No Pain for Fiends

[Strazio Rockwell]

Resurrection is a lot like waking up from a dream. Those first few moments come sluggish, like cement pumped through veins. One great big gasp of air brought Strazio’s brain back online. A sour curse slipped from his lips and he stretched. Joints popped and muscles strained, a brand new body brought brand new stiffness. Even his clothes felt rigid and they smelled of fresh detergent. But even rebirth, complete and utter reconstruction couldn’t remove that damned gnawing that nibbled at the base of his skull. Attached to his belt the clasp that held his journal was empty. He failed. Harbinger won. Shang had won, and Strazio had lost. Failure was that creature that drove rusted nails into his skull. Resurrection is a lot like waking up from a dream only to realize that your life sucks.

No longer did the Nexus bear the fruits of his clash with harbinger. Absent were the streaks of blood and charred pock marks. Even the fountain stood unscathed and unbroken, completely indifferent to the struggles of mortals. Gamzee sat at the base of the fountain, using his juggling pins to tap out a slow beat. Upon noticing Strazio’s appearance his mellow jam session came to an abrupt halt. The defender of Darkshire stepped towards his friend and asked, “How long have you been waiting?”

“Dunno,” Gamzee said, “A while I guess. Had a lotta time to think, ponder the great mysteries of life y’know?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gamzee paused, taking a moment to stand, “Thinking about your offer. Y’know teachin’ me how to sling motherfucking spells and all that shit. Teachin’ me how to build my own chains, man.”

“And?”

“Let’s do it,” The troll half-grinned, “Teach me your ways magic man.”

Strazio responded, “Aight. I’ll teach you everything I know, but you’re gonna help me with some heavy lifting in the Moors. Sound good?”

“Brother, long as it’s righteous I’ve got your back.”

“Good.”

Without so much as another word the duo left for the Moors. Stepping through the gate they were greeted by the oppressive atmosphere of the hellish verse. The scent of mothballs and stale earth filled their nostrils. Night had swallowed the Moors, thrusting the entire verse into a dismal haze. A full moon sat proudly in the sky, casting a pale sheen of light upon the land. In the distance strange howls echoed across hills and valleys. There was a certain rhythm to the Moors, an almost indescribable essence that Strazio had come to recognize. This land belonged to the dead and they were trespassing upon such unhallowed ground. A icy gust of wind reminded the two that death was supreme here.

“Let’s move quickly,” Strazio said, “Darkshire is our only true sanctuary here.”

“I can hardly see,” Gamzee responded.

“Same here.”

Slowly the two trudged forth, with Strazio leading. Another howl, a wolf’s howl. Something was getting close. Gamzee’s knuckles turned a peculiar pale gray as he tightened his grip around his clubs. Shadows danced around the two; bushes and stones transformed into taunting gremlins. Still they pressed forward, through the nibbling shadows. In the distance a light gleamed, Darkshire, a priceless gem in a bag of coal. Miles of hostile darkness separated them from that precious beacon of light, and their pace was that of a turtle’s.

They had wandered into a forest, or rather the remains of a forest. Overhead hollow branches stretch, threatening to constrict what little light came from the moon. Another howl, closer than before. The two froze. Dry twigs and sticks cracked underneath the heavy steps of their unseen stalker. Strazio growled and shouted, “Whatever is out there better fuck off or I’ll-” His threat was left unfinished as a creature bolted at him from behind a tree. The sound of ripped cloth and a throaty yelp filled the air as Strazio’s gut was ripped asunder. Like a bolt of lightning the unseen creature charged back into the darkness, leaving nothing but a doubled-over prime.

“Motherfucker!” Gamzee exclaimed and ran over to his downed friend, “Did you see that shit? What happened?”

“I didn’t see shit!” Strazio yelled and clutched his bleeding stomach. Sparks of magic danced across his flesh and coalesced towards his gut. Five long gashes, left by a set of wicked claws, were carved across his belly. Using magick he cauterized the wounds and staunched the flow of blood. Strazio grunted and stood straight before speaking, “It moved so fast I barely caught a glimpse of it. Ain’t a wolf, I don’t think. Much bigger, much bigger.”

From the darkness the creature howled, reminding the two of its presence. Yellow eyes, large as baseballs, glared at the two from within a row of trees. It stepped forward and a shaft of moonlight caught it, revealing Strazio’s assailant. Indeed it was no wolf, for it stood on two hind legs, but it was closer to a wolf than a man. Matted gray-blue fur covered the beast. Instead of a mouth the creature had a muzzle lined with stained fangs. Fresh blood dripped from the beast’s claws. It let loose another howl, and charged towards Gamzee. The clown crossed his clubs and braced for impact. A train made of fur and claws slammed into the troll, pushing his to the ground. Fangs sunk deep into Gamzee’s shoulder, and he yelled loud enough to wake the dead. A burst of white magick, hot and vicious, erupted from Strazio’s palm. The wolf-man’s fur bristled in anticipation and he leaped away to avoid the incoming attack.
“He bit me Strawso! He bit me!” Gamzee yelled.

“For fucks sake, get up and help! I know you ain’t hurt.” Strazio yelled back.

In an almost unnecessary display of acrobatics Gamzee leaped to his feat. With a flourish he tossed his clubs into the air and caught them with opposite hands. The troll said, “Yeah, well, was still awfully rude of our canine friend here.”

“Let’s fuck him up.”

“Aight.”

The creature’s canine ears perked up, listening to something left unheard by the two primes. Two sharp sniffs of the air sent the creature running into the darkness. The duo deflated as magick fizzled and clubs were lowered. Strazio asked, “Is, is it gone?”

“Uh,” Gamzee responded, “I think we spooked it.”

“What the fuck just happened?” The mage asked no one in particular.

Shouting cut through the forest and the orange light of torches illuminated the darkness. A party of men were stomping through the forest, seeming to try and make as much noise as possible. Strazio and Gamzee stood waiting for the group in silence. A familiar face emerged from the forest, and behind him several soldiers followed. Sergeant Rumford’s eyebrows raised when his torch cast a light upon the two. His voice cracked and he asked, “Strazio? What the hell are you doing out here in the dark?”

“Oh you know, getting mauled by the local fauna, making new friends, that kind of stuff.”

“You don’t need to be snippy,” Rumford said, “Did you get attacked by it?”

“If by ‘it’ you mean a seven foot tall wolf-man-beast then yes, yes I did. What are you doing out here?”

“Hunting that werewolf.”

“Well you’re doing a shit job of it.” Strazio pointed to his fashionable new stomach wound.

“Come on brother, t’wasn’t that bad,” Gamzee chimed in, placing a palm on his friends shoulder, “You gonna introduce me to your friends?”

“I’m Sergeant Rumford, these are my soldiers. I take it your a friend of our chipper defender here?”

“Oh you fucking sassy-”

Before Strazio could finish Gamzee stepped forward and interrupted, “Gamzee Makara, pleased to make your acquaintance and stuff.”

“Likewise, if you’re a friend of Strazio, you’re a friend of mine.” Rumford paused, “We’re just heading back to Darkshire, you both look like you could use some torches. Want to tag along?”

“Uh, sure,” Gamzee responded, glancing over to Strazio for confirmation.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Strazio said.

The ensemble of soldier and primes began their slow trudge back towards Darkshire. The abundance of torches and weaponry seemed to stave off the undesirables hiding in the darkness. No more distant howls, and no more uneasy feeling. Strazio winced every now and again as his charred wound ripped open, spilling a small bit of blood. However Gamzee seemed largely unaffected by his new bite mark, in fact asides from the royal blood seeping from the puncture wounds he would’ve appeared quite healthy. The troll piped up and asked, “So uh, what was that thing?”

“Werewolf,” Rumford answered, “It’s a man afflicted by a disease called Lycanthropy. When the moon is bright the man turns into, well, you saw what he turned into. Any rate, me and my boys got the special honor to go an’ hunt ‘em down.”

“Well that’s pretty motherfuckin’ righteous.”

“Yeah well, we saw him once. Killed one of my men, but we managed to stick him with a few silver-tipped bolts.”

“Why silver-tipped?” Strazio asked.

“Silver is like poison to them, gets in their blood, makes ‘em sick. Usually it kills them, not sure how this one survived. Hell I’m not even sure if it’s the same one,” Rumford said, “We’re almost back, Strazio, you and your friend can stay at my place. I’ll make us a late night meal, but you should probably stop at Mama Godwin’s hut before you do and get some medicinal salve for you wounds. I don’t want you guys bleeding on everything.”

“Oh my, how thoughtful, make us get our own medicine.” Strazio said.

“You’ll be fine, after I’ve seen what you can go through I think you can handle it.” Rumford teased.

“Yeah we’ll be fine Strawso, just fine.” Gamzee said.

The party came to the gates of Darkshire and without much fanfare they were allowed in. Once they were past the gates the soldiers disbanded and left for the barracks. Rumford, after giving directions to the two primes, left for his home.