Chapter 23 - The Immortal Ogre

The frail wooden houses trembled as if with fear as Blüt stepped into the town centre. It was a wide-open space, designed to accommodate their tyrannical master. It was kept totally barren save for the crowd of Aufs, a bonfire they had constructed, and the immense pile of food they had built up for him. The villagers all quivered in place, afraid to move but worse terrified by standing in his presence.

He crossed his pillars of legs, sitting with a deafening boom. Without a word, he reached out to the heap of food, which had piled higher than four Aufs stacked atop one another, and took a handful. Including an entire skinned doe, he threw the pile of food straight into his immense maw and chewed it to shreds with his shark-like teeth.

“Good food today.” He mused. His voice was booming and slow, like the rolling of thunder. “But not much.”

“No there’s more!” The mayor stepped up, the head of their negotiations, if they could be called that, with Blüt. “We’ve still got the entire stock of the tavern to come, we’re just waiting for Marrie to arrive with it!”

“Tell her to hurry.” Blüt growled. He didn’t make an obvious threat, but the townsfolk knew all too well what would happen if they couldn’t provide enough food; They would be used to satiate Blüt’s hunger. The mayor glanced tensely toward the tavern, wondering what exactly was taking her so long.

___

Clint peered through the window of the inn. Even with his eyes, he could not grasp the totality of Blüt, but the glimpses he stole caused a primal feeling of sickness in his stomach. He was looking at something that should not be.

“Now, please. I must insist that you leave. There’s still time to escape without the Ogre noticing.” Marrie pleaded.

“Leave? When that monster is eating you? No way.” Sol protested.

“What? You intend to fight that thing?” Luna asked, less dismissive than her words would suggest.

“Of course! We can’t just allow the people of Lillinberg to suffer like this!” Sol declared, fire in his heart.

“No!” Marrie came to douse him. “I understand you are strong but please, that’s tantamount to throwing your life away! I’ve seen that beast fight first-hand, even against the most powerful attacks, the most potent magic, he will not fall! He is truly immortal!”

“Ain’t no such thing. Everybody dies.” Clint retorted, eyes still on the sickening mound of flesh that was Blüt.

“You must believe me! I’ve seen him stay standing after having his heart blown out from his chest! There’s nothing you could possibly do!” Marrie continued to plead.

“There must be some mechanics to how it works. I mean, if it’s an innate ability or some form of magic, he must be in control of it…” Luna muttered, trailing off as she always did when she had a good idea.

“I don’t care if he grows two more heads when you cut his off! Even if we can’t kill him, I’m sure we can at least hurt him enough to make him back off! There’s gotta be something we can do!” Sol continued his crusade, but his words fell on deaf ears.

“Nah. This ain’t a fight we take.” Clint said calmly, turning away from the window at last. “No need. They keep him fed, he goes away. There’s no need to get involved.”

“Then he comes back next month! You want us to just abandon these people to live in eternal servitude?” Sol growled, anger directed at Clint for the first time.

“No, but that buys us a month. If we can’t kill him, maybe we find someone who can.” Clint surmised.

“That’s assuming they have enough to feed him this month! If we don’t interfere and he starts eating people, their blood will be on our hands!” Sol argued.

Clint looked at him. He didn’t speak, but Sol made a read of his expression. “Don’t tell me you like the odds of that? Is that really a gamble you want to take?”

Clint didn’t reply, he just looked back out the window at Blüt. The sick feeling in his stomach remained.

“Maybe we don’t need a month.” Luna perked up, a plan having formed in her mind.

Aufs climbed Blüt’s gigantic body like fleas, clinging hard to thick leathery folds of skin and using them as footholds. A group scaled up his back, managing at last to reach his shoulders. They each carried towels and buckets of warm water. They began scrubbing the blood from his flesh, forced to go slow, though they each wished they could hurry the work and be done as soon as possible. Their overlord let out a loud, satisfied sigh, outstretching his legs and threatening to crush the crowd beneath. Were it not for the Aufs inherent swiftness, it's likely he would have. Blüt cared little. In his mind, these little beings existed only for his satisfaction. They were tools to keep him fed and bathed. If he crushed them underfoot he would simply have their surviving kin scrub up their remains later.

The Ogre was human only by a technicality. In all ways he was a monster; From his grotesque appearance to his complete lack of morality, he was a beast much like the goblins he was outcompeting, only concerned with keeping himself fed. He just barely had enough intellect to go beyond them and into the realm of humanity, though that intellect near exclusively manifested itself in a greater capacity for cruelty.

At last, Marrie arrived, a barely full cart of food behind her. “I’m sorry for being late!” She had to shout at the top of her lungs to ensure her voice reached Blüt’s ears.

His large, off-white orb of an eye sunk to look at her. His mouth, full of curved yellow teeth, itself curved into a smile. “Apologise properly for your failure.” He ordered.

Marrie lowered her head, hiding a snarled expression. She had long been a favourite target of the Ogre. She despised having to lower her head to him, but as she had long proclaimed herself, she was a weak, mediocre woman. She had no means to rebel. She hung her head and fell to her knees, dropping her face to the muddy ground in prostration. “I’m sorry!”

Blüt chuckled, each plosive laugh bouncing his shoulders, threatening to send the Aufs cleaning him tumbling to the ground. “Very well.” He shrugged, intentionally damning a particularly graceless Auf to a terrible fall. He landed badly, breaking his ankle. He bit down on his lips so much that they tore, but he did not scream. He had seen countless of his brethren killed for being a nuisance to the Ogre. He dared not do the same, instead he grit his teeth and steeled his resolve, hobbling on his injured ankle and away from the great beast.

His fat fingers plucked at the food Marrie had brought, their sheer weight already crushing the cart, sending the plump grouses and piled squashes tumbling to the floor. He tossed a large bull’s head into his mouth whole, making short work of it in spite of the horns. He ate with a childlike satisfaction, a large simple smile on his face as he consumed. Despite the unending hunger he felt, mealtimes never ceased to be a pleasure for him, especially when it came at the expense of other, lesser creatures.

Between the houses and away from the clearing, Clint and the twins made their move, ducking into alleys and sneaking through gardens to find their angle of attack. The plan didn’t actually involve Clint, but he had joined them anyway, intent on observing the enemy and keeping himself in a position to act if he needed to.

Luna’s scheme was extremely simple, but it relied upon a thorough understanding of the beast first. There was research they must do, and if the research proved her theory, she would act on her hypothesis. Research was far too graceful of a term for what they intended to do, however, as the first step of their plan was thus; Gore him. Inflict maximum suffering on the tyrant and rip into his flesh as viciously as possible.

After several minutes, they were finally behind him, primed for a sneak attack. It was only here that they noticed something unusual about Blüt’s attire. He was largely unclothed, that much had always been apparent. His leathery blue-green skin was exposed to the night air with only his lower half cloaked in a series of animal pelts he had the Aufs sew together. His clothing was not the source of intrigue, however. Instead, it was a large metal box on his back. It was secured by leather straps and chains, all across his chest and shoulders. Initially it seemed to be a sort of brace, but it was all holding this box tightly to him. It sagged, even on his impossibly muscular back, indicating its absurd weight. It was difficult to conclude its true purpose. Perhaps a training instrument, or a container for something that needed to be well-protected. There was no way to be certain.

What they could be certain of, was that this was the perfect angle for their attack. Sol began creeping closer, sword-drawn, Luna prepared Munditia, muttering its complex incantation to herself, and Clint watched, just watched.

Sol drew closer and closer still. The magic at Luna’s fingertips sparked and crackled with power, barely able to contain itself. And Clint. Still he watched. He watched as the Ogre rose, sending Aufs tumbling from his shoulders and cracking the earth as he enforced his full weight upon it, rising higher and higher until his disgusting face came level with the treetops, burdening the branches and leaves with the image of his evil expression.

“It’s cold.” Blüt grunted, unsatisfied by the small pyre beside him. Even by the standards of the Aufs, who would create such bonfires for communal events, it was small, so for a being of Blüt’s magnitude, it was pathetic. He was expected to warm himself on the equivalent of a lit match. An expectant bloodshot eye focused in on the mayor.

The mayor threw himself into a prostrating position, wailing out an apology. “We’re sorry, Lord Blüt! Last time you were here you killed so many of our lumberjacks, we haven’t had much wood to-”

“You have women and children. They can work.” Blüt groaned, hefty joints working to move his massive frame. He rose to his feet in a slow, mighty movement. “No matter. I will fix it.”

He lurched toward the pyre, grabbing a pile of flaming wood in his palm. He didn’t flinch in the slightest, skin far too thick to burn.

He raised the still-burning wood high, half-charred chunks dropping from between his pudgy fingers, endangering the Aufs who scurried beneath.

Gracelessly, he dropped the pile of smoking timber onto the nearest, largest building. It was the one of the only old buildings remaining in Lillinberg, roof still composed of well-carved wood, paint-work cracked with age in a charming, rustic way, colours faded with age and experience, not saturated like the other ingenuine shacks that made up the town. It was a place the community and outsiders alike had long loved. A place central to Lillinberg, where all were welcome and all were happy to be welcomed.

It was Marrie’s tavern, the very heart of the village.

But it burned all the same.

The scream that came from Marrie’s throat was far too large for her small body. It came from somewhere much deeper than her lungs, her very soul. Unknowable woe, compounded by years of suffering at Blüt’s hand finally burst out in one, tragically sad wail. It carried such unimaginable grief that it induced tears in the corner of the eyes of all that heard it. All except the soulless Blüt.

For Sol and Luna, this became a battlecry. They hadn’t intended to stand by, but they certainly couldn’t at the sound of Marrie’s scream. They’d have run from the other side of the world to take action if they had to. There was simply no way they could allow Blüt to live.

Sol took the lead, emerging from the shadows in a blood-lusted sprint. He dashed past the creature’s leg, muscles practically bursting with adrenaline. It would take incredible effort for one to cleave through Blüt’s packed musculature normally, let alone the dense bones at their core, but Sol’s immense strength was anything but normal, especially when empowered by such righteous anger. He sliced straight through the hard bone of his shin, forcing the tyrant to kneel.

Luna’s Munditia soared with as great a speed as Sol’s legs. Blüt turned as he fell, attempting to catch sight of his assailant. He failed. Sol had already sprinted past him by then. All he saw was the blinding blue light of Munditia as it came barrelling straight into his chest.

He was heartless. Of course it was apparent that this was his nature, but now it was literally so. Luna’s spell had torn his very heart from his body, eviscerating a hole straight through him. The metal of the box behind him reflected the firelight, highlighting the cavity in his chest. He looked down, muscular neck craning and allowing him to look into himself. He strained to rise, but only fell, collapsing flat onto his back as his lack of a heartbeat caught up to his body. If the world were a just place, this is where Blüt would have fallen. He’d have died here, killed by the righteous action of Prince Sol and Princess Luna…

But in spite of its ambitions to be so, Gallia was anything but a just place.

As Marrie had warned, Blüt began to rise again. His heart was swiftly reconstructed, fibres of flesh stitching themselves together, constructing a cardiovascular system as if god himself were pulling the strings. His leg regrew from the stump, leaving behind its severed predecessor. It was only a matter of moments before the ogre was on his feet again, whole as the day he was born. His epithet was no exaggeration. He was immortal.

Current Party: Clint Morgans, Sol Dragoneart, Luna Dragoneart

Bullets Remaining: 5