Ravings of A Nobody - WeAreNobody - 15-10-2014 05:52 PM
Being the literary genius that I am(Suck that Kalas d: ) I need a location to showcase my writing, whether it be a cascading wall of text from a novel, delicate and flowery poetry, or perhaps a tantalizing short story. Of course I enjoy dancing my fingers across my keyboard to construct these masterpieces and I hope you too enjoy them 
If you don't like them just lie to me ...
Will update regularly and once spoiler tags are added.
________________________________________
One day in my dreary and weary life,
it dawned on me like a drunken tattoo
scarred as if done by a surgical knife;
walk day and night to find a trace of you.
And so I did; I walked and searched for love
until my feet bled and the gray sky cried
as if my sorrow stirred angels above,
but with these angels my only hope died.
For I found not a trace of you; nothing,
though I did find some tarnished silverware
resting in a strangely placed fairy ring
along with a plastic orange, grapes and pear.
If some day I find you, we’ll have supper
and on that day my search will be over.
_____________________________________
This is a story, of which I assure is quite true,
In a grove of flowers was a lady, whom I was fond of.
All year round, these flowers did bloom
Almost as if nourished by a feeling we call love,
And so it may come to no surprise, our feelings were true,
After all, there was heaven in her eyes, beauty greater than in heaven above.
You may see nothing in her, at which I find untrue,
For in her I see everything, this lady I was fond of.
Perhaps I am a bit haughty to presume
That our feelings were stronger than any other love,
Despite the minuscule chance this is true,
I look at the stars and find solace from up above.
To say all the angels in Heaven were jealous was true,
For she had all the qualities of perfection, this lady whom I was fond of.
But just as a flower dies in winter we were doomed
For she fell ill and nothing could save her, not even our love,
And on the day her eyes closed forever, I knew it to be true,
I died too that day and everyday after until I’d go to Heaven above.
We would be together in Heaven, at least I thought this true,
An alcoholic man with no ambition and a lady, whom I was fond of.
So it was in my sullen and dark gloom
I drank poison which filled my heart now empty without love,
And I sat quietly, praying that death would be true,
And slowly I slipped away, my soul going to the beyond up above.
_______________________________________________________
Little forest fairy with messy hair.
Flowers woven through her billowing mane,
When compared to Mab, she is far more fair.
Her beauty gained through no means of arcane.
In her lies power, wisdom, and courage.
Pure of heart and clear of eyes she buzzes,
Moving with the wind, dancing as a midge.
With the moon she whistles, a lovely tis.
Clap your hands for I truly do believe.
I need not fairy songs or fairy rings,
Those who have not seen her, surely must grieve.
For her brilliant presence does bow kings.
I am no king, but I do indeed bow.
Her beauty, my mind cannot fathom how.
RE: Ravings of A Nobody - WeAreNobody - 31-10-2014 07:26 PM
A short story I wrote rather quickly. Had an idea and wanted to put it on paper. Might be kinda dark/NSFW.
Two men sat opposite one another across a small metal table, one handcuffed to a railing on the side. The only source of light was the flickering bulb that hung above them and the lit cigarette in the handcuffed man’s mouth. The harsh smoke and tobacco did nothing to the man’s wide grin. His expensive purple suit only adding to smug aura that surrounded the man. With his other hand he was nonchalantly tapping his fingers in a pattern.
The man sitting across from him looked like shit in comparison. His blonde hair was dirty, his face unshaven and blue eyes had deep bags under them. He wore a suit, bloodstained and torn along the right sleeve along with a long cut across the middle of his chest. By now he had deciphered the tapping as Morse code, and the message sent a chill down his spine.
The two stared at one another, one grinning and one scowling, neither saying a word. Smoke hung in the air between them, almost seeming to form various shapes. At one point it seemed to form a skull, at another a figure beckoning at the blonde man. This went on for almost half an hour before the blonde man spoke.
“We both know that I possess the capability to destroy you.”
The smoking man’s grin only grew wider. “Yet you have not done so. Why is that I wonder?”
The blonde man noticed for the first time that the man’s teeth seemed to be sharpened. “You know the reason Orphiul.” He pulled a pen and a notepad out of a pocket. “Give me the names.”
Orphiul stared pen for a moment, then laughed deeply. “You and I both know the names are not known to me.” He put down the cigarette he was smoking, careful not to let flame go out. “Perhaps there is something else you could ask.”
A flash of anger appeared on the blonde man’s face but was quickly hidden. “Okay, locations then. That at least I think you would know.”
“Now you are thinking Sean.” Orphiul picked up the pen and pressed it to the notepad. “Shall I start with those that you know already? Or perhaps the others?”
Sean pondered this for a moment. “Start with those. Let’s set a baseline.” Sean picked up the cigarette that Orphiul had set down, put it to his lips and took a drag.
The pen began moving, slowly at first but the pace picked up. “Well first there was that sweet young woman, fresh out of the shower. Hair wet and nude save for a thin night gown.” Orphiul paused with the pen and looked up at Sean. “I think you would appreciate just how little that gown covered her body.” He grinned devilishly.
The flash of anger was back, but this time it did not disappear. Sean rose in a heartbeat and in the next his hands were gripping the suit jacket Orphiul wore, lifting him as high as the cuffs would allow. His right fist struck Orphiul’s jaw and the crack of the bone was audible. Again and again Sean’s fist impacted the same spot on his jaw, blood splattering both men’s clothing and face.
Orphiul only laughed as his face was being pounded, making no effort to defend himself. After several minutes Sean’s fist stopped striking him and he dropped him back into the chair. Sean’s was breathing hard before he sat back down himself.
“When we are done, I will show you pain that you never thought possible. You shall wish a thousand times for death and thousand times that wish will go unanswered. You will plead for me to send you to Hell and I will not oblige.” Sean waved his hand and there was a loud crack as Orphiul’s jaw set itself back into place.
Orphiul moved his hand along his jacket, fixing the wrinkles that had appeared and picked up the pen. “Back to it then. I came through the window, her lovely humming gave me pause for the merest of seconds before I sprung. She was so weak, the resistance she put off was nothing to me.” He paused from his scribbling and looked at Sean. “Though she was sworn to another, she knew another lover that night. However, in hindsight I suppose there was no love shared between us.”
Sean’s knuckles were white, where they weren’t covered in blood, from being pressed so tight. “Continue or I’ll show you just how serious I am.”
Orphiul’s smiled disappeared and he went back to the notepad. “You’re less fun than I heard, but as you wish. “After I had my fun, I threw her from the window. Her legs broke from the impact, but she still tried to crawl away as she called for help. I took my time chasing her down before grabbing her by the hair and pulling her to the pool.” He looked up at Sean, directly into his eyes. “There is nothing like watching a person drown. Their futile struggles, screaming for help and only dooming themselves further. It’s not something you forget.”
“The next one.” Sean’s voice concealed barely controlled anger, his eyes showed the fury he felt.
Orphiul paused from his scribbling and pulled another cigarette out. He placed it to his lips and upon coming into contact with them, the cigarette lit. “Next was the old man. Ugly thing he was, shriveled and decrepit, I did that one a favor.” He swallowed the cigarette before continuing. “That wasn’t as fun I suppose, but what’s done is done. Took the old man to the roof of the hospital. The thing about hospitals that most people don’t get, is that they are a place to die. Sure some lives are saved, but many die or are dying, so it seemed a perfect place for a man who was to do both.”
“I don’t care about your opinions Orphiul. Just tell me the facts.”
Orphiul sighed. “Well I took the man up there on a gurney, brought a couple of trinkets with me. Gave him something for the pain, but seeing as I’m no doctor, I don’t know if it had any effect. That’s when I indulged my passion for art.”
“What did the symbol you carved into his chest mean?” Sean interrupted.
Orphiul smiled again, almost seemed to gnash his teeth together. “We’ll get to that. Anyway, after I carved the old fool, I realized I was fairly hungry, so I nibbled at his flesh for a bit.” He sighed in what seemed to be content. “The soft flesh is the best part. Has a certain flavor that is so impossible to recreate. But that was the end of that.”
There was a silence then, save for the scribbling of Orphiul. The two men sat there a while, each lost in their own thoughts.
Sean cleared his throat. “That covers the ones I know of. About the others.”
Orphiul set the pen down and resumed his tapping. “Only got to do two more before I ended up in this lovely destination. Twins they were, one boy and one girl. Young things. I enjoyed that one.”
Sean sighed. “Where are the bodies?”
“I’m getting to that. Poor things were orphans so they had no one to call their own, so naturally once I bestowed my gifts to them, they were all too keen to accompany me. In fact, you could almost say that they had no choice.” Orphiul grinned widely. “Might have been my masterpiece that one.”
Sean’s mind raced. “What did you do? It’s bad enough you killed the rest of them, what did you do to them?”
Orphiul laughed, louder than he had ever done before. “Oh you fool, your time among the mortals has made you soft. It wasn’t me that killed those in the orphanage. Oh no, I did something far more clever.”
Horror filled Sean as he realized the gist of what Orphiul was saying. “No.” He could barely get the word out.
Orphiul leaned forward. “Yes. I thought them a thing or two, showed them their way around a blade. They were only too happy to turn those blades on their tormentors.” He set the pen down and pushed the pad over to Sean. “Did even better than I expected to be honest. And since I’m rarely honest you can understand the depth of that statement.”
Sean looked down at the pad, at the symbol that was drawn there. The same as was carved into the old man’s flesh. Rather than draw the symbol, Orphiul had covered the entire page in black ink save for where the symbol was. It was a half circle set within another larger half circle protruding from a curved line. He looked up at Orphiul.
“What does this mean? I know the script of your kind and this is not it.”
A large grin covered Orphiul’s face. “That my dear friend is the name of my master.”
Thoughts moved through Sean’s brain rapidly, trying to figure out who exactly would unleash the demon in front of him into the mortal world. “Tell me the name.”
“I decline,” Orphiul said. “Politely I might add.”
The room was illuminated then, a brilliant white light seeming to burst from Sean. It filled the room and encircled Orphiul. “Tell me the name!” Sean’s voice was different then, seemingly unworldly compared to the voice he had before.
The metal chains on the handcuffs snapped as Orphiul leapt back towards a corner of the room, trying to escape the light that now burned his skin. Holes appeared all over his body as his skin melted and fell to the floor. “Stop! Please!” For the first time, there was a trace of fear in his voice.
Sean did not stop. Instead he rose, slowly crossed the room and place a finger on Orphiul’s forehead. At Sean’s touch, he rose a few inches off the ground and his body began writhing in pain. “I will have your master’s name.”
Orphiul was sobbing now, almost all his skin was gone and the muscle and sinew was burning now. His blood boiled before it could hit the floor. “Azakeil!” He screamed, pain filling his voice. “My master is Azakeil!”
Orphiul was hurled across the room, striking the far wall with a wet thud. In a flash Sean was atop him, the light intensifying. “And your purpose?”
“To draw you out! We knew you were in this city but who you were!” Orphiul’s eyes were now burning in their sockets, the liquid in them popping as if they were popcorn. “Please that’s all there is! Make it stop!”
Sean placed his whole hand upon Orphiul’s head. “After I slay your master, I will travel to Hell and find you. You cannot run from me. I will turn every stone, burn anything that stands in my way. I will fight Lucifer himself if I must. Your life is mine,” and began muttering in Latin. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica... Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te ... cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare... Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis... Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine... quem inferi tremunt... Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.'" At the end, his voice had become so loud that it shook the table and two chairs in the room.
Orphiul’s entire form changed then, where there was once a burning man now lay a horribly disfigured monster. Dull gray skin was covered in wickedly curved spines, a long tail with narrow spines, horns that were at least two feet in length protruded from the demon’s head. And just as quickly as his demonic form had appeared, he burst into a cloud of smoke and dissolved entirely until nothing was left except for the melted remains of skin and blood that smeared the floor and wall.
Sean stood up as the white light receded. He loosened the tie around his neck and shuffled back to the chair before taking a seat. He stared at the pad, making a mental image of the symbol that meant Azakeil. The dark rings under his eyes were now more pronounced, each line on his face longer and his posture was more slouched. He looked at his hands and began to cry.
“How could I let that monster touch you?” He rose and went to wall where he began slamming his fist into the bricks. Each fist left a spider web of cracks and smear of blood. He was shouting, not so much words but his pain. Sean stopped after a minute and sank to the ground. He reached under his shirt, hands trembling and pulled a locket out. Opening the locket, he was greeted by a beautiful woman with dark hair and green eyes. Her smile brought even more tears to his eyes for he knew she would never smile again.
Sean looked to the ceiling and spoke aloud, even though no one was left in the room with him. “Father I know you can hear me. I cannot do this alone. Heaven must return to Earth if we are to survive this war and we need you Michael to lead us.” He paused, ears straining for the slightest noise. When none came he let his head fall to his chest. He lay there in silence, before his mind came back to the tapping that Orphiul did. The message would be burned in his mind forever, of that he was sure. However long forever would be for him, however was another matter.
He closed his eyes, and recited Orphiul’s message “I am but the first of many, the envoy of the end. On my back I carry destruction and with my words I sow death. Famine and war shall be my gifts and upon the mortal world I bestow more. Beseech your Heavenly Father and despair at the silence you shall receive, for we will have laid waste to Heaven’s gates. Next we march to begin the extermination of mankind.”
RE: Ravings of A Nobody - WeAreNobody - 16-12-2014 06:46 PM
The Crooked Kind
Chapter 1
I used to think I was a good person, but good is subjective. As is evil. Now, I find myself somewhere in the middle, more like a mixture of getting by and knowing the right thing to do. Maybe I beat myself up too hard. Maybe. Nowadays it seems like everything is changing. Blues are stepping up, trying to clean up the rabble. They got Marci and her whole gang not two weeks ago. Word is the Blues are planting guys in our midst but we don’t give it much thought. By “we” I mean my people. We call ourselves the Company of Gifted Ordinaries. We’re not as pompous as that sounds I swear, we just have a flair for the dramatic.
My knee popped when I stood up, an old injury that healed badly. Normally it was fine, but today it was cold and the dull pain meant it would rain soon. From atop my perch I could see a large amount of the Bridgewater District. Mostly abandoned buildings and shacks built right on top of one another with the empty lot filled with beggars. At the forefront, standing larger than life overlooking the river was a large building. It was in this building where the ruling portion of the Bridgewater District resided. Our Company was a small outfit, we laid claim to a barren warehouse further down the river and tidied it up to our liking. Home sweet home.
People shambled down the streets, keeping to themselves and being careful not to bump into anyone. Never knew who was walking today. Leisurely I strolled to the ladder on my right and clambered down, dropping the last four feet with a grunt. Looking both ways to assure that I was in no immediate danger, I continued my stroll down the lane in no hurry. Around me the Cradle groaned as people were either stealing, killing, fucking, or plain surviving. It was not a pleasant place to reside.
The Cradle originated some years back, when the old King reigned. It was supposed to be a darling little gem for his young daughter, but something went wrong. One day the King got word of an insurrection, one of his top men had been passing around the word that he wanted the Cradle for himself. So naturally, the King rounded up his armies and marched into the Cradle to put a stop to it. However, the general, Valaesis, planned for this. Once a majority of the King’s men made it in, Valaesis sprung a trap, detonating several hundred barrels of Griger’s Breath. Turned out Valaesis miscalculated.
Not only did the King’s men die but so did half of Valaesis’ and half of the Cradle. Great gaping holes opened in the ground and were quickly filled with bodies and rubble. After the explosions stopped, Valaesis planned to pursue the King back into the city Perseverance, the capital of Ektor. The city got its name from the Forty Year War, King Kyalden held the city for eight years against siege. Some called it a fluke, most called it a miracle.
History books held a detailed account of the siege of Perseverance, of King Kyalden’s bravery. During the eight years that the Ektorian people hid inside, the armies of Baulza tried desperately to breach the walls. First they rained fire with their sorcerers, until they realize Kyalden’s were better. The sorcerers in the walls conjured a strong gust of wind and pushed the fire upon Baulzan troops. Kyalden then led a counter attack, storming from the gate on horseback with his men and striking while they were in panic before fleeing back into the city.
Not to be daunted, Baulza’s own King tried digging under the walls, collapse them and storm the city. But once again Kyalden’s sorcerers saved the day. Instead of finding soft dirt and hard rocks, they found thousands of venomous spiders. They poured from the earth and ran through the Baulzan army. Thousands died before the sorcery could be undone and still they surrounded the city.
It was six years into the siege when Baulzan army got through. With a clever ploy they were able to eliminate all but one of Kyalden’s sorcerers. With most of Kyalden’s magical might gone, Baulza’s sorcerers caused the earth to rise, giving their men a way into the city. They poured in and met Kyalden’s men. The fighting lasted two hours before Eskalozant, the last Ektorian Sorcerer in Perseverance, appeared and changed shape. He became a massive twenty foot spider with ten legs instead of eight. Its chitin was impenetrable by any blade. Baulza’s men were covered by web that was coated in an acidic poison that could burn through steel. Those that didn’t escape were slaughtered mercilessly. And so because of Eskalozant’s sorcery Perseverance was able to hold out two more years until Kyalden’s allies could return and destroy the Baulza army.
But enough of a history lesson, or rather that history lesson. Valaesis was unable to pursue the Old King as he couldn’t convince his men to climb over their dead friends. Instead, he barricaded the King’s Road and made himself a fine fortress there. He’s our self-declared “King of the Cradle”, though there isn’t not much to reign over except the dead and the dying.
It’s been sixteen years since that day, sixteen years of self-ruling and squabbling amongst ourselves. Now the Cradle is made up of nine districts, each controlled by an outfit who in turn serve Valaesis. In the center of these districts lied the core of the Cradle, where Valaesis and his men stayed. I and my people reside in the Bridgewater District, aptly named as the only standing bridge is there. We call it Big Sturdy on account that it survived the explosions. It’s the crossing for the river Treacherous Rill which leads into the sea one way and in the other direction connects us to Perseverance. Our side doesn’t have netting, so all the demons of the sea are free to swim through and all there is to say about that is I pity the man who falls in.
Despite our abundance of skill and success at the trade of unrighteousness, our outfit was not in charge of the Bridgewater District. That honor was reserved for Clam and his boys. We answered to Clam and pretended like we were happy with our low position and schemed in the shadows. It was in these shadows that we plotted to make Clam disappear and take over, it was the how that eluded us though. We’ve guts and stupidity aplenty, most would say it was foolish to challenge Clam. After all, out of the nine district bosses, he had the most men and a temper that outmatched all of them.
Nine districts with nine bosses, each one more conniving and rotten than the one before. But not a single one could match the Queen. The King died two years ago and with it, the peace between the Cradle and Perseverance. Queen Leilani, first of her name and stuck up bitch. Beautiful with a heart of stone. She wanted what was hers, what Valaesis had taken. So she started poking the Cradle, looking for chinks in our defenses, pushing men through when she could. It didn’t matter to her that we kept feeding them to the Treacherous Rill, she kept sending more.
A soft thud behind me drew out of my thoughts. I whirled, pulling a hidden six inch knife out of my sleeve and faced my attacker. I was expecting knives, instead I found myself face to face with a naked man grinning ear to ear. I lowered my weapon and returned the grin.
“Carmine, what are you doing out here showing the world your small prick?” My voice was friendly, Carmine was one of us.
The naked man made no effort to cover himself, in fact, he placed by hands on his hips and leaned back, pushing his groin out and drawing more attention to it. “As a matter of fact, I was just demonstrating the size and skill of my prick to two very lovely ladies.”
I asked, “then why are you down here with me?”
Carmine’s grin grew even wider and I guessed the answer. “In the middle of giving the world new meaning for them, one’s husband walked in, had to give him the slip.” He winked, “I think the sight of my manliness made him feel self-conscious about his own and he froze.”
“More like he was just thinking of who to kill first, you or his whore wife.” Despite his “the world is my toy” attitude Carmine was shivering. I removed my jacket and tossed it to him. “Put this on before you catch something.”
“Much obliged Arren.” He slipped the jacket on, luckily we were of similar size. “What cha up to?” he asked, falling into place beside me as he buttoned the jacket up.
“Just remembering. History has a funny way of making you feel something even if you weren’t present for it.” They’d mocked me for my fascination with the past at first, but now it’s become second nature. Aren and his books, in love with the dead and not quite forgotten.
We walked down street, catching a few looks on account of Carmine’s lack of pants. Foot traffic on the Cradle was usually busy, cold days like this though most people tend to stay inside. These were dangerous days, friends and foes would fight for the warmest spots. A lot of people died on these days. We actually passed two corpses on our way and from the sounds we heard, more were on the way.
“You hear the news?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t like the fact that Valaesis was calling a meeting of the nine. Especially not with all the activity we’ve been hearing. Usually we get two or three Blues a week and send them downriver, this past week we sent seven. “What do you think it means?”
Carmine pondered my question for a moment and shrugged. “Maybe old Valaesis is tired of sitting with his cock between his legs. I heard talk of Clam calling his men together. All of them.”
I swallowed. Usually a district boss only calls all his men when something big is happening; rival district boss trying to take our turf or us take theirs. With the signs we are having, that means one thing is coming; war. And Clam wants us to be a part of it. “When’s the call?”
“Tonight. In the Lady’s Temple.”
The Lady’s Temple was a place of worship. Where one goes to pray to the Silent Lady, Goddess of the Observer. Underneath the holy stones was where we conducted our business, under the watchful eye of the one deity that wouldn’t condemn us for our less than devout attendance. That means that all the nine bosses will be there, along with their retainers, Valaesis and his most loyal bruisers as well. Carmine and I didn’t make the cut to go. But Harril, our most bold leader would sure be in attendance, which means we’d get all the info regardless.
“Let’s get back and see what the plan is.” Our pace quickened. “My guess is you and I will get to sit around the fire twiddling our thumbs.”
Carmine grinned. “I’m certain I can find other things to do with my thumbs.”
I ignored the proposition. “Harril will have an idea of what’s going on. Even if he isn’t supposed to.” Seldom did anything slip by Harril. He was a spymaster and thief in every way. I’ve never met a man who could slip through the night with less noise or faster, a man who didn’t already know what the day would hold better. Nor have I met someone with more ambition.
“Harril is our shiny golden god, may we erect idols in his image and whisper his name before bed.” Carmine took on a cooing tone of voice, mocking my admiration of our leader. I knew he respected the man just as much as I, though he would never admit it. His ego would never allow him to praise another besides himself.
I punched him lightly in the arm, to which he responded by sweeping a leg across mine, effectively knocking me on my ass. He tried to take off but I managed to snatch a hold on one of his ankles and dragged him down to the ground with me. We rolled and tumbled in the street, passerby’s giving no more than a glance our way before continuing on. For a moment, Carmine got on top of me and pinned my arms above my head by the wrists. As he turned his attention to keeping me there, I slipped a knee underneath his legs, uncomfortably brushing across his groin, and then used all my strength to kick him off me. He landed on his back and quickly scrambled to his feet, only to be knocked back down.
Standing behind him was a woman who looked identical. This was Carmine’s sister, Camille. She had him on his knees with his long blonde locks in her hands. With the two of them in front of me, it was easy to tell their relations even if I hadn’t known them for several years. Carmine and Camille Fadenelle, two of the most deceitful and arrogant people I’d ever known. They were of average height, had the same long blonde hair, same ice blue eyes and even had the same posture and body movements. Beyond physical attributes they also shared the same mentally for childish pranks, sarcasm, troublemaking and above all the same insatiable sexual appetite. Neither could ever have enough, both have propositioned me several times. They weren’t picky on what kind of parts they played with so long as they got to play. There were even foul rumors that the two shared a bed on occasion.
“I’m hurt that I didn’t get an invitation.” She pulled her twin to his feet, kissed him on the cheek and then lightly kicked his bare ass. I sidestepped and grab Carmine by the arm to keep him from falling on his face. “Especially as often as I’ve been inviting you to join me Arren.”
Again I ignored the proposition. “No worries Camille, just because your dope of a brother showed me his, didn’t mean I showed him mine.” Sometimes I feel that sarcasm is the only thing holding my world together, keeping me sane. But when you’ve read the books I’ve read, knew the history that I know you tend to become dark and cynical.
Camille’s smirk grew even wider. “We both know you’ll say yes to me eventually.” She winked and then strode ahead of Carmine and I, intentionally swaying her hips. I averted my eyes.
“Get back here you bitch!” Carmine yelled, running after her. She too took off running, taunting her brother all the while. I continued my leisurely pace and chuckled. The Fadenelle twins were dear to me despite their habits of frustrating others.
The twins disappeared from my sight not long after, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I brooded, my mind trying to put meaning to the meeting tonight. If it was true and Valaesis was plotting to move against the Queen, there would be a lot to do. First and foremost we’d actually have to have an army, our ragtag group of bandits, thieves and bruisers wouldn’t do shit when facing the Queen’s forces. The Blues may not be great at blending in with our crowd, but they knew how to kill when the time came. The fact that they took down Marci’s operation in the Brightstone District was proof enough that we have been underestimating the Blues. I just couldn’t wrap my head around that though; how did they manage to get Marci and all her guys in one movement? There were really only three options. Either they had better informers than we thought, had an incredible strike of luck, or the worst option. One of us turned on Marci and gave her up. A chill ran down that spine, and not because of the cold dreary weather.
“Arren! Get your slow ass in here!”
A deep booming voice came out from an open window three buildings down. I recognized the voice as Rowe, another member of the Company. My pace did not increase, slowed if anything. I wouldn’t call it an issue of obeying authority, just a long-term streak being irritating. I truly had no problem obeying orders, usually when it was actually important for them to be followed. They would wait for me, though if I dawdled too long they’d send Rowe out to drag me inside. That was not a pleasant notion.
The door creaked as I entered the abandoned warehouse that we had renovated. Upon entering, one stood face to face with an actually ballistae. It was always kept loaded in case we had someone with dark intentions enter. Turning to the left I walked around the little walls that surrounded the siege weapon and entered the main room. It went all the way up to the ceiling, a spiral staircase surrounding the walls and giving access to multiple floors. The ground level housed the main room, the kitchen and dining room, our privy, armory, and Rowe’s room. Harril, Carmine and I have to hike one flight of stairs to get to first floor and our rooms. Also on that level was the library, though its main occupant was me. They often mocked me for falling asleep there, sometimes they even discussed moving my stuff in there and dividing my room up amongst themselves. For Camille and Val, it was two flights and their rooms were the only two on that level. The third floor was always kept locked and the whole level was actually one large room. And in that room lived Loz. Loz was strange in his own way. After the third level, the stairs only led to the roof where we actually had a lovely little garden. Often I visited it with a new book and spent hours lost in history or fiction.
Sitting at a table were three men; Rowe, Loz and Harril. Val sat on the stairs and the twins could be heard on the first floor, arguing about what clothes Carmine should be wearing. Harril stood as I entered and approached me, grinning. He was shorter than me and thinner too. His black locks were kept in a tightly woven braid as usual, giving his face a gaunt look which did nothing to take away from his dashing good looks. His shimmering silk tunic and contrasting dark trousers added to his charm. However, if you asked me, the only thing that kept him from being truly handsome was his eyes which always had a look of hunger.
“Arren, good to see nothing befall you this morning except for our endearing twins.” We hugged, the man was like a brother to me. I returned his grin when we parted.
“Good to be home. I’ll admit the cold still does this leg of mine no good.”
Harril shook his head. “I did tell you to go to a proper physician.”
“Aye that you did. But you know me.” I chuckled. “A pain in the ass, even to myself.”
“About time you got here, the Fadenelles returned ten minutes ago.” This speaker was Rowe. A large man, wearing dark leathers. Sitting he still looked intimidating. When he stood, he stood almost seven feet tall and could block a doorway with his mass. His shaved head and full dark beard gave him the look of man always brooding. But we knew this was an act. He was sweet as a newborn kitten, at least to us anyhow.
I turned to him “figured you needed a few more minutes to oil that pretty animal on your face.”
Rowe scowled. He was good at scowling. Loz shook as if he were laughing, though no sound escaped him. Loz was tall and skinny, not as tall as Rowe save for when he wore his ridiculous hat. It was old, musty and falling apart. Camille couldn’t sew the damn thing up without it ripping in some new and creative manner. Underneath the hat was the familiar mask that seemed to be permanent fixture glued to his face. It was a shiny bronze color, a long wicked beak protruded as if he were some sort of bird. Never once had any of us seen his face. More disturbing was that he never spoke, though one day he did sign that his tongue had been removed. Some of us doubted it.
There was breakfast on the table, nothing fancy. Simple oatcakes, slices of fruit, a plate of pork links, and most importantly a pitcher of warm coffee was what had caught my eye. I approached the table and poured myself a mug. I threw it down in a single gulp, paying no heed to the burning sensation as the sweet elixir of morning stiffness went down my throat. Thoroughly warm now, I turned my attention to the food, made myself a small plate piling oatcakes and fruit on it and took Harril’s seat.
Harril came back from the front door, checking that all the locks were in place. He saw that I had taken his seat and altered his course for the coach that rested against the wall of the ballistae room. “Alright everyone, it’s for business.” He motioned for Val to sit by him. “Carmine! Camille! Get your asses down here, I don’t care whose wearing what!”
There was a clatter that sounded an awful like a scuffle. We ignored it, the Fadenelles would be down in a second. Val stood up and stretched, exposing her midriff. She wore a lose fitting neutral colored tunic that concealed her curves. Her beautiful red hair was tied up in a hat as usual. Despite trying to disguise herself as a man, she was still radiant. She was taller than Harril which was a particular trait the Fadenelles used to abuse our leader usually till Val gave them one of her famous glares. She took a seat beside Harril who immediately wrapped an arm around her slim waist and pulled her in tight. They kissed in a way that lovers kiss when they haven’t seen one another for years. In all the darkness of the Cradle, their love for one another was a solid reminder that there are moments to live for.
Harril did not wait for the twins “I assume you all know what this meeting is about so I’ll keep it short. Tonight, Valaesis has called us all for an appearance. You all know what that means.” He let his words hang in the air, his face grim. “He means to strike at the Queen and be rid of her interference for good. I don’t know how exactly, only that it may be a long investment.”
At that moment, the Fadenelles made their entrance, bursting from Carmine’s room and leaping over the rail. Both landed on their feet, tucked into a roll and came up doing a handstand. They then walked on their hands up to Rowe and promptly fell into place one on each knee. Rowe’s scowl actually seemed to grow a scowl of its own. He made no effort to remove them from lap though.
Their arrival was wholly ignored. Harril continued. “The meeting will take place in the Lady’s Temple. Each boss will bring some retainers, those retainers will bring their men as well.”
This was where he would announce who would be coming with him to this meeting. Having that many dangerous and arrogant men and women in one room was bound to be trouble. Especially with such a volatile topic. Which means he would be bringing Rowe, our outfit’s muscle and the most fearsome man any of us had met. Val would likely be joining as well. She didn’t look like much which gave her another advantage in addition to being a highly skilled assassin. Any more than two and it would look like we expected foul play. Though each person in attendance expected foul play, none would openly declare that.
“Rowe and Arren, you two will be with me tonight, so rest up and eat heartily.” With that he turned and strode towards the stairs, leading Val by the hand as well. Everyone else turned to look at me and despite having poured myself a second mug of coffee, a chill ran down my spine. A single thought went through my head, which I then said aloud.
“Well shit.”
RE: Ravings of A Nobody - WeAreNobody - 17-01-2015 06:16 PM
A prologue for a story that I simply cannot get out of my head. May be graphic.
It was never the same, only the pain was familiar. I was myself, but at the same time I was not. It was as if someone had stripped my soul from my body and strung it above, giving an aerial view of the torment I would once again go through. My body before me was a mess. There was no blood, which I assume had been cleaned off earlier. I was stripped naked, covered in so many scars it looked like I’d marched against an army and every man in it had stuck me. Most notable of these scars was where it appeared my limbs had been torn from my body, then skillfully sewed back on. There was almost no trace except for the thin line of darkened flesh where the sutures had dissolved. There was even one around my neck, where it met my shoulders. Unsuccessfully I tried to move my body, but alas the disembodied spirit that I was trapped in could do no such thing.
Dimly I become aware of the room my body was kept in. From my wrists were heavy shackles that were connected to the ceiling by equally heavy chains. Similar irons were around my ankles, though following the chains I saw that they were attached to metal rings in the ground at either end of the room. The room was plain, no furniture in it, no adornments upon the walls, hell not even any windows. It was a plain stone room, each wall perfectly sculpted out of some dull gray stone. Then I noticed there were no candles or lanterns hanging from the walls or ceiling, yet the room was so well lit that it appeared the sun had made this room its residence. I was aware of every detail so accurately I could count the hairs in my nose given the proper angle. This baffled me, but I suppose being in this state ignored the laws of man.
My gaze returned to the body. It appeared that someone had cleaned me up, there was no dirt on my face, and my long dark hair reached my shoulders and shimmered with some oil. By focusing I could smell it, some mixture of lilac and another flower. Its pleasantness surprised me. Stranger still I appeared to be fit, as if I was fed three meals a day, and hearty ones at that. Even in my wealthiest days I never managed to be that well fed.
Some small part in my brain nagged at me. I’d been here before, seen this over and over. Yet I couldn’t quite place the memory, even though it seemed to be so fresh. As I pondered this, the pain returned.
It was the most intense pain I’d ever experienced, though that small part recalled it. First I become the aware of the heat, so hot and intense I could feel it radiating off my skin. I could feel it in my bones; burning through my muscle, my blood boiling. With horror I watched my flesh melting, dripping to the floor like candle wax. No scream came from my mouth, though it was so wide. I could hear my blood sizzling! The heat intensified, so greatly that my eyes popped and burst into flame, the fluid in them acting as some sort of accelerant. Then the scream came. I howled, putting my very soul in it. It bounced off the walls and the pain in it was unbearable. Blood began pouring from my ears, eyes and nose, slowly at first then in great rushing rivers. I’d never seen so much blood and I’d killed many men in my life. Or I suppose had, surely I was dead and in hell?
As suddenly as the pain had appeared it was gone, all trace of it as well. My body was whole again, unmarked by the recent trespass of pain. Suddenly there was a door where none stood before and it swung open. Horrid things rushed in. They were small and stunted, hairless and wicked looking things. They had the snouts of rats, but the eyes of an owl. Long fingers clutched curved scythes which they swung, slamming the blades into my body. They ran around me hacking and slashing as I screamed and screamed. I shut my eyes as they swung and swung, each new blow giving new life to my screams. This went on for hours, until I began to wonder how there was anything left of me for them to mutilate.
I became aware of a faint sound of metal dragging on stone. As it grew closer the things that were attacking me swung faster and began jabbering in some guttural language that sent chills down my spine. Soon the sound was so close I knew it was right outside the room. My eyes shot open as the door once again slammed open. The man came through the door, though he had to crouch to get in. Once in the room he stood to his full height, at least eight feet taller than I, and I stood at a little over six feet. It wore nothing except a black loincloth and a black hood. I could see nothing inside the hood, the darkness was so intense. In its hands was the larger sword I’d ever laid eyes on.
The smaller twisted things rushed it. The first two were swept aside by one massive hand, crashing into the wall and laid there stunned. The next one was impaled by the massive sword, blue blood dripping to the floor. The final two of them managed to get behind the man and began rapidly striking its legs. He roared with pain that shook the whole room. With speed that it did not appear to possess, it twisted and took one of the beasts by the waist. He raised it to the hood and from the blackness came a strange tendril looking mouth. The tendril opened and released a terrible screech, inside I could see thousands of rows of teeth, small and sharp. The tendril darted in, clamping down on the smaller thing, pulling back and taking with it a hunk of flesh the size of a man’s head. It darted again and again at the thing, I could see the meat traveling through the tendril like a snake swallowing a mouse. I vomited profusely.
While the man ate that creature, the other one behind it continued slashing. Around the man, blue blood covered the floor, both from himself and the diminishing remains of the creature it was devouring. The two that had struck the wall recovered and rushed the man, adding their own tiny flurry of blows. All of which seemed to have no effect. The thing on the man’s blade twitched a little. The tendril mouth released another screech and struck at one of the other creatures, removing its whole head at the base of its neck. The body dropped to the floor which did not slow the remaining creatures attack. In fact, one had actually began climbing the man’s body, still stabbing the whole way. The one on the ground was grabbed, the man’s fist enclosing on its head, crushing it. Blue blood seeped between his fingers. The tendril mouth tried to snap at the last one, but it had reached his back by now and was out of range. Undetermined to slaughter the smaller creatures, the man took the hilt of his blade in both hands and drove it through his own chest, narrowly missing the beast. He pulled it out with a sickening noise and stabbed himself once more, this time impaling the thing. As he pulled the blade back through his body, the thing hit the ground with a thud, twitching a little.
The man pulled the other beast off the base of his blade and began devouring it, paying no heed to his wounds. He made short work of that thing and moved to the next and next. In minutes it was only him and I in the room, the only sound my screaming through vomiting my guts up and the dripping of his blood. The tendril shot back into the hood and the man turned to face me. He stood and took a step towards me, the chains on the ground rattling at the giant’s step. He came to stop three feet from me, and knelt down, bringing the hood level to my face. I couldn’t look away though I desperately wanted too. Dread filled me, staring into that blackness, waiting for the tendril to shoot out and devour me. Instead the man reached up with both hands, dropping the massive blade. Each hand took one side of the hood and threw it back. I screamed.
Two things exploded in my head. One I became aware that my vision had returned to being inside my own body. The second was that the man looked exactly like me, the features blown up to make up for the man’s increase in size. I needed to leave, my body locked up and I could not even scream anymore. In the man’s eyes I saw pain and sorrow, so deep and I became aware of an understanding this was my future. I was to be tortured and destroyed until nothing remained of me except an empty husk to be reformed into this monstrous version of myself. My terror magnified so greatly I lost all control. Warm piss began flowing down my legs and salty tears from my eyes. This man was not my savior.
The tendril shot out then and I flinched expecting to feel its sharp bite. Instead it began making a choking sound and I could see something coming up its throat. I expecting some strange bile that would burn, but instead a blue, long and narrow tongue shot out. It began flittering through the air, like a serpent. The tongue moved around my face, my eyes locked to its every move. It came to rest on my cheek and instead of the wetness I expecting, I felt a sharp pain. The tongue was rough like a cat’s, only more so. As it left my cheek I felt blood begin pouring. It continued its path downward, shooting in and out even faster than when it was devouring the monsters from before. Everywhere the tongue touched me, the flesh was stripped away. I screamed, my voice hoarse and my throat burning. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the beast shuddering with ecstasy, its body twitching uncontrollably.
I was returned to that spirit vision so suddenly that I literally felt my soul ripped from my body. I could still feel the pain and somehow, watching the man move down my body taking every inch of flesh I possessed from this vantage intensified it. I could also now see the things back. There were things crawling around underneath its skin, every time they passed the open self-inflicted wounds I caught a glimpse of them. They appeared to be worms or serpents of some kind, slowly I watched them spitting some ooze that was sealing the wounds up.
The man that I was to become released a mighty roar and fell to the floor. Its ecstasy had reached a point where it was lost in the pleasure. The blue tongue shot back down the tendril which then returned into the man’s mouth. Slowly, his hands gripped his chest, the claws began digging in. I watched with horror as he ripped his own chest open and the worms shot out. In the room I could see them better which further intensified my revulsion. They were the length of my arm, pink and scaly yet covered in a dark hair. Their mouths resembled the tendril’s but without the tongue. Lifeless slits that I took to be eyes fixated upon me. There were three of them and they began wiggling towards my chained up body. I screamed and screamed at them to stay away, but still they came. They reached my foot and began wriggling up my body, leaving a trail of ooze. Their touch was ice cold. Tears fell freely now, I wept and begged for mercy, wishing for death to end this never-ending nightmare.
One of the worms reached my head and forced open my mouth before crawling down my throat. The others followed. I could see their path, my skin bulging where they went; the cold so intense that it burned. I threw my head back, mouth agape facing the ceiling. Blood shot out in pints like a geyser. My body began shriveling up as they drained and forced the blood from my body. A small part of me was astonished there was any blood left.
Once my body was a mere husk of its former the self, the worms ate their way through me. Two emerging from my stomach and one from my thigh. They left gaping holes as they shot out and began wriggling towards the man. He still lay on the ground convulsing as the worms crawled through the hole in his chest which was already closing by other worms that had remained in his body. The only sounds in the room were my sobbing and the man’s strange ecstatic noises. This went on for what seemed like hours. I lost all track of time. Seconds could have been years and I wouldn’t have known or cared. All I wanted was an end, to die and be rid of this hellish place.
I became aware of a distinct silence. I looked up, the man was gone, as was the blood and gore. My body was whole again. I did however note a new collection of scars that had not been there before. Quiet footsteps threw my gaze to the door. Though I could barely hear those steps, the room was so silent that there were as clear of thunderclaps. My heart pounded so rapidly that I was amazed that it did not drown out the footsteps. Uselessly I tried to silent it and held my breath. Hoping the owner of those steps would not realize I was in the room and pass by. Dimly I was aware of how stupid this was, but I clung to my faint hope.
Finally the footsteps came to a stop at my door. Chills ran down my spine as the door slowly swung open a crack. Between this crack slid in the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She shut the door behind Her and I was slammed back into my body. I watched Her approach, all my terror fleeing and replaced with a warm glow. No one this perfect could mean harm to me, She could not be capable of anything but the most pure form of good. She stopped at an arm’s length away from, studying me with tears in Her eyes. They were a beautiful green that reminded me of home, back when I was nothing but a farmer’s son. Her eyes brought me to the meadows I would play in, of the bushes I would pick blueberries from. Looking more intently I could spot flecks of amber and gold and forest leaves. I smiled and tried to speak, but couldn’t. She beautiful long dark tresses, as if some god attached thousands of strands of black silk to Her scalp. It fell past Her waist and shimmered with oil that smelled like hazelnuts and roses. Her skin was tanner than mine, like the foreign girl in my hometown I secretly had a crush on. I longed for Her touch, desired it above else. Everything was forgotten but Her.
Slowly, as if sensing my need, She reached one hand out to my cheek, cupping it. I shuddered at Her touch, a warm glow racing up my spine. Her eyes still held tears and I vowed I would slay the one responsible for causing Her grief. That was when my brain kicked in and I realized She was crying because of the state I was in. Her other hand went to my wrist and pulled the shackle loose. My arm fell numbly to my side, unable to move even as my brain screaming at it to wipe away Her tears, assure Her I was fine. She undid the other shackle and I fell. She caught me and staggered under my full weight; She couldn’t have been any taller than five feet. Slowly we went to the ground, where She gently sat me down and undid the shackles trapping my ankles. By then I had regained the feeling in my arm enough to finally wipe a tear from Her cheek. I smiled with some difficulty.
“I’m here my love.” She spoke and the glow filled my entire being. Her voice made my heart leap, it caught in my throat and I couldn’t reply. She smiled, her perfect teeth and lips like snow behind a bushel of roses. I needed Her.
I placed a hand on Her back and drew Her towards me, our faces so close I could hear Her blinking, see the individual eye lashes fluttering. I buried my head in her shoulder and wept uncontrollably. My sobs shook the both of us, She patted my back gently and lovingly as She whispered soft words in my ear. Cold chills went down my spine as Her soft breathing fluttered across my neck.
“It’s okay Emer, I’m here.” She pulled me closer, tightening her grip around me. “I’ll never leave you.”
It was if some magic spell was cast when She spoke my name. I must have Her. Sensing my arousal and my need, She slipped one hand behind my neck and drew our lips together. My whole being trembled with such potent desire. Our kisses become more passionate, our hands pressing more firmly into one another’s skin. With tender ferocity I ripped the simple white gown from Her body and threw it aside. I laid Her down and took Her then. In that moment nothing else mattered, only the two of us and this act. I lost all track of time and didn’t care. Eternity was not long enough for me in that moment.
I don’t remember when the two of us returned to sitting positions, She had redressed and I too was wearing clothing, though only loose fitting trousers. Our eyes were locked, simply staring at one another in what appeared to be stupor derived from love. Some small part in my brain whispered to me, warning me of treachery and grave danger. As it continued whispering, I recalled that small part being much larger and screaming rather than the susurrus it was today. I struggled to make out the words but could not understand. When I tried to focus I could hear the voice louder, yet it became distorted as if the speaker was being muffled by some cloth. My head began to ache as I concentrated, desperately listened. There was a grave urgency to the tone.
She spoke my name again and I snapped back to her, the voice all but forgotten. She had stood up now and was offering me a hand which I accepted. I got to my feet with Her help and we kissed once more. Again the passion threatened to overwhelm me, but I knew that I could not repeat that again. She asked me to come with her and I agreed. As we began making our way to the door, it seemed as if time slowed. I was thrown back into that hanging spirit view and the voice that I heard earlier was screaming at me. Do not go with Her it said, over and over it repeated this until it seemed that the voice had always been there. My legs obeyed known of my commands, the pair of us just kept walking towards the door hand in hand. As She passed through the door, my body turned and looked directly at my soul. It smiled and waved to me.
“All is well. Goodbye.”
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