Bloodthirst Quenched

DATE: IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 7 DAY 23

“Spare me!”

The fat cleric squealed as a masked man dragged him out from behind the lectern and tossed him onto the floor. Sobbing and trembling, the man covered his face, as if the action would make his captors vanish. His pathetic display earned his gut a sharp kick, turning his wailing into pained coughs.

“Guards,” he screeched. “Guards!”

A young woman introduced his jaw to her boot, sending a streak of red across the marble tiles and knocking out a tooth. The pudgy creature writhed, curling up into a ball.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she hissed, leaning forward until her jagged fangs tickled his ear. “How do you think we got in, swine?”

The squirming priest stole a look at his tormentor and froze. Her fiery hair, cat-like eyes, and horns put any doubt to rest. This demonic heathen would soon slurp his blood from the hallowed grounds of his temple.

“What d-do you want?” the quaking pig could barely muster a whimper.

The man unmasked himself, knelt down, and wiped his dagger against the snowy habit. “Brother Lucius,” he sang with venomous joy. “We’re all cultured men and faithful subjects of Targonia. Our lord merely wishes to rekindle his friendship with you. You have nothing to fear, yet.”

“Dramien?” Lucius cried. “Dramien, you have to believe me. I had no choice! I had no –”

Two resounding slaps cut off his pleading.

“Papa slaughtered pigs that made less noise,” mused the woman, massaging her hand. “I wonder if he’ll leave behind a bigger mess too.”

“Naya,” Dramien extended the last syllable in warning. “Should a hunter be playing with her food?”

“I can’t kill him even if I want to,” said Naya, pouting. “Let me have my fun!”

“Just erase the barrier.”

“Already did, old man. Got in here before you, didn’t I?”
“You got lucky with those templars. I had three on me. Those hammers were heavy.”

Naya showed him a toothy grin. “And that’s why you’re favourite uncle.”

If only every commander had warriors like you two.

The psychic voice bouncing in their heads ended the argument. Naya and Dramien immediately straightened, spun towards the gate, and bowed their heads. A chilling draft entered the door, as if to make way for the ethereal wraith that followed. Flickering and shapeless, the ghostly apparition unfurled itself, almost like a pulled curtain.

Hello, Lucius. The wraith appeared to be cackling. Remember me?

For a moment, it almost seemed as if Lucius found a spark of courage. He sat up, straightened his spine, and stabbed a finger at Dramien with such righteous anger that Naya almost forgot all the grovelling she had witnessed moments ago. Her nose, however, was not fooled. She smelt desperation.

“Dramien!” the priest screeched. “What is this? Why does the Targonian hero debase himself with such foul company? Not only do you consort with a demonic sow, but you now serve this demon?”

“My lord asked you a question,” Dramien stated flatly, turning his back on Lucius. “You do well to answer him.”

“Recant now!” Lucius exclaimed like a man possessed. “Kill the wench and denounce the demon. You still have time! I can save you!”

Naya darted forward and seized Dramien’s sword arm. Face furious red, the warrior gave her a murderous look before finally removing a trembling hand from his pommel. Taking a deep breath, Dramien did not speak again until he reached the door.

“There will be time enough for our reunion,” said Dramien. “Until then, you belong to my lord.”

Circling a hysterical Lucius, the wraith took a while to sculpt something resembling a human face and shoved the grotesque mask at him. The deathly chill dispelled what little bravery Lucius found, bringing the priest to his knees.

Now...where were we?

“Back, demon!” screamed Lucius, clawing at his shapeless tormentor. “Back! Goddess defend me!”

Naya, could you?

Sighing, Naya twisted Lucius’s arms behind his back and slammed him into the ground. As much as she enjoyed his bleating, his fat worming against her knuckles brought bile up her throat.

“I know no demon,” the priest squawked. “I am a man of Goddess and I have never known such wickedness in my life.”

Yet you brought me here. The ghost furrowed its foggy brows into a wrathful visage. I should thank you for liberating me from all mortal concerns. The spirit oozed towards his struggling captive. Perhaps the name Ruxian, would jog the old noggin?

Pressing her knees against Lucius’s spine, Naya covered her ears and closed her eyes. The spectre began glowing violent, unleashing a blinding light and an ear-piercing shriek. Lucius, who ripped his habit in the ensuing struggle, foamed at the mouth and went limp. Having rendered his victim unconscious, Ruxian enveloped the priest in mist.

Ruxian began channelling, his ethereal body throbbing with effort. This was the first time since his test that he used this invasive power. The information overload, the strain on his mind, and potential harm to the subject all contributed to his reluctance. For Lucius, however, he made an exception.

In spite of his weak morals and flesh, Lucius was a talented mage. Even out cold, the invisible bulwark guarding Lucius remained sturdy as an underground bunker. Again and again, Ruxian flared crimson, releasing increasingly intense psychic pulses, pressing a single point until he felt a pop, almost like a bubble bursting.

Flowing through the small crack, Ruxian encountered yet more resistance resembling self-hypnosis, mental safeguards that repress memories. While not nearly as sturdy as the first layer, he needed to be careful. If he shattered the mind alongside the enchantments, then all would be lost. Tracing each lock with his ethereal fingers, Ruxian picked at them. Click after agonising click, Ruxian dismantled the obstacles until the dam collapsed, overwhelming him in a deluge of mental images.

Why did you summon me? Lucius’s mind was now a search engine that answered his queries with his memory. This particular question summoned the instant Lucius summoned Ruxian into the very church. Even after losing all his sensations, the vision tasted sour. Was I just unlucky?

How did you summon me? What spell did you use? What do you need to activate the spell? Ruxian fired more questions in quick succession and seared the images into his mind. While he’d happily trade away his newfound perfect memory to restore his body, it was this ability that got him in the church.

The episodes quickly lost resolution and the cacophony of the physical world beckoned, signalling to Ruxian, much to his chagrin, that his time was short. He had, however, two more things to do, twin promises to Naya and Dramien that secured him their swords.

Were you trafficking Dracon children? The fleeting vision of coins, horned children in chains, and cracking whips put this matter beyond doubt. Where were you when Dramien lost his wife? The images that followed made Ruxian curse his improved recollection. He felt an urge to retch despite possessing no flesh. His personal vendetta seemed petty by comparison.

The darkness that devoured the vision peeled away, revealing the church to Ruxian once more. A dour Dramien returned with a whip coiled around his broad shoulders. Hunting knife at the ready, Naya bared her fangs at Lucius like a shark that smelled blood. Upon the return of their undead commander, the pair turned their hungry stares toward Ruxian, demanding their reward with a slight bow.

Close your eyes and relax. With that, Ruxian injected the pilfered memories straight into their minds. Again, the invasive method he so detested. He could have projected the images but decided Naya need not see the foul fate that befell Dramien’s wife. He watched as Naya’s lips quivered. Sniffing, the girl turned away, forgetting in her grief that his sight was a zone rather than a line. Dramien stared idly at the towering marble Goddess, but his trembling betrayed his stoic posture. The recoiling pathos thinned Ruxian and left him pondering how to establish a one-way connection.

First to regain composure, Dramien extended an arm to tousle Naya’s hair. She welcomed the paternal gesture initially before swatting it away with an irate growl.

“Papa’s pig heads have a healthier colour than you,” murmured Naya, sniffing. “You alright?”

Dramien made a face and stared at the ground. “Can’t complain,” he said, though his laughter quivered. “Saw my wife for the first time in months. How you holding up?”

“They’re alive,” said Naya, her eyes boring into Lucius. “Just like this – thing.”

“We can correct that mistake,” Dramien cracked his whip. “So long as Lord Ruxian has no use left for him.”

Ruxian drifted towards the exit. We leave at sunset.