Private Tales A Step Into Death

[Edric]

The Academy
Three Years Ago

The room was dark, just like it always was.

Edric couldn't remember how many times they had dragged him down here, how many times they had plucked him from his rooms and lead him to the very depths of the Academy.

He was not sure how many people knew of this place. He wasn't even sure if all of the Proctors knew of these dungeons. The walls looked older than the rest of the Academy, the rooms more ancient than any he had seen before. The stairs they wandered down seemed almost endless, meters and meters underground. Far from the sun, and further from any semblance of hope.

His breath was the only thing he could hear.

In the pitch darkness of it all he could not even see the walls, only the slight sliver of light that flickered in through the small gap between the door ahead of him. He frowned, hands balling into fists behind him, straining against the bonds that held him. "WHAT NOW!?"

Edric shouted, desperation tinging his tone as his voice broke.

"WHAT NOW!?" The Initiate demanded, desperately, fearfully.

He knew they would do it again.

Knew they would kill him again.

 

[Kalix]

Slow, steady steps, the scruff of hardy boots along the stone echoed. Deliberately, the proctor took their time. There was no rush. Even if the initiate yelled and thrashed about, there would be plenty of time. The stale air, fetid from the years of being stained by blood and excrement and death, didn’t bother the slight man. He opened the wooden door, leather gloves protecting him from the splintering whirls stained from blood and vomit.

Light from a torch illuminated the room with long, shaky shadows as he set it in the placeholder near the door, and then turned to face Edric.

“You’re impatient today.” Proctor Novgorodoff jingled a bag of small seeds, the kind he had so carefully constructed through his endless studies. “We must test how well you do when something foreign is inside your body, Initiate Edric.” The raspy voice was, for the most part, solemn, as if the proctor would take no joy from this. But everyone who knew Proctor Novgorodoff knew that he was as malicious as one could be, and oddly scientific about it. He shut the door firmly behind him.

A sharp dagger was then pulled out from seemingly nowhere. The proctor advanced towards Edric as languidly as one could, grasping his right forearm, pressing hard at the soft spot where it connected with his elbow.

“We’ll start slow.” He promised. “This is your brachial artery.” He thumbed over the blue vein popping from the skin due to his thumb pushing. He cut, swift yet deep, and the blood began spilling, overflowing. “Largest artery in your arm.” Novgorodoff explained and then still gripping Edric’s forearm, opening his bag of seeds, pressed a pinch full deep inside Edric’s arm. Seconds later, dark, bloodied roots began to grow, spreading out underneath Edric’s skin.

 

[Edric]

Edric grimaced.

He had learned years ago that there was a satisfaction that the Proctor's craved. He knew that they wanted to hear him hurt, that they wanted to hear him scream. They were sadistic, malicious, cruel. "Is that what that is?"

The Initiate said through bitten teeth, his jaw all but clamped shut as the Proctor's dagger stabbed through his flesh.

He could feel as the man pulled out the bag, the seed falling onto his skin, flowing into his veins. Eyes bulged out in pain. Jaw tightened and lips sealed shut as the roots began to grow in a near instant. A grunt escaped him, a shaky breath sucked into his lungs.

"Th-the-" Edric fumbled. He tried to find his voice, that snark. The defiance. "Fu-fuck!"

He called as the plant set within his flesh, growing, straining. "Wh-when does i-it start t-t-to h-hurt."

Edric stammered to the Proctor. "Ren-Ren-Renout was b-be-b-better."

As he spoke his body began to shake.

 

[Kalix]

An eye twitch and narrowed, dark brows were the only indicators that Edric’s words actually infuriated Novgorodoff as a smile appeared. The roots were still spreading, and without a word, they thickened. With Novgorodoff’s magic, the roots were like malleable, moving thick wires of steel that began to force their way deep into the sinews of Edric’s muscles, slithering into the folds of his biceps. They dug deeper and deeper, like earth worms in moist earth, creating trails of searing pain as they forced the flesh to part for them.

The roots began wrapping around the ulna and radius first, tightening around the two bones in Edric’s forearm, seizing it for the proctor’s twisted desires. The roots didn’t stop coiling along the bone, further separating the tissue from the initiate’s bones, continuing down to his wrist.

“Renout? Better?” A sharp bark of a laugh came from Novgorodoff. “I’ll have you begging it was Renout and not I that came down here today.” At the end of his sentence, the roots along Edric’s bones tightened and twisted like a steel snake, even as the first crack of bone could be heard.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrack.

The roots continued to tighten and twist, the bits and pieces of bones from the shattered ulna and radius turning into dust.

“It starts to hurt now.” The proctor informed, right as a sapling shot out from the palm of Edric’s hand, it’s green shoots turning brown as the bark hardened, growing rapidly. And true to Proctor Novgorodoff’s word, it wasn’t long before the roots in his bicep burst into vines and saplings that ripped and tore at Edric’s flesh, mutilating everything that was flesh and blood and bone.

 

[Edric]

Pain.

It was something that he had thought he would become accustomed to. Something that he thought would eventually...eventually become something familiar. They had done this so many times. Tortured him. Tried to break him.

Yet each time was worse than the last. It always hurt. It always brought some new form of agony.

All of them had their ways. All of them different.

His screams echoed in the room as the roots burrowed beneath his flesh and peeled away at his skin. Edric could feel his magic trying to fight it, pressing back, doing it's best to heal the damage that was being done. His whole body shook violently, his heart racing.

"S-s-st-stoo-" He could not even finish the single word, cut off by the pain.

Desperation filled his heart.

He wanted to make it stop. Needed to make it stop. That core within him, that reserve of power where he kept what he stole reached out. He scrambled desperately, lashing out not towards the Proctor, but the life which fueled the plant beneath his flesh.

Edric had no idea how the magic would work, how it would interact with the other man, but he didn't care. He desperately scrambled at the plant's life, yanking and pulling to try and kill the thing causing him so much hurt.

 

[Kalix]

“It’s life, initiate Edric! C’mon, you know what to do!” There was that edge of glee, the proctor’s eyes sparkling with mirth at the fact that here was the golden boy, unable to say one simple word. “Don’t tell me your resolve is already crumbling.” He gripped the initiate’s jaw in his hand, peering straight into his eyes, the manic still evident in his features.

“If you need more power, you know where to get it.” He added, “there’s plenty of prisoners around us. Can’t you feel their life force? If you want it to stop, you’ll only be able to overpower this with some… help.” The entire time, Novgorodoff continued on with his magic, saplings growing larger, vines growing longer. However, the growth didn’t reach past his shoulder. He didn’t want that, for the roots to get entangled with Edric’s lungs and heart just yet. The sapling curved and twisted, sprouting branches and leaves, resembling a bonsai tree.

After all, Proctor Novgorodoff did promise they would start slow. This was just barely the beginning of the whole thing.

“Or are you really going to shame Renout and let it be me who finally breaks your arrogant little head?”

 

[Edric]

Desperation took him.

It overwhelmed everything. The anger, the fear, the terror that had settled in his chest. It overcrowded and overshadowed. Sweeping through him. His head turned in an instant to the wall that the Proctor had indicated, and there it was.

Life.

Power.

Strength enough to save himself. Everything he needed. Hesitation sat within him, lingering for only a brief moment before the pain grew to be too much. Magic lashed out, grasping, pulling, tearing at the life beyond the wall.

He focused it like a spear, and then suddenly his body seemed to turn to fire. The Proctor's plants seemed to screech and whither as Edric's magic pulled in on himself. Wounds healed, blood turned to boiling, and within seconds the flaura that had threatened his life withered.

All it had taken was three dead men.

A sob echoed out from Edric's lip, tears falling down his cheeks. "It hurt too much."

The Initiate whispered, as though it was some excuse.

 

[Kalix]

Proctor Novgorodoff nodded his head, actually quite pleased with how well Edric had repelled back his magic. He could feel it, his plants were dying faster than he could continue to make them grow— well, he wasn’t really trying at this point, but it was still impressive.

This is where Novgorodoff differed from the other proctors. It was why he was sent in today.

“Initiate Edric,” the glee was gone, only to be replaced with a stern, paternal tone. Not condescending, or at least, the proctor was trying not to come off that way. Not now. “Your enemies will want to hurt you. Those who oppose Vel Anir will want you dead. And should you suffer for them? Suffer so they don’t die? Look me in the eyes,” he commanded. “Kill your enemies before they even hurt you, before they even get close to you. Those who oppose Vel Anir are evildoers, you understand what that means, don’t you? There is no reason. No question or answer. Nothing that will make sense on the battlefield when you see enemies charging at you.

“Guilt will hinder you. You sucked the life force out of criminals. Not a person. An evildoer. An enemy of you, me and the academy. You actually made their life worth something. At least they died in service to Vel Anir.” The proctor paused, and pulled out the bag of seeds. “I had hope your tears were just a natural bodily response to pain, but I can see that you don’t understand the positions you can find yourself in. I think we’ll have to continue our lesson.”

The proctor gripped Edric’s jaw once again, forcing his mouth open and poured all of the seeds down his mouth. His grip tightened as he gagged the initiate’s mouth with the small sack and then plugged his nose with his thumb and index finger.

“Swallow.”

 

[Edric]

Edric tried to wrench himself away, tried to pull from the Proctor's grasp, but he was tired, exhausted.

His magic was a wild thing, and he did not yet have the control that he would in the future. His fingers curled around the arms of the chair, his body seemed to writhe and wriggle within the Proctor's grasp. He tilted his head back, tried to fight, but it was a senseless combat.

Novgorodoff was stronger than him, bigger than him. Edric was only fourteen, his muscles weak even as the power he stole flowed through them. A small begging gasp pulled from his lips, and it was that which betrayed him.

The seeds poured into his mouth, and the Proctor shoved into his throat to make him practically inhale the damned things.

As soon as the man pulled away from him Edric coughed violently. His throat constricted, and he pulled in his stomach in a desperate attempt to vomit. His cough continuing, but the seeds already fallen into his stomach. "Fuck..."

He breathed, and then that spark of defiance returned.

"Fuck this!" Edric shouted. "Fuck you!"

Edric strained against the bonds, desperate to lash out against the Proctor.

 

[Kalix]

Novgorodoff was still, looking Edric in the eyes. He didn’t say anything or move for a very long time, even with Edric straining in his bonds. He knew what he was doing, forcing the initiate to anticipate when the magic would start. Letting his imagination run wild, having him try and think up a possible solution for escape.

He could feel the mounting fear. It fed the proctor’s hedonism like no other.

Minutes had passed and then Proctor Novgorodoff blinked. And the magic began. Roots and vines began to sprout from the seeds, forcing his stomach to expand before traveling into the two different passageways. Roots began reaching into his intestines, vines began to crawl back up his esophagus, ticking his throat until they reached his mouth.

“I wouldn’t wait as long as you did last time.” The proctor warned with a sickening smile, just as the growing greenery burst out from Edric’s stomach to invade all of his other valuable organs.

 

[Edric]

Panic set into Edric's heart.

There was no control over it this time, no trying to stem the tide of it. He couldn't help but feel entirely overwhelmed as the rush of emotion and pure horror fell over his mind. It did not start off as pain this time, but instead a tickle, a press within himself.

Then the horror stuck.

The alarm.

It rushed over him like a tidal wave, and an instant all apprehension seemed to wash away. Edric didn't want to hurt again. He didn't want to feel the life being choked out of him. He didn't want his body to be dragged through such torturess pain.

He panicked. He lashed out.

There was no control to it this time. Not even an inkling. His magic tore at whatever life was arrayed before him, whatever he could reach. The prisoners beyond the walls, the rats scurrying in the sewer beneath, The proctor standing before him.

In that moment Edric didn't care. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted the pain to stop. He tore and grasped at everything he could, a desperate, screaming demand for survival as his body fought the cancer growing within him.

 

[Kalix]

Proctor Novgorodoff thought he had everything in control. Edric would be compliant because that was how every initiate at the academy should be. A weapon. No need for thoughts or emotions. Of course, the proctor had forgotten a serious notion: the need for survival.

He felt that hungry sapping of his life force. And much like Edric, fear encompassed him. Unfortunately for Edric, Novgorodoff was the type to kill first, ask questions later.

With a roar, the proctor unleashed everything he had within him, willing those seeds to reach their true potential. Much like before, trees began to sprout, and emerging from Edric’s belly was gory forest covered in gristle and viscera. The proctor fell to his knees, gritting his teeth.

At this point, the twenty-five year old man had aged twenty years, wrinkles appearing while hair fell from his head, gray in his beard.

 

[Edric]

The tree burst from his stomach, erupting in a canvas of blood and spilled guts. A scream attempted to free itself from Edric's mouth, his lips hanging open as his eyes grew to the size of saucers. The panic that had gripped him slipped away.

The horror that had seized him dragged into nothing.

It was all replaced with an abyss. A vast nothingness as his vision blurred, went dark, and then cut out all together. His body seemed to go cold, his mind went dark. There was nothing. There was no one. It was an emptiness that greeted all men at the end of their day.

Death.

There was no rise and fall to his chest.

Not a single twitch of movement.

Edric, one of the strongest Initiates in the Academy seemed nothing less than a lifeless corpse. Murdered by a Proctor who had pushed him beyond his limits. Slaughtered for a senseless task that had no true purpose to the boys mind.

Seconds passed.

A minute.

Then suddenly the forest that had burst from Edric's flesh began to whither. The leaves turned brown, the bark dried and shriveled. The tree itself seemed to curl in on itself, slowly drawing back, dying as the life was stolen from it.

It crumpled to dust as Edric's flesh knit together, piercing through what remained of the growing plant just as the Initiates surged up and a breath filled his lungs. A scream echoing out seconds later as he found himself thrust back from beyond the veil itself.

 

[Kalix]

It was absolutely amazing, proctor Novgorodoff realized, he had witnessed something many would never see. It was sublime. Edric’s gift was one that could escape death, escape fate even. He would be a wonderful weapon for Vel Anir. The proctor’s body resembled a man in his late forties, but really, he didn’t care. Not after this display of magnificent might.

Edric’s screaming brought the proctor out of his trance and he stood up. As was recommended, he pulled out a thick needle carefully from his pocket. He slowly shuffled over to the fourteen year old kid, the one who may be one of the greatest weapons of his generation. Perhaps one of the greatest dreadlords of all time.

“Excellent work, initiate.” He stabbed Edric’s neck with the needle, a toxin to put him to sleep. Proctor Novgorodoff turned his back on the initiate, grabbing the lantern and then left the room. He’d let someone else clean up.

 

[Edric]

Edric was about to speak, yell, scream.

He wanted to tear the Proctor apart. Wanted to rip into his flesh any way that he possibly could. Anger, rage, surged within his chest. Never more had he wanted to harm, had he wanted to kill and rend apart. He was one breath from lashing out with his magic again, from drawing the man's life.

Then the needle was stabbed into his neck.

For a brief moment he tried to fight against it. For a brief second he tried using the reserve, but the toxin was too fast. It swept over him like a tidal wave, and with half a choked out word the Initiate found his head lulling forward.

The abyss overwhelmed him again.

Not death this time, but unconsciousness.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The next time Edric came to consciousness, he may be surprised by the bright light shining down on him. Only upon his eyes adjusting would he discover he was actually outside. A private little courtyard area blocked off from the more public part of the Academy.

A large, mountain of a man sat off to the side smoking a pipe. The man looked to be made of pure muscle and stood to a rough height of about 6'6. He had light blond hair that seemed to be rather thin up top, combed over to cover as much of his top as possible. The man also sported a thick, bushy blonde mustache that seemed to be fairing far better than the hair on top of his head.

His clothes were well made but simple in design. A simple pair of brown pants and a read unbuttoned blouse showed his exposed chest.

More importantly to Edric, sitting next to the man was an incredibly large hammer. There was no way any normal person could wield it. Hell, it was possible that most dreadlords would struggle to lift the prodigiously sized maul.

Edric

 

[Edric]

Edric returned to consciousness only to be met with a giant.

His head lulled upward.

The reserve he had stolen from the other prisoners still remained. The power he had taken from the Proctor still lingered within his chest. Eyes flickered over the man standing in front of him, wandering to the massive weapon sitting just inches away.

"So what's next?" He tried to be defiant.

He tried to sound as though he could resist.

Edric knew that it was a bare effort. Knew that it was the sort of thing he would have said if he had even a trickle of power left. The reality, of course, was so different. He was tired. Worn out. On the teetering edge of breaking into nothing less than tears. "Can't be as bad as bei-"

His words were interrupted as a cough echoed through his throat.

"As bad as being ripped apart." Edric finished, blood spilling down his chin.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The behemoth man looked over in surprise, puffing out a large cloud of smoke. A smile broke onto his face as he stood up from his spot and reached out towards his maul.

The man hefted the hammer onto his shoulder like it was a feather. His arms showed signs of flexing, but surprisingly little strain for the size of the weapon.

"Good, you're up. I was worried we were going to have to wait until tomorrow." His voice was incredibly deep, sending vibrations to those who would stand close to him. A thick accent made his words a bit more difficult to understand if one was not paying attention.

The proctor moved forward slowly, but his long legs carried him across the courtyard quickly.

"I like your spirit, but you should learn to pick your words more carefully, boy." He motioned to a weapons rack near one of the walls. "Pick one." It did not take a scholar to figure out what this large man was probably here to teach him about.

"Normally, I don't teach ones as young as you, but they brought me in specifically to play with you...so please do not disappoint me."

Edric

 

[Edric]

Edric gave the Proctor a weary look.

None of them had ever offered him a weapon during one of these...sessions. In fact more often than not they tried to avoid arming him as often as they possibly could. Like every Initiate Edric had already received quite a bit of weapons training.

That along with his magic made him a formidable opponent...though not against any of the Proctors. A frown pulled at his lips, and then slowly he stood from the chair. With patient steps he moved towards the rack the man had motioned to.

There was a hesitancy to him, as though he suspected if he followed through with the man's request he would be punished.

Fingers wrapped around the pommel of a sword, and he plucked it free. "What now?"

He asked tentatively, watching the other man like a hawk.

Temptation reared up in the back of his mind. An urge to catch the Proctor by surprise, to run him through and simply get the fuck out of here. It would take them a while to find the body, and he could likely even get out of the Academy...

Edric glanced down at the sword.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The Proctor made his way closer to Edric, coming to a stop next to a large stone statue of what was either some mythical hero or historical figure for the school. It was made to be a larger-than-life image, but it was only equal to the height of the proctor.

He grinned, and with a sudden swift movement, the proctor had taken his hammer and turned the statue to dust. Light orange and yellow glow covered the man's body.

"Now, little boy, I am going to break you. Let's hope you can put yourself back together."

The Proctor offered a small salute with his hammer, which was commonly used in duals before moving with supernatural speed to stand in front of Edric. The large man moved his hammer like it was a sword, or something even lighter. The point was, the large maul was coming directly for Edric.

Edric

 

[Edric]

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

Edric was good, but he was most certainly not going to best this man in a duel. He knew that, understood it from the very second that his sword clattered against the maul and every muscle in his body began to scream in pain. The impact was so jarring, so sudden that he nearly buckled.

Even with the power of his magic flowing into him, with that additional strength, it was all he could do to remain standing as the Proctor bore down on him.

His fingers drew high on the hilt, and then suddenly he buckled and weaved. The blade in his hand flickered as his body dropped down and he attempted to cut through the Proctor's thigh. He had to be fast. He had to end this quick.

It was a desperate, short hope.

One he knew would likely end badly.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Edric was fast. With his abilities and his skills, he would certainly become one of the top students in the Academy, if he already wasn't one. Sadly, that was the Academy. This was a Dreadlord of the 1st level.

The proctor moved with an incredible speed that did not match his size. It was unfair that such a big person could move like this. Wait, had the man gotten larger? The proctor seemed to stand taller and his muscle seemed to flex repeatedly and grow slightly.

The courtyard itself was growing hotter. The sun bearing down on the yard was not enough to do this, but the man radiated his own heat.

"That's too predictable, boy. Increasing your own strength will not always be the right response...Again!"

The proctor moved again, this time faster, bringing his hammer down. He wanted to watch the boy break, to know he was hopeless. Then he could rebuild him.

Edric

 

[Edric]

The Dreadlord was fast, faster than Edric, faster than he'd ever seen anyone move. Lips thinned as the massive hulk of a man suddenly darted back and away from the swing of Edric's sword like he had never been there at all.

It was like the man had fucking teleported.

A sneer pulled over Edric's lips as the man insulted him, fingers gripping the blade tighter, his muscles seeming to stiffen as he tried to draw more on that reserve. The arrogance of the Proctors was always there, always pressing, pushing.

He's trying to provo- Before the thought could even fully run through his mind that Proctor darted forward.

He was somehow faster, and before Edric could even raise his sword to block the man's massive hammer reached out and slammed down onto Edric's shoulder. There was a loud crunch and a crack as the shattering of bone seemed to echo out and the Initiate was thrown to the ground.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"Oh, I love that sound."

The proctor proclaimed with a deep chuckle. The heat of the courtyard was becoming unbearable, but the large man looked unbothered. He looked down at Edric on the grown and frowned.

"I was told that you were one of the stubborn ones? Were they wrong?... Hurry it up. I don't have all day."

The proctor made a big motion of winding up and swinging his hammer down at Edric again. This time, the swing was definitely slower, but killing the boy was not the purpose of this training.

When he was asked to do this, he had been told the boy was powerful. It would be a disservice not to offer his skills, but the boy first needed to be humbled. There was no room for egos in the Dreadlords...except maybe his.

Edric

 

[Edric]

Edric swung himself to the side.

His skin scraped against the ground, digging into rock and earth as he swept onto the ground and the Proctor's hammer slammed into the earth where he had been. The ground itself seemed to quake with the solid thunk of steel, a divet digging into the earth itself.

A scowl pulled on Edric's lips.

Muscles tensed, he drew upon the reserve, pulled life from the blades of grass, the leaves of trees. He scrambled for any power he could, seized at the small flakes of life around him.

His fingers tightened around the blade of his hands, and then he kicked himself up. Faster than he had before, quicker than the blink of an eye Edric let himself dance forward. Within a breath he was on his feet. Within the span of a heart beat his blade danced forward.

The sword cut low, and then with a twist struck towards the man's thigh. Cutting for veins, not muscle, as he attempted to bleed the Proctor before he could loose another taunting breath.