North of Nexus, Eastern Threshold Riverlands Village, Ilmhan 20th Moon of Resplendent Wood , Jupiter's Day, 768 R elaxing, he looked up at the
wooden ceiling, laying back on the first bed he'd laid on in weeks,
unharassed. He stretched out, bringing his hands behind his head as
the sound of bare feet approached his door. Smiling wide, the
once-dynast shifted to look towards the door. He wasn't expecting
company, but he had left the innkeeper a message to send any fine
women in need of company to his room tonight. He had the energy to
spare.
It was the extra set of boots that
caught his attention, however. The slight jingle of armor, the
telltale sound of jade against jade. The bed bowed under the sudden
shift in weight, creaking in defiance. As the doors burst open, his
hand grabbed ahold of the side of the bed, rolling in the opposite
direction as he slammed his feet down onto the wooden floor
underneath. The bed came up with his hand, letting go once he had his
feet on the floor, letting the frame, mattress and all fly towards
the intruders.
What he would have given to see the
faces of the Lookshy Egg, and his two Linowan screamers. Alas, he
could not, as the floor groaned in protest of the man standing on it,
splinters flying into the air as he smiled, his hand was the last
thing they saw as the grimcleaver split the bed in two, waving
goodbye, and grabbing hold of the strap of his pack, dragging it down
to the floor below.
The screams of the bar patrons and
clatter of dishes announced his arrival on the first floor. He landed
on a table – or what once could be called a table. It was now
naught but fragments, scattered in the crater of his landing, the
ground floor buckling and snapping under the near ton that had just
dropped on it from the second floor. He looked up as three faces
peered over the edge of the hole, surveying the damage he had caused.
A dumb grin crossed his face as he fished out a bag of obols, tossing
it towards the barkeep, “Keep the change!” he shouted, before
bolting for the doors. Thrice as fast as the average man, he threw
the doors clear off their hinges as he hit the street, deep gouge
marks where his feet connected with the dirt path, a cloud of dust
tossed up around him.
That cloud, he figured, in the moments
following, might have been what kept him alive, he reflected later.
Five haslanti crossbows were loosed into that cloud when he came to a
stop. All five collided in the center of that cloud, head to head,
whilst to the intended victim, it was merely a stepping stone to get
behind the men who fired upon him.
He rolled to his feet, slinging his
pack over his shoulder, and shaking his head to free his hair from
behind the back and to shift the bangs out of his eyes. As he looked
ahead of him, the jade-bound man and his two screamers had used the
distraction to cut him off. He lilted his head and rolled his eyes,
“Seriously. Don't you have better things to do with your time, than
chase down a vagrant?”
The soldier sneered as he tightened
his grip on the jade axe in his hand, “Silence, Anathema. You are
wanted for the damage you've caused. Thirty talents worth, in four
villages. Plus, you've been scamming men out of their hard earned
jade.” One of the Linowan men held up an arm, as if to show off
what he was referring to.
“He's fine. I broke it, yeah. Then I
fixed it. He shouldn't picked a fight with me. Or those three other
walls.” The demon shrugged, the sarcasm in his voice palpable,
“Besides, I'm a man of the cloth – I can't just pass by a man in
need. Even if I put him there. What's wrong with getting a bit of
co-” “Shut your mouth, demon,” the soldier snapped,
rushing forward, “I will hear no more of your poison! ” The first
blow was high, and the demon ducked low, a half-smirk forming on his
lips, showing off one of his canines as he felt the air of the weapon
pass over him. Once free of the arm, he sprang back, flipping to land
on one of the shoulders of the crossbowmen. Twisting, his foot
connected with the man's back, sending him sprawling towards his
commander, as the others quickly attempted to reload their weapons
for a second volley. Landing, he still kept one hand on the strap of
his pack, holding it firmly as not to lose it.
He chuckled, unconcerned by
the archers around him. His stance was odd – open, as though he
dared the commander to strike him again, “Fine, fine. Would you hear it, if it came from the mouth of Iselsi Era-”
Cutting off the demon, the commander rushed forward again, “I have heard of your treachery.
That you stole the body of a promising young dynast from the Realm.” Pulling a second axe from his
waist, the Dragonblooded made two swings, leaving no room for the demon to dodge
out of this time, one high, one low, “I will let no grudge between
myself and the Realm deny a father the burial of his son!”
Rather than avoiding the blow, he
shifted, his hand pulling the back into the way of the blow, as he
jumped back, landing on the shoulders of one of the archers, as he
flipped backwards of him. The others trailed his movements,
unleashing a second volley of bolts, each slicing through the air as
his form disappeared.
It was a strange contrast, the archer
noted – he had seen the damage the demon's very steps had done to
Creation, herself, but when it came into contact with his shoulder,
the man was light as a feather – less than that even. It was like
he wasn't there. He narrowed his eyes, scanned, before lifting the
bow to aim at the captain. When dealing with Anathema, there was no
chances to be taken. His finger squeezed the trigger, sure that the
man had never left the-
“Hells, man! What do you think
you're doing?!” The captain's hand was on the end of the crossbow
as it fired, pointing it up and away from them. “Has the demon
gotten into you as well?” He sneered, yanking the weapon away from
the archer's grasp. Looking at it, he tossed it to the ground. He
pulled off his helmet, letting his black hair flow free. “M-my
apologies, Captain Verretto. I thought that he was still... well, you
know.” “Still what, man? Among us?” He shook his head
and checked the articulation on his battle armor, making sure that
the ancient magic still kept it smooth and free flowing. That it was
still as good as it was when it was made 2000 years earlier. He
sighed and shook his head, “Gods, no, he is gone. Quite the vanishing
trick he pulled of-.”
The end of the sentence was cut short
as the man reappeared, gripping the captain by the back of his armor,
“I don't appreciate being ignored, Captain Verretto.” He growled,
his eyes narrowed. In later accounts, the men swore to feeling
gravity lose it's hold on Creation in that instant. Violently, he
yanked the captain away, over his shoulder, casting him aside like a
small toy. A small toy that treated a stone wall as though it were
rice paper. The motionless body of the captain disappeared into the
side of a nearby building, as the demon shifted, his speed impossible
to follow, as he moved from one man to the next. Each one cast away
as though they were weightless, disappearing into buildings via
walls, windows and doors burst off their frames, or slamming through
nearby market stalls, before grabbing one of the Linowan screamers.
He twisted, bringing him overhead to crash into the dirt pathway. The
impact audibly shattering bones, as he ensured that the man lived up
to his title.
He screamed. Oh, did he scream. The
howls were like music for the former Dynast, as he stalked towards
his last victim – the last hunter who would learn better, “I
thought I taught you this lesson last time...” He bared his teeth
at the screamer, who yelled something incoherent, brandishing his own
axe.
Shaking his head, he sighed, “You,”
his hand grabbed the Linowa's wrist mid-swing, the force of the
demon's grip causing him to drop the weapon, “do,” he twisted the
man's arm, watching the look of fear turn to pain, his face
contorting as the arm was bent further and further, “not,” His
other hand was now slapping the back of the demon's wrist, his hand
likely stinging from the times it made contact with jade and
brass of the beautifully crafted smashfists he wore, “ learn! ”
The satisfying snap, and spray of blood was the signal to let go. The
limb dropped to ground as the man was left in a mixture of sobbing,
begging the man for mercy, and trying to fight back the pain of his
lost limb.
“No. I will not fix it for
coin this time, my friend.” The demon called over his shoulder as
he walked towards where his pack was. Slinging it over his shoulder
once more, he surveyed what was left of the village, of the people
hiding behind doors, or holes in walls, tending to the men who had
been but insects before this boar. He shook his head, and began his
trek towards the northern gates.
