ToL » The Chronicles of Anything » Chapter 28 - Saga 4, Conundrum

Chapter 28 - Saga 4, Conundrum

Dark Night of the Soul

*

“Halt! By order of the good Dr. Demoniac, all patients recently assessed as-“

The dwarf suddenly cried out in a sharp whine of pain as something solid cracked within his sturdy frame. The hooded being grinned, his club spare of blood but nonetheless its carnagelust satisfied. He continued his awkward skittering forward, wondering how soon the sentry would walk again. A surprising lack of further guards as he crept out a back door of the Dwarven Caves.

Oh, how the moon lit the side of the mountains.

*

“I’m coming with you.”

It was DarkGuardian, packed and armed, having caught up with the newest incarnation of the Fellowship, perhaps soon to rejoin remnants of a former rank and file. The party slowly turned to the voice, eyes ablaze with curious trepidation. Stormcrow furrowed his brow.

”I’m not sure that’s a good idea, dwarf.”

DG grit his teeth.

“I wouldn’t expect an elf to understand. That scribe has affronted my very culture. I will have part in this, whether his demons desire or not.”

“Perhaps that’s even a good thing.”

Eyebrows raised, soon in the direction of CardinalFang, somehow slightly blushing.

“I mean, obviously, graveghoul doesn’t want anything to do with you. Maybe you coming along will serve as a, um, deterrent?”

Yewbow chuckled.

“I don’t think it matters at this point. Our writer’s gone off his rocker.”

DarkKnightZach snorted.

“He isn’t crazy. Just possessed, is all.”

“What would you know, claptrap?”

NirvanaTool grinned mischievously, a talented feat considering his beak. Drexlin solemnly nodded before response.

“I don’t think it matters either, but perhaps for a different reason. Hear me out…”

Stormcrow subtly sighed, relenting to DG’s newfound presence with the group. Drex sat down, looking up as if wanting to wince into the early morning light. He loved the valley sunrise, having seen many as a child. He begin pouring drinks, and soon, as was his manner, he had all peacefully sitting amidst him, ears intent on the listening.

“If I’m to understand our collective knowledge, YOYOY’s told us of a coming War, correct?”

Nods all around.

“And that DarkGuardian has something to do with its initiation, along with a Message the Graveghoul will deliver via YOYOY’s body of flesh, right?”

Hesitantly, further nodding.

“Well, I believe there’s a third ingredient needed to spark the oncoming of War.”

Dramatic pause.

“The Artifact, I’m sure you’ve not forgotten.”

A contented smile before he took a swig of his own drink. DarKnightZach chuckled, smiling as well.

“A good thing you’ve kept such tight grip on the wretched thing there, Drex!”

NirvanaTool cackled.

“I’m not so sure, tally-ho, that your holdings be in order. Best be lest we see this melee, what have you of the object? When’s the last we’ve seen the shimmery brimmery Artifact of ours?”

Drexlin shook his head.

“Not to worry, my dodo friend, I keep it safely in my pack. As you’re all aware, my pack has certain enchanted properties that allow it infinite storage. While I primarily utilize this trait for carrying drinks and similar wares, I’ve recently designated a portion of its capacity to safeguarding the Artifact. Fact is, I’m the only one among us who’s able to wield the pack’s intricacies as to extract the object of woe. It could be in no safer place.”

Silence among his fellows, as Stormcrow deliberately leaned forward.

”Check it.”

“What?”

”Check the pack, halfbreed.”

“Alright, as you wish, marksman of legend.”

With a dreadfully self-sure grin the half-dwarf slipped off the baggage from his back. An unlacing, unfolding, and unstrapping later he’d driven his arm deep into the sack, lip bit in concentration. His elbow would bend then unbend, teeth grinding of their own accord. Then, his body froze, as his eyes widened. A few seconds passed with no change.

”Drinktender… you didn’t.”

Drexlin could only force a gulp, swallowing any ounce of pride or confidence he had. Darkguardian keenly eyed his half-fellow.

“Drexlin, companion, just say it…”

Drex nodded as if on a rusty hinge, holding back a few emotions.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I’m afraid… I may’ve unleashed something awful… the end of our age…”

He winced.

*

The Chronicler merrily skipped along, or at least his bodily vessel did, carrying with it the very scourge of Anything, lord of its own personal Hell. Nobody would suspect a thing so black and malicious as he laughed and carried on, finding himself lost in the pleasure of sunlight and grassland, treetops and birdsong.

It was hours (or was it minutes?) later that he verily entered downtown Anything, where alleys narrowed and side streets were adorned with wall-to-wall wares of absolutely any little thing you’d be looking for, and any item you weren’t. He wheeled around, spinning about in a fancy-free way that drew many a stare and little regard, not buying a thing, absorbing the collective essence of every soul around him.

Delicious souls, all, not one of them aware of their impending doom. There was a young girl to his left who’s soul smelled of fresh strawberries, trampled daisies, rain-wet hair and favorite clothing. Nearby, a man’s soul tasted of dead quarry, long-forgotten grudges, potential romancing, and every drop of sweat he’d ever excreted.

YOYOY stopped in his tracks, though maybe not best to call him by his proper title, as he slowly craned his neck to gaze upon the pregnant woman walking with a friend. He closed his eyes and drew a breath, focusing on trying to sample the soul of the unborn child. It did not come about strongly, rather, like it was more seed than fruit, more promise than passion. He’d keep an eye out.

Yes, yes, all the pretty people on their pretty stage, doomed to die, and no proper burials to go around. Somewhere deep inside the husk the original spirit was sleeping, now at the helm was the very death himself, GraveGhoul supreme, reeking of bloodlust and high vengeance.

The body floated about the realm, wistfully peeking in windows and smiling widely before settling into a bar. Not a familiar one, couldn’t hold a candle to Drexlin’s place but it had its fair share of quaint appeal. He sat. He stared. He waited.

The tender stroller over, washing a mug with a rag that’d only appear to make all it came into contact with even dingier.

“Haven’t seen you in this tavern before. What’ll it-“

“Oh, you haven’t seen me, but I’ve seen you. I’ve seen your sister marry and your brother die in war, your mother left to carry your father’s broken core. You figured you’d shatter your soul before offering yourself another drink, allowing the others to have but a taste of your bitter wares sheathed in regret. What’ll it be, ha, indeed! A mockery of choice and fate. I care not what I consume from within this weakness, this pitiful, wretched, pathetic nothing of your world. I can taste your passing already, and it is sweet, like young swine’s blood, barely thicker. You’d have imagined it so, yes? Better than swine, only barely. What’ll it be? It’ll be your doom, your very end, the last gasp for eternity, dredge. Dross has its place, unfortunately, not here. Surprise me, barkeep. Surprise me.”

The manager of present estate blinked, the hubbub of a previously-raucous crowd seeming to down itself completely. Only for a fleeting moment, however, before the barkeep shrugged and attended a mix.

Y turned on his seat, pivoting towards a better view of his surroundings. Dozens of denizens surrounded him, each attending to their own lighthearted desires, having some ‘right’ to pursue pleasure and whatnot. What tripe. Each to his own whim, none aware of their inevitable annihilation, taking on activities that serve no purpose or eternal significance, lost in a slovenly drunken mess they’ve made for themselves.

He proceeded to deliberately stand from his sitting, casually walking over to a motley NoThRoG sucking down a pint of decent ale. YOYOY tapped the brute on his shoulder.

“... Whaddya want?”

The penman grinned, rapidly drawing a steely club, then rudely crashing it down upon the hapless customer’s skull. The resulting crack, slosh, and thud prompted all the inhabiting drinkers to simultaneously drop their mugs and stare at the crazed maniac, whom many recognized.

Gaston_Bonhomme and the Conspirator had their own theories in the corner, soon exiting to further discuss possibilities.

Meanwhile, the form of YOYOY maliciously stood one foot atop the oozing frame of the formerly seated hulk.

”What are you staring at, through those primitive, slimy orbs you call ‘eyes’? How long will you idly sit and do nothing, coward failures of a forgotten race? Face it, this realm is mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

A serrated crossbow bolt violently ripped into the scribe’s left temple, his fleshy shell recoiling from impact. However, he merely laughed, plucking the item out with bloody force, eyes visibly ablaze with an otherworldly power. Axes, swords, weapons of all kinds were drawn, the boldest daring to stand and even begin advancing, warriors instinctively beginning to form a semicircle around the possessed maelstrom of destruction.

Someone took first strike, swinging an edged weapon in a blur of motion. The razor iron sunk deeply into YOYOY’s shoulder, another patron trying as well, daringly plunging a sword through the lighthearted one’s chest, up to the hilt, its edge sticking out Y’s back.

The chronicler’s grin only widened.

Back and forth went the club, down went two bodies unnaturally, the blunt weaponry obviously being wielded by something beyond the usual scope of YOYOY’s strength. He then dramatically withdrew the fine sword from the cavity of his chest, the blade lined with crimson liquid as he now held an instrument of death in each hand.

Some tried to leave, only to find any exits locked by enchantment, barred by a frightening force. The floor around YOYOY’s feet then lit into flames, eerily green as it slowly began to spread. Eyes widened, knuckles whitened, sweat beads formed in sheer panic.

Forward, he leapt.

*

Time passed.

*

Apparently, a Mod had done a rather nice lockdown job.

Nobody could be seen for perhaps a mile around, the carnage left in the form of a few adjacent buildings now fully collapsed to the ground, their structures still burning, thick black smoke rising hundreds of feet into the fading sky. A limb could be found here and there, and an unfathomable amount of blood specks was sprinkled all around. The site was now oddly silent, a chilling scene only accompanied by the occasional crackle and pop of the fires.

GreenDestiny was hesitant to step further into the heart of the hellish locale. He’d already spotted YOYOY lying in the rubble, face-down, assumed unconscious. He drew a Mod blade with a few new runes carved into the blade and crept closer, carefully stepping through the downed framework and purposefully avoiding any bodies. It took every ounce of his resolve to avoid breaking down at the sight.

YOYOY’s body limply lie amidst the chaotic ruins, in a pool of blood not completely its own. A pool, yes, for every square inch of his clothing was soaked through, every visible part of his flesh doused in the red life fluids. GD loomed over the bloodied historian, falling to one knee for closer inspection. Even now, even here, he could scarcely believe the obvious reality before him.

Suddenly the prone form convulsed, painfully jerking about with a sharply shrieking cry of misery, this action causing GreenDestiny to visibly jump, thoroughly startled. YOYOY began to weep and wail, spending a few crazed seconds screaming perfect nonsense as if in attempting to wake the very dead surrounding him. Blood nastily ran down his face in the runoff of his tears, otherwise also blinding him as more dripped into his eyes. He began to wretch and cough in a most horrid manner, gurgling up a mouthful of blackened globs GD didn’t dare guess as to what they were.

The veteran Mod bit his lip, not knowing what to say, soon not having to, only to respond, as the scribe of Lore spoke, albeit in a harsh whisper, a cracking voice to match the snapping of the flaming wood serving as background to his portrait of pure agony.

“Oh Todd, kill me now… end this, GreenDestiny... I am past dying, and onto something worse… I wish to no longer see Lore, to no more shake its foundations with my own hands… I cannot watch myself do this any more… please Mod… take this cup from me… put me out…”

With these words he crudely crawled, wrapping his battered, broken arms around the massive legs of the kindly NoThRoG, soon sobbing quietly as GD was left in somewhat of a state of shock. What to do? He couldn’t know, but the question answered itself.

“Here, take this… the Artifact… I don’t even know what it… what it is.”

YOYOY slipped the every-morphing object out from his cloak, offering the item to GD. The Mod blinked, as though he instantly recognized the object. He frowned.

“YOYOY, where’d you get- where’d you find that?”

“I, AH! don’t remember…”

The prone chronicler was groaning now, grabbing at his chest and stomach as if very ill. GreenDestiny stood resolute.

“I’m going to have to ask you to give me that. Now.”

His grip on the Mod blade tightened, carefully eyeing YOYOY for any sudden movements. He hadn’t seen what’d taken place here, but he didn’t need to.

“But, what is it? What NO! am I doing here…?”

GD took a deep breath, drawing it slowly through his teeth. He extended a hand, in a firm yet gentle offering.

“Hand it over. You’ll be alright.”

YOYOY suddenly looked up, staring straight up into the face of the sturdy ‘throg. His countenance was somehow aglow, but not in a pleasant way. No, not in any method borne of heaven…

“What do you know of ‘alright’ fleshwalker? I’ll hand you nothing!”

The former writer then jumped up, planting his feet on GreenDestiny’s chest. In a ghastly manner, there he stood, torn apart from any real gravity. He leaned down, peering into the face of the great Mod of Anything. He bore a new set of fangs, harshly growling before he flew off GD. An impossible leap, as he shot off as if catapult fodder to the horizon.

GreenDestiny was left standing still, unshaken, only to grimly wonder what was becoming of YOYOY, of this, of Anything. Knowing what the scribe held in possession, this was no idle matter. This wouldn’t pass soon, no, this needed to be dealt with, and quickly.

He sheathed the blade, pivoting on a heel and walking away, further surveying the damage.

*

”This is ridiculous.”

The party turned to their sullen comrade, sighs all around. Yewbow shook his head.

“What now?”

”We’re chasing a guy with unknown capabilities for reasons we don’t understand and we can’t even know where to begin.”

Perfect, elaborate silence, as his words were considered. Feet were nervously shuffled, eyelids heavy, sun going down, a few hours of hiking behind them. They’d all been here before, out on the open path, a heavy night ahead of them, much adventuring to do and no clue how to go about it. DarkGuardian gruffly cleared his throat, leaning on his gigantic hammer.

“Knowing how he’s been lately, I can’t imagine the guy would be difficult to find.”

His half-kin nodded.

“We have to do something...”

Stormcrow’s face sank as he stared into the ground immediately ahead of him.

”I can’t do this. It’s futile, you know. Even if we catch him, then what? And don’t just tell me ‘something, anything’ because that doesn’t cut it. I need something real, and this whole thing lost touch with reality a long time ago. I’m going back, to a warm bed and an even warmer supper.”

Even NirvanaTool shifted with unease, the short being looking back and forth to each member of the party before yewbow, fellow marksman elite, stepped forward to speak.

“He’s right. Screw this.”

The archers then left in a huff, each to his own separate way. DarkKnightZach looked over at DarkGuardian.

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow, dwarf. Sorry I can’t do more.

The elder Anythinger shrugged.

“Long as Drex brings the drinks, I guess I’m up for another little quest.”

At that, he lifted his hammer and led a new march with a rather dwindled following. The Deverenian couldn’t help but wonder if this was a sign of the times.

*

A black-dotted murkiness followed by a dull red haze marked the vision of a newly-awakening YOYOY. He groaned, every muscle aching, every bone feeling odd, as if remade. He tried standing, only to wince and seethe, through it realizing that yes, he probably was remade recently. His body now completely a physical flesh vessel of the dark lord of Hades.

He sat back against whatever anonymous building was behind him, blinking through the night haze and finding himself staring into the deep midnight blueness of ocean. The relentless waves had a wholly soothing effect on him, Anything’s dock providing a heartwarming solace for the time being. He’d savor these moments – whether in cave or near the beach, wherever he could find a moment’s peace.

Something shot overheard, not quite a shooting star, closer to earth, and brightly lit with a special kind of burning. It streaked across the sky canopy and disappeared over the horizon. How strange that was. Any other night it’d even be a spectacle, but tonight especially the tormented appreciated the distraction, albeit extremely temporary as it was.

He shook his head with another wince, grabbing his jaw and rubbing it, finding it almost numb, a little prickly under the skin. He froze, then staring at his hands as he realized they were caked in dry blood, as were his cloth articles and instruments. YOYOY didn’t dare glance at his club. It was one thing to know what happened, it was another altogether to not be able to remember a single detail.

Instead, he elected to bury his face in his hands. He wanted to cry again, wanted to release those hot tears so badly, to sob it all away like the wretched, pitiful, pathetic failure he was.

But that wouldn’t be. He held it all back, bottled it all in, as if to spite the other demon who dwelt inside his miserable being.

The chronicler gazed back into the night’s infinity, admiring the stars above and a thinly-veiled moon, glowing brightly against all odds.

He didn’t even notice the footsteps approaching nearby.

*

© Eric Bailey

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