Spring, 122PW
Every time he closed his eyes the screaming started. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't drink anymore, couldn't even lay on his back. He was worthless. And they would hunt him soon. You didn't spit in the local governments face like that and just get away with it. So he had stayed up all night, and the morning light found his eyes squinted and feeling gritty, desperate for sleep that would not come. His forge had been dusty, the sleeping furs on his bed musty and dirty, so he had hung them outside in the cold morning air. His sword was still well hidden, and he drew it from behind the panel in the wall, unwrapping the sheep fur from around it and checking the grease on the blade. Still good, still in shape. His finger touched the edge, and a drop of blood appeared. Still sharp....
In a sudden rage, he spun and buried the sharp steel in a wooden pillar. The sword went halfway through and stuck, and he left it be, the handle wobbling in the air. He grabbed his biggest forge hammer and started smashing things, the walls, the stone kiln, anything that he could hit. His trough laid on the ground in splinters, fist sized holes appeared in the planks of his walls, and he howled without realizing it, the sounds of pain and anger renting the quiet air of Shim.
He didn't care. He hurt so much, not only physically. It was a soul hurt, pain and memories dredged up from long ago. His past came back to haunt him, the ghosts in his head had finally manifested in that dark place, and now they wouldn't leave him alone. His words changed, turning from the common of the land to his peoples guttural tongue, ancient battle cries and screams for help all mixed together. He struck the anvil with all the force he could muster and the hammer handle broke in half, sending sharp splinters up, splinters that buried themselves into his cheek and brow. He was lucky that none of them had went into his eyes. Better dead than blind, he thought.
"Better dead than alive." He muttered the words as he stared at a worked metal blade, something he had been making before his arrest. It was sharp. He could end it here. Release... he thought as he fingers grasped the metal tang.
Devastation
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KoriStronghammer
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Ran Azshmatha
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- Name: Ran Azshmatha
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Re: Devastation
The morning was almost a blasphemy to the strain and nervousness that Ran felt. He had spent his first few waking hours toiling away to aid Saruna in her worthy task, but the domestic chores only served to heighten his anxiety. Such things reminded him of home; they served as a stark contrast to the deeds he had both done and witnessed throughout most of his adult life. His palms were sweat-slick, and his body quivered in warning of overdoing himself both physically and emotionally.
He could feel the sickness clawing at him, from his chest up through his throat. What a curse violence was. Were it not for the debt he owed Saruna, he would have moved on to somewhere. Somewhere better. Maybe even home, one day. Saruna meant well, he knew, but even with her assurances and gentle smiles she was only a kindly old woman who had spent much of her life in one spot. How could she know of the awful things that men allowed?
Kori knew. Knowing he knew made something shift and crack in Ran's chest. Ran had no business going and poking at things that crippled a man, but he simply couldn't help himself. It was his personal sickness, the remembering, the howling urges inside himself to quell the urges. He had to. He didn't want to, but he would drive himself mad if he did not simply go.
The sun was too bright, the sun too blue. The small, wrapped bundle of delicious baked goods he held was much too perfumed in the way of happy, idyllic fields and homely spices.
Two-thirds of the way there, animal sounds disrupted the too-pleasant morning, but Ran still winced at it. The disruption was only a reminder that perfection never stayed, and if Ran's life was anything it was a tale of morality on complacency. He carried on, noting with a detached and rising misery that the noise only became louder with every step. They resolved into words, some of which Ran could understand and others he could not.
He knew the feeling, and a certain cowardice rose up in him. His time enslaved, and the recent bloodshed were still strong enough in his mind that he feared being dragged down with the other man, deep into a pit from which few returned.
He had to.
The ground was worn outside the forge. "Kori," he said loudly, not wishing to yell and be known. Dangerous times. "Stronghammer?"
He could feel the sickness clawing at him, from his chest up through his throat. What a curse violence was. Were it not for the debt he owed Saruna, he would have moved on to somewhere. Somewhere better. Maybe even home, one day. Saruna meant well, he knew, but even with her assurances and gentle smiles she was only a kindly old woman who had spent much of her life in one spot. How could she know of the awful things that men allowed?
Kori knew. Knowing he knew made something shift and crack in Ran's chest. Ran had no business going and poking at things that crippled a man, but he simply couldn't help himself. It was his personal sickness, the remembering, the howling urges inside himself to quell the urges. He had to. He didn't want to, but he would drive himself mad if he did not simply go.
The sun was too bright, the sun too blue. The small, wrapped bundle of delicious baked goods he held was much too perfumed in the way of happy, idyllic fields and homely spices.
Two-thirds of the way there, animal sounds disrupted the too-pleasant morning, but Ran still winced at it. The disruption was only a reminder that perfection never stayed, and if Ran's life was anything it was a tale of morality on complacency. He carried on, noting with a detached and rising misery that the noise only became louder with every step. They resolved into words, some of which Ran could understand and others he could not.
He knew the feeling, and a certain cowardice rose up in him. His time enslaved, and the recent bloodshed were still strong enough in his mind that he feared being dragged down with the other man, deep into a pit from which few returned.
He had to.
The ground was worn outside the forge. "Kori," he said loudly, not wishing to yell and be known. Dangerous times. "Stronghammer?"
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KoriStronghammer
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Re: Devastation
He stopped. Someone outside. Had the people who had hired him sent someone already? Was he to answer for his refusal and open disavowing of his work? Maybe. Marn was not far, a good runner could have been there and back by now. All it took was one whisper in the right ear, and someone would come. With a grin, he felt a bit of peace. He wouldn't have to kill himself then. He could take the fight to those bastards and die fighting. Like a true man.
Dropping the knife blade, he pulled his wood ax from the nitch it hung on in the wall. The sword would take too long to dig out from the pole. He filled the door way, his hair loose and wild around his head, beard bristling, eyes almost burning with rage. A small man stood outside. But small men were killers as well, assassins and poisoners. He looked familiar, like a man who had been with Miss Saruna. A spy? Did he report to the government on her? Was she doomed from the start? No matter. The doom of man hung over all of them. No matter what great works you strove for, death still claimed you, and ruin would still come to your works. There was no reason to fight it. Only to chase it, to embrace it.
"Who comes to the bears lair? Who comes here? Speak boy, or your guts will spill in the dirt."
Dropping the knife blade, he pulled his wood ax from the nitch it hung on in the wall. The sword would take too long to dig out from the pole. He filled the door way, his hair loose and wild around his head, beard bristling, eyes almost burning with rage. A small man stood outside. But small men were killers as well, assassins and poisoners. He looked familiar, like a man who had been with Miss Saruna. A spy? Did he report to the government on her? Was she doomed from the start? No matter. The doom of man hung over all of them. No matter what great works you strove for, death still claimed you, and ruin would still come to your works. There was no reason to fight it. Only to chase it, to embrace it.
"Who comes to the bears lair? Who comes here? Speak boy, or your guts will spill in the dirt."
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Ran Azshmatha
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Re: Devastation
Ran brandished the basket at Kori, the action no less threatening than the ax the northerner had in a too-tight grip. But where Kori threatened violence, Ran threatened peace. That, by itself, could be wholly unnerving for a man used to bloodshed. Ran was determined, however, and he flipped up the cloth that covered the basket full of scones.
"Saruna has already left for town with the others. I have no intention of eating these by myself, and you'll look full ridiculous if you cut me down while I hold these. Let me in, man, we have need to talk."
"Saruna has already left for town with the others. I have no intention of eating these by myself, and you'll look full ridiculous if you cut me down while I hold these. Let me in, man, we have need to talk."
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KoriStronghammer
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Re: Devastation
"Or. I could just cut you down, take the food and hang your skull on my mantle."
Kori sighed as he released the grip on the haft. Might as well talk a bit. He was going to kill himself anyways, it wasn't like he could further ruin his life anymore. With a grunt, he placed the ax inside the doorway and disappeared inside.
"You coming or what?"
He called through the door. He had already sat down, his anvil providing a stable seat that held him up. The only chair looked a little wobbly now. He thought that he had kicked it. Or maybe he just pushed it aside with his body. Either way, the skinny man could have it.
Kori sighed as he released the grip on the haft. Might as well talk a bit. He was going to kill himself anyways, it wasn't like he could further ruin his life anymore. With a grunt, he placed the ax inside the doorway and disappeared inside.
"You coming or what?"
He called through the door. He had already sat down, his anvil providing a stable seat that held him up. The only chair looked a little wobbly now. He thought that he had kicked it. Or maybe he just pushed it aside with his body. Either way, the skinny man could have it.
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Ran Azshmatha
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Re: Devastation
Ran did not take a seat, though he was tired. He proffered the basket to Kori, trying to still the trembling in his hands. He didn't like being threatened. He didn't like the reminder of what he'd gone through and what he'd seen. But he also didn't like cowardice and dishonor, so he forced himself to speak, though he didn't look the bigger man in the eyes.
"You're not like them, so don't act like it."
"You're not like them, so don't act like it."
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KoriStronghammer
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Re: Devastation
It started with a shaking of the shoulders, his head down. Then the sound erupted from him, a dark and painful laughter that shook his whole body. When it finally stopped and he could breathe, he wiped his eyes and stared at the man.
"Not like who boy? Your pissant government? They put me in the dark." He stood, the rage rolling off his body in waves, the hair standing up all over. "The only reason it hurt was because my own people put me there first."
His fist struck to a pillar, dust falling from the roof as his callused knuckles connected. Something in his hand popped, but it was something he didn't even register. It was like an afterthought.
"13 summers when I watched raiders kill my mother. 13 when I killed my first man, revenge. Blood fury. Blood rage. My father killed himself when he found my mothers body. Then they put me in my cage. They let me out to kill, to main, to torture, to destroy."
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes glittering through his hair.
"You're right. I'm not like them. I am a much bigger monster."
"Not like who boy? Your pissant government? They put me in the dark." He stood, the rage rolling off his body in waves, the hair standing up all over. "The only reason it hurt was because my own people put me there first."
His fist struck to a pillar, dust falling from the roof as his callused knuckles connected. Something in his hand popped, but it was something he didn't even register. It was like an afterthought.
"13 summers when I watched raiders kill my mother. 13 when I killed my first man, revenge. Blood fury. Blood rage. My father killed himself when he found my mothers body. Then they put me in my cage. They let me out to kill, to main, to torture, to destroy."
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes glittering through his hair.
"You're right. I'm not like them. I am a much bigger monster."
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Ran Azshmatha
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Re: Devastation
Truthfully, Ran had expected the laughter. It fit the profile of the northerner. Those people did not show deeper emotions at all, when it could be helped, and so far out of place as this one was with so much twisted by an alien culture, what more could Kori do but laugh? Ran weathered the sound as he had so much else, and felt the rising angst in his own gut mimic the empty lie of homesickness that Kori exhibited -- even if the man himself did not realize it.
"No," Ran said, and the depth of cold in his voice that rivaled the heat of Kori's surprised him in a very distant way. "If you were, you would have struck Saruna down in the tavern. It's a hard world, ogun. I am sorry for your pain. That's why I . . . "
Ran trailed off for a moment, his fingers trembling as the great enormity of what he was about to say, to offer, ran through him like an electric current. The twist in his gut demanded he do it, but the logical part of his brain that demanded freedom in the form of keeping his head well below cover screamed at him to stop. To walk away. Leave this man, this ruined shell to his self destruction.
What would Ran have seen, were it not for the nightmare flight across the grassland? A cruel and craven rogue? Broken and useless gutter trash? Truthfully, it was not at all about Kori's own pain, the living thing that consumed the man like a sand wraith. It was the hate, the anger, the demand to tear and rend before someone else did the same thing to you that had drawn Ran in. Ran could very easily hate Kori; what he felt was in some way the balanced effect between brothers in war and enemies on the same side of the line.
But he had to.
"I can make you a potion. I can take away your pain, your memories, and give you another chance."
He let his arm fall back limp to his side as though he finally remembered it was his and not part of some stubborn statue. He was uncomfortable, but he was too tired to hide it or the mixed and heady mixture of emotions that urged him to abandon everything and run until he collapsed.
"No," Ran said, and the depth of cold in his voice that rivaled the heat of Kori's surprised him in a very distant way. "If you were, you would have struck Saruna down in the tavern. It's a hard world, ogun. I am sorry for your pain. That's why I . . . "
Ran trailed off for a moment, his fingers trembling as the great enormity of what he was about to say, to offer, ran through him like an electric current. The twist in his gut demanded he do it, but the logical part of his brain that demanded freedom in the form of keeping his head well below cover screamed at him to stop. To walk away. Leave this man, this ruined shell to his self destruction.
What would Ran have seen, were it not for the nightmare flight across the grassland? A cruel and craven rogue? Broken and useless gutter trash? Truthfully, it was not at all about Kori's own pain, the living thing that consumed the man like a sand wraith. It was the hate, the anger, the demand to tear and rend before someone else did the same thing to you that had drawn Ran in. Ran could very easily hate Kori; what he felt was in some way the balanced effect between brothers in war and enemies on the same side of the line.
But he had to.
"I can make you a potion. I can take away your pain, your memories, and give you another chance."
He let his arm fall back limp to his side as though he finally remembered it was his and not part of some stubborn statue. He was uncomfortable, but he was too tired to hide it or the mixed and heady mixture of emotions that urged him to abandon everything and run until he collapsed.
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KoriStronghammer
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Re: Devastation
Kori stared at him, looking hard through him. His hands ghosted through the air, shaping a person in front of him.
"I could have. Wanted to. Grab her by the throat until something cracked. Watch the light fade in her eyes. Rip her throat out with my teeth. Eat her heart like a barbarian tale. Killed the old man in two blows."
He pointed to his throat and middle of his forehead.
"Hard hand edge to the throat. Big punch to the middle of the head. Stunned, can't breath. Grab right shoulder, spin head by jaw to the left. Listen to the verterbrae crackle like a stick in the fire."
He smiled, feeling the pain he could have caused like a drug, something that made him feel sick inside, made him feel like dying. Punishing himself, purging himself. It could never happen.
"Throw a chair at the wenches legs. Save her for later. Over the bar, grab him by the head, slam him face first. Crack the bridge of the nose, send the bone shards to his brain. Dies bleeding from the nose and crying red tears. Wench should be moving. Chase her. Taste her fear. Tackle her, rip her throat out with me teeth."
He looked at him again, his eyes jittering, the pupils wide and almost covering the whole iris. His hands twitched, and the great viens in his neck throbbed.
"You last. Least threat, no emotional attachment. Throw you to the ground. Stomp on your chest until my boot touches the floor. Go upstairs. Slit every man, woman, and childs throat I find. Collect the skulls, pile them outside and fire the inn."
He sat down heavily, staring at his clenching hands.
"That's what I wanted to do. What I needed to do. What I should have done. I am a rabid dog. Always have been. And no to your potion little man. I would be at peace."
Once again, his eyes found the eyes of the other.
"I will never earn peace."
"I could have. Wanted to. Grab her by the throat until something cracked. Watch the light fade in her eyes. Rip her throat out with my teeth. Eat her heart like a barbarian tale. Killed the old man in two blows."
He pointed to his throat and middle of his forehead.
"Hard hand edge to the throat. Big punch to the middle of the head. Stunned, can't breath. Grab right shoulder, spin head by jaw to the left. Listen to the verterbrae crackle like a stick in the fire."
He smiled, feeling the pain he could have caused like a drug, something that made him feel sick inside, made him feel like dying. Punishing himself, purging himself. It could never happen.
"Throw a chair at the wenches legs. Save her for later. Over the bar, grab him by the head, slam him face first. Crack the bridge of the nose, send the bone shards to his brain. Dies bleeding from the nose and crying red tears. Wench should be moving. Chase her. Taste her fear. Tackle her, rip her throat out with me teeth."
He looked at him again, his eyes jittering, the pupils wide and almost covering the whole iris. His hands twitched, and the great viens in his neck throbbed.
"You last. Least threat, no emotional attachment. Throw you to the ground. Stomp on your chest until my boot touches the floor. Go upstairs. Slit every man, woman, and childs throat I find. Collect the skulls, pile them outside and fire the inn."
He sat down heavily, staring at his clenching hands.
"That's what I wanted to do. What I needed to do. What I should have done. I am a rabid dog. Always have been. And no to your potion little man. I would be at peace."
Once again, his eyes found the eyes of the other.
"I will never earn peace."
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Ran Azshmatha
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Re: Devastation
Ran listened. It wasn't an easy confession. It made his stomach twist and his mind want to turn away, but he kept looking at Kori. There was no easiness about it. He flinched when Kori got to him, to imagining the violence. But it hadn't happened.
That was the difference.
"Why not?"
That was the difference.
"Why not?"
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KoriStronghammer
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- Name: Kori Stronghammer
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Re: Devastation
Kori shrugged. He didn't really know himself. He just hadn't. The rage had been there. The want. He had broken down everything he needed to do to win in his head, but he hadn't acted on it. He had just... given up. Walked away from a building full of easy kills. Maybe the time in prison had broken him. Broken something important inside him.
"Because I'm tired little man. Very tired. I'm still young. But in my head, I'm a bit older. Not mature wise, not physically, but soul sick older. Eventually... blood starts to run cold on your hands. Even when you've been conditioned that the only way to be free, to be valued, is to kill, it still starts to run cold. You get sick of yourself. The ghosts chase you, and no amount of blood or alcohol get them to go away. I just didn't want anymore ghosts."
"Because I'm tired little man. Very tired. I'm still young. But in my head, I'm a bit older. Not mature wise, not physically, but soul sick older. Eventually... blood starts to run cold on your hands. Even when you've been conditioned that the only way to be free, to be valued, is to kill, it still starts to run cold. You get sick of yourself. The ghosts chase you, and no amount of blood or alcohol get them to go away. I just didn't want anymore ghosts."
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Ran Azshmatha
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Re: Devastation
Ran struggled. He stared at Kori, his own helplessness welling up in him. If Kori wouldn't take his help, what more did he have to offer? He looked at the baked goods Saruna had instructed him in the making of, thought of that morning. Thought of mornings before that, and his posture eased into something that was, maybe, a little defeated.
If he couldn't help Kori, who would? If he gave up, who wouldn't?
"If you stay here. . ." he started, but stopped himself before he could complete that. Kori had been taken by Marn. They'd their hooks in him, and the means and the desire to make sure they pulled and Kori turned with them. He had taken notice of what Saruna had shown him. He knew. He wouldn't abandon her, not with his life in her hands, but Kori -- he felt sympathy for the man. Maybe even some pity. Wrested from his people, it was sickening to watch.
Another set of words.
"You shouldn't be here." His voice was gruffer than he wanted it to be. "We should get you out while you still can."
If he couldn't help Kori, who would? If he gave up, who wouldn't?
"If you stay here. . ." he started, but stopped himself before he could complete that. Kori had been taken by Marn. They'd their hooks in him, and the means and the desire to make sure they pulled and Kori turned with them. He had taken notice of what Saruna had shown him. He knew. He wouldn't abandon her, not with his life in her hands, but Kori -- he felt sympathy for the man. Maybe even some pity. Wrested from his people, it was sickening to watch.
Another set of words.
"You shouldn't be here." His voice was gruffer than he wanted it to be. "We should get you out while you still can."
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KoriStronghammer
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Re: Devastation
Kori shook his head slowly.
"Can't go. Not yet. Can't let everything that's happenin' stay like it is."
He stood, some of the old fire returning to his eyes. It had to be stopped. He didn't care for the rebellion, didn't care for the government of what happened after it was all said and done. He just knew there was a jail that dug far deeper and far darker than people thought that it did. There was something there, in the darkness. Something evil. And it needed to be drug out into the light and killed. Whether it was something real, and Kori did not say no to the possibilities of magic, or just the thought and knowledge of the place that was evil to him, it would end. He would help end it.
"There's people that need to be freed. People like Saruna's dad. Gonna help 'em. Might not help Saruna, but I am gonna help the people down there in the dark. Have to."
Maybe it will help me.
"Can't go. Not yet. Can't let everything that's happenin' stay like it is."
He stood, some of the old fire returning to his eyes. It had to be stopped. He didn't care for the rebellion, didn't care for the government of what happened after it was all said and done. He just knew there was a jail that dug far deeper and far darker than people thought that it did. There was something there, in the darkness. Something evil. And it needed to be drug out into the light and killed. Whether it was something real, and Kori did not say no to the possibilities of magic, or just the thought and knowledge of the place that was evil to him, it would end. He would help end it.
"There's people that need to be freed. People like Saruna's dad. Gonna help 'em. Might not help Saruna, but I am gonna help the people down there in the dark. Have to."
Maybe it will help me.
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Ran Azshmatha
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Re: Devastation
Excitement. A tiny, fragile bubble of it deep in his gut, weighted by the same urgent clang of warning that he'd felt with Saruna in that troublesome tavern. He looked up at Kori as the northern man stood, and felt a little hope too. A little empathy. A little pride. Caution too, of course, because the dive away from what Ran would have thought could be the urge to go on a murderous or suicidal rampage wasn't necessarily what it appeared to be. In Ran's mind, helping the people the government had pinned was helping what Saruna had in mind. Wasn't it?
Was there something he hadn't considered?
There was good in what Kori was saying. Ran wanted to see it to its end. "How?" The question itself wasn't accusing, or suspicious: it was a little hesitant, maybe, but there was also a genuine, simple curiosity. Ran was interested in what Kori had to say, and it wasn't flavored with preconceptions.
He wanted to help.
Was there something he hadn't considered?
There was good in what Kori was saying. Ran wanted to see it to its end. "How?" The question itself wasn't accusing, or suspicious: it was a little hesitant, maybe, but there was also a genuine, simple curiosity. Ran was interested in what Kori had to say, and it wasn't flavored with preconceptions.
He wanted to help.
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KoriStronghammer
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Re: Devastation
Kori jerked at the sword handle embedded in the central post, wrenching it free. The wood made a squealing noise as he pulled it loose and began to inspect the blade. It was fine except for a large knick down the middle of the blade. That was his fault, that he had taken a tool and used it for something other than it should have been used for, and now it was broken. He flexed the blade against the beam and it didn't snap. So maybe not so broken. Just damaged. Like him. Damaged but still useful.
"Frontal assault wouldn't work, the stone is too thick and the battlemages tip it into the favour of the guard. They are powerful, and it gives the regular guardsman a good chunk of moral." He walked as he spoke, picking up a belt and a scabbard from the ground and slinging it across his back before he slid the sword through it. He grabbed his wood axe and looked at it for a moment. It was time to move the rock and grab his old gear as well. He was going to plan and wage a war.
"So my first option will be to kill as many battlemages through any means possible as I can. Poison, force, bows, whatever it takes. Kill the most powerful warriors and the man who has trouble using his sword will be scared shitless. Then raise the people up. Get them angry. Bring in mercenaries that I've worked with if I have to. Then take the city. That's how."
"Frontal assault wouldn't work, the stone is too thick and the battlemages tip it into the favour of the guard. They are powerful, and it gives the regular guardsman a good chunk of moral." He walked as he spoke, picking up a belt and a scabbard from the ground and slinging it across his back before he slid the sword through it. He grabbed his wood axe and looked at it for a moment. It was time to move the rock and grab his old gear as well. He was going to plan and wage a war.
"So my first option will be to kill as many battlemages through any means possible as I can. Poison, force, bows, whatever it takes. Kill the most powerful warriors and the man who has trouble using his sword will be scared shitless. Then raise the people up. Get them angry. Bring in mercenaries that I've worked with if I have to. Then take the city. That's how."