I hate writer's block. I hate it.
You know how in your usual session of church, or synagogue, or mosque, or wherever else your parents drag you to sit through a three-hour sermon, and the priest talks about that one enemy that needs to be smote by mankind and mankind alone?
Yeah, well, that enemy isn't Satan…it's writer's block. THAT's the enemy that needs to be demolished. No form of torture concocted in the depths of hell could ever top the agony of writer's block. It sucks. It fucking SUCKS.
(DEEP BREATH). Well, with that out of the way, let me warn you that the following chapter was split into two to avoid reader's fatigue. So if the chapter after this one feels rushed, you'll know that it takes place directly after this one.
Enjoy!
Chapter 10: Strife of a Broken Resolve - Part 1
SharpClaw Slaveyard,Titania Desert,
….several hours later, lost in the endless time span of the heat….
The twin suns began to set upon the peaks of the towering sand dunes, causing the sky to split between hues of streaking red and orange.
Dust coiled in the cooled wind, the evening's anticipation to arrive on the parched desert present in the air. The native scavenging birds, the Temengru Buzzards, circled the sky with restless impatience as they scoured the area for signs of decaying life.
The quiet setting of dusk was soon interrupted by the loud blaring of a deep and vibrating horn.
The slaves in the restricted walls of the slave-yard, fresh and worn alike, looked up at the sound.
A SharpClaw Elite standing on the North wall bellowed in their direction, pointing his claw to the battered brick wall to his left.
"Today's work session is over! All slaves, return to your barracks, now!"
The slaves waited for the ragged-looking workers in rags to undo their shackles before tossing their pick-axes, shovels, and other tools on the ground with groans of relief and relaxation. The newer arrivals fell over and staggered out of their chains, their bodies unused to the harsh demand for physical strength for the grueling work.
Fsshh!
One more tool fell into the sand, the grip stained with blood.
Wolf fell to his knees and panted, with harsh and heavy breaths just barely escaping his mouth. Every bone in his body seemed to scream in silent pain as every movement seemed to stretch out too far in their state of aching. His heart's continuous pounding seemed to deafen his ears, and his vision seemed somewhat hazy, his own hands planted in the sand seeming more blurry by the second. Every muscle seemed to take hours to get back into function, and the intense heat that tugged at his thirst made his stinging throat feel like insects had built a nest in the back of his mouth. It wasn't as horrible as the dying thirst he had felt in the desert, but it was still pretty bad.
Once his consciousness overcame his exhaustion, thoughts began to circulate back into his mind.
If I survive through all this… He thought. The first thing I'm doing is shaving off all this Goddamn fur…
It's supposed to keep me warm…well, it's doing one hell of a job, because I'm freaking roasting!
Blood gushed over the sand from the open cuts in Wolf's hands, causing him to seethe as he curled his fist and tightened it to reduce the bleeding. Hours of shattering rocks and reopening blisters that had reopened before had made the palms of his hands raw. He had managed to cover all the work of all ten slaves, but at the cost of his stamina and hands.
Looking down with a disgruntled sigh at his grubby muscle shirt, Wolf tore off a chunk from the bottom.
Rrr-r-rtch!
Wrapping the makeshift bandages around his hand, he bit the corner of the cloth with his teeth and pulled back, tightening it around his palms.
He tried to pull down on his muscle-shirt.
I probably look like a homeless person now…
Probably smell like one too….
Wolf shook his head as he thought about it. He hadn't had the means or the chance to bathe in days. He probably smelled worse than Pigma by now…
No. He cleared that thought away immediately. I could roll around in my own shit and probably smell nicer than him…blegh…
He remembered those exaggerated stories Riley had been talking about, about all the great things the mighty Star Wolf had done.
Tch…I wish everyone could see the great Star Wolf now…he's nothing more than a sack of bones…
Then he looked away sulkily. Not that they would recognize me anyway…
I don't exist…
He tried to clench his fists in that angst-driven way he usually did, but he didn't have the energy, and didn't want the blood from the wounds to seep through the bandages.
Clink!
He looked down, and saw a slave working at his chains, recognizing him as the same, expressionless jackal that Drakon had used as a demonstration earlier. He kept his head lowered meekly and kept his eyes on Wolf's chains, his nimble fingers undoing the locks and springs on the shackles with remarkable speed and effortlessness.
Clank!
The chains detached from Wolf's ankles and slid onto the ground limply, and the slave got up and started to trudge away.
"Thanks," Wolf said in a weary but grateful voice.
The jackal didn't turn his head to acknowledge his gratitude, but nodded at the sound of his voice, before lowering his head back into his usual dip of humility.
It's pointless… Wolf thought. He can't understand me.
He nodded, though…so at least he can hear me…
He looked down at his chains.
He didn't even use a key to unlock those…he just used his hands to undo the spring in the lock…
Wolf looked up again. Maybe these slaves aren't as mentally wasted as they seem…
With some grunting and rubbing of sore joints, Wolf made his way across the slave-yard towards the barracks where everyone else was going.
As he past the tents where the SharpClaw stayed, his eyes soon fell on the towering fortress wall, and he was once again reminded with a visual reminder that he was in another prison. He was grateful that he wasn't in a cell so far away from the exit, like in Denique Fatum, but his chances of escape were about as slim as they were there.
Plus, my escape was easier because I had my Inner Power to back me up…
Now, for some reason, it doesn't want to work…
Now…when I need it the most…
But he was too weary from the day's work to rack at his mind for any plan for escape. All he wanted to do now is to collapse on some flat surface in some form of shade and forget everything that had happened over the past few days.
Sher-WOOPAAAKKK!
Wolf's ears twitched as he heard the sound of a whip cracking in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of a sharp cry.
Suddenly, his exhaustion and aches seemed insignificant as he turned around to see what was happening.
A SharpClaw Elite was standing over the cowering body of a young woman, a sand-colored feline with a grubby and bruised face, clad in the ragged remains of a dress with a heavy-looking bundle latched around her shoulders like sack. The Elite's mouth was covered, but his eyes were blazing and maddened. His whip cracked relentlessly near the defeated-looking girl, as he bellowed angrily at her.
"GET UP! Useless bitch!" He yelled, aiming a kick at her legs. "Get your ass up and clean that mess. Now!"
He jabbed his whip in the direction of a cluttered pile of clay shards lying next to her, the obvious remains of a now-broken pot that she had dropped. The sand beneath it was damp and wet, indicating the presence of water from the inside of the pot, now being swallowed by the greedy sand.
The woman shakily recoiled and hurriedly began scraping up shards into her hands, her quivering so much that half of them cut her hands with their sharp edges.
"Faster!" The SharpClaw spat. "FASTER!" He swung his whip down.
Shrrr-TAAKKK!
The feline let out a small but pained scream as the whip's knotted, scarring ends lashed deeply into her exposed ankles, causing her to drop the pile of shards.
The SharpClaw roared furiously and grabbed the woman by the fur on her head, pulling back with his digging claws so that she yelped while being hoisted up and being forced to stand.
Wolf took a step forward, an urge of combined pity and anger daring him to step in and help. But he stopped himself from taking another step and turned away with a sudden change of mind.
No…
Don't get involved…this isn't your problem… he told himself firmly.
You've done enough heroics for one day…and it hasn't gotten you anywhere…
Painfully acknowledging his bandaged hands, he forced himself to turn away.
He looked around and saw that other slaves were watching too, most of them with looks of horrified sympathy and anguish.
They'll probably do something…
Yeah…there's always some heroic idiot like Fox who'll step up…
Someone else will take a stand…
With much effort, Wolf urged himself to walk away, unsuccessfully buying the excuse that leaving was the best option.
CLUMP!
The Elite dragged the woman by her fur and threw her down roughly into the soggy heap of mud created by the water, causing her to grovel in the mud fearfully.
"Useless, trashy piece of filth...you waste perfectly good water, a perfectly good pot…because you screwed up out of your own stupidity! Give me a reason why I shouldn't waste a worthless hide like yours!"
SLAM!
He aimed a savage kick to her ribs, and she screamed and coughed as she struggled for breath, clutching her chest.
Wolf stopped walking away and looked back. The pitiful sight ripped at his emotions, his mind telling him to stay out of it, but his feet remained rooted in the ground.
Keep walking… He forced into his head. Just keep walking…
You don't have to do anything…
Someone else will take care of it…someone always does…
Clenching his teeth and fighting the hollow void of helplessness in his stomach, he forced his foot forward and walked away with difficulty and effort that was much more painful than any kind of labor in the sun.
As the woman's muffled cries of pain and the sound of flesh being beaten tugged at his ears, Wolf's steps became heavier. He tried to ignore the yearn of human sympathy….he tried to remain ignorant to the sting of the cries in the woman's strained voice…
Just keep walking…keep walking…
It's not your problem…she's a total stranger…
You're not the type who defends the likes of her…
Just keep walking…
His eyes were fixed on the group of slaves watching the scene, expecting one of them to go ahead and stand up for her. Someone would…
Someone had to…
More SharpClaw began to gather around the woman, cackling and jeering as she tried to hide her mud-stained face in her hands, too humiliated and afraid to let herself be seen.
"Tch. Don't waste your time with this piece of crap!"
"Look at her…wallowing in the mud like a mongrel. Heh…pathetic."
Soon, they all started taking turns kicking at her weak, muddy body and spitting on her, prodding her like a dumb animal with the coils of their whips and forcing her back into the mud.
Wolf stopped in his tracks. That was it…he couldn't keep walking away anymore. He turned around, refusing to leave until he received the safe sight of someone stepping in to help the woman.
But no one did. No one stepped forward. They all stood there, watching her with pained and sympathetic expressions, but none of them with the courage or humanity in them to stand up for her.
Wolf stood there, looking at all of them with shock.
No one's going to step in?
Does no one have enough sympathy to stand up for her?
What kind of men are they?
He stood there, waiting for the defensive aid that would never come. He couldn't believe it. There wasn't one decent man among them, let alone a hero, to step up.
The shock and disbelief inside Wolf was soon replaced with hot anger.
I don't understand a single damn one of these cowards!
What's the matter with them? A defenseless, crippled woman is being beaten right in front of them, and all they can do is stand and watch?
As the heated and angry disbelief rose and fell in Wolf's stomach, he looked around and realized that he was no better than they were. He hadn't stepped in to help…
That's different… He said firmly but guiltily at the same time. I've never been one to stand up for the weak…
I always left that kind of work up to chumps like Fox…
I didn't expect everyone to act like him…but I didn't expect this!
As the kicking, jeering and spitting continued, Wolf couldn't stand there anymore. Looking around with helpless and agitated disgust at the lack of support, he took a deep breath as he forced himself to walk back.
"HEY! What's all this about?"
The SharpClaw stopped grinning and backed away from the cowering girl, as they turned to see Drakon standing a few feet away.
Wolf's eyes darted from the feline to Drakon with frantic anxiety. Shit!
The first Elite who had started it jabbed a claw in the feline's direction. "It's the girl, Drakon. She's screwed up again. This time, she dropped a pot of water for the supply tub in the barracks. It's all broken now…and the water's spoiled, and no better than piss because of this brat!"
Drakon turned his gaze to the defeated-looking and scared feline, his eyes faltering to a state of loathing and irritation. "Oh, this one? She's been giving me trouble all week. Breaking pots, spoiling water, letting food rot, lagging behind in her work…she's useless. Disgusting little wretch…the only purpose she would serve is to be food for the Temengru, but even they would probably reject her."
He began to circle her like a vulture, studying her while she crawled back and shielded herself with her arms, as if expecting another blow. As he walked around her Wolf drew nearer, watching his movements cautiously.
"I don't know why she's performing so poorly, unless something his weighing or slowing her down. But what could it be? She's in perfect health…she's only been here two weeks…and she isn't mentally crippled like the slaves that have been her longer….so what's her disability?"
He stopped in front of her, and she looked up with wide eyes.
"You, girl," He said sharply. "Get up."
The feline leapt to her feet hurriedly, already scarred from the others and not daring to test Drakon's patience to find out what he would do to her.
He looked at her legs. "You're moving too slow…something is slowing you down, like a weight. What is it? Is one of your legs broken?"
The woman's eyes were large and fearful, but her mouth remained closed with a sealing quiver, not speaking at all.
SMAKK!
Drakon's hand swept past her face in a blur, slapping her across the cheek so hard that she staggered back with a whimper.
"Are you deaf? I asked you a question!"
The woman cringed back so much that she seemed to shrink, looking so small and defenseless with the towering SharpClaw around her.
Wolf took a furious step forward, so determined that a slave behind him unsuccessfully tried to grab and stop him.
Drakon's lip curled up and twitched fumingly. "You trashy, pathetic, useless little whore! Answer me, NOW!"
He raised his massive fist and stormed forward, causing the girl to recoil in timid fear. Her hand shot up and clutched the bundle around her chest, almost protectively.
Drakon's glowering eyes traveled sharply to her hand, taking notice of the way she held the bundle. Wolf's eyes were also fixed on the bundle, confused at the way she held it as well.
Then, inside the cloth, there was a soft stirring noise, and the bundle moved.
The feline's face turned stark white.
Wolf blinked. Did that bundle just…move?
Drakon narrowed his eyes. "What's this?"
Wolf looked with confusion as the girl's widened with terror, her breath so fast it seemed like she was going to faint right there on the spot.
"What's in that bundle of rags?" Drakon repeated.
The girl clutched the bundle tightly, her hand trembling as she backed away with a shivering expression of pale fear.
Drakon glanced at some of the SharpClaw behind her. "Get that bundle from her. Now."
The girl screamed as she tried to bolt away and run, but a pair of muscular, scaly arms forced her down.
NO!
Wolf sprinted over, taking advantage of Drakon and the other SharpClaw having not seen him arrive yet.
She struggled and writhed as they forced her down, another one ripping the bundle from her, before letting Drakon snatch it.
Tears sprang from her eyes as she let out a muffled cry caught between a sob and a scream.
"NO! Give him back! Give him back, PLEASE! Don't hurt him, he didn't do anything-!" The rest of her voice was muffled out from under the scaly hands of a SharpClaw brute holding her down by the arms.
Drakon's snide look disappeared, and Wolf stopped, both thinking the same thing.
"Him"?
Eyes narrowed suspiciously, Drakon tore off the cloth rags on the top and looked inside, the woman's eyes becoming huge, her heart stopping…
Inside the rags of the blanket was the smooth-furred face a small, infant kitten, sand-colored like the girl. His eyes were closed and he was breathing softly, his small ears oblivious to the chaos around him as he remained locked in sleep.
With a heart-clenching jerk and a look from the girl to the kitten, Wolf's eyes widened with realization.
That was her son. Her infant son…
The sharp, raging look in Drakon's eyes disappeared, and his lips curled into a sly and snakelike smile.
"Well, now…" He said, lowering his voice. "And here I was thinking that a woundwas what's wearing you down…but I was wrong. It's a child…a recently newborn one, by the look of it. My, my, he looks just like you…"
The girl struggled under the SharpClaw's grip, forcing her chin out and calling out frantically.
"Don't hurt him! Please, just give him back!"
"Hurt him?" Drakon made a tsk-tsk noise reproachfully, almost sounding offended. "Hurt him? I wouldn't dare…he's asleep."
Wolf's eyes darted around suspiciously, expecting the worst.
No!
I know what he's doing…he's going to take him away from her!
He began to edge closer, but quietly, keeping a good distance with as little noise as possible.
Drakon bent down to one knee and set the bundle on the ground, the baby wrapped inside still sleeping.
Wolf stopped.
Wait…
He's not taking it…?
What's he doing?
The slaves that were watching from afar watched Drakon's action with equal confusion, suspicious looks of worry crossing their faces and eyes darting back and forth. Even some of the Elites looked like they were wondering what he was doing.
The young girl's eyes fluttered with relief as he set her baby down. But Drakon looked at the kitten with an almost hungry smile, and his eyes traveled towards the mother and back, as if linking a connection between them. His look was very similar to a predator noticing its prey walking with a limp…a vulnerable point of weakness…
"I must say, though…" Drakon said in a quiet voice. "It wasn't a wise move to breed an offspring in this place." He stood up and gestured around them. "The conditions of this slave-yard are harsh…and dangerous. Raising a child and carrying a burden such as this weighs down a person…" His eyes glinted slyly. "…and prevents them from working efficiently. Besides, think of the baby. It couldn't possibly survive wholesomely in this environment. The heat, the lack of water, and the weak state of his mother…he would surely die within a week."
The woman's eyes returned to their fearful widening, and she began to struggle.
Drakon turned and walked past the Elites that held her down. "His struggle will be long…and his death will be slow. Not a very merciful death for an infant, don't you think?"
The Elites blinked in confusion at their master's sudden tone of sympathy, gripping their pikes as they searched for the appropriate way to respond.
"Er…sure, I suppose…"
"Whatever you say, Drakon…"
Drakon laid his hand on one of their fists that clutched the long handle of the pike.
"Yes…of course…"
Wolf's eyes darted around, narrowed with suspicion.
What's he…?
"Then I think…" Drakon gripped the handle of the pike. "The only way to help the infant…is to put it out of its future misery…."
HUANG!
SPLRRRRTCCHHHH!
What happened next happened in such a blur, that Wolf barely caught it with a blink. There was a blur of black and a flash of steel, and the rush of breath as everyone watching gasped at the sudden movement of the Head Scourge turning around suddenly.
In a manner of seconds, all everyone could keep their eyes on, was a smiling, triumphant-looking Drakon, let go of the pike, its handle remaining vertical and fixed without him holding it….
…with its blade jabbed completely through the bundle with the baby in it, with blood seeping through the cloth.
Time seemed to slow down at that moment. The air was silent before the wave of gasps and cries erupted, with nothing more but the still, fixed, completely horrified facial expressions of every slave watching, torn with anguish.
The young girl's eyes widened, her body seeming to choke up with her breath stopping. Her face seemed to freeze in the heart-stopping anticipation before her scream, with emotion-shattering tears brimming at the bottom of her eyes.
All eyes watched as a small, limp, bloody hand fell from the cloth wrappings of the bundle, and baby's stirring stopped.
As cloud past in front of the setting suns and divided a line of fleeting orange dusk-light and shadows over his face, Wolf stood there in the time-slowing vibe of his numbing emotion, the pounding of his own heart-beat deafening his ears. His mouth opened with a twitch, the breath not reaching his throat to utter words of disbelief. His huge, astonished, anguish-filled eyes were locked on the baby's bundled carcass at the center of the sands, a horrified feeling beyond all description casting a veil over all possible thought.
He tried to speak, his breath shaky with misery so that his words were barely audible.
"n-n…no…no…"
No thought or reaction could reach his mind, and he watched without moving as the young girl ripped herself from the SharpClaw's grip. She staggered past Drakon's evil smile of satisfaction as she fell to her knees, a shaky hand reaching for the blood-stained bundle in front of her.
But there was no movement…no life. It was dead.
As she collapsed over the bundle and screamed, her bawling and crying more haunting to all the slaves watching than all the years of miserable suffering and death.
Wolf tried to step forward, but his body refused to move. He tried to gesture forward towards the baby, but his blood had seemed to stop.
Sadness tore at his heart with an ice-cold douse of helpless anguish, with no thoughts of intense regret able to reach him.
A life…an innocent life, completely innocent to the world…had been robbed in front of him.
His pained and horror-struck eyes traveled from the screaming mother, to the bundle…up the plunged pike…
…and over to Drakon.
His feelings of intense misery and monstrous pain stopped.
A thought made its way to his mind…
You…
His fists seemed to clench by themselves. His heartbeat had gone from a low, melancholy, emotion-wrenching pound to a heated and pulsing beat of rising anger.
You…
His teeth bit down together slowly and locked into a baring clench of sharp fury. His face began to twist with livid rage, a merciless glint in his eyes that seemed to radiate like a crackling fire. The battered feeling in his bones seemed to vaporize…the harsh struggle in his tired lungs disappearing…
All risks faded from his mind. The hesitation he felt without his Claw or Inner Power melted away in the flames of the anger that dominated his sight…
YOU...
His fur began to rise with spikes of fury. A churning, vicious, ferocious, murderous intense coursed inside him like gasoline added to a swirling flame of vehemence.
His feet began to move. His left foot stomped into the sand in front of him, drawing the looks of the other slaves.
Murderer…MURDERER…
He didn't kill an innocent…or a woman…or a helpless child…
Images of the flames of Kew and the cries of the Arctic Fox family flashed before his raging eyes.
He killed an infant…a baby…
Shwa-SHING! Shwa-SHING!
YOU KILLED AN INFANT…YOU KILLED SOMETHING THAT COULD BARELY STAND!
A HELPLESS, DEFENSELESS, WEAK NEWBORN!
YOU WORM-RIDDEN, HONORLESS DEGENERATE PIECE OF SHIT!
Slowly, Drakon turned, the smug look of triumph still oozing on his stupid face. As his laid-back eyes traveled around, he saw Wolf.
His smile faltered….
The young girl's screams were suddenly inaudible by all spectators, slave and SharpClaw alike, as a more ferocious, anguish-filled, hellish voice drowned it out…
…the sound of Wolf's ringing scream of fury.
"!"
Sher-BAAAAM!
Wolf's feet kicked off the ground, the sand splitting under the soles in patched craters, as he sprinted forward with blurring speed, his fur shaking and his claws gleaming in a hazy muddle of sped-up flashes.
The Head Scourge didn't even have time to react. His only response fast enough to be visible before the collision was the startled widening of his eyes, until-
SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!
A grey missile-like object, moving at too-blazing of a speed to be identified as Wolf, kicked off the ground and slammed against Drakon with full-force, sending a wave of dust and sand up an explosion. The slaves watching recoiled and flung their hands in front of their eyes as sand flew in all directions.
The other SharpClaw were too startled to step in, half of them terrified by Wolf's intense, vengeful aura of hatred, others afraid of what Drakon would do to them if they stepped in and helped.
In mid-air, Wolf's hand shot out and grabbed Drakon's face with a powerful, clawed snatch and smashed it onto the ground.
SLAM!
Pinning him to the ground and remaining on top of him, Wolf grabbed the SharpClaw's neck with a savage grip and forced him down. The tight, ripping noise of stretching skin sounded from inside Wolf's shaking fist as Drakon choked and sputtered under the intense suffocation.
While his other hand continued to strangle Drakon and pin him to the ground, he raised his right hand into the air and curled it into a merciless fist.
SPRTNCH!
A blazingly-fast punch swung down and hammered against Drakon's face, again and again. Each blow was more overwhelming and puncturing than the first, and caused Drakon's head to slam against the ground, so that the grains of sand split into waves of impact underneath.
KRAAMMM! SMAAASH!
The ground vibrated and shook with each punch, the furious blows hammering relentlessly until black blood began to spew from Drakon's jaw, while bruises and wounds tore from his cheeks and snout.
A shadow passed over Wolf's face as he stood over him, with only his blazing eyes illuminated any light on his expression. His face was twisted into a horrible mask of anger, and his teeth were bared into a growling snarl of ferocity and wrath, making him look so terrifying that even the slaves watching backed away with frightened eyes
"YOU MURDERER….YOU FUCKING MURDERER!" His roared furiously. "YOU DARE KILL AN INFANT? A FRAIL, INNOCENT LIFE? YOU ACT LIKE THE MASTER OF THIS PLACE, WHEN YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A PUTRID, SKULKING COWARD! YOU HAVE NO SHAME…YOU HAVE NO HONOR…AND FOR THAT, YOU'LL HAVE NO LIFE!"
RRRNNNNCHHHH…
His grip around The SharpClaw's neck intensified with rage,the sound of his skin tightening under the clenching fists. Drakon seethed his gasps and choking between the cracks of his teeth, staring up at Wolf with both fuming anger and fearful disbelief.
SLAM!
With his free hand, he struggled back and grabbed Wolf's face, ripping his claws into his cheeks, in an attempt to push him off and take the advantage
Wolf growled forcefully and continued to choke back, his fur spiking up as blood trickled down his cheek from the claw-point marks being etched into his face.
All watched with disbelief and shock as the two struggled, one having his face forced away with a clawed hand, while the other fought for breath with his throat in a tight grip. The SharpClaw Elites watching shifted their feet uneasily, all of them convinced that Drakon would take his anger out on any one of them that stepped in.
As Wolf tried to wrench his face away from Drakon's hand, he grabbed around blindly with his free hand. Drakon heaved his weight against his hand, trying to win the advantage by using his superior weight, but Wolf wouldn't budge.
Finally, Wolf grabbed Drakon's wrist and shakily forced it off his face, struggling against his larger reptilian strength. He curled his fingers around the large, scaly wrist and pulled it away, freeing his hand.
"You like to wallow in the pain and suffering of people weaker than you…" Wolf growled in a voice that sounded like a jagged blade dragging over concrete. "I'LL MAKE YOU REALIZE THE TRUE DEFINITION OF PAIN WHEN I CARVE IT INTO YOUR FILTHY CORPSE AND MAKE YOU PAY FOR SPILLING THE BLOOD OF AN INNOCENT…"
As his hand rose up and silhouetted in front of the sun, instead of forming a fist, Wolf opened it up and extended his claws.
Shwa-SHING!
"…WITH EVERY WORTHLESS, REPTILIAN DROP OF YOUR OWN!"
SLTRRRRCHHH!
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGHHHH!"
Drakon screamed as the jagged claws ripped against his face, their sharp edges splitting the scales on his cheeks and causing black blood to shower on the sand near them. A set of deep, vertical claw-marks were etched down his face like bars on a cage, blood dripping from their depth of scarring skin.
"Drakon!"
The SharpClaw Elites drew their daggers from their sashes and bolted forward. Wolf's ears perked as he heard the first volley of vibrating footsteps pound in the sand behind him and whirled around with a challenging growl.
The first Elite grabbed Wolf's shoulder and forced him off their Leader, who gasped and hobbled to the side, breathing harsh, deprived rasps of breath while clutching his bleeding face with his hand.
The claws dug painfully into Wolf's shoulder as he dragged him to his feet and pushed him back, making him helpless to the guard's superior strength. The SharpClaw whirled his blade up and hacked at him, the blade's dull edge grazing the front of Wolf's fur with a humming scrape as he dodged back and grabbed his hand.
SLAM!
Pulling him down by his hand like a rope, Wolf brought his knee up and smashed it against his face, the bone-crunching crack emitting from his face as he yelled and staggered back. Chopping his hand down on his wrist, Wolf forced the knife out his hand before catching it by the handle and swinging it forward with a snarl.
"HUAAARRRGHHH!"
SLRTTCH!
The knife's blade sank into his chest, black blood dripping from where it jutted from outside the crack in his chain mail, as he fell down with a dying groan.
SLAM!
Wolf didn't have time to recover from the rush of the sudden attack as a pair of huge, scaly arms grabbed him from behind and latched around neck. Wolf let out struggling gasp for air as he was pulled down by an immensely overpowering weight, his foot sliding against the sand as he fell.
He heard the muffled growling of the SharpClaw behind his head, jerking his muscles as hard as he could to crane his neck out and catch some wisps of breath under the strangling hold.
Clenching both of his hands together, he arched his arms in front of him before swinging them to the side, making an arc as his elbow jabbed sharply in the ribs of the SharpClaw holding him.
CLNNCHH!
The SharpClaw howled as fell back, grabbing his broken rib, releasing Wolf from his choking hold. Sucking in relieving air as he freed himself, Wolf leapt to his feet and aimed a brutal kick against the SharpClaw on the ground, his boot heel colliding with his scaly neck.
Shwoo-PAKKK!
Wolf looked up to see a whip-wielding Elite attempt to ram straight into him and catch him off guard, but jumped back to avoid the dangerous barbed ends of the whip. As the coils missed and whipped at the sandy ground instead, sending up a wisp of dust upon impact, he planted his foot on the whip and forced it on the ground and out of the SharpClaw's hand, causing him to stumble forward and let go of it. Wolf pounced forward and swung his fist back, the draw-back speed blazing fast to build up pressure to deal a devastating blow…
SPLRRNNNNK!
Wolf's knuckle swung out and smashed against the SharpClaw's cheek, the fast tilt of his wrist causing a burst of impact against the vulnerable skin of his opponent. The Elite's masking mouth-covering ripped off as he flew back, exposing his scarlet-scaled face as he yelled, blood and broken fangs flying from his mouth.
Anger and rage fumed from Wolf's fists and claws as he continued to fight against his far-bigger opponents, fueled by the immense fury built by Drakon's unspeakable act as he took it out on one Elite after the next.
The smarter SharpClaw stepped in and out of Wolf's radius, cautious of his angry outbreaks of violent blows and damaging attacks. Most were amazed at how long he had managed to fight back despite being one man, and of a smaller and weaker species.
But it all came down, as the SharpClaw with the broken ribs that had been struck down before, reached out and grabbed Wolf by his foot and pulled back.
Eyes broadening in surprise for the brief second he was standing, Wolf staggered forward and felt his balance slip from under him like oil over a smooth floor, sand flying from under his feet as he fell face-first to the ground.
Every SharpClaw shot forward, taking advantage of his vulnerable position. They jumped on top of him and grabbed his arms with their huge, pincer-like hands that wrenched his bones the wrong way, making his movements rigid like he was bound with tight rope. He tried to struggle and rip his arms free, but every movement under their hands twisted his bones the wrong way.
His fur spiked up as he seethed with pain, his skin feeling numb.
Shit…I can't move!
They're…way too strong…stronger than any race of Lylatian I've fought…
My bones are too small and my muscles are too weak compared to them…
I can't—
SLAM!
A black fist-shaped blur caused the sun to disappear and a cloud Wolf's vision, before feeling something hard and bony smash against his face. The searing pain caused his eye-sight to blur, his head pulsing with a sudden wrenching of sharp pain.
He blinked blindly, his eyes searching blurrily for any familiar shape to overcome his stunned state of mind.
A tall figure stood over him, to shaky from disoriented vision to identify, raised his foot and aimed it at Wolf's face.
SNAAAKKK!
"DAAARRGGHHH!"
Wolf yelled in pain as the blow struck his face hard and quick, causing him to fall back against the hot and uncomfortable sand. His snout met the ground with dangerous speed until-
CRACK.
A sickening feeling rushed in the hot area where Wolf had felt his nose barely a second ago, the numb spot where it was slightly bent to painful to feel. As blood trickled from his nose, he looked around in a helpless daze, taking blows from every SharpClaw around him.
SMACK! CRRNCH!
CRAAAKK! SLAM!
"KK—AAAR-AARRGHH-!"
Wolf's muffled and helpless scream echoed from beneath the surface of flailing fists and kicks, taking bruises, cuts and blisters like a guilty rain of pained hits that he couldn't even prevent. It was horrible…he couldn't move to run, he couldn't raise a hand to defend himself…he couldn't even hold his weak voice long enough to scream.
Blindly taking hits and coughing on his own blood, Wolf staggered with a wince of helpless cooperation as he was dragged to his feet by the furry scruff of his neck like a common mutt. He tried to struggle and free one of his hands, to at least lash back…
But he couldn't. He was powerless…helpless…and outnumbered.
Get up… He pleaded to his body. Get up and fight back…
Don't just take the hits like a child, damn it…DO SOMETHING!
Buried underneath the pain and helplessness, Wolf felt a pathetic sense of relief that he was under enough fists and hands so that none of the other slaves could see him in his crippled state of shame.
SLAM!
"AARRRRRRGGHHHH!"
Wolf yelled as blood tore from his mouth, a devastating punch knocking his head to the side. He coughed and panted, his fur in tattered clumps and the muffled Mohawk on his head hanging over his forehead with sweat like spider legs. As his arms struggled weakly but uselessly by themselves under the tightening grip of two SharpClaw on either side of him, his bare feet scrapped against the hot and blistering sand as he was dragged forward.
They stopped and lowered him forward, his head falling forward with battered exhaustion as he panted. Suddenly, he flinched and clenched his teeth as a clawed set of fingers grabbed a handful of his head-fur and pulled back, forcing him to look forward.
Revolving and numerous shapes of the same object came together and forced him out of the disoriented state of mind and he looked up with a shivering pant of exhausted effort.
The slaves were staring at him with looks of horrified pity and shock, their eyes traveling up and down his body, as if examining the scars and bruises that covered him. Others were looking fearfully at the other SharpClaw and then back at Wolf, like they were contemplating with their terrified imaginations what unspeakable punishment awaited him.
Up ahead, a few of the Elites were standing around a crouching and panting Drakon, who was still clutching his face in both fury and disbelief. He wasn't breathing his anger out or shaking with lividness….just staring wide-eyed at the puddle of black blood formed from the dripping lines on his cheeks, as if he was still in aftershock and in half-sane denial that it was even there, and that nothing had happened.
A SharpClaw reached over to him, ginger with caution rather than comforting. "Drakon…are you-?"
Drakon's lips quivered for a fraction of a second, his low, vibrating voice barely audible.
"Get off of me."
"But, Drakon…" He put an aiding hand on his shoulder.
Fwmp!
Drakon leapt up like a cat with blurring speed and swatted his arm off, all of his claws out.
"I said GET OFF ME!" He spat.
The SharpClaw staggered back, his half-covered face without expression but his eyes wide with stunned fear.
Drakon stood there, seething through his Rex-like fangs, his shoulders rising and lowering with every furious breath that steamed out of his lungs. His neck was dented and raw from Wolf's finger-marks on it, and blood continued to trickle down his face. His expression was an image that made everyone nearby cower, fearing a sudden, raving break down from him at any moment. The corner of his mouth twitched with uncontrollable rage, and his eyes were huge and blazing with livid anger.
It was obvious that he was in a state of disbelief. He had just been almost completely mauled to death by one of his own slaves. A single, outmatched prisoner, who had not stood up to him, but almost overpowered him.
But that wasn't what made him angry…not the stinging of the claw-marks, not being tackled by a common slave…but his own fear. He was furious that he had been afraid. No matter how brief it was, he had felt a very human shiver of fear turn his blood cold…and at the hands of one of his own slaves, which he had failed to break.
The merciless figure of brutality, the lead Scourge himself, Drakon…had been afraid of him.
Fwshh!
Sand sprayed in multiple directions as Drakon stomped over towards Wolf, breathing heavily like a mad beast and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
"You….you loathsome little INSECT! You're not going to humiliate me in front of my men and slaves without suffering long and hard! I thought that the exhaustion and depriving energy from all that work would break you…but I see now that the only way kick you into your place is to make you writhe in your own blood!" He stared down at Wolf's bleeding, weakened but angry face with furious disbelief. "I won't rest until I see you crippled like a maimed child! No one rises against me…no man, woman, child or bleeding filth that I take as slave… what makes you think that YOU can?"
SLAM!
Wolf felt Drakon's massive fist pound against his stomach, the size and strength of his genetically superior bones feeling like a boulder smashing against his body. It was only one blow, but it was enough to cause Wolf's ribs to rupture with pain and cough blood.
Drakon grabbed Wolf's face and pulled him up to his level.
"You're just a weak, pathetic slave, do you hear me? Groveling, defenseless, and pitiful…just one hit from my fist makes you spit out your own innards! You're as weak as that mangled infant corpse back there, and nothing more!"
Wolf tore his face from Drakon's grip, wincing as his claws scraped against his cheek.
"SHUT UP!" He spat. "You're the one who's nothing, you deranged child-killing SON OF A BITCH! You have the fucking nerve to talk to me about weakness? How dare you even look at me, after killing that infant! How low and vile do you have to be to murder something too small enough to think for itself? The worms infesting the corpses of the countless graves outside this place aren't as low as you! You're just a cowardly, twisted, self-deceiving bastard only good for slaughtering victims too weak to even move, and isn't used to having the shit kicked out of him by a real man!"
Drakon swung his whip back, now caught in a real rage. "YOU INSOLENT LITTLE MONGREL! I SWEAR, I'LL-"
Then, he stopped abruptly, the knotted chords hanging from his halted grip. Everyone watching relaxed their wide-eyed gazes of anticipation with confusion.
Slowly, as if waking up with realization, his scowl and murderous glare disappeared, and curling, fiendish, snake-like smile crept onto his lips until his teeth showed. A devious light of wicked triumph illuminated his slit-like, reptilian eyes.
"No…" He hissed with a low chuckle. "No, you won't get the luxury of normal pain. Your suffering will be long and slow…and bypass the usual punishment. I'll make sure of that… Gsildon!"
His voice rose to a sharp order, and a SharpClaw nearby Drakon jumped nervously.
"Yes…Drakon?"
Drakon's smile grew wider, like an insane child greedy with anticipation for a dose of newfound amusement.
"Bring out the Adder Tongues."
There was a sudden hush over all noise in the slave-yard, as there was a halt to all activities in response to the Head Scourge's ominous sentence.
All creaking and clanking of chains stopped. The slaves, not the new arrivals or adapting ones, the ragged ones in a mentally-disrupted and mute state, looked up. The first lines of emotional expression appeared on their faces, as if waking up from a melancholy daze. Their eyes and mind probably didn't understand what Drakon had said, but their ears that were trained for every whip command caught two very horribly familiar words….
Adder Tongues.
Their eyes all widened in distraught expressions of perplexed fear…their mouths shakily opened simultaneously, emitting small, soundless gasps of air-deprived trepidation. They cringed and stepped back, one by one, their terror-stricken heartbeats acting as the only audible noise across the sand….
The SharpClaw, however, began to laugh quietly in a jeering tone of triumph. They all looked at each other with cunning eyes, as if in on a private joke.
Wolf's hate-filled glare faltered as he looked around in confusion.
Adder Tongues? What the…what does that mean…?
He looked over his restrained shoulder at the terrified glances of the slaves. Apparently, the mention of these "Adder Tongues" was the only thing that brought any emotion of any kind to their dehumanized faces.
…and the only emotion it drew out was fear.
His eyes grew larger. He could only imagine what beat-up, mentally-scarred, crippled slaves who had suffered every torture imaginable could be afraid of…
All of their eyes said different things…some were imploring, as if desperately hoping Wolf would survive…others had pained doubt….while some had their heads lowered completely.
The other slaves, the newer ones, were just as oblivious as Wolf as to what was going on.
"'Adder Tongues'? What's that mean?"
They all looked around confusedly, looking down at the ragged slaves for some explanation, but they just continued to shake their lowered heads with pity and shame.
Wolf's heart began to speed up with a low panic he tried to keep away from his face and eyes.
What are they doing…?
What are they going to do…?
The SharpClaw holding him grabbed the scruff of his shirt and dragged him in the opposite direction; Drakon's evil, smiling face disappearing from view…
Wolf looked around frantically, his eyes large and his fur in matted spikes, looking like a small, scared child next to the much-larger SharpClaw. Being a war-forged fighter who always planned ahead by determining the situation, there was nothing more horrible than having a threat or affliction approaching that he knew nothing about…
As he was pulled roughly with the reptiles' claws digging painfully into his fur and his feet scraping uselessly against the sand under him, he saw a large slab of rock dropped in front of him by a burly Elite.
Clump!
Wrapping their cold, scaly hands around the back of his neck, the SharpClaw jerked Wolf down and forced him on his knees in front of the slab. Then, one of them grabbed him by the top of his head-fur, causing him to wince, and pushed him down.
"Mnf!"
Wolf grunted as he was pushed on the rock, its stone surface jutting into his stomach while his knees remained planted in the baking, uncomfortable sand that was scrunched under them. His neck hung over the slab's edge, making him kneel over it like a criminal about to be beheaded. The stone's cold and flat surface dug into Wolf's chest, causing him to cough dryly.
As he was forced to kneel over the stone that his chest rested on, the two SharpClaw stood on either side of him, holding his arms down like human bonds. Their grip was tight and uncaring, the slightest struggle causing Wolf's fur or bones to wrench the wrong way painfully.
The setting sun cast a hew of orange across Wolf's bruised, panting face, as he raised his head that hung over the rock.
His vision blurred back to normal as he fixed it on all the slaves watching with fear and sympathy.
Damn it…
He clenched his teeth and tried to look away from their sorrowful faces.
They're all watching…all of them…
They're going to watch me get punished…I'm going to made an example of…
He shut his eyes, but could still feel their stares burn against his skin.
Couldn't those SharpClaw bastards at least put a blindfold on me…?
…so that all these people…I don't have to see their faces…their looks of 'pity'…in my state of disgrace…when I'm being punished and broken like a weakling…
The pain from their drawn stares stung him like nails. Burning hatred and miserable coldness made his heart heavy…
Couldn't they save me that much of a humiliation?
Then, he heard the muffled sound of sand crunching under large feet. He looked up to see Drakon standing in front of him.
The black SharpClaw smiled, enjoying the sight of Wolf's helplessness.
"Look at you…struggling, like an insect trapped under a magnifying glass. It's so pathetic it's almost funny…"
Wolf looked up with glowering eyes of restrained fury. He couldn't describe how much he wanted to wriggle free from the SharpClaw's grip and rip that stupid smile off his face.
"Bastard…" Wolf spat with struggling effort, as the stone dug into his ribs.
Drakon's eyelids lowered amusedly, making them into snake-like slits. "I'd save my energy if I were in your place…you'd wish you had in a few moments…"
If you were in my place, and I was in yours, you wouldn't have any senses that weren't beaten out of you to even feel energy… Wolf thought with extreme loathing.
Drakon glanced at the SharpClaw next to him, who held something in leather wrappings.
"Are all the slaves watching? The new ones, I mean."
"Yes…they are."
"Good. A lesson is to be learned here…and the first one to learn it is this slave right here."
He snatched the lather-wrapped object from the SharpClaw's hands, who all-too-willingly let go of it with shaking hands. He tugged on the leather's flap and unfurled it until the object wrapped inside of it fell on his hand.
Clink.
The first thing Wolf saw were black coiled strands, that looked like leather, and seemed to writhe and move like snakes. It was only when they fell limp that he realized what they were…and widened his eyes.
In Drakon's hand was a leather-strung, twisted, vicious cat-of-nine-tails whip. Its material consisted of some kind of rawhide, from a beast with scales much larger than the SharpClaw. The handle was made from a bone that had been bleached white by the sun, the only visible portions of it spaced between the leather straps of the woven grip. The whip was huge, its handle the size of a thick branch and fashioned to suit Drakon's huge, merciless grip. The snake-like thongs hung over at an extreme length, a length that would be most definitely outlawed in the Lylat System for unnecessary barbarism. But the truly horrid trait of this monstrous-looking whip was the ends of the tails. Each lash ended with a hard strand of leather looped through a barbed, jagged shard of black metal, each of them with a fork-like split like that of an adder's tongue. They all dangled and clinked against each other, looking sharp enough to rip skin off with a single lash from just one of them. Even from where Wolf stood, he could see flecks of dried blood on each barb, a grim indication that it had been used recently. As the lashes swayed in the seemingly-hollow desert wind, he could almost hear the screams of dismay of every victim the whip had punished, trailing in a chilling echo from the fluttering sound of the lashes scraping each others' surfaces like snakes.
Wolf's blood ran cold just looking at the horrible thing. His heart beat against the empty outskirts of his fear-stricken stomach, feeling the foreboding fear creep up against his spine at what excruciating pain his body would endure at the lashes of the whip.
No…not this…
Not this….
The huddled and malnourished-looking slaves seemed to have their eyes locked on the whip's swaying chords and cringed, the same way a dog would recoil at their master holding a stick to beat it with.
And that's when it all came together. Every fragment of confusion Wolf had disappeared under a wave of realization.
This was how Drakon did it. His boasts of how he turned strong and defiant people into cringing creatures of undying obedience….he did it using this whip…
It wasn't just a beating. It was a lesson.
Wolf remembered his words from earlier, when he was describing his mute Jackal slave that groveled like a dog at his feet.
"About a month ago, he was just as impudent and resistant as you are now…. But I've beaten all sense of stubbornness and resistance out of him. I've made him wince, and smart…and when he was on the ground, screaming in agony, clinging to the last morsel of sanity he had left, I took away the last privilege he had….his free will."
That's how he turns men into slaves…
He turns their resistance against them…he binds them down, so that they're helpless and can't fight…
…has every slave watch them like beasts in an arena…
…and beat the defiance out of them…
Ripping the wings off of an insect…one…by…one…
Fear began to rise like a cold tide in Wolf's stomach.
That's what he's going to do to me…that's how he's going to make me pay for standing up to him…
…by making me feel more helpless…and then flogging me until I have no sanity left…
His eyes were fixed on the sunken-faced slaves that watched him, his previous gaze of sympathetic ignorance draped with newfound understanding and terror.
…like them.
This isn't the end of the scene. See Chapter 11 for the rest -