Yes. The answer seems clear to me, now. To preach, I must walk. To properly guide, my body must escape the pain which defines it.
I have been humiliated by this illness. My body is a temple, and it has been profaned. My teachings go to idle ears, and those who follow the ways of bone and blood abound.
Water, merciful, flowing water. Wash my affliction away.
----
The bears would live.
That was the reply which came back to him, thundering among the carven statues of the fortress. The bears would live, for honour and integrity. Th4DwArfY1 smiled at Apiks’ miffed expression. More than anything, this was a deviation for the bone lord. The people had made a decision, and it was good.
Now to act. The time of danger passed; light touched the grass on the surface, and the quiet turning of the earth continued. The eye of the moon passed above, and with one final flicker of light, faded from view. The sun, blazing, all enveloping, filled the sky.
And the roars which echoed in our halls became screams of pain and confusion.
With confidence, Th4DwArfY1 approached one who only hours before had tried to devour him. “Bearbane. Slayer of the Great Bear, you…” He broke off as the confused Forumite, naked and shivering, collapsed in front of him, eyes hectic and confused.
Th4DwArfY1 cursed himself for a fool. This was no time for the language of a leader. Setting his sceptre aside, he knelt beside his friend.
“Bearbane, I know you hurt. I know you are confused. You have done great evil. But I can give you a duty, to help repay for damage done. Will you accept, my friend?” He held out his hand, and Bearbane looked at it. The customary steel crept slowly back into the Forumite’s eyes, and he reached one blood-stained hand forward to clasp his own. Th4DwArfY1 bowed his head over their joined hands, and whispered the Forumite’s duty to him.
----
Apiks slammed his tankard on the table, a spume of alcohol rising up and splashing over its wooden length. Fury blazed in his eyes, and he threw the empty vessel across the room. It smashed into the wall, and fell heavily to the floor. He crooked a finger, and a sliver of bone shot from the ground, catching his chainsaw and bringing it to him. “What did you say?” After the fury, the calmness of his question was startling.
Th4DwArfY1’s sceptre blazed, red and strong, in his hand. Tendrils of its light rose, and struck off something…white… in the air around Apiks. Multicoloured sparks flew.
“I said that I have set a massive creature of death and destruction to guard your throne room. It seemed like it needed a guard. Someone was liable to…ah… sneak in and steal something. Of course, you won’t be able to enter it either for fear of being rent limb from limb, but small price to pay for security, I say.
Cursing foully, Apiks slashed a hand in front of himself. The white light faded, and Th4DwArfY1 had to act quickly before his own powers could strike. With an effort, he held them back, and the light of his sceptre faded. Apiks turned his back on him.
“You are a fool.” The words echoed softly in the carven room. “A wily fool… but still, a fool. I do not fight you. My word is not the word of death, or blood. It is the dryness of bone and the security of martial arms. I seek to
save this hole which I myself founded. Tsiru and I had such hopes…” from behind, only the King’s head shaking solemnly could be seen. “High hopes, but low reality. To face gods, you must become a devil.
“I have become that devil. Not for my own honour, not for my own ideals, nor even for my own comfort. I have done it for
Necrothreat. Is that not enough?
Th4DwArfY1 took a step forward, arm silently outstretched, then stopped and shook his head. His reply was spoken just as softly as the question. “No.”
Turning, he left. The figure of Apiks remained, motionless, behind. His only company the drip…drip…drip of spilled booze.
----
It was night. A very particular night. The Highpriest of Omer made his lonely way through hallways strung with moonbeams. The walls were clad in hard granite, and further in not even the light of the moon could pierce. Here, it was dark. He went down a level into the narrow, clenched confines of the interior fortress.
It had been built by Sprin, and his face was carven on every statue. A vast monument to vanity. Ahead, great doors were sealed shut. None were to pass those barred edifices, particularly not a cripple. If they could feel, his legs would have burned with pain. The floors were hard; the price of this errand.
Before the door, Th4DwArfY1 stood. In his hand that ridiculous sceptre blazed bright with crimson light, and as he entered its illumination, he felt its heat.
Heat to blast the waters of Omer to steam. Heat to kill.And still, deep within his heart, beyond even his faith, he felt a…connection, to this being. This overseer. It was hard to see past the face of his mother and into the eyes of what resided within. It was the way of the gods. It was the will of the gods. The fortress demanded heroes, and the old ones were dead. New ones were needed. His mother carried one such. He should be proud.
Though his legs were crippled, and could no longer feel pain, he still knew what agony was. It thundered in his heart before he managed to seal it away.
It is the will of Omer…Soon, he would be able to give proper devotion to his god, bring great wisdom to the people. Truth. He must focus on that.
“So. You came then?” Lord Lemonpie fidgeted on the cold ground. That voice had been harsh, and for a moment the red light touching the overseer’s face had seemed to fill new hollows, ones not belonging to his mother. These had been masculine. Strong, with a hooked nose. It was one he’d seen on the statues of this miniature fortress.
Then the moment passed, and he spoke into the returning silence. “Yes, I came. It was my idea, after all. I am surprised you agreed.”
“Nonsense!” The Forumite’s voice was strangely jovial. “It is like an experiment, yes? Hmmmm. How far the flesh will last, where the pain will come from. It will be educational and painful!”
Lord Lemonpie shifted again, and began reconsidering. His legs did not move, though, for they could not. He nodded instead. “Fine. Have you got the men ready?”
“Fear not, man of Omer! The men hold spears aplenty. They will do their part.”
The Highpriest nodded once more, and listened to the sound of the aquifer surging above. It was oddly quiet. He tried to hear a voice in it, but nothing came to him, nothing but the soft susurrations of the water. A warning?
Nevertheless, he had to try.
“Open the door, then.”
Th4DwArfY1 smiled, and with an uncharacteristically florid flourish flung open the door. Inside, a great shape hulked. A table was torn to shreds, and the corpse of a Haxxor rotted in the corner. Lord Lemonpie retched, and the shape stirred. Green eyes, green as the hated forest canopy, opened in the gloom. Looking at him.
“Hmmm, yes. An experiment. The pain. The results!”
----
The bear wasted no time. One of its claws dug painfully into his torso, and its slavering mouth reached for his head. Displaying instincts he wasn’t aware he had, Lemonpie managed to role out of the way. The bite took him in the leg, and he smiled. There was no pain.
“Hmmm, experiment complete. That was quick.”
The voice drifted in from outside, and he heard the door open. It would be too late, though, the bear would end him. He’d have to act. Forgetting to pray to Omer, he instead snarled back at the great bear’s hunched shape, then struck it once with his fist, beneath the ridge-like protrusion of its brow. He felt something wet and yielding, and the bear released its grip on him, raising high onto his back legs and roaring in pain.
One of its green eyes no longer shone.
Then, the soldiers finally arrived. A chainsaw roared to life, and struck the beast in its outstretched side. It roared louder, and struggled to turn, but the chainsaw kept grinding, grinding, grinding. A flood of blackish blood bathed the Highpriest of Omer. He heard bones breaking. When it was done, the bear collapsed…
“No! Not Id! We voted to save him, we voted to….”
…In two pieces.
Th4DwArfY1 had run into the room, his face ashen white, hand clenching his sceptre.
“What are you doing here” he demanded of the soldiers. “Why have you slain Id? Why…” he saw Lemonpie on the ground, and gasped. The bite wound on his leg hurt…it actually
felt something. Obviously, the overseer had seen the wound.
As the blackness took him, he heard Th4DwArfY1 order the soldiers to take him to his temple. And lock him in.
-----
Some time later, Th4DwArfY1 stumbled into Apiks’ chambers. The King sat in his chair, still and immovable, like he had been waiting there the entire time.
Shaking, white-faced, the overseer confessed his fear. That Sprin was causing him to do foul things. That he could no longer control him fully. He spoke of how the Fortress needed a strong leader, to deal with the future. That Apiks was
strong and constant in a way Th4DwArfY1 wasn’t. Perhaps he had been right to make himself into a devil after all.
In the dimness of the chamber, he could barely see the King’s figure as he stood. But he did see the smile, shining white in the darkness.
“Indeed,” he said.
-----
Will post save soon. Apiks, you're up! Omer have mercy on our souls (and Lemonpie's).
Edit: Save.
http://dffd.bay12games.com/file.php?id=13437
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Topic: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy (Read 511807 times)