark flashed out in the darkness, coiling into a rope of flame. Snick, it went and so it did, upwards at the top of the cieling of whatever cavern they were in, a cascade of sparks raining down. As they bounced along the floor and danced across the stone, all men could see what they were facing.
Wolves. With the features of men. Long talons lancing forth from their paws, blood dripping from many a mouth, and golden eyes of hell that shone with a fiery light. Their leader? A man wrapped in the blackness of the darkest soul in the world, pale skinned and with no eyes. Only stitches.
"I do dare to challenge you fool, and do you dare to challenge me?"
A mirthless laugh echoed out from the darkness. "Do you think I am so stupid mortal? You can burn with the dead. Die in agony."
A black shape hurtled out of the darkness and smashed into Yaren. The man did not say a single word as the wolfman tore out his throat, crimson blood spilling out everywhere. Screams of fury howled out as the scouts moved forward in a torret of humanity as the wolves moved forward as well. Stone met bone and flesh as claws did likesie tearing into men and wolves alike. Nathanial moved forward as well, hacking and slashing left and right, hacking away at anything that crossed his path.
Zane was right beside him the entire time, slashing at other wolves as Troika racked up a headcount equivalent to a small nation. Zach was moving around has well, stabbing with a dagger. Havnar appeared out of nowhere here and there, having dropped his sword and traded it in for dual hatchets which he used to great effect.
Not to say that the scouts were doing better. More than one scout screamed out in pain as a wolf hamstrung him, ripped off his leg or arm, and cut open his throat or ripped out his heart. Four were ripped apart as the stitched man grabbed them by the throats and snapped them open with fury to shove bones into their skulls.
As Nathanial spun around to slash at another wolf, he came face to face with said stitched man. "You," he snarled out. "I did not expect to see you here." His hand flew up and gripped Nathanial's neck as he began to choke. "Now stay here while I deal with these men."
Nathanial was tossed to the floor, a crack resounding where his head connected with the stone as everything went black.
Light cracked through his eyes now as he struggled to stay concious. Torches burned from still living holders as bodies and wolves were lit on fire as everything scattered. A dull pounding was felt at the back of his skull as he struggled to rise from the well of blackness that wanted to consume him and suck him back into it's darkness.
His eyes cracked open wider, searching for friendlies. A booted man dashed bay, kicking up dirt as a wolf chased him down. Fire lapped up around two bodies, wolves or men he could not tell. A broken spear was buried almost shaft deep into a wolve's body starting at it's mouth. In death it still snarled.
That's when he saw it; Troika and the stitched figure fighting to the death dozens of steps away, rendstone and a thin white blade clashing with a furious array of strikes. As Nathanial watched, Zane and Zach joined them, then Havnar as the pentet slashed ans whirled across a wasteland of broken bodies and burning figures.
The thin blade slashed outwards, catching Troika in the arm as the rending blade came down to slice the man a new section of body part. The latter howled in pain as he stepped backwards, Zach and Zane taking his place as Havnar circled around to try and surprise the man.
Get up. The voice echoed in his head now. Get up, do not lie there like a weakling.
In response, he struggled up, his head pounding with pain as he rose, bruises and cuts pulsing with pain as Nathanial ground his teeth in pain. Help your friends.
White flashed out once more, striking into the shoulder blade of Havnar. He sunk to the ground as he dropped his weapons, gripping his shoulder as the stitched man riased the blade to deliver the death blow. A sword passed through his abdomen though, courtesy of Zane.
Hurry.
The sitched figure turned around, leering at Zane as the latter struggled to pull his blade out. Nathanial hurrried on, but it was as if they were at the end of a long tunnel, everything happening in slow motion.
The blade lashed out, crimson droplets trailing.
Zane's eyes grew wide as he let go of the sword.
Thin white, it smashed into his throat, driving him to the ground with heavy force. "Kneel."
And with that, the entire world turned red.
Nathanial ran now, his arms reaching out. The stitched man was pulling the blade out of Zane's neck as he turned around, just in time to see Nathanial sieze him by his clothing and slam him into a stone pillar. Chunks of rock and splinters sloughed off and cracked, a fine dust filling the air. All Nathanial could see was red now.
"Repent!" he cried savagely as he gripped the eyeless man's throat and drove his fist into his face. A crater formed behind the former's head as he slammed backwards. "Repent!" Another crater. "I. Told. You. To. Re...pent!" His fist thundered down with enough force to drive the man through the pillar and strike another one as blood trickled from his mouth and his empty sockets.
"I'm sorry Nathanial," the man said quietly. Each syllable was punctuated by a bit of bloody spittle. "I can not do that."
Nathanial moved forward, his anger lashing against the inside of his head. Kill him, murder him, torture, make him pay for what he did, make him repent for what he caused, kill him, burn him, torture him, scourge him, you are the hand of the gods, strike him down and deliver him to the Wanderer's light and make sure he SUFFERS. All the voices railed aginst him now as he strode forth.
Nathanial listened to them.
