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The Mute and The Man-eater. [Zombie] [M]

Started by Miriad_Vegetables, June 30, 2018, 11:54:40 AM

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Miriad_Vegetables

In that place, between death and reality, where dreams are made, Prag'Mal'Dora saw a vision.

It was a view of the ocean, something she had rarely seen in life, that stretched from horizon to horizon. The waters were at once as deep and blue as the night sky, as well as shimmering scarlet as if a layer of blood floated atop it. In the centre of this sea, there was an island...

No...

As the sun rises, and the light catches on glinting metal, it is revealed to be a pile of bodies, both living and dead; wearing the suits of armour of mercenary cavalry, wrapped in assassin's cloaks and cowls, or dressed as civilian's who have taken up arms in desperation. The living stood upon each other shoulders, and they stood on a seabed of the dead and dying, and at the apex of this mountain of flesh...

A familiar snake coils atop the mound, body bristling with weapons numerous and well-used, sheathed but ready. That damnable black eye is glittering defiantly at the horizon, at the world beyond that would threaten what she has sought to build.


"Something beautiful."

Praggy hardly recognized her own voice, it was tired and flat, and most of all sounded more like paper being crushed in someone's fist. Much like Perendi, her throat was constricted and weeped blood as she spoke, barely audible over the rain. She turned her remaining eye to look upon her killer, who fate had favoured in the end. The yellow orb wept liquid as always, but this time the book's contents matched it's cover, there was emotion to match those tears.

An old and weak voice crackles up from the ogre's throat, "Little... Pearl... This haven you wish to build, I have seen it." She coughs, her one ragged lung quivering uselessly.

"A place for those wearied by senseless violence, yet founded upon war..." She slowly and painfully turns to regard the woman that, after everything, has elected to listen, to show mercy.

"You asked me to join you, but child..." Praggy's tongue stills as she feels a rain drop slide down her blistered face and into her mouth, sweet as anything she had ever tasted.

She resumed speaking, "The future you wish to build, it is not founded on greed, nor wrath or pride, or lust for anything. Unlike so much of humanity you are without true sin, yet are cursed all the same. But I must tell you the truth, despite this-" Praggy's damaged right hand clutches at Perendi's shoulder, her left one still unable to release the sword melded into her grip. "-to me, and to the Night Mother, virtuous or sinful, when all is said and done you all die the same, you all go down the same, delicious."

The Old Butcher tries a wicked smile but the muscles aren't working, and the bittersweet cackle that follows this revelation quickly devolves into a sickly wet cough.

"This paradise you'll make for yourself and for those like you... It is no place for a monster like me. The Night Mother proposes that all mortal life should be as a flock for her Family to tend, to be used to sate her children's hunger and nothing more. But your nation of soldiers, of strength and steel, violates that." Praggy's eye dims slowly at having revealed this truth unto the soldier before her, as she continues:

"So this is farewell, little snake. My home resides halfway up the smallest of the Terrin mountains, on it's easternmost slopes. If you have the courage to venture there, my hoard of silverware is yours, to fund your dream, to realise your will, that was so much stronger and more brilliant than mine... It must have been to defeat me."

With an appropriate sense of finality and detachment, she uses the fingers of her right hand to peel her left off of Perendi's baselard, asking "Bring me my cleaver, so I might fight the demons where I am surely going. And know this... all the suffering you feel, all the pain of still being here when there is nothing left for you, all of it can be washed away. I know the Family would accept you with open arms, once your misguided sense of justice leaves you... But perhaps, your ideals are greater, will challenge the Family..."

The ogre regarded her death one last time, before holding out the sword by the blade for the human to take. With the two working fingers of her right hand, in a two fingered point, she mutters "You're pretty good, snake." before her arm falls by her side, and the fire leaves her eye, leaving her body stiff and upright on its knees.

A limping giant fox, pelt forever stained grey not only by ash but also it's venerable age, enters the clearing, a growl low in it's throat at the blackened corpse in the centre, before disregarding the dead monster and lying down on its belly. It places its head between its fore paws, and closes its eyes, seemingly comfortable with the clearings one other occupant.

Both fled from the fire the ogre started, and both were bloodied and injured by it. Not only that, but both had recognized the necessity of attacking such a foe, and had both slain her. It was only natural it not mind her presence, as the rain falls thickly around the three figures.

Zombie

Perendi arched an eyebrow, head cocking questioningly as she made a sound in the back of her throat; more akin to a soft "hmm?" than the hisses, grunts and growls from earlier when she heard Praggy speak, or thought she did. The voice she heard was downright exhausted and dull, whispery and papery. When the ogre looked up at her, the killer that had once again managed to cheat death would lean in closer, to better hear the wizened war-machine's voice and so the elderly woman wouldn't have to expend too much of whatever remained of her strength. Though she should have told the lady not to speak, there was oftentimes wisdom in the words of the fallen- and Prag'Mal'Dora deserved the mercy to be allowed to speak her final piece, whether it ended up being a vitriolic snarl of profanities against the mercenary's name, accusations about the fight's outcome being her fault alone, or otherwise.

She didn't hate the crone, not even after everything that had happened: fate and circumstance had brought them together and a simple, shared inability for either's world-views to synchronize had been the reason behind their bout. In another life, at another time, they may very well have stood side-by-side, rather than as oppositional forces. Her hardened expression would finally soften to one of respect as she reached down to brush away the defeated ogre's tears before squeezing her shoulder once to show that she wasn't ignoring her adversary's words. She had given just as well as she'd taken- and it would have been overly cruel not to let the scarred and broken creature know she had Perendi's full attention. Had she not been so severely beaten, the shadow-woman would probably have tried to say something reassuring, but even when she'd been able to speak without fear of death, such words had always sounded a bit hollow to her after she'd spoken them, no matter how sincerely she'd meant them.

Not knowing if Praggy was even able to keep her vision from swimming at that time, Perendi's nod was slow and patient; curiosity clearly displayed when the ogre admitted she'd had a vision, had seen what would end up being the fruits of the warrior's soon-to-begin labor. There was undeniable truth behind the ogre's words; words that mirrored the plans that the battered woman was working on setting into motion.

Even if it meant she was going to end up fighting against the rest of the world, the snake was going to build an artificial island; a floating fortress. A haven for mercenaries and everyone else that had lost something to senseless violence and still carried the pains of irreparable loss. War would be its very foundation- its inhabitants would always have purpose, would never be looked down upon and hated by those they had served again. It was going to be a magnificent sanctuary and its inhabitants would never stop fighting, because they'd always be needed by someone. The one who controls the battlefield controls the world and she would end up doing just that, no matter how long and hard that fight would be.

Another nod was given; the words "I did- and there would have been a place for you" mouthed, yet not voiced. Momentarily, she would close her eye and tilt her head upward so the rain could remove some of the dirt, filth and blood; it had dried and caked, becoming a mask that had itched rather severely- the rainwater was as pleasant as any lake that she'd dived into before; comfortably cool and relieving to itchy, flame-singed skin. She would remain that way, relishing the pounding rain, until Prag'Mal'Dora continued speaking; lowering her head once again to continue catching the ogre's words as though they were jewels.

Again, Praggy spoke true about the human's intentions; shaking her to her core with the candor behind those words- it was as though the ogre was speaking nothing but prophesy. She'd reach up to cover Praggy's hand with her own, though a smartass smirk would be offered to the visionary when she spoke the revelation of the Night Mother. "We all go the same place when we're dead, too," There was a note of dark humor behind that rasp; which was rewarded with a bout of coughing that lasted for the span of at least a minute, leaving the accursed one gasping desperately and reflexively clutching at her throat until that spell passed. It didn't render her unconscious just yet; though very close, close enough for her eye to roll back and her vision to begin swimming, head reeling as it finally released its unseen claws. That bittersweet cackle was enough to coax Perendi's smirk into a grin, nevertheless.

"Then I will have to bring your Family down," She would sign that slow and carefully, remembering that reading had not seemed to be Praggy's strong suit when she'd tried writing; though not a hint of malice could be seen in her expression or posture- it was a simple fact. If the Night Mother demanded that her followers treat all mortal life like sheep or cattle, they would have to be stopped, whether they would have welcomed one such as her among their ranks or not. The cult would end up being one of the many targets that the soldier and her soon-to-be entourage would go after- it would take resources and time, strategizing and tactical planning, but they would end up being one of the nefarious organizations that would be brought down.

The easternmost slopes of the Terrin mountains? That's where I'll go next. The inheritance that had just been willed to her; the philosophers' legacy,  would not be in vain. Rising to her feet, she moved slowly and unsteadily to where the ornate cleaver lay. Grasping its hilt with a quickly-swallowed groan, she made her way back to Praggy, flipping the cleaver over so she held it by the blade. Her other hand would rise, grasp the fractured quartz crystal cat that hung on a cord around her neck and jerk her hand to snap the cord. That good luck charm had served her well in life- and would hopefully offer the doomed ogress at least a small measure of comfort.

Once she again resumed her kneeling position at Praggy's side, she would hand her both the good luck charm and the cleaver. A small smile was given at the ogre's words; nodding at the notion of her ideals becoming a challenge to the Night Mother's family. She gazed levelly at her victim, taking her sword and sheathing it while leaning close to reach out and help guide the fallen woman to the ground. Though there was  regret in her eye, it was countered by a broad and genuine, albeit quickly-fading grin at Praggy's parting comment and two-fingered point; A proud creature even to the end. Go, fight the demons that await you with glee- turn them into a fine stew, so delicious that us mortals will never be able to replicate the recipe. Had the storm not been raging overhead, she would have taken the time to construct a pyre as a send-off.

Once she was certain that the elderly woman no longer lived, she could at least take the time to drag her corpse inch by inch into the cave; into the furthest reaches of the mother bear's den. It would have been an extremely long and difficult task that set the soldier of misfortune flat on her ass more than once, grunting, groaning and hissing in frustration every time she'd stumble or falter in the task at hand. It was a very unconventional burial chamber, but as the scents of the bears, the bonfire and forest fire, the feast and subsequent skirmish would more than likely ward off would-be predators for a very long time. Eventually, a too-curious adventurer might end up locating the makeshift forest tomb, but only fate would determine whether they'd enter or not. If she'd had a chisel, she would have ended up leaving an inscription on one of the large stones at the mouth of the den- it was a damn shame that she didn't have such a tool at her disposal.

Leaving the makeshift tomb, she would gather her hammer and the ogre's skewer; sliding the latter through her belt so it lay against her hip. Closing the distance between herself and the large, venerable fox, she would offer her free hand; trying her best not to seem like a threat. They'd both tried to escape the forest fire and had endured the relentless assault of the heat and flames; had joined forces against a shared enemy- and the victory belonged to both of them. She was trying to let the fox know that if it decided to leave its home and follow her, it was welcome to do so; though she'd not move to snare or otherwise force it to do anything. A slab of cured pork was pulled from one of her pouches and placed on the ground as she stood again and turned.

It was time to head for the Terrin Mountains, whether the gigantic canine chose to accompany her or not- she didn't want to waste time.

Miriad_Vegetables

It was true, that those words Prag'Mal'Dora had said unto Perendi were the longest and deepest dialogue she had ever had with someone outside of the Family, so perhaps in those final moments, the monster could have been misconstrued as noble. All the same, the burial was more than the beast could have hoped for, having died expecting the animals and then the earth to take her, dismantle her and return her to dust. This entombment was almost too sombre, too peaceful.

A large fox trotted into the cave, smelling the stink of bear and the matronly murderer, and deciding this was no place to make it's new den, it's old one having gone up in flames. It gnashed at the pork joint in it's maw thoughtfully, before turning and cocking it's leg, liquid spilling down the pile of stones that encased Praggy's corpse, before trotting back out into the moisture laden air.

The human was decidedly as cursed as the fox was blessed. Were they so because of their ancestors actions also? The genes they had inherited? Whatever reason there was for the aura of black fate around them, It bothered the beast none. It's companion had meat, and metal claws, and seemed to have a solid sense of direction, both in geography and purpose. That was enough for the human to be a leader in it's eyes, if only of a group of two.

The pork helped her case.

The Dire Fox or Fox-Dire depending on where in the country you were, was a beast with a charmed life and so a suitably ironic companion to the cursed woman, and so sat down on it's haunches waiting.
However, the canine was by no means domesticated, simply as curious as any of its smaller brethren would be, about what quirk of personality made such a marred soul still seek to do good. And so it was to satisfy this curiosity that as the woman set off to march on it traipsed along just behind her, through the blackened and now muddy woodlands, panting slightly and looking with shining golden eyes at the dark gem of a future ahead.

How great a game this would turn out to be.

THE END ?

Zombie

Though the conversation they'd had as Prag'Mal'Dora had met her end had been rather long, undeniably deep and extremely prophetic in more ways than one, the monster had certainly not revealed a noble side by any stretch of the imagination. She'd been very intelligent and perhaps even philosophical in the delivery of her wisdom, but not  noble. Regardless, the matronly butcher had entertained and impressed her killer immensely- and as such, had been deserving of the respect offered to a worthy foe. Perhaps Perendi should have left her carcass to feed the animals and offer sustenance to the destroyed plantlife; and she probably would have, if the monster had indeed been nothing more than another beast to slay, or even one more unthinking bastard. It was an uncommon occurance to meet and face an enemy deserving of an ounce of respect; even raider or bandit groups and most agents that had cast their lot with one shadowy organization or another were not, so this encounter had very much been a welcome change of pace.

The fox and the human were polar opposites, yet both seemed to house a peculiar curiosity- Perendi had been cursed due to circumstance; the Dire Fox blessed because of their ancestry. Jaeger, was the name that she silently gave the great beast, an old name that had meant "hunter" in a mostly-forgotten tongue. They truly did make an ironically perfect pair; the blessed fox and cursed woman. All actions she'd make toward the creature would be slow and metholodical, it was not a domesticated dog, but still a wild canine- she'd not attempt to tame, but rather befriend the fox as it followed along behind her. It would be welcome to come and go as it pleased, naturally; though its companion was glad that she wasn't traveling alone, at least for now. How strange that she preferred to work alone rather than alongside someone else- and yet would accept it as a companion for however long it remained with her.

She would thump her thigh as she set off for the Terrin Mountains to lay claim to the legacy that awaited her; the funds that would help set her plans into motion. It would be a long and uphill battle from here on, an endless series of fights, skirmishes and even wars to wage, but she would never stop. The future was beginning to be written and this was only the first of many steps that would be taken.

It was going to be a grand game, indeed.

~The End~

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