Quick recap before we continue on. This one was going to be a super-long chapter, but I cut it up into two parts because I really wanted to update with SOMETHING. Am I right?
Really quick, responses! I wanna get started!
Thunder of Life: Aw, thank you! ^.^ With the violence, I might have to disappoint you a little bit… but you won't need a microscope quite so much anymore. X3 And why on earth would you think that I wouldn't write it? O.o Of course I will. The real issue will be the WHEN factor of getting it out. ^^"
Vayle… oy. Am I the only one here who absolutely hates her for no apparent reason? X3
I COULDN'T AGREE MORE. I can't stand the VayleXArtix pairing, personally. -.- Bugs the hell out of me…
And here is your update! ^^ Thanks so much for being a constant reviewer!
Kirei Ryuusei: Thanks for following! ^^ Funny thing about Magiya is, I didn't spend all that much time on the character profile at all. I chose a general attitude and followed through with it. An idea I really take to heart is "My characters are like my children"... I try not to think too far into their attitudes, just that they ARE. :3 Thanks for liking her.
And yeah, Artix is my favorite too. XD
ALRIGHT! TO THE STORY!
Recap:
A horrible rumble that nearly knocked all of us off our feet shook the ground, and from where the chunks of skull had landed, the ground seemed to explode upwards in a terrifying show of dark power. When the light faded, there stood something simply… huge. This thing that had risen from the ground on command from its master was something that could only be described as the creature which is known to haunt the nightmares of the innocents.
Of course, the other optional description was an Undead Goliath. Not that it mattered much, though—long story short, the creature was simply huge, and even without it having been raised by a master Necromancer, I would have tried my very hardest to kill it anyway. I may have been judgmental of it, yes, but cruel I was not. However, this creature wasn't alive. It would do its very best to kill any living thing it set its eyes on, and that was reason enough for it to die a second time. I fought to keep from shuddering or trembling as the Undead Goliath lifted from the ground where it had risen an enormous, aged, slightly chipped sword that suited the size of its master. The blade may have been nicked in more than a few places, but the sword itself was still deadly sharp, and able to cut down anything in its path.
Grimly, I tensed my sore, almost nonexistent arm and shoulder muscles, managing to set the base of my staff forward a few inches. I don't exactly know how, but… I was ready to fight again. Even as my mind and body both screamed at me, 'No more! NO MORE!' I couldn't stop. I could never stop fighting, even if I knew the end result lay in my defeat.
This was one of those times.
Suddenly, a very long bolt of pure light that hurt my eyes with its painfully bright rays shot past me, close enough that I couldn't see for several seconds afterwards due to the afterimages burned into my dark blue irises. I blinked, and was confronted with a scene that my subconscious—even if it were high on something very potent and highly illegal—couldn't have dredged up.
Krieger had sheathed his sword (and from the looks of things, it wouldn't have done him any good in any case), and replaced it with a huge, worn-out hammer that outsized even Rolith's. If not for the fact that I could almost feel the ground shaking with each blow Krieger and the Undead Goliath traded out, I would have bet my left eye on it being some sort of hallucination. The stone hammer grasped tightly in Krieger's metal-covered fist was, simply put, huge. It was plain, and with no decoration save the slightly metallic sheen of the grip.
For the space of several heartbeats, I could do nothing but watch as the two went at it. Krieger had done something to the hammer so that when he threw it at the Undead Goliath, after it had gone about fifty meters, it just whipped back around and flew back into his hand. He had already blasted off the creature's forearms with some light spell that I seemed to have missed, but Vayle had shot a small orb of dark purple magic at the undead thing so that every time something was chopped off, it reconnected. As a result, the arms were now reattached, and Krieger was making very little (if any) headway against it.
My first thought was unexpected, even for me.
That is one big-ass piece of rock.
The next few were a little more plausible.
I can see why he's using it instead of his sword, but how in the hell does he manage to lift the thing, much less swing it around like it's a fucking feather. Damn you strong people! But still… Krieger wouldn't be using that hammer if it didn't have light as its element. And he's obviously got enough experience with dealing with these undead to know their weaknesses, so he knows best… Wait a second. ROLITH! Why the fuck aren't you helping him!
A sidelong glance at my friend of multiple years revealed that Rolith was, in fact, doing absolutely nothing to help Krieger.
Okay… I know Rolith knows I hate him, and I know that the captain's on good terms with that ape-shit Paladin, but this is ridiculous! I may have little to no regard for Krieger, but Lore, even he needs help with something like this.
"Come on!" I snapped at the captain beside me, pointing my staff forward as I mentally prepared another spell. Although, it would be just a little difficult, because of how quickly Krieger and the Undead Goliath were leaping around, exchanging hits. I'd have to be careful, because I was putting all I could into this.
"Stop."
I had the command for a light spell half formed in my mind before Rolith's quiet command penetrated, and the moment it did, I froze.
"What do you mean?" I demanded of my friend, my scatterbrained attention span forgetting entirely about the spell I had been about to call upon. "Look at that… that… thing he's fighting! Don't tell me you can't sense the fucking poweron it! Hell, you would need help fighting that damned creature! We can't just not help!"
In the back of my mind, a small part of me (the part of me that I always wanted to scream 'DIE VOICE DIE' at) slyly asked me why it was I cared so much, and what happened to that mental armor of mine?
"This isn't our fight," Rolith objected quietly, but in a voice that brooked no argument. "You saw him. He knew Vayle at some point, and she's the one who created this monster."
"So?"
"So, we can't help him."
"The hell we can't!" I stood right up against Rolith, so that the furious battle was to my left and my staff in my right hand, I poked him in the chest—probably hurting my finger more than I did him. "Listen, I don't know if you're too much of a coward to help Krieger with that thing, but I can tell you this; I'm not!" I turned towards the fight again, and once more prepared to utter a spell that would cause at least some measure of damage to the Undead Goliath when Rolith fiercely grabbed my wrist in an almost bruising grip.
"Don't!" he warned, his eyes narrowing. "How many times, Magiya, his fight is not ours!"
"But—"
"If we helped him, even a little bit, and we succeeded in bringing that thing back to meet its Maker, then Artix would feel like he was less of a man—not as strong, not able to fight his own battles, and downright humiliated! This is a matter of personal pride, you understand?"
I understood. Oh, did I ever.
Pride was one thing that, no matter how I tried, was one thing I couldn't overcome in my very wide range of emotions. So, yes, I understood Rolith's reasoning and Krieger's issue, but that didn't stop me from wanting to do my best to help him. Another factor was that Rolith had rarely ever raised his voice in my presence, much less to me personally, and… it scared me a little bit. Not that I would ever admit that, but it was true.
Why do you want to help him?
I started slightly at the question raised by the furthest corner of my mind, and I dimly registered Rolith releasing my left wrist when I made no further movement.
Because… because that thing needs to be brought down, and I know that flea-brained Paladin's not strong enough to do it.
Oh, and you are? my mind snorted disbelievingly. That's the worst piece of shit I've heard in ages.
Every little bit helps, I flared right back up at that small corner of my mind. I was sure that if it were possible, I would have probably gouged it right out of my head by now, as this was the one part of my mind that just refused to be blocked by barriers. My eyes stared unseeingly at the terrifying battle taking place not too far in front of me.
That doesn't answer the question! snapped this dark portion of my mind. Why do you want to help him at all? You have a grudge against him. You hate him with a vengeance. Just the very mention of him makes you upset, furious, and then you have a whole lot to say about him! So why do you want to help Artix Von Krieger!
Because it's what Warlic would want me to do! It's how I've been trained! He's a fucking comrade and I'm supposed to help him… not that I want to!
Sure you don't, it responded tartly and sarcastically. Rolith had to raise his voice at you. That's enough for you to know that you want to help too much.
Bullshit! I screamed internally.
Oh? If it is, then tell me why you really want to help him!
I would have ended this internal argument long ago, if not for the fact that I am just too stubborn to do so. But at this particular moment… I couldn't come up with an answer. And that bothered me. Instead of providing a reply, I slammed my mental barriers back in place as firmly as I could.
Behind these walls… this is the only place I am safe, I told myself quietly, my face smooth and composed. This Paladin… he's getting to me. I can't let him. I never will.
My eyes refocused on the battle between the Undead Goliath and Krieger as all parts of it save the skull and helm vanished into little black particles as Krieger suddenly hurled a white-hot spear with the head and wings of a dragon decorating the head of the shaft at the monster. It whipped around after about another seventy meters or so, and came whipping back into his fist. Krieger looked fairly battered from what I could see, and nothing short of exhausted.
For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him… but then my walls slammed back into me with enough force to almost take my breath away. I felt nothing but hatred towards him once more.
You opened up to him once. That was a mistake.
My mind brought back the memories of that one afternoon, by the stream, after he had rebroken and then healed my arm. I had actually started to drop my mental spears… and the result of doing something that potentially dangerous was just not worth it to me.
Rolith hurried forward to support Krieger as he staggered forward, making himself a human crutch for the Paladin and tugging Krieger's right arm over his shoulders. The two then proceeded to walk back towards me, and even though he was moments from passing out from blood loss, Krieger took a look around the now-abandoned battlefield. The army of Entropic Soldiers had disappeared (along with Vayle, the hooker necromantress) at the Undead Goliath's appearance. If ever there was something to keep a person up at night, that would be it. How in the hell did that slut-dressed necromantress manage to get a little over a thousand undead, about four thousand skeletons, and herself to just… nowhere?
And even more mystifying, how did she manage to do it without us noticing? One by one, perhaps?
My friend, when he got over to me, carefully laid Krieger down on the grass, propping him against the large rock before kneeling down by his shoulder. I could see multiple dents, scratches, and even a fist-sized hole punched in two places where I could see blood slowly oozing out in the gradually dimming light. What almost worried me was that one of the holes in his armor was around his navel, and with a sort of stab wound like that right there, Krieger could easily bleed to death in a matter of minutes if it wasn't stopped. Also, if I didn't know any better, I'd say Rolith was starting to freak out a little bit, despite his outwardly calm and methodical demeanor. He checked inside his own armor briefly, and I realized what he was looking for as I knelt down by the Paladin. I gingerly moved a slim hand over Krieger's mouth, and found his breath coming steadily, if a bit unevenly.
Idiot, I thought wryly as I pulled my only other health potion from one of the three small bags at my belt. He almost got himself killed. All for pride… I proceeded to tug the cork of the small bottle out with my teeth, and then slid my left knee under Krieger's torso. And you, being the softhearted little useless magic user you are, can't do anything but help when a human needs it… or an animal… just not most monsters… I left my staff, now back to its original oak appearance, lying on the gore-soaked ground by my right knee as I used my free hand to tip the bottle full of red liquid into Krieger's mouth.
"Will that heal everything?" Rolith questioned slightly worriedly.
"No," I answered absently. "But it will keep him from bleeding to death." In my peripheral vision, I saw Rolith blanch, and internally sighed. "Put it this way; it will get him mostly healed. He'll still be banged up a bit, but he can walk."
"Good to know," muttered a voice from beneath my hands. I instantly switched my gaze to glare at the copper-haired man right below me.
"Next time you're going to try and get yourself killed, do it for something worthwhile," I snapped at him, casting a quick glance down his armor to see if the worst of his injuries had been mended. To my unexpected relief, they had been.
"Don't tell me you care," he teased pathetically. His voice was rough, and while he was now conscious and the more life-threatening wounds fixed, he was by no means back to normal.
"Of course not," I sniffed, standing abruptly so his head banged back against the boulder. I heard a rather painful-sounding thunk, and then a colorful curse or two; one of them directed my way.
"Ruthless Bambi," he muttered to himself. "Looks innocent, but's fiery as hell." I wasn't sure I was meant to hear that, but I responded to it, regardless.
"Butthead!" I whipped back at him as he slowly got to his feet, grimacing before glaring daggers at me.
"Crap-for-brains!"
So that's how you wanna play, huh? "Twit!"
"Jerkface!"
"Penguin!"
"Egghead!"
"Butt-pipe!"
"Monkey butt!"
"Zippy the pinhead!"
"Spazmoid!"
"Potty mouth!"
"Pickle head!"
"Tar breath!"
"Fairy floss!"
"Dipstick!"
"Nitwit!"
"Schnozwhistle!"
"Doodlehead!"
"You take that back!" I screeched, my hands now balled up into fists at my sides, and Krieger nose-to-nose with me in much the same position.
"Why?" he challenged, and with shock and a little bit of anger, I realized that I was, in some sick and twisted way, enjoying this.
"Because nobody messes with me!" I shrieked, sticking a finger in his armor-plated chest. "And you will not mess with me, because you will not win!"
"I'm gonna win!" retorted Krieger, crossing his arms with a victorious grin in a 'that's final' gesture. If he thought that was it, he couldn't have been more wrong.
"Okay, guys, maybe we should try and find our way back—"
"Shut it, Captain Constipation!" I screamed at Rolith before realizing exactly what I said, and promptly slapped both hands over my mouth and turned very, very red. I couldn't see the flush that swiftly claimed all available skin, but I could feel it. My face was bright scarlet. He was just looking at me in a rather odd way, one eyebrow raised, and I didn't even notice when Krieger lost his shit and started laughing like a fool (nothing new there), rolling on the ground. But what really caught my attention was when I saw the twitch of Rolith's mouth, and then I saw the sparkle in his eyes.
Oh, Lore. He wanted to laugh too.
Personally, I was just too mortified to even think of laughing, and while Krieger clearly had no such compunctions, Rolith was putting his all into not moving. My eyes narrowed, and as Rolith just collapsed on the ground in a fit of laughter next to Krieger, I sighed irritably, before going over and kicking both of them as hard as I could in the ribcage. Since they had armor on, I hurt my foot more than I hurt either of them, but my point had been made.
"Let's go home," I growled, more angry at myself than them. Although… I guess it was pretty funny… Maybe. But… I couldn't help it! It just slipped out! I was so focused on returning the insults from Krieger that I just accidentally called Rolith one of the names my freaky mind had supplied.
Ah, well.
Such is life, I thought in dark humor as I struggled to pull both men to their feet, still laughing and giggling like a pair of schoolgirls, to pull them in the direction of the town. We needed to rest up for a day, and now that the army was gone, we could head home tomorrow.
Although, the task of fighting a dragon seemed less arduous than getting these two juveniles to stop laughing… An Olympian feat, indeed.
*ahem*
Well… Ignoring the fact that our characters wouldn't know what the words "An Olympian feat" would mean, since they don't live on earth and therefore have no idea what Mt Olympus is… I think it was pretty good. ^^ What about all of you?
As per the usual, I really hope that you all enjoyed it. X3 I was on a sugar high from Lifesavers hard candy when I wrote this, and as a result has more silliness and humor in it than is usually seen. But then, it was necessary. Also, several of these names I have in fact used on others and been called. X3 I think Spazmoid, Tar Breath, and Fairy Floss are my favorites. Then again, there's always Penguin. XD
Please leave a response if you enjoyed this chapter! :3 I'd love to know!
Subscribe if you'd like to read more! :3 Now, I will escape to laugh like an idiot and then sleep. X3 G'night everyone!
OH! Before I forget.
The next update may be a little long in coming, due to a project in Spanish that I need to work on, mainly focused on Fidel Castro. -.- So, just a warning. Chapters almost NEVER come this frequently. It might be a bit until the next update, but I just wanted to get this out to satisfy everyone's curiosity. ^^
