Quest of the ancient god, p.32
Quest of the Ancient God, page 32
We both chuckle grimly as we half jog to catch up with the rest of them. There was a time when I got along with Farnulf, but he has been the odd man out for years. Now, I feel like another odd man out.
Exiting the tunnel, I see an arc of men and Alfar, probably DokkAlfar, with guns facing us. I recognize the group of three men standing behind the firing line. Herodotus, one of the Bohemian Cats, and Graham. Seeing Graham and Herodotus together is not a surprise, but seeing them here, waiting for us, is one.
“A faggot bitch, a dickless backstabbing bitch, and a plain old bitch, who watched the cunt he was lusting after get used by a DokkAlfar lesbo, what a fucking collection of shit.” Brand's voice is only at a conversational volume, but with his Power, it echoes from the walls of the canyon.
The Bohemian Cat laughs. “I never thought you would deliver yourself to me like this. This time I'm going to torture you, but you won't be coming back. You're not connected to Woden's respawn system.”
Brand looks around, sneering. “You think that getting fifty-odd more faggots to help you will give you a chance against me?”
The DokkAlfar are dressed in chainmail made from that black metal they love, but the humans are dressed in Earth-style fatigues and keffiyeh, those Middle Eastern head-scarves. All of them have assault rifles. I do not recognize the model, but it looks like they were based off the FN SCAR-H.
“We have guns, asshole!”
“Steel is stubbornness.” I mumble the mnemonic under my breath and cast the pattern sight spell on my eyes.
Brand laughs. “I see you're with that stupid faggot Herodotus, but really, what kind of moronic, twink bitch brings a gun to a sword fight?”
“Kill them! All of them! Open fire!” As he screams in English, the Bohemian Cat's face twists into an ugly expression.
Brrrraaaaaapppppp! Brrrraaaaaapppppp! Brrrraaaaaapppppp!
Brand's Wytch and the bobble-head girl release their spells. One is a shield of shimmering silvery Power and the other is a wall of wind. Bullets ricochet away from the spells with some flying back into our attackers.
“I want the three behind the line alive.”
As soon as he gives his command, Brand charges forward. I did not see him draw them, but his short swords are already in his hands. As he charges forward in a straight line, he turns into shadowy semi-translucent figure. Hundreds of rounds hit the ground around him or pass through his general area, but none of them touch him.
With the attackers focused on Brand, his two DokkAlfar and Tyrend break to the right, and Dacbold goes to the left. I race after Dacbold, and Farnulf trails behind me.
The humans seem faster than normal humans, but they are not real Adepts. By the time they bring their guns to bear on us, the only one not among them is Farnulf. The faster gunmen die from arrows fired by the six gladiators that stayed behind with their steel bows.
A few bullets hit Dacbold's shield and mine, but they have no chance of penetrating the nearly inch thick slabs of metal. Dacbold is already chopping apart the ragheads, and I add a torrent of my own blows to the carnage.
As some of their number start to fall, the others scream at us in something that sounds like the Iraqi babble I heard back during Desert Storm and cannot remember the name of. Too many of my memories from that time are getting clouded.
*Is that Iraqi?*
*Farsi.* Farnulf's single word reply carries a tone of disgust, and he lands into the ragheads on the farthest edge of their flank.
“Aiiieeee!” “Aaaaarrrrr!” “Aaarrrgh!”
Brand is like a ghost, moving and killing the DokkAlfar while remaining untouched. Every stab form his short swords looks slow, but each one unerringly hits his target in the groin.
In less than a minute, the only survivors are Herodotus, Graham, and the Bohemian Cat. All of them are staring at Brand in wide-eyed terror, and none of them dares to attack.
“You know, Graham, it's too bad Mungo died. I think he'd taken a fancy to your asshole.” Brand's smirk is as threatening as the the blood-dripping swords in his hands.
Graham shows a look of disgust before schooling his face into a neutral expression. Whoever this Mungo was, I do not think Graham liked him much.
Tyrend laughs. “Poor Mungo, he would be so hurt to see you with that expression, but you, Sandor, Mungo would be so happy to see you. How many times did he ass-fuck you in the arena before you became a real gladiator? Forty? Fifty? More? I really can't remember.”
Sandor. Yes, that was that Cat's name. I never like his obnoxious attitude during the Great Fuck Over.
“Go fuck yourself! You … Ooofff!” Sandor's outburst is cut off by Brand's fist in his balls. He falls to his knees, gasping for air.
Brand grabs Sandor's SCAR and throws it away. “You two drop the guns, or I'll cut your hands off before I kick you in the nuts.”
Herodotus drops his gun so fast one would think that it was burning his hands, but Graham looks around, weighing his chances. When Brand grins at him, Graham shivers and drops his gun, too.
For as long as I have know him, Herodotus has been a coward. He has never realized that we were acquainted on Earth a long time ago. Once he started playing MMOs, he maintained a blog about the games he played. H would brag about his position as a history professor, trying to show off and be seen as some kind of expert. After he started playing Taereun, he constantly posted about his character “Mighty Herodotus” and all of his so-called achievements. Only, the noobiest of noobs ever took him seriously, and he was too arrogant to ever realize everyone else saw him as a pathetic joke.
No matter what he may try to promote himself as, I have always know what he really is, as sick pedophile. When I met him, he was a proud and vocal proponent of man-boy love. The sick fuck used what everyone thought was just a game to act out his fantasies of grooming prepubescent boys for serving older men. He probably did the same thing on Earth, but he was a university professor with the proper progressive political ideologies so there were plenty of people that would have willingly covered up any acts of child sexual abuse he committed.
*What are you going to do with Herodotus?*
Brand looks at me. *Why do you care about what happens to him?*
*He's a homosexual pedophile. We should kill him.*
*What about Graham and Sandor? I'm gonna kill all three of them.*
*Do whatever you want with Sandor, but Graham is my friend. Don't kill him!*
Brand laughs, but his tone of voice is nasty. “You get all bent out of shape because I want to kill your friend Graham, but you want me to kill Herodotus because he's a faggot pedophile? I don't have a problem killing the sick fuck, but why the fuck is okay to kill him but not others? Tell me, Thorrin!”
Herodotus stares at me with an arrogant expression. Does that sick fuck think he has an ace in the hole that will get Brand to free him?
I stare coldly at Brand. “I had a cousin who was raped by a homosexual who was a family friend. We practically grew up as brothers, but I never knew. He committed suicide before he turned twenty.”
“Herodotus was that pedophile?”
My words come out through clenched teeth. “No.”
“What the fuck? You have a family member raped by a homo pedophile, and Herodotus is homo pedophile so it's okay to kill you to him. Your friend Graham swore himself to Woden. All of Woden's followers are out to kill me. So, why is it okay for you to kill Herodotus and not okay for me to kill Graham.”
I do not have an answer for Brand, and I do not know what to do, except glare at him.
Brand sneers at me. “If you were strong enough, you could just say, 'I have the Power, and I want it that way so fuck off.' But you don't have the Power. This isn't Earth, Thorrin. There's no Tyranny of the Weak here. You're hung up on bullshit Earth morality, and it's kept you weak. I owe you so I'm not going to hurt you, but other people don't owe you. What happens when you challenge someone with Power and an attitude? Get your head out of your ass! Wake the fuck up! If you don't, you're going to get fucking killed!”
I look at Dacbold, and he looks back with a face like an expressionless mask. The nonsense Brand is spouting sounds just like that crap Dacbold has been spewing for years. I turn back to Brand. “Sacrificing everything that makes you human for Power is wrong. As twisted as Earth has become, the old morals and ethics we once had are good. Protecting the weak is not wrong. Justice for all is not wrong. Equality for everyone is not wrong.”
“Bullshit! That just keeps everyone weak. It stifles those who could be strong. But if you really believe that, get strong enough to enforce those rules on everyone around you and do it! Build a society, a nation, an empire that is based on those rules. Make everyone live by them. If you're right, your country will flourish. If you're wrong, it will be lost to the dust of history.”
I shake my head. “You have become the biggest asshole I have ever met.”
Brand smiles. “Good. I've been working hard at it. Now, if you have the Power to do it, stop me from torturing and killing these fucks. If you don't, get the fuck out of my way.”
I do not need to look around to know that Farnulf is the only one that might stand with me against Brand, but he is too weak to make a difference. He would be lucky to last against me, and I can barely see Brand move sometimes. Forget about stopping him.
Walking past them, I head for the path up to the goblin lair.
Thump!
“Aaarrrgh!”
“So, tell me, Sandor! Who brings a gun to a sword fight?”
The Gate to Earth
*** Four Bones Goblin Lair – Battleground of the Damned ***
Return: Day 337
(Brand)
The red sand and sandstone of the valley are stained with a new, darker red. Pools, streaks, and splatters of blood cover the ground near the spider tunnel. Corpses Body parts litter the ground, turning the valley into an open air charnel house. I have created much bigger ones in the past, but this one is more satisfying than most. Most of these corpses are from Earth.
Sandor, Herodotus, and Graham are all bloody and bruised, with their hands manacled behind their backs. I have not questioned them. I have not tortured them. I have only slapped them around a little, but it is hard to hold my strength to a level where I do not seriously injure them. Herodotus is in worse shape than the other two, but I hate pedophile fags more than I hate the normal ones.
Since fighting the SvartAlfar, I am changing more rapidly than ever. My training routine has been limited because I have been away from Gor'achen for so much of the time, but my strength and speed continue to grow. Once again, I have no idea what my limits are, but I do not have the luxury of experimenting, right now.
I look at the earrings that these three and all of their troops were wearing. Their patterns are exactly the same as the ones used in the helmets of Darius' guards in Emer. I have no desire to ever return to Emer, but I think I need to have a little talk with Darius. He will not like it, even if he survives.
“Graham, it seems like you three have been back to Earth. What is waiting for me in South Dakota?”
There is not much reaction from them. They are connected to Woden's resurrection system after all. They do not think they have anything to fear. They think they can just die and be respawn again.
“Do you know violet eyes mean among the Alfar?”
When Valcrit takes off his helmet and stares at the three, Graham is the only one that becomes afraid, but he has been a slave in Gor'achen after all. Even if Sandor was a slave in Gor'achen, he seems to still be far too arrogant and stupid to have ever paid proper attention and learned.
“I'm not surprised you understand, Graham. You're not a faggot pedophile like the other two.”
“I'm not a faggot!” Sandor's snarl reveals the hate that fills his Soul.
“You don't deny being a pedophile, but then you were always looking to bag Mike's sister when she was twelve and you were eighteen.”
“Fuck you, McGuinness! AAAARRRR!”
My kick in his balls leave Sandor curled up in a ball on the ground.
“Yeah, I figured out which one the merry little shits you were on Earth.”
I stare coldly at Graham. “Now that the noisy, faggot, pedophile bitch is quiet, we can talk. You understand what violet eyes mean. I could just have Valcrit rip what I want out of your minds, but it's more fun to torture you three.”
“Elan, show them that little party trick of yours.”
“Of course.” Elan releases the spells she had cast earlier, and a spell pattern streaks into each of them.
“Did you know Elan is a Wytch? Two of you bitches should already know that, but do you know what it means?”
None of them can completely hide their nervousness, but Graham is the most afraid. He was an engineer on Earth, and he studied the uses of Power on Taereun when he thought it was all just a game. He probably has some idea of what Wytches can do.
“That spell she put on the three of you binds your Souls to your Bodies. You can't respawn until it's gone. Even suicide won't let you escape form me.” I smile at my three soon to be victims.
“Valcrit, take them apart if you need to, but just make sure they can feel the pain when I kill them.”
“Yes, Master.” Even in the sourceless, mid-afternoon light, Valcrit's eyes glow with a strong violet light of their own.
More than an hour passes, while Valcrit sucks them dry of information. When he finishes, he salutes and hands me a Power crystal. I do not bother waiting to absorb the knowledge this time. After my experience in Talon's body and experimenting with the Power crystal that had Jinmu's memories, I worked out a fast method of integrating the knowledge into my memories. It only takes a five or ten minutes to complete the process.
None of these three ass-fuckers knows how to open the gate in the goblin caves. It is always opened from the other side on a fixed schedule. There are still four days until the next scheduled opening of the gate.
While staring at Graham, I shake my head, sadly. “It's such a shame, Graham. Your Postmen wanted you and Alva gone. Herodotus and Sulius had a deal with Aluras'bektsh'tar. You and Alva were the payment for being aided in expanding into the Atran'ler Empire. Just ask the faggot.”
As Graham looks at Herodotus, his expression is that of a man who has just been kicked in the balls. I am very familiar with that expression, having see it on thousands upon thousands of men's faces.
“Herodotus, why?”
Herodotus does not meet Graham's eyes. “Alva was an arrogant cunt, and you were always sniffing after her reeking, disgusting, female reproductive organs. You never saw how she had alienated the entire guild council, or if you saw, you refused to acknowledge it. It all started before the Greatest God's second harvest. After I got back to the Battleground of the Damned, I never told anyone that I was one of the Damned. They thought everything was still a game, but when it became real for them too, they moved even faster to get rid of Alva and you. Only Heller and Colby were not willing to move against you, but they never warned you either, did they?”
Graham laughs bitterly. “If you hand not planned my betrayal, I would never have been put in this position. I never wanted to be involved in this insanity.”
Herodotus' laugh is mocking. “If you had not been a filthy breeder, you would never have been tied to the filthy bitch. You are getting exactly what you deserve.
“AAAAAARRRRR!”
I drag Herodotus up by the hair and kick him in the balls again. “I'm curious faggot, do you know why my father taught me about the dead zones in the social camera coverage?”
Since he is slow answering, I slap Herodotus in the face a few times. “You're not answering my question, bitch.”
“I don't know. I don't know!” With snot and tears running down his face, Herodotus is practically sobbing.
“I would be amazed if you did. When I was eight years old, I had a wonderful LGBT teacher who took me into the school's utility room. You see there were no social cameras there, since there are almost never any social cameras in utility rooms, and there were no LCD or LED monitors that could be used as cameras with the right software. As an extra special bonus, the magnetic field generated by all that wiring blocked WiFi imaging.
“When that wonderful LGBT teacher started trying to stuff his hand down my pants, I didn't like it. I punched him in the balls. I think it was the first time I ever hit anyone in the balls. The way the faggot crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut is probably what gave me my love for hitting men in the balls.
“That wonderful teacher tried to get me expelled and sent to reform school, but because there were no social cameras, there was no evidence. Because of my father, good ole Jinmu probably brought some pressure to bear, and everything went away.
“After that, my father taught me how to avoid social cameras. I may have only been eight, but I was smart enough to understand that no evidence meant they can't persecute you. So, that's how I learned there was a way I could deal with the wimps that thought they could bully the fat white kid. Cool story, ain't it?”
My slap knocks out a few of Herodotus' teeth. “You didn't answer my question.”
“Yes, cool story. It's a cool story.”
I smile. “I love hurting you so much, I almost forgot the point of it.
“Graham, nothing is ever what it seems. The parents though that faggot was a great teacher. Even after the incident, no one ever learned truth. The truth is never what it seems to be. Woden isn't trying to help you. This faggot is why you were enslaved, and he's one of Woden's boys. Why serve Woden?”
Graham smiles forlornly. “I made my choices already. Some choices can't be unmade.”
I want to turn Graham against Woden, but I am not good at dealing with people. I do not understand how they think and how to manipulate them. If he wants to remain loyal to Woden, killing him removes him from the ranks of the dedicated followers, but even when I suck at the game, losing pisses me off.
“There won't be a respawn. Rest in peace.”
