01-06-2016, 05:46 AM
“Welcome to your new life.”
These were the first words uttered to the surviving men of Stoneford Mine. They’d spent a fortnight chained, shackled, and deprived of both a good meal and a good night’s rest, but that was just the what. The why, well, the why was deeply more saddening, almost maddening. Their hunger was self-inflicted. The cause? Their refusal to eat their own brothers in arms.
Twelve times a day, light would disrupt their otherwise infinite sea of darkness, followed by a man who would then choose one from the many prisoners, and bring them to the center for all to see. This prisoner would be given the opportunity to select between two separate options. He could either be eaten alive by his savage captors, or he could select a different prisoner to take his place. It went on like this for days and soon, no one trusted each other. Tensions were high among the captive. Brothers, fathers, and loved ones, who had known each other all their lives, were now at each other’s throats.
That’s when the game changed. It took a turn for the worst and a new rule was implemented. In order to trade places… you had to do the eating. On that day, many men lost something far more valuable than their lives and when the game was finally over, their numbers were halved, and these were the men who had won.
“People once thought this a holy land.” Baron Deathchew’s drawl hung in the air as he addressed his captive, “They believed they could reach Valhalla here. Find the answers, from a god, that would save them…”
His voice commanded respect and his posture was strong. There wasn’t a stray eye among them. He spoke and they listened. Mesmerized, the captured miners hung on his every word. A wicked grin appeared on the Baron’s face as he continued, “But they were wrong. Gentlemen, there is no god in the Endless Dunes.”
He was on the move now, strolling through their numbers as he spoke. Within reach of his captive, he was fearless, and why not? Whatever left in these men not dead, was tainted. How could they face their loved ones back home? How could any of them? After what they had done? Even if there was a fight left in them, there wasn’t anything left for them to fight for. They couldn’t go home. Not now.
“How do I know?” he questioned as his eyes surveyed the group of prisoners. Eyes like a hawk, they found a way to bore into you, as if appraising you of your worth. He turned his back on them, throwing caution to the wind. Former enemies, people whose families he had butchered, and he gave them his back as he spoke, “A God does not feed you or clothe you… or protect you. I do”
The opportunity was ripe, lush with the temptation of revenge, and far too appealing for the nearest prisoner to avoid. The prisoner sprang at Deathchew, attempting to bash his skull in with a rock he’d hidden for just this moment.
However, the rock hit the sand and the assault ended as quickly as it had started. Deathchew had intercepted the miner’s assault, countering by a strike to his throat with snake like precession, and lifted the miner several feet off the ground.
Deathchew spat and tightened his grip on the miner’s throat, “I do now. As of right now, you lot are only alive because I will it so.”
The baron’s head tilted to the side, watching the prisoner squirm in his grasp. Tighter and tighter Deathchew squeezed until finally, his pigment turned from a bright shade of red to a deep tent of violet.
He released the miner and allowed his limp, lifeless body to hit the sand before continuing his speech, “You men have been born again as soldiers in the united army of Baron Deathchew, but I will not tolerate weakness.”
“Your allegiance is to the clan.” he said, studying his audience with a curious, yet devious eye. “Any clansman may challenge for leadership of the clan. Does any man here wish to challenge me?” Not a soul made a sound. Deathchew grinned a wicked smile, their silence was their answer.
Strolling through their numbers once more, the savage king spoke with a perfect annunciation, worthy of any public forum, “The strong have been fooled by the whimpering propaganda of the weak, misguided and led astray by deceit and deception. Strong men have been denied their destiny.”
“You men have been saved from that fate.” he declared with booming assurance, “Redemption is within your grasp. Survival of the fittest, gentlemen, that is the legacy that has been handed down to us.”
Men under his banner were now surrounding the baron and their numbers were stifling. This was no rag tag group of barbarians, for he commanded a large host, a legion of ferocious, cannibalistic warriors.
Pride reflected upon the baron’s face as he took in the prisoner’s reactions to his armies, “Strength, force, and power! These are the laws that we live by. It is through these laws, through me, your Baron, that you may achieve a power far greater than any Prime you have ever known.”
The prisoners began to look and talk amongst themselves in hushed voices, but it was clear what was happening, their resolve was weakening and their resistance beginning to sway. He was appealing to their self-interest, giving them a flame to kindle against their darkness.
“Strength is our cloak, and you men will wear it with pride.” he commanded, allowing his eyes a few moments of contact with each prisoner individually.
“Become warriors and we will bring these false kings and civilizations to their knees.” his savage army roared in response to his exclamation with raised fists, “We will take back what is rightfully ours and destroy the institutions that have wrought all good things—honor, treasure, beautiful women— no longer will they be made accessible to the rabble, the cowards and the sheep!”
Every cannibal in attendance, and even a few prisoners, erupted with cheer at his last comment. Rallied and invigorated, admiration could be seen among many a sadistic face, and it was becoming apparent that the baron’s silver tongue was as valuable as his steel.
“Most of you are secondaries. Subjugated to a life of servitude to these Primes, but I am offering you a different path. A different life.” he cooed as he continued to inspire, “When men… stick together under this banner, and follow a set of rules, a code, well, then the world becomes theirs.”
“The strongest among you will have the opportunity to train as one of my lieutenants. Some see outlaws as cold heartless killers, but the men that fill my ranks are more than that.” the malevolent tyrant placed his hand across his heart, projecting compassion with his words. An award winning performance to say the least, “They are my brothers, and once you are accepted into our family, there is no other.”
“Now, I am not asking you to be celibate…” as he spoke he shared a mischievous smile that was soon replicated by his fellow cannibals, “You can fuck whoever you want, but here, a bandit’s loyalty is to his baron. Baron Deathchew!”
“That is the first rule of our code. In return you get the best of everything. Booze, weapons, Omnilium… Women.” He left no stone unturned, making it abruptly clear what kind of operation he ran here, but that didn’t seem to bother the prisoners anymore. Most were actually eating it up and ready to pledge allegiance. What hell they most have endured to have completely abandoned their humanity.
“Come here Giles,” Deathchew ordered to one of his lieutenants, “and remove the vest.” The man was scarred, head to toe, with self-inflicted tally marks. “Quite a sight isn’t it?”
“Each scar represents a life.” He told them, “A life that Giles has taken, without remorse, without regret, because he kills for one reason and one reason only. What reason is that Giles?”
“To protect your interest, Baron.”
“To protect my interest.” he repeated as he circled Giles, showing him off like a prized possession, “That’s right. No one in my army is more feared or more respected. Hundreds of men have lost their lives to this man, surrendered their treasures and their women as well. He has walked the path before you. He is what the best of you will aspire to become.”
“But this man standing here is a far cry from the miserable whelp I laid eyes on all those years ago.” the Baron snapped suddenly, catching the prisoners off guard.
“No strength, no name. I figured if the Dunes hadn’t killed him, there must be a fire within him.” the very way he spoke was a performance. If nothing else, he knew how to work a room, “So I took him in and ignited that fire…. Forged him into the man you see today.”
Eyes wide as canyons followed both Giles and the Baron, captivated by Deathchew’s words and eager to swallow these larger than life aspirations.
“Maybe the man who follows in his footsteps is in this room? Is it you, is it you? Or you?” all of a sudden, he had what they wanted, like he and his men were in on a secret no one else knew about, but offered it for the small price of your undying loyalty.
“You will get out of this army what you put into it. Work and you will be feed. Fight and you will be respected. Die and you will be remembered! Now, do you want to be a part of my family?”
It was unanimous, they all chanted, “YES BARON!!!”
“Do you want the best of everything?”
“YES BARON!!!” again they pleaded.
Deathchew grinned. His host was growing and the golden lion’s throne was one step closer to becoming his. And after? The rest of the Endless Dunes. “Do you want to KILL in my name?”
“YES BARON!!!” they roared, willing to do more than just kill.
With three words he issued a challenge and sealed their fate, “Then prove it!”
These were the first words uttered to the surviving men of Stoneford Mine. They’d spent a fortnight chained, shackled, and deprived of both a good meal and a good night’s rest, but that was just the what. The why, well, the why was deeply more saddening, almost maddening. Their hunger was self-inflicted. The cause? Their refusal to eat their own brothers in arms.
Twelve times a day, light would disrupt their otherwise infinite sea of darkness, followed by a man who would then choose one from the many prisoners, and bring them to the center for all to see. This prisoner would be given the opportunity to select between two separate options. He could either be eaten alive by his savage captors, or he could select a different prisoner to take his place. It went on like this for days and soon, no one trusted each other. Tensions were high among the captive. Brothers, fathers, and loved ones, who had known each other all their lives, were now at each other’s throats.
That’s when the game changed. It took a turn for the worst and a new rule was implemented. In order to trade places… you had to do the eating. On that day, many men lost something far more valuable than their lives and when the game was finally over, their numbers were halved, and these were the men who had won.
“People once thought this a holy land.” Baron Deathchew’s drawl hung in the air as he addressed his captive, “They believed they could reach Valhalla here. Find the answers, from a god, that would save them…”
His voice commanded respect and his posture was strong. There wasn’t a stray eye among them. He spoke and they listened. Mesmerized, the captured miners hung on his every word. A wicked grin appeared on the Baron’s face as he continued, “But they were wrong. Gentlemen, there is no god in the Endless Dunes.”
He was on the move now, strolling through their numbers as he spoke. Within reach of his captive, he was fearless, and why not? Whatever left in these men not dead, was tainted. How could they face their loved ones back home? How could any of them? After what they had done? Even if there was a fight left in them, there wasn’t anything left for them to fight for. They couldn’t go home. Not now.
“How do I know?” he questioned as his eyes surveyed the group of prisoners. Eyes like a hawk, they found a way to bore into you, as if appraising you of your worth. He turned his back on them, throwing caution to the wind. Former enemies, people whose families he had butchered, and he gave them his back as he spoke, “A God does not feed you or clothe you… or protect you. I do”
The opportunity was ripe, lush with the temptation of revenge, and far too appealing for the nearest prisoner to avoid. The prisoner sprang at Deathchew, attempting to bash his skull in with a rock he’d hidden for just this moment.
However, the rock hit the sand and the assault ended as quickly as it had started. Deathchew had intercepted the miner’s assault, countering by a strike to his throat with snake like precession, and lifted the miner several feet off the ground.
Deathchew spat and tightened his grip on the miner’s throat, “I do now. As of right now, you lot are only alive because I will it so.”
The baron’s head tilted to the side, watching the prisoner squirm in his grasp. Tighter and tighter Deathchew squeezed until finally, his pigment turned from a bright shade of red to a deep tent of violet.
He released the miner and allowed his limp, lifeless body to hit the sand before continuing his speech, “You men have been born again as soldiers in the united army of Baron Deathchew, but I will not tolerate weakness.”
“Your allegiance is to the clan.” he said, studying his audience with a curious, yet devious eye. “Any clansman may challenge for leadership of the clan. Does any man here wish to challenge me?” Not a soul made a sound. Deathchew grinned a wicked smile, their silence was their answer.
Strolling through their numbers once more, the savage king spoke with a perfect annunciation, worthy of any public forum, “The strong have been fooled by the whimpering propaganda of the weak, misguided and led astray by deceit and deception. Strong men have been denied their destiny.”
“You men have been saved from that fate.” he declared with booming assurance, “Redemption is within your grasp. Survival of the fittest, gentlemen, that is the legacy that has been handed down to us.”
Men under his banner were now surrounding the baron and their numbers were stifling. This was no rag tag group of barbarians, for he commanded a large host, a legion of ferocious, cannibalistic warriors.
Pride reflected upon the baron’s face as he took in the prisoner’s reactions to his armies, “Strength, force, and power! These are the laws that we live by. It is through these laws, through me, your Baron, that you may achieve a power far greater than any Prime you have ever known.”
The prisoners began to look and talk amongst themselves in hushed voices, but it was clear what was happening, their resolve was weakening and their resistance beginning to sway. He was appealing to their self-interest, giving them a flame to kindle against their darkness.
“Strength is our cloak, and you men will wear it with pride.” he commanded, allowing his eyes a few moments of contact with each prisoner individually.
“Become warriors and we will bring these false kings and civilizations to their knees.” his savage army roared in response to his exclamation with raised fists, “We will take back what is rightfully ours and destroy the institutions that have wrought all good things—honor, treasure, beautiful women— no longer will they be made accessible to the rabble, the cowards and the sheep!”
Every cannibal in attendance, and even a few prisoners, erupted with cheer at his last comment. Rallied and invigorated, admiration could be seen among many a sadistic face, and it was becoming apparent that the baron’s silver tongue was as valuable as his steel.
“Most of you are secondaries. Subjugated to a life of servitude to these Primes, but I am offering you a different path. A different life.” he cooed as he continued to inspire, “When men… stick together under this banner, and follow a set of rules, a code, well, then the world becomes theirs.”
“The strongest among you will have the opportunity to train as one of my lieutenants. Some see outlaws as cold heartless killers, but the men that fill my ranks are more than that.” the malevolent tyrant placed his hand across his heart, projecting compassion with his words. An award winning performance to say the least, “They are my brothers, and once you are accepted into our family, there is no other.”
“Now, I am not asking you to be celibate…” as he spoke he shared a mischievous smile that was soon replicated by his fellow cannibals, “You can fuck whoever you want, but here, a bandit’s loyalty is to his baron. Baron Deathchew!”
“That is the first rule of our code. In return you get the best of everything. Booze, weapons, Omnilium… Women.” He left no stone unturned, making it abruptly clear what kind of operation he ran here, but that didn’t seem to bother the prisoners anymore. Most were actually eating it up and ready to pledge allegiance. What hell they most have endured to have completely abandoned their humanity.
“Come here Giles,” Deathchew ordered to one of his lieutenants, “and remove the vest.” The man was scarred, head to toe, with self-inflicted tally marks. “Quite a sight isn’t it?”
“Each scar represents a life.” He told them, “A life that Giles has taken, without remorse, without regret, because he kills for one reason and one reason only. What reason is that Giles?”
“To protect your interest, Baron.”
“To protect my interest.” he repeated as he circled Giles, showing him off like a prized possession, “That’s right. No one in my army is more feared or more respected. Hundreds of men have lost their lives to this man, surrendered their treasures and their women as well. He has walked the path before you. He is what the best of you will aspire to become.”
“But this man standing here is a far cry from the miserable whelp I laid eyes on all those years ago.” the Baron snapped suddenly, catching the prisoners off guard.
“No strength, no name. I figured if the Dunes hadn’t killed him, there must be a fire within him.” the very way he spoke was a performance. If nothing else, he knew how to work a room, “So I took him in and ignited that fire…. Forged him into the man you see today.”
Eyes wide as canyons followed both Giles and the Baron, captivated by Deathchew’s words and eager to swallow these larger than life aspirations.
“Maybe the man who follows in his footsteps is in this room? Is it you, is it you? Or you?” all of a sudden, he had what they wanted, like he and his men were in on a secret no one else knew about, but offered it for the small price of your undying loyalty.
“You will get out of this army what you put into it. Work and you will be feed. Fight and you will be respected. Die and you will be remembered! Now, do you want to be a part of my family?”
It was unanimous, they all chanted, “YES BARON!!!”
“Do you want the best of everything?”
“YES BARON!!!” again they pleaded.
Deathchew grinned. His host was growing and the golden lion’s throne was one step closer to becoming his. And after? The rest of the Endless Dunes. “Do you want to KILL in my name?”
“YES BARON!!!” they roared, willing to do more than just kill.
With three words he issued a challenge and sealed their fate, “Then prove it!”
Dante's Abyss 2015
GRAND CHAMPION
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Mark Twain Wrote:"The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug."