Monster

[Jaokith]

Monster


The priestess of Sune releases a gurgling gasp of agony as I slam my sword, Dawn’s Blood, deeply into her chest. The blade, burning with the fires of the abyssal beast trapped within, sizzles and blackens her flesh as it’s point and shaft cut through bone, tissue, and the organs beneath before bursting out her backside, just below her left shoulder blade. I feel the sneering, malicious smile of triumph plastering my features as I watch her crumple to the floor of her home in shocked horror and pain. The bodies of two others litter the floor as well, her husband and an older man, her father. Before I attacked I learned who they were as I lie in wait, concealed by my magic. I also learned their names as well but such immaterial things are quickly forgotten by me. They both died quickly, easily… pathetically… yelping like little girls as they were consumed by my power, the Power of the Dark Sun.

And so my mother spoke true, despite her beguiling tone. Cyric be praised! The Crone guided me precisely to the home of these infidels that dared to organize an attempt to reclaim the Black Temple from the One True Way. What does it matter that it was once a haven for this dying priestess and her deplorable faith before it was conquered by that bitch Nathania? The strong take what they wish and so it was made into a bastion of the One True Lord and the false who once held it are killed as they are found.

I withdraw Dawn’s Blood in one swift move as I stand over her and she gasps once again, more feebly this time. The cruel, gloating smile remains upon my face as we lock gazes and I see... fear, denial, and… concern? Why concern I wonder briefly? She knows who I am, she can see the symbol of my Lord upon my person, she knows she is going to die and I am going to enjoy watching as it happens. Where does this concern come from I see within her brown eyes?

And then I hear it.

From the doorway leading further into this family’s home I hear it.

As I stand in the main room of this family’s home I hear it and I turn and the smile fades from my face.

“Mama”, the boy of no more than half a decade cries again in a frightened voice as he sees me standing over his dying mother. He is dressed for bed and the slaughter I brought to his home must have awakened him. I see fear in his eyes, brown eyes like his mother’s, fear and that same concern. I see the tears staining his face, as they flow from the corners of his eyes, a face that looks up at me for a brief moment before he turns and runs down the hallway that leads from the room in which I stand.

My armor clanks dully as I turn and give chase, my actions seem not my own but the desire to catch this boy, to stop him from getting away seems almost instinctual. I hear his mother try to speak, perhaps to call upon her false goddess for aid but all that erupts is a mournful gurgling scream as she knows what is in store for her only child, and then I hear her slump down, finally succumbing to the deathblow I had given her.

Loudly I stomp down the hallway, Dawn’s Blood blazing in my hand, moving as quickly as I can, but the boy reaches a room at the end of the hall and quickly darts within. As I reach the doorway to his bedroom I expect to see him climbing to escape out a window or hiding under his bed or behind his dresser… but he isn’t. The child stands by the edge of his bed and his back is to me, he seems oblivious to my presence as he is holding something close to himself, hugging something. He hears me step into his room and he can feel the heat coming off the flames that dance along the blade of my sword.

I stand a moment and watch the boy, my eyes narrowed and confused by these actions. He turns towards me and I see what he is holding… a small dog, maybe even a puppy… I am not sure. He hugs it tightly to him and it licks his face, he kisses it once on its head and then leans close and whispers something to it and I think I hear the word goodbye uttered from him. He then sets the small brown dog, brown like both his and his mother’s eyes, upon his bed before looking up at me. And as he looks up at me I see acceptance in his eyes and courage… and then I know why he ran away. He didn’t run because he was afraid of me… he ran because he didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to the ones he loved… those I had gladly slaughtered… he ran because he wanted to make sure he said goodbye to the only thing left alive he did love.

And as I look upon him and the realization strikes me I think of my own childhood… and I think of how I never had such courage… and how I once felt such love but buried it in a storm of pain and bitterness… and how I only knew despair afterwards for a very long time… and how weak I was compared to him when I was his age and a decade after… and how weak I am now… but most of all I think of how this child… this boy of no more than half a decade… makes me feel such shame… and I hate him for that.

I sheathe Dawn’s Blood and step further within the room, my armor giving off a listless clank as I move. I stop before the child and look down at him, I see out of the corner of my eye the small brown puppy rolling on the bed without a concern. The boy looks up at me for a moment, I see the fear in his eyes but I see the courage and the acceptance keeping him from running… and then I see him close his eyes as he hears me whisper a dark prayer to the Black Sun and touch his forehead gently. His small frame shudders momentarily as the malicious energy courses through him and then he falls… I let him drop to the floor… and I feel relief that I no longer have to look into his eyes… but the feeling… the shame within me remains.

It is shortly after middark when I step from the home where I have left nothing living and into the dark streets of the Shipwrights Lane in Selgaunt, which are quiet for the most part. I move north for a half dozen blocks, to where I left a small contingent of guardians from the Black Temple. I tell them to go to the house and burn it to the ground but to first recover the corpse of the priestess of the false goddess and bring it to the Black Temple so I may rouse her spirit and speak with it to find out where the rest of her false clergy reside in my city. As I turn to depart, one of them makes a comment, an attempt at a jest of some sort, something I would not mind at most times, but it is not most times and I am not in the mood for jesting.

Angrily I whip around back toward the one who made the comment and without a word I incant the dark power that is mine and snuff out his life as I grab him by the throat. His shocked look and pathetic squeal as he dies from my touch grant me a brief respite of pleasure, as does the hurried pace the rest take to see to my commands and I smile maliciously… but it fades quickly when I hear one of them call me a monster under his breath… for deep down I know that I am… and I have accepted it and reveled in such fear even though at times it can be a burden as well, but no one cares about the burdens of a monster.

I move quickly away, I travel across the night-shrouded city until I reach the temple of my faith. Swiftly I make my way to my chambers, I roar for my servants to prepare my bath as the filth from the slaughter has settled upon me… I am violent with them, striking them to clean and polish my armor… I take no satisfaction in seeing them scurry about. When my bath is prepared I disrobe quickly and enter the steaming water… quickly the servants work upon me with brush, cloth, and expensive scented soaps and oils and the dried blood and dirt are removed from my skin and hair… but I am unsatisfied and order them to continue scrubbing until my pale skin is pink and raw and sore. And as I look at the fear in their eyes at my displeasure I know that no matter how vigorously I am cleaned… I never truly shall be.

[PensivesWetness]

/me is wowed. THIS is what happens when you don't huggle your mums on Mum's day....

very good, very difficult reads...

[Balathul]

Excellent stuff, very well written, and portrayed.

[Brokenbone]

Hello that is chilling.

(well written, good show)

[Mord]

Aerten is my hero.

[Johan Batara]

Good read, mate.

-IJ

[Burt]

Cyric for the win.