Imitidoras walked slowly down the street, seemingly without a care in the world. Indeed, he stopped at various merchant carts and browsed wares, smiled at passerbys and made polite conversation to those who approached him. How he loved the calm before the storm.
He couldnt stop giggling at the thought of what these stupid cattle would be doing in only an hours time.
He slowly turned the corner at a large intersection and there before him lay his target. The Westbridge Pre-School for Exceptional Children. Ah, he thought, if this doesnt get the Filthy Hearts out en masse then I dont know what will.
He continued to giggle as he walked slowly through the front door, barring it from the inside. Moments later the tormented screams of staff and children alike rang out through the early morning like music to the ears of the deranged, psychopathic, and maniacal.
Within minutes, to any who were observant, blood could be seen seeping out from under the front door...
War?
"If war, then war." Arien said angrily and started slipping off her silky clothes. She ran through her house to the locker room, opened the old wooden chest, grabbed all her old combat clothes and dropped them on the floor. Piece by piece she reequipped. All the pieces still fit her muscular body perfectly, as if no time had passed. She had retired, but she still had continued training. Her combat skills were just as good as they used to be and that made her feel confident enough.
Her old equipment was on now, she drew the sword and took in her combat position. Swinging her heavy black sword through the air, she ralized her feet were still bare naked. She bend over and took her old muddy boots out of the chest. Placing those on the floor, she took a pair of socks from the drawer. A minute later, she was ready.
Now only the shield was missing, it was hanging on the wall, a beautiful shield with the blessing of Avlad. She gently touched it. The shield as if became alive, and start levitating in front of her.
Her old equipment was on now, she drew the sword and took in her combat position. Swinging her heavy black sword through the air, she ralized her feet were still bare naked. She bend over and took her old muddy boots out of the chest. Placing those on the floor, she took a pair of socks from the drawer. A minute later, she was ready.
Now only the shield was missing, it was hanging on the wall, a beautiful shield with the blessing of Avlad. She gently touched it. The shield as if became alive, and start levitating in front of her.
Emalia Dies
Grobnak's office looked the same as it always had - and at the approach of Emalia, Grobnak leapt up from his chair. "Emalia! You're alive!" The scent of death and decay swirled around her, but it didn't seem to bother either of them. At Grobnak's approach, Emalia inwardly recoiled - the killer of her child - how dare he approach her. All this time she thought of him as decent - not knowing that all along everyone was right about his cold, calculating nature. "What is it that you have there?"
"This... is... my baby. Look at her... isn't she beautiful?"
For a shimmering moment, Brin was alive in her arms - but the vision wavered and the ball of rot came back into view with black, bloated lips pursed for suckling. "I don't understand," Grobnak interrupted. "You lost it? You were only a few weeks along."
"Nooooo," Emalia began in a hollow whisper. "She's here... she's here now."
"I... I am sorry, Emalia."
"Hold her," Emalia commanded. She thrust the decayed child into Grobnak's arms. Upon his face gathered a tear, and it drove Emalia near insanity. A growl gathered in her throat, even as the black ichor that coursed through her rewarded her for the hate. "You did this to me. You did this to her."
"Me? No, Emalia."
"Yes. You did. You gave me that disease... the disease that KILLED my baby."
"No, Emalia. If I made people ill, there would be many more deaths. I am Chosen, yes, but I am not contagious."
"LIAR!" Emalia shoved her hands into Grobnak, thrusting him backward. "Halethiel TOLD me what you did... you sick... sick bastard! YOU infected me."
"Halethiel is centuries dead! What is it about this that you people do not understand?"
"You did this to me," Emalia began. The rage that she had quelled only a bit was washing over her - the black makou prasing her for the turn in her nature. It flowed easier now - but Emalia did not know. She advanced slowly upon Grobnak. "You killed my child... and I can't live knowing you aren't going to pay. I'm going to make you pay for this, Grobnak."
"I did nothing, Fallen! Know that I will tolerate your anger and your insolence, but you will not assault me for your lack of Faith, no matter how dear you may be to me!"
"DEAR TO YOU!" Emalia barely could understand the words once they had left her mouth, so high pitched were they. Grobnak held his ground, his black eyes looking down upon her with a mix of emotions Emalia could not, and didn't try to descern.
"Bring your wrath, then. I did not hurt this child. I have done naught but seek to reveal the Truth to you, which you refuse to see."
The words were enough to halt Emalia for only a moment - until her eyes rested upon the decayed baby that Grobnak had placed in the chair. Rage like no other she'd known flooded her and she gripped Grobnak's arm with her fingers like talons. She did only what she knew to do - she pulled upon the world around her, channeling through her body the very essence of the planet, while forcing it in a torrent into Grobnak.
Emalia could barely see from her own eyes - the pain of the black makou being mixed with what she was caused only the color white to explode over and over in her vision. A scream broke from her throat as she gripped tighter - her entire body shuddering inwardly with pain that felt as though her flesh was being flayed from her skin by hooks. Only when the body before her began to fall did she relent enough to note the connection which made her kin to Grobnak's thoughts - and he to hers. Only as the ragnarok demon's wings melted into a puddle and dripped to the floor did she realize she had been wrong. Grobnak's life flickered out like a candle blown, and Emalia fell to the ground with him.
"Oh no..." The madness that capped Emalia's face broke into pure horror. "You... were... right... Oh Gods..." Feebly, Emalia tried to ignore the pain within her, to right the wrong, to find Grobnak's life and restore it - but it was too late for him - and for herself. She had fully let herself go to slay him, and with the pain digging itself into her - the attempt to pull life - to give life - Emalia's vison began to fade.
Nothing more could be done for Grobnak, and with the loss of all that held her together inside, Emalia collapsed onto Grobnak with a shuddering breath. It was her last. The remainder of her lifeforce shot from her, a brilliant explosion. When the guards finally entered, a body of a baby was in a chair, an orc laid upon the ground in a puddle of black ooze, and atop his chest was a woman in dirty white robes. All were dead.
"This... is... my baby. Look at her... isn't she beautiful?"
For a shimmering moment, Brin was alive in her arms - but the vision wavered and the ball of rot came back into view with black, bloated lips pursed for suckling. "I don't understand," Grobnak interrupted. "You lost it? You were only a few weeks along."
"Nooooo," Emalia began in a hollow whisper. "She's here... she's here now."
"I... I am sorry, Emalia."
"Hold her," Emalia commanded. She thrust the decayed child into Grobnak's arms. Upon his face gathered a tear, and it drove Emalia near insanity. A growl gathered in her throat, even as the black ichor that coursed through her rewarded her for the hate. "You did this to me. You did this to her."
"Me? No, Emalia."
"Yes. You did. You gave me that disease... the disease that KILLED my baby."
"No, Emalia. If I made people ill, there would be many more deaths. I am Chosen, yes, but I am not contagious."
"LIAR!" Emalia shoved her hands into Grobnak, thrusting him backward. "Halethiel TOLD me what you did... you sick... sick bastard! YOU infected me."
"Halethiel is centuries dead! What is it about this that you people do not understand?"
"You did this to me," Emalia began. The rage that she had quelled only a bit was washing over her - the black makou prasing her for the turn in her nature. It flowed easier now - but Emalia did not know. She advanced slowly upon Grobnak. "You killed my child... and I can't live knowing you aren't going to pay. I'm going to make you pay for this, Grobnak."
"I did nothing, Fallen! Know that I will tolerate your anger and your insolence, but you will not assault me for your lack of Faith, no matter how dear you may be to me!"
"DEAR TO YOU!" Emalia barely could understand the words once they had left her mouth, so high pitched were they. Grobnak held his ground, his black eyes looking down upon her with a mix of emotions Emalia could not, and didn't try to descern.
"Bring your wrath, then. I did not hurt this child. I have done naught but seek to reveal the Truth to you, which you refuse to see."
The words were enough to halt Emalia for only a moment - until her eyes rested upon the decayed baby that Grobnak had placed in the chair. Rage like no other she'd known flooded her and she gripped Grobnak's arm with her fingers like talons. She did only what she knew to do - she pulled upon the world around her, channeling through her body the very essence of the planet, while forcing it in a torrent into Grobnak.
Emalia could barely see from her own eyes - the pain of the black makou being mixed with what she was caused only the color white to explode over and over in her vision. A scream broke from her throat as she gripped tighter - her entire body shuddering inwardly with pain that felt as though her flesh was being flayed from her skin by hooks. Only when the body before her began to fall did she relent enough to note the connection which made her kin to Grobnak's thoughts - and he to hers. Only as the ragnarok demon's wings melted into a puddle and dripped to the floor did she realize she had been wrong. Grobnak's life flickered out like a candle blown, and Emalia fell to the ground with him.
"Oh no..." The madness that capped Emalia's face broke into pure horror. "You... were... right... Oh Gods..." Feebly, Emalia tried to ignore the pain within her, to right the wrong, to find Grobnak's life and restore it - but it was too late for him - and for herself. She had fully let herself go to slay him, and with the pain digging itself into her - the attempt to pull life - to give life - Emalia's vison began to fade.
Nothing more could be done for Grobnak, and with the loss of all that held her together inside, Emalia collapsed onto Grobnak with a shuddering breath. It was her last. The remainder of her lifeforce shot from her, a brilliant explosion. When the guards finally entered, a body of a baby was in a chair, an orc laid upon the ground in a puddle of black ooze, and atop his chest was a woman in dirty white robes. All were dead.
How To Suffer Yourself
Sanria'd walked for a matter of minutes before heavy and fast footsteps caught up to her. "Where are you going?" Colin asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, it was a little strange for you to just walk off like that. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Sanria had answered with a flat voice. "Why don't you go back to the cavern or even Emalia's house and do your waiting."
"Please, talk to me."
"No, it's alright. You really should go back... in case Throm actually returns."
"Sanria, please, don't just leave like this."
"I've done nothing but bring hostility to this whole enterprise. It's best that I take myself and my beliefs far from here... and keep them there. I'm truly not helping anyone... and I haven't been."
Instantly, Colin dismissed this. "Sanria... I can't even tell you how much you have helped me. You have been there for me all through these past few weeks. If it weren't for you I probably would have driven myself crazy."
"I didn't do that. You kept yourself from that insanity. Perhaps by believing in yourself. Believing we'll find her."
"No. I couldn't have had that strength without you there. Not by myself... I'm literally half the man i used to be. I have been counting on you to be that fire, that strength."
Sanria couldn't keep her eyes on Colin any longer. She stared at the ground as he continued. She had only wanted to be wanted. Only wanted to know that someone felt that she was worth sharing with, worth truly loving. Her reality quickly blurred and feelings that never should have risen... did. "I'm not as strong as you believe me to be, Colin." With that, she forced them away, brought back to herself her purpose and goal.
They discussed her trip north and finally, Colin interrupted. "Look, the truth is I need you. If you have no more hope left, let me be the hope. I need you be the fire, the resolve, the anger even."
No no no. NO. Sanria thought. This was not the right feeling. Not in the least. Hearing someone want her... need her... and tell her such a thing...
And so she lay, staring at the opposite wall, back to Colin as he dozed in the chair. She lay there, wondering if she shouldn't try to sneak out and finish herself off. She didn't believe Emalia was going to return. Even if she did, she could only see another Thasmudyan. She didn't believe it... but Colin did... and whatever had possessed her to kiss her own son-in-law... it had driven her nearer to insanity than she had been in a long, long time.
She was guilt-ridden, downtrodden, disgusted with herself, and in a fit of dispair. She knew where her road was headed... yet with Colin on suicide watch as he waited for any word from Throm... there was nothing she could do but suffer every idiotic move she'd ever made. Even with that miniature trespass on her very own daughter, Sanria listened to Colin plead with her... he still needed her. According to him, they all did. She had been designated as the anchor for the sanity of everyone else. She just didn't know how she could keep herself from unraveling.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, it was a little strange for you to just walk off like that. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Sanria had answered with a flat voice. "Why don't you go back to the cavern or even Emalia's house and do your waiting."
"Please, talk to me."
"No, it's alright. You really should go back... in case Throm actually returns."
"Sanria, please, don't just leave like this."
"I've done nothing but bring hostility to this whole enterprise. It's best that I take myself and my beliefs far from here... and keep them there. I'm truly not helping anyone... and I haven't been."
Instantly, Colin dismissed this. "Sanria... I can't even tell you how much you have helped me. You have been there for me all through these past few weeks. If it weren't for you I probably would have driven myself crazy."
"I didn't do that. You kept yourself from that insanity. Perhaps by believing in yourself. Believing we'll find her."
"No. I couldn't have had that strength without you there. Not by myself... I'm literally half the man i used to be. I have been counting on you to be that fire, that strength."
Sanria couldn't keep her eyes on Colin any longer. She stared at the ground as he continued. She had only wanted to be wanted. Only wanted to know that someone felt that she was worth sharing with, worth truly loving. Her reality quickly blurred and feelings that never should have risen... did. "I'm not as strong as you believe me to be, Colin." With that, she forced them away, brought back to herself her purpose and goal.
They discussed her trip north and finally, Colin interrupted. "Look, the truth is I need you. If you have no more hope left, let me be the hope. I need you be the fire, the resolve, the anger even."
No no no. NO. Sanria thought. This was not the right feeling. Not in the least. Hearing someone want her... need her... and tell her such a thing...
And so she lay, staring at the opposite wall, back to Colin as he dozed in the chair. She lay there, wondering if she shouldn't try to sneak out and finish herself off. She didn't believe Emalia was going to return. Even if she did, she could only see another Thasmudyan. She didn't believe it... but Colin did... and whatever had possessed her to kiss her own son-in-law... it had driven her nearer to insanity than she had been in a long, long time.
She was guilt-ridden, downtrodden, disgusted with herself, and in a fit of dispair. She knew where her road was headed... yet with Colin on suicide watch as he waited for any word from Throm... there was nothing she could do but suffer every idiotic move she'd ever made. Even with that miniature trespass on her very own daughter, Sanria listened to Colin plead with her... he still needed her. According to him, they all did. She had been designated as the anchor for the sanity of everyone else. She just didn't know how she could keep herself from unraveling.
To the North!
In the following two weeks, she'd heard nothing from Throm. Her heart had churned with anger - but he was no longer her fiance. He needed not to tell her anything. She kept herself busy calling Colin over to do the odd jobs that she needed done... thereby keeping Colin from losing his mind as she had long before.
When Throm had entered the cavern, telling them he was leaving for a while - Sanria finally reached her limits. "Weren't you doing that already?" she snapped. "Or is a while now... perhaps... months? years? decades? Perhaps now you're helping yourself."
"I'm afraid I've never been to where I'm going...though I don't know how much help to myself such a venture will be."
"Hmmm. I'm sure you'll figure something out, Throm. You always do. In the meantime, we'll find my daughter."
Colin looked at Sanria calmingly. "Sanria, please, let's give him a chance to explain." She listened only for as long as it took for Throm to get Colin's hopes up.
"Don't either of you understand?" she pled. "She isn't coming back... not until she's ready... and... that could be years. So we just have to... have to get used to it."
"You resign yourself too easily..." Throm said.
"Yes, and you disappear as frequently." Again Colin broke in, almost frantic. "You may have lost someone but he was dead, Emalia is not! And I cannot give up until she is back."
Sanria stood dumbfounded. She felt as if she had been slapped in the face. Colin seemed to know that his words cut deeply, but even his attempt to comfort wasn't enough. Sanria had broken at last. With a few hostile parting words with Throm, she mounted the steps, entered her house, and burst into tears.
Grabbing a pack, she began throwing meaningless items into it. Quill, parchment, and a spare robe. She didn't know until she had packed where she would head, but she knew why she was leaving. Long ago... well before she had children... she had gone north to freeze to death. It felt a perfect place now to return, and without Thasmudyan around, she could succeed and simply go to sleep.
With a man who vanished, a daughter who not only hated her - but was also gone, a brother missing, a son who loved her only with scattered attendence, a son-in-law that scowled at her every move - Sanria felt the course was the best. She walked out, apologizing to both Throm and Colin, and headed into the woods.
When Throm had entered the cavern, telling them he was leaving for a while - Sanria finally reached her limits. "Weren't you doing that already?" she snapped. "Or is a while now... perhaps... months? years? decades? Perhaps now you're helping yourself."
"I'm afraid I've never been to where I'm going...though I don't know how much help to myself such a venture will be."
"Hmmm. I'm sure you'll figure something out, Throm. You always do. In the meantime, we'll find my daughter."
Colin looked at Sanria calmingly. "Sanria, please, let's give him a chance to explain." She listened only for as long as it took for Throm to get Colin's hopes up.
"Don't either of you understand?" she pled. "She isn't coming back... not until she's ready... and... that could be years. So we just have to... have to get used to it."
"You resign yourself too easily..." Throm said.
"Yes, and you disappear as frequently." Again Colin broke in, almost frantic. "You may have lost someone but he was dead, Emalia is not! And I cannot give up until she is back."
Sanria stood dumbfounded. She felt as if she had been slapped in the face. Colin seemed to know that his words cut deeply, but even his attempt to comfort wasn't enough. Sanria had broken at last. With a few hostile parting words with Throm, she mounted the steps, entered her house, and burst into tears.
Grabbing a pack, she began throwing meaningless items into it. Quill, parchment, and a spare robe. She didn't know until she had packed where she would head, but she knew why she was leaving. Long ago... well before she had children... she had gone north to freeze to death. It felt a perfect place now to return, and without Thasmudyan around, she could succeed and simply go to sleep.
With a man who vanished, a daughter who not only hated her - but was also gone, a brother missing, a son who loved her only with scattered attendence, a son-in-law that scowled at her every move - Sanria felt the course was the best. She walked out, apologizing to both Throm and Colin, and headed into the woods.
Compounding Problems...
Sanria lay in her bed, her back to the steady breathing of Colin, who was sitting in a chair nearby. She had hit another low in her life and all she could wonder is what she could have done to change it.
Two weeks before she lay in bed, she was at the gates of the Jihad compound. She'd woken up at the gates of Throm's vanished house, and knew the only place he'd be was with Grobnak. So she stormed through the gates, entangling the front guards, and ended up for all her troubles, in a holding cell with several bruises on her arms.
But she was right. Throm was there, in the cell beside hers. She was relieved to find him, but worried about the fact that she was in here also nagged at her. The two spoke for what felt like several hours before Grobnak approached her cell door. "Have you calmed yourself, Sinner?"
"I should say so."
"This one attempted to break into the Compound and has personally insulted myself and our entire organization. What would you do with one such as this if they stormed the home of the Guardians?" Grobnak asked Throm.
"A woman after my own heart."
"Just let him out. You can do whatever you need to do to feel justified to me."
"Throm is here of his own accord, Sinner."
"Why then is he locked up?" Sanria barked.
"So that he does not leave with a dangerous substance he has stolen in the past."
Sanria could not see Throm in the next cell, willing Grobnak to shut his mouth, but confusion and sudden curiosity got the better of her. "What? What substance?"
"That is not your concern, Sinner," Grobnak hissed.
"Throm? What is he talking about?"
"All will be explained Sanria...I promise. Now is not the time though."
Another coverup. Another deflection of true purpose. Sanria slid to the ground, not really understanding until several more words had passed that Throm was in the compound seeking more black makou. Her heart, in that moment, froze and she sat with her chin on her knees. She'd put her life on the line to save Throm, only to discover that he had returned to the compound for that evil, vile substance. She felt duped.
She was put out at dawn, after hearing a bit of conversation between Grobnak and Throm... about a book... and then... about dreams. Emalia was in a dream. It gave her hope, and she raced home to share the news.
Two weeks before she lay in bed, she was at the gates of the Jihad compound. She'd woken up at the gates of Throm's vanished house, and knew the only place he'd be was with Grobnak. So she stormed through the gates, entangling the front guards, and ended up for all her troubles, in a holding cell with several bruises on her arms.
But she was right. Throm was there, in the cell beside hers. She was relieved to find him, but worried about the fact that she was in here also nagged at her. The two spoke for what felt like several hours before Grobnak approached her cell door. "Have you calmed yourself, Sinner?"
"I should say so."
"This one attempted to break into the Compound and has personally insulted myself and our entire organization. What would you do with one such as this if they stormed the home of the Guardians?" Grobnak asked Throm.
"A woman after my own heart."
"Just let him out. You can do whatever you need to do to feel justified to me."
"Throm is here of his own accord, Sinner."
"Why then is he locked up?" Sanria barked.
"So that he does not leave with a dangerous substance he has stolen in the past."
Sanria could not see Throm in the next cell, willing Grobnak to shut his mouth, but confusion and sudden curiosity got the better of her. "What? What substance?"
"That is not your concern, Sinner," Grobnak hissed.
"Throm? What is he talking about?"
"All will be explained Sanria...I promise. Now is not the time though."
Another coverup. Another deflection of true purpose. Sanria slid to the ground, not really understanding until several more words had passed that Throm was in the compound seeking more black makou. Her heart, in that moment, froze and she sat with her chin on her knees. She'd put her life on the line to save Throm, only to discover that he had returned to the compound for that evil, vile substance. She felt duped.
She was put out at dawn, after hearing a bit of conversation between Grobnak and Throm... about a book... and then... about dreams. Emalia was in a dream. It gave her hope, and she raced home to share the news.
Darknesssssssss...
Sanria walked from the Blue Moon Tavern. Sanria walked toward Throm's House. Sanria reached the gates and looked up. Sanria fainted.
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