10-10-2016, 10:22 PM
Once again that sinking floating feel. Kuzuru’s guts twisted themselves into nice little knots. The world kept spinning and he stumbled to his knees. Every muscle in his abdomen tightened and he threw up his lunch. Scivo stepped back from the vomiting demon and said, “don’t worry, it’s that rough on everyone.” The demon growled and wiped the greasey spittle from his lips. He stood and scanned his surroundings.
Scivo had brought them to the crest of a grass-covered hill. Below them a village smoldered. Thick lazy clouds of ash and smoke drifted ever upwards. The wooden palisade that once surrounded the village was nothing more than a crumbling barricade. Inside the barrier sat several buildings in various states of decomposition. Kuzuru snorted and started to walk towards the Disciple’s ruin. Scivo followed behind, keeping a healthy distance between his companion. The demon found a gap in the palisade and stepped inside the fortress. He sniffed the air and snarled. Old blood hung heavy in the air and Kuzuru’s stomach turned. Visions of slaughter filled his head. Ash mixed with blood and formed a sickening sanguine char.
“My god,” Scivo muttered, “what is that smell?”
The demon chuckled, “that is the smell of conquest, the scent of death.”
The funny thing about burnt human flesh was that it was only the idea that it was once a living, breathing, human that gave its odor any repugnance. Hell once the carbon-rich skin burned away the fat and muscle underneath smelled similar to beef. Kuzuru enjoyed the bouquet of wicked scents that clung tight to every surface. An old quote came surfacing to his skull. “Fire washes the skin off the bone and the sin off the soul. It cleans away the dirt. And momma didn’t raise no dirty boy.” By the time they had arrived the fire had swallowed two of the buildings, leaving nothing but smoldering rubble. The other few had begun the slow process of flagration. Kuzuru sighed, not only did the fire wash away the dirt, but it also washed away any evidence.
From beneath the wreckage of what appeared to be some sort of armory a creature stirred. Tendrils of charred and black smoke swirled about, tearing through every nook and cranny of the crumbled building. Motes of cinder and ash performed pirouettes high into the sky. A humanoid figure began to take shape, roiling clouds of soot formed ethereal appendages. Sizzling coals formed furious eyes and with each passing moment the being became more and more grounded in reality. In a voice that fanned the flames of the village it asked, no, it demanded, “who encroaches upon my territory!?”
Kuzuru snickered, and Scivo edged further towards the nearest exit. The demon unzipped his jacket and spoke, “I gotta say, pretty flashy entrance there. I’m Kuzuru, leader of the Ashen Blades. Let me guess you’re the fiery ghost of christmas past?”
The flaming specter surged forward, leaving behind a trail of cinder. Once again it spoke, using its words to turn the village into a sweltering crucible, “I was once known as Agern, but now, now I am a furnace and hate is my fuel.”
“Agern,” Scivo whispered and then shouted, “Agern was the leader of the Disciples!”
“So, you’re the leader of these deadmen huh?” Kuzuru asked, motioning towards the burning carcasses. Agern did not answer, but seemed stopped moving. Eyes filled with flame, no, filled with animosity, scoured the area. The demon did not wait much longer before speaking again, “Ballad killed you all didn’t he?”
At this point the heat could not be paid to end. It was hot as hell, hell it was hotter than that. Kuzuru shed his jacket and ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. Agern seemed to stew for a moment, some deep internalized inferno swallowing his innards. A low rumbling crawled throughout the ruins and his voice thundered up towards the heavens, “he killed everyone and I will not rest until he is erased from this world. Even now I can feel him, he is linked to me and I to him. These chains of absolution bind me to him and I cannot rest until he is slain.”
“Then you’ll be glad to know that I’m looking to separate his head from his body,” Kuzuru said, “problem is, I’m not sure where the green-skinned bastard is.”
The fires simmered down to a low broil. The specter spoke, his voice still imperial and commanding, “you plan to kill him?”
“Aye.”
“My strength does not extend far from here, so I cannot assist you in your hunt.”
Kuzuru smiled, “is that so?” He stepped closer to Agern and removed his sunglasses. With a smooth sweetness in his voice the demon spoke, “I think we could help each other here Agern. You want Ballad dead and know where he is, but have no means to reach him. I on the other hand can reach him so long as I can find him.”
“What are you getting at?” Agern asked, his fire turning into nothing more than a few embers.
“My body is a vessel that can contain souls my fiery companion,” Kuzuru said, pacing to the side of his new companion, “allow me to swallow yours and you would be free to leave this place. Then you could lead me to Ballad and see his demise firsthand -- hell I might even let you take control of the ol’ meatpuppet for a few swings.”
“Tempting proposition,” the specter said, “but how do I know that you’ll live up to your end of the bargain?”
“You don’t, you’ll have to take a chance,” Kuzuru said and smiled, “but, unless he comes waltzing back here you can’t exactly hunt him down yourself can you?”
“No,” Agern admitted, his body had condensed into nothing more than wisps of grey smoke and dying coals. After a moment of deliberation he spoke once more, “fine, I’ll accept your offer devil, but I warn you -- betray me and burn.”
“Hop on in,” Kuzuru said and opened his mouth.
Scivo watched in horror as tendrils of fire and ash rocketed into Kuzuru’s gaping maw. In one frightening instant the demon turned into a hellish vacuum cleaner, intent on swallowing every last bit of flame. Agern disappeared into the vortex, pulled apart and disseminated amongst the char. It lasted but a moment, but the spectacle seemed to warp the perception of time itself. At the end Kuzuru shuddered, belched a cloud of soot, and uttered one word -- spicy. The temperature had dropped several hundred degrees and there were no more fires left. Kuzuru shrugged his jacket back on and sauntered over to the mage. He grinned and said, “alright, got what we came here for Scivo. ‘Bout time I head back, my friends must be worried sick about me. Can you take me back?”
“Yeah,” Scivo muttered, “sure.”
The other three were already waiting for their leaders return by the time Kuzuru managed to make his way back to the meeting point. They appeared to be empty-handed asides from some scraps of hearsay. Not wanting to get wrapped up in the coming storm Scivo had left. Gaige was the first one to ask, “soooo… did ya find anything?”
“Oh,” Kuzuru chuckled, “I think I found exactly what we were looking for. Dress warm kids, ‘cause we’re heading for the North Pole.”
Scivo had brought them to the crest of a grass-covered hill. Below them a village smoldered. Thick lazy clouds of ash and smoke drifted ever upwards. The wooden palisade that once surrounded the village was nothing more than a crumbling barricade. Inside the barrier sat several buildings in various states of decomposition. Kuzuru snorted and started to walk towards the Disciple’s ruin. Scivo followed behind, keeping a healthy distance between his companion. The demon found a gap in the palisade and stepped inside the fortress. He sniffed the air and snarled. Old blood hung heavy in the air and Kuzuru’s stomach turned. Visions of slaughter filled his head. Ash mixed with blood and formed a sickening sanguine char.
“My god,” Scivo muttered, “what is that smell?”
The demon chuckled, “that is the smell of conquest, the scent of death.”
The funny thing about burnt human flesh was that it was only the idea that it was once a living, breathing, human that gave its odor any repugnance. Hell once the carbon-rich skin burned away the fat and muscle underneath smelled similar to beef. Kuzuru enjoyed the bouquet of wicked scents that clung tight to every surface. An old quote came surfacing to his skull. “Fire washes the skin off the bone and the sin off the soul. It cleans away the dirt. And momma didn’t raise no dirty boy.” By the time they had arrived the fire had swallowed two of the buildings, leaving nothing but smoldering rubble. The other few had begun the slow process of flagration. Kuzuru sighed, not only did the fire wash away the dirt, but it also washed away any evidence.
From beneath the wreckage of what appeared to be some sort of armory a creature stirred. Tendrils of charred and black smoke swirled about, tearing through every nook and cranny of the crumbled building. Motes of cinder and ash performed pirouettes high into the sky. A humanoid figure began to take shape, roiling clouds of soot formed ethereal appendages. Sizzling coals formed furious eyes and with each passing moment the being became more and more grounded in reality. In a voice that fanned the flames of the village it asked, no, it demanded, “who encroaches upon my territory!?”
Kuzuru snickered, and Scivo edged further towards the nearest exit. The demon unzipped his jacket and spoke, “I gotta say, pretty flashy entrance there. I’m Kuzuru, leader of the Ashen Blades. Let me guess you’re the fiery ghost of christmas past?”
The flaming specter surged forward, leaving behind a trail of cinder. Once again it spoke, using its words to turn the village into a sweltering crucible, “I was once known as Agern, but now, now I am a furnace and hate is my fuel.”
“Agern,” Scivo whispered and then shouted, “Agern was the leader of the Disciples!”
“So, you’re the leader of these deadmen huh?” Kuzuru asked, motioning towards the burning carcasses. Agern did not answer, but seemed stopped moving. Eyes filled with flame, no, filled with animosity, scoured the area. The demon did not wait much longer before speaking again, “Ballad killed you all didn’t he?”
At this point the heat could not be paid to end. It was hot as hell, hell it was hotter than that. Kuzuru shed his jacket and ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. Agern seemed to stew for a moment, some deep internalized inferno swallowing his innards. A low rumbling crawled throughout the ruins and his voice thundered up towards the heavens, “he killed everyone and I will not rest until he is erased from this world. Even now I can feel him, he is linked to me and I to him. These chains of absolution bind me to him and I cannot rest until he is slain.”
“Then you’ll be glad to know that I’m looking to separate his head from his body,” Kuzuru said, “problem is, I’m not sure where the green-skinned bastard is.”
The fires simmered down to a low broil. The specter spoke, his voice still imperial and commanding, “you plan to kill him?”
“Aye.”
“My strength does not extend far from here, so I cannot assist you in your hunt.”
Kuzuru smiled, “is that so?” He stepped closer to Agern and removed his sunglasses. With a smooth sweetness in his voice the demon spoke, “I think we could help each other here Agern. You want Ballad dead and know where he is, but have no means to reach him. I on the other hand can reach him so long as I can find him.”
“What are you getting at?” Agern asked, his fire turning into nothing more than a few embers.
“My body is a vessel that can contain souls my fiery companion,” Kuzuru said, pacing to the side of his new companion, “allow me to swallow yours and you would be free to leave this place. Then you could lead me to Ballad and see his demise firsthand -- hell I might even let you take control of the ol’ meatpuppet for a few swings.”
“Tempting proposition,” the specter said, “but how do I know that you’ll live up to your end of the bargain?”
“You don’t, you’ll have to take a chance,” Kuzuru said and smiled, “but, unless he comes waltzing back here you can’t exactly hunt him down yourself can you?”
“No,” Agern admitted, his body had condensed into nothing more than wisps of grey smoke and dying coals. After a moment of deliberation he spoke once more, “fine, I’ll accept your offer devil, but I warn you -- betray me and burn.”
“Hop on in,” Kuzuru said and opened his mouth.
Scivo watched in horror as tendrils of fire and ash rocketed into Kuzuru’s gaping maw. In one frightening instant the demon turned into a hellish vacuum cleaner, intent on swallowing every last bit of flame. Agern disappeared into the vortex, pulled apart and disseminated amongst the char. It lasted but a moment, but the spectacle seemed to warp the perception of time itself. At the end Kuzuru shuddered, belched a cloud of soot, and uttered one word -- spicy. The temperature had dropped several hundred degrees and there were no more fires left. Kuzuru shrugged his jacket back on and sauntered over to the mage. He grinned and said, “alright, got what we came here for Scivo. ‘Bout time I head back, my friends must be worried sick about me. Can you take me back?”
“Yeah,” Scivo muttered, “sure.”
The other three were already waiting for their leaders return by the time Kuzuru managed to make his way back to the meeting point. They appeared to be empty-handed asides from some scraps of hearsay. Not wanting to get wrapped up in the coming storm Scivo had left. Gaige was the first one to ask, “soooo… did ya find anything?”
“Oh,” Kuzuru chuckled, “I think I found exactly what we were looking for. Dress warm kids, ‘cause we’re heading for the North Pole.”