Open Chronicles Awakening…

[Kallach]

"Hm hm..."

Charlemagne was grabbed on the forearm, right below the elbow, by Kallach. The man was lightning fast, and his grip was iron, with more strength than even his stature would suggest. He yanked the man's limb from his side, bringing the wounded stub closer to his face.

"Gnarly," he remarked casually as he examined the tissue around the wound. In his heart of hearts, he knew it would get infected sooner rather than later, further reducing Charlemagne's chances of survival.

"Well, I can't grow you a new hand, but I can make sure that you don't die from sepsis or whatever other illness you'll incur as the result of an open wound."


Kallach pressed his fingertips against the blood-soaked cloth. They came away sticky, their pads covered in a thin sheen of partially coagulated ichor.

Funny.


The viscous liquid reminded him of caramel, sans its stench, which assailed his nostrils with metallic aromas. Kallach belched audibly, patting himself on the belly.

He kept a firm grip on Charlemagne, but Phallendarr's inquiry caught his attention.
Kallach grinned at it, his lips pursed, as his mind tried to come up with a reasonable explanation.

"You could say so," he said flatly, placing one bleeding finger under his nose and inhaling a lungful of its unsettling odor.

There is no infection.

Charlemagne's blood had none of the dreadful undertones normally associated with the affliction.

The initial signs of blood poisoning could be detected by a trained nose and his was more than qualified.

"A thinny is the point at which the barrier between our planet and the rest of the universe is the thinnest. The veil of reality is more easily torn apart in such places, allowing all kinds of nastiness to pour through."


Dragoon
Charlemagne

 

[Charlemagne]

His blood froze.

The mercenary went wide eyed as his arm was grabbed just above the wound. Teeth grit from pain ground further still with reactionary rage. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up, pupils dilating visibly, his breathing halting entirely, and when it returned, it did so slow and heavy. The wounded limb jerked back immediately and ultimately fruitlessly as Charlemagne was caught in the stranger's iron grip.

The hand itself was still relatively intact, though it had been punctured clean through in several areas. There would be lasting damage to the tendons and likely some issues with the nerves, but function might well be retained should the holes be allowed to heal.

The mercenary's hand free hand flew back toward the chain that bound his greatsword, unclasping the weapon and taking it in hand with one swift motion. The sword clunked a bit as he held it to his side, the heavy weapon particularly difficult to heft with only one arm.

Charlemagne had never taken well to being touched. Far less so when strangers sought to do so. Indeed, were it not for the stranger speaking of growing new hands or whatever other magic he was prattling on about, Charlemagne would have tried to take off the man's own.

"You don't touch folk without asking first," he growled, controlled rage spilling into his otherwise neutral tone. Another jerk, and he'd pull his hand free from the stranger's grasp. The tip of the greatsword dug down into the mud as he lowered the weapon. "But...this one said he wanted to replace it with an arcane equivalent." His head jerked toward Phallendarr. "Not doing that. Can you fix the holes?" His irritation was still quite obvious, though it was even more obvious that he was keeping it on a tight leash. It would not be the first time his involuntary responses led him into trouble if this one responded to him in kind.

A deep breath. An exhale. Charlemagne's severe expression softened. "Veil of reality...sounds like a lot of bullshit, no offense." But then he'd seen proof of it, hadn't he? Had the world not seemingly gone insane and unfurled on itself since leaving the Spine?

Dragoon, Kallach

 

[Dragoon]

Phallendarr had lacked a physical reaction, though it’s speed was impressive they weren’t surprised. They’d simply taking note, adding to a collective thought of it’s abilities. Slightly raising their right foot followed by their left to face their body to the two. Had any violence transpired they’d let the two fight, though they were almost certain the man would not win.

Perhaps my theories are incorrect about the new inhabitants than. If this is a thinny its far worse than what I’d imagine.

Phallendarr was hyper focused on the situation at hand rather than the actions that were performed. After all They were more interested in knowledge than the measly physical interactions. Violence to them is the last option even to those who threaten them.

Charlemagne
Kallach

 

[Kallach]

"If I couldn't do that, I'd be a lousy magician," he retorted.

Kallach let go of a limb belonging to Charlemagne. He clenched his hands together, and the cloudlike familiar began to fold in on itself slowly but steadily. Its shape distorted and contracted until it was no bigger than a ping-pong ball with incredible density. The sphere then blossomed outwards, unfurling into petels of pure energy, just as it appeared to be about to fizzle out of existence.

A gigantic book stood (or rather floated) where the cloud formerly was. The book was the size of a typical man. Its massive form was suspended in mid-air on an intangible pedestal.
Kallach took a firm grip on the deer skull lodged halfway inside the book's cover and yanked at it.

There were no pages inside the book. To tell you the truth, there was nothing in there save a peculiar reflective surface that seemed to ebb and flow like mercury whenever the tome was moved.


"You're not a big fan of magic, are you? But, oh well. I'm not a flesh grafter, and there's only so much I can do to help you with my abilities."


He slid his index finger under the bandages that covered Charlemagne's damaged hand, careful not to further tear up the already lacerated tissue. They slid off without difficulty. Because the mass of blood that was soaking into them didn't have enough time to fully coagulate and was more pliable as a result.

"There we have it. Hover your damaged arm over the book, making sure it does not come into contact with it. Keep it there for a few seconds and you'll be good to go."

Kallach thoughtfully neglected to mention that the procedure would hurt a bit. But who could really blame him? If the Mr. grumpy-face could bear the pain of a severed limb with a straight face then surely he could also handle a bit of reconstructive magic.

Dragoon
Charlemagne

 

[Charlemagne]

It seemed almost anathema to Phallendarr’s self-professed nature that the being might not have a full grasp on the situation. Were Charlemagne not already preoccupied with his current predicament, he might have commented on it.

As things were, the mercenary could only stare with an intermingling sense of shock and disbelief as the familiar seemingly disintegrated and then regurgitated itself as small folds of light. That light quickly coalesced into another recognizable form, and Charlemagne found himself staring at a book nearly as tall as himself. In his short time working alongside those that practiced the arts of the arcane he’d only been privy to divination and destruction magics that, while monstrous to behold, seemed reasonably understandable.

This thing was another beast entirely. It was uncanny, just as Phallendarr was, and Charlemagne privately wondered if he’d perhaps passed out inhaling swamp fumes and these last few hours were a hallucinatory dream. That inkling bled away as his hand throbbed once again, this one far more violent than the others. It seemed his wine had worn away entirely and now he was hidden to agony.

“The price for this sort of thing is often far too high,” he grunted through the pain. The stranger promised the book would mend his wound. How, Charlemagne had no idea, but it was better than replacing the hand entirely. Still, the question of the price remained. He supposed if he was not the one casting the spell then it wouldn’t be his to pay, or at least that was what he understood from prior interactions. This stranger, the wizard, would likely want coin in exchange, a far more reasonable price that Charlemagne would pay to be able to grip his sword again.

Deciding that further questions would only bring further anxiety and hesitation in a situation that required haste lest he lose the hand all together, Charlemagne shoved his hand just over the mercury surface.

The effect was immediate. An unseen force seemed to rush up and take grip of him just above the elbow, locking his body into place. With it came a pain unlike anything he’d experienced in many years. Rather than the heavy throb that followed the firing of blood through his veins, this was an ever-present agony. It quickly spread up his arm and spread through his veins like bolts of invisible lightning, traveling up the limb before terminating in his shoulder. It felt as if his entire arm had been engulfed in fire, the nerves feeling as if they were overloading before they sizzled out entirely.

His greatsword fell from his freehand and slipped further into the dirt. His knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed violently to the earth, wisps of smoke curling from his once-ruined hand. He could only utter something between a shout and a choke before consciousness left him.

 

[Dragoon]

Phallendarr watched as the spell was preformed, watching as Charlemagne went through agony to simply fix his arm. It seemed it was common for men, especially ones of pride, to take the hardest option there is. Something that a purely intellectual being like Phallendarr couldn’t grasp. Nor did they find it worth pondering over.

Explorer, what information did you gather whilst scouting the area?

It seemed only selfish that Phallendarr asked questions while the healing was going on, but they found it imperative to gain information. They couldn’t have beast of any kind destroying the world that he hadn’t studied yet.

Charlemagne Kallach

 

[Kallach]

"Woopsie daisy...."

Kallach grabbed the collar of Charlemagne's shirt, stopping him from collapsing backwards into a muddy pool.

"Ufff. That's gotta hurt, man."


He shifted his gaze from Charlemagne's hand (or latch thereof) to the book, then back to Charlemagne. The stump was completely healed. Bleeding flesh and visible bone were replaced by silvery scar tissue bands. It was a well-done or well-enough work.

Ugly as all hell, though.

It was, without a doubt. At the end of his handless stump, Charlemagne appeared to have a tumor. Kallach couldn't stop himself from poking it. He slid his fingertips around the uneven, lumpy surface. 'Course, it wasn't a tumor, but what did the country bumpkins know about magic? Jack shit.

They'd sooner accuse Charlemagne of being a mutant rather than a cripple. Although it was no fault of his own that the things panned out like that.

"That'll do it," Kallach mumbled to himself, dragging Charlemagne to the nearest tree stump and propping his unconscious frame against its mottled bark.

Kallach walked over to the floating tome and slammed it shut once he was confident Charlemagne wouldn't jerk awake and bang his skull on a stray rock. The dreadful thing even had the audacity to whine. What a bold display!


"The thinny, eh? There isn't a lot to say about it. The situation is actually fairly straightforward. All kinds of extraterrestrial predators are making their way from their home worlds into ours."


"Normally, such occurrences go unreported, but ah..."

Kallach came to a halt, his eyes squinting slightly. He didn't have to tell Phallendarr about what had transpired, but doing so would make him appear extra suspicious. Regardless, it'd be like putting oneself between a rock and a hard place.

"A whole village was disappeared off the map as a result of the incursion, buildings and all. Everything poofed into thin air."

Dragoon
Charlemagne

 

[Charlemagne]

It was fortunate that the stranger kept Charlemagne from hitting the ground, otherwise the mercenary might well have shattered his skull. The conversation that carried on between Phallendaar and the magician went unheard by Charlemagne. His mind was reeling in its own realm.

It was a dark place, only the occasional amber ray of twilight burning through the shadows. There was no tangible earth beneath his feet, nor any solid shapes amidst the murk. Only nothingness occasionally bisected by the beams of light. The world was deafeningly silent and so too was it devoid of any discernible scent. His fingers, restored on both hands now, flexed through the gloom. They met a surprising amount of resistance, as if he was submerged in deep waters.

He became aware that he was not so much laying there as he was floating. Gravity bore no hold over him now, and while it seemed he could not draw any breath from his surroundings, his body remained calm and collected all the same. It appeared he had transcended his mortal trappings.

Death then? Perhaps. It had certainly felt like he was dying. If this was the afterlife, then the many priests and so-called gods had done a fantastic job of overselling it. Floating here in the gloom seemed an utterly pointless affair.

Something moved.

He caught the barest shift within one of the amber rays. The figure was humanoid though it bore arms of an uncomfortably long proportion. Its digitigrade legs terminated in hooves, and it bore the long face of a mountain goat rather than that of a man’s. Long horns curled up from its skull, deep sulphuric eyes peering out from beneath them with foul intent.

He would have reached for his sword were his body capable of moving. He found his limbs unresponsive to his mind’s commands, and as the creature drew closer, his own helplessness slowly dawned on him. It continued forward, halting only when it stood towering over the mercenary, it’s lips parting to reveal rows upon rows of jagged teeth. Charlemagne could not even wince at it’s maw descended toward his throat.

The killing blow never came. The goat-thing froze just as he had, its eyes widening with shock. Then, with what sounded like a crack of thunder and a blinding flash of light, the beast vanished.

“Thou art mine last chick.” The voice rumbled from all around him. “Thy wings are clipped, thy siblings scattered. Thou hath survived thy trials. Thou carry thy wounds with pride.”

Charlemagne tried to part his lips to speak, but his body still refused to respond.

“Seventeen born of mine kiln. Prophets all, some true, some false. Mine lost sons and daughters. Jealous are they of the hawk’s clutch. Thee will of mortals an incomprehensible thing to thee unnatural. They shall continue to hunt thee and thine kin of spirit. Afeared are they of the wings of rivals.”

The amber light began to fade, and inky blackness rushed in to take its place. It seemed to recede faster as the voice spoke.

“Contend fledgling. Thy roost atop thee third world awaits.”

Darkness overcame them, and all grew silent.

——


Charlemagne began to stir, confusion and mental fuzz obvious in his expression as he rubbed at his tired eyes. “The fuck was that?” He gasped, not noticing the relative wholeness of his hand as he tried to regain his bearings.

 

[Dragoon]

Your story, is not to far off from my history

This is where things got interested for them, this may be a lead to help them learn of their creation past what they know.

I might have a place of interest to you, not quite far from here seeing as you can fly.

Phallendarr looked northeast from their position pointing through the thick clouds of fog and murky waters. The direction they would have the take would lead them through the deeper ends of the swamp, here carnivorous beast lurked in the depths and disrupted ships that were passing. Surely it was a risky travel but it might’ve been worth it if they wanted to get to the bottom of the investigations.

Charlemagne Kallach

 

[Kallach]

"Yeah yeah. Tell me about it. This place ain't all sunshines and rainbows. Actually, now that I think about it, the whole area seems to be in a state of perpetual dusk."



Kallach craned his neck, his tilted face gazing up at the heavens. The sky was covered with clouds as far as the eye could see. Storm clouds that are grey, mouldy, and threaten rain and thunder.
He gave them a grumpy grin and stuck his tongue out like a sulking toddler. He didn't like it because it was such an ugly sight.

"It's not like we can point to a certain perpetrator. It may have been anyone or anything, for all we know."

Kallach knelt to retrieve the pipe. When he reached out to prevent Charlemagne's fall, it had slipped from his hands.

The long neck of the pipe was stained with mud and fine sand. Kallach had to use his sleeve to wipe it clean.

He checked the ignition chamber for water and made sure it was dry. The male began stuffing it with a mixture of dried and crushed herbs after he was satisfied with what he had observed.
He continued to thumb at it until the dish was partly full of compacted plant stuff.

"Many creatures can pass through. The truth is, the curtain of reality can be pierced with a simple spell over here. In other regions, such endeavors would necessitate a herculean effort on the part of the caster."

Kallach brought the long pipe's tip to his lips, a single finger hovering just beneath the bowl. Electricity shot from his fingers, skating across the metallic surface and heating the contents to the point of combustion.

He drew in a mouthful of aromatic smoke, swishing it between his cheeks before finally exhaling it through his flared nostrils.

"But you can't deny the prospect! The things we could do here. I'm sure we could tear the world a new asshole with a bit of effort. Granted, we probably wouldn't survive the process."

Dragoon
Charlemagne

 

[Charlemagne]

He awoke to the sound of the world's new asshole being torn, or something along those lines. The mercenary remained silent for a few moments as the other two conversed, his mind spinning and his thoughts moving at a sluggish pace. That dream had been an incredibly strange one. The voice had spoken with the same archaic mannerisms of his former pursuers: tended toward the same symbolism. The question was whether that was simply an extremely vivid trauma dream, or something of some significance.

"Weird dream," he grumbled, his legs rising shakily beneath him as he pulled himself up from the dirt. He half paid attention to their conversation. "What are we doing?" He asked numbly. A quick examination of his wounded hand revealed it was relatively whole. Scar tissue would remain for quite likely the rest of his life, and the nerves weren't all there just yet, but he could flex the fingers now without much more than a dull ache. That ache echoed throughout his entire arm but compared to his prior pain it was nothing.

"I suppose the price was the pain," he grumbled, gaze drifting toward his two strange companions. "Guess I owe you now stranger. Never got your name."

He opted to keep the dream to himself. It would likely be dismissed as nothing more than a fevered hallucination, and truth be told Charlemagne wasn't sure if it wasn't just a trick of the mind. His gaze drifted instinctively toward the heavens, eyes narrowing as he peered into the rolling grays of the pregnant clouds above, momentary rumination dominating his attentions.

Dragoon, Kallach

 

[Dragoon]

I’d like to subdue what ever makes this place a thing than to use it as a opportunity to “tear the world a new asshole”. The world’s most infamous events came from humans attempting to harness powers above their mortal capacity.

Phallendarr was highly against the last phrase the stranger let out. It made them question the person’s goals, should they conflict with the goal of stopping the supernatural occurrences, Phallendarr would aims to kill him and who else stands in the way.

Charlemagne Kallach

 

[Kallach]

"Oh, right. You can call me Kallach. That's usually what I go by."

He had no cause to conceal his true identity. His surname, on the other hand, he chose to keep hidden. It wasn't fear or distrust that influenced his decision, but rather his own forgetfulness.

The ears of Kallach pricked up. He heard something that sounded like a branch snapping a few yards distant from the three of them. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the auditory intrusion, but his attempts were futile.

The male shrugged, assuming it was a wild animal, possibly a deer.

"And what about you? You hadn't told me yours, and it's not like I can guess. Mind reading was never my strongest suit."

I mean, I probably could poke around your brain, but it'd do me no good and I'm liable to accidentally kill you or turn you into a vegetable.

It seemed to him that the forest, or at least this pathetic attempt at one, was unusually quiet. He did hear a branch snap, but he was expecting more. There were no chirping crickets, singing birds, or buzzing mosquitoes in the area. From the moment he arrived until now, he hadn't seen a single squirrel or rodent.

I’d like to subdue what ever makes this place a thing than to use it as a opportunity to “tear the world a new asshole”. The world’s most infamous events came from humans attempting to harness powers above their mortal capacity.

"Hah hah," he chuckled awkwardly at Phallendarr's comment, pressing his cheek into the flat of his palm. Tilting his head, Kallach observed the creature's featureless face.

"That's the thing," his upper lip curled up, showing teeth, "you can't."

"There's not a perpetrator at whom you can wag your finger at. Thinnies are naturally occurring phenomena, just like leylines and places of power."


"For better or for worse, us mages are always told not to meddle in the intricate machinations of such places."

Dragoon
Charlemagne

 

[Charlemagne]

This talk of magic and ley lines was beginning to ease some of the fuzzyness of Charlemagne's thoughts. Focus slowly returned with each breath, and comprehension of his current situation returned in turn. He took in their conversation intently, the dull throb in his reparied hand easily ignorable compared to what it had been.

"Charlemagne," he answered curtly as he yanked his greatsword from the earth with both hands. The heavy weight of the weapon was somewhat comforting in his hands, an old familiarity. He quickly clipped the weapon back into its place upon his back. "Mages intermingling with the nature of the world tends to cause problems," he mumbled, his bitterness somewhat tempered by his gratitude.

The boat off awaited, but Charlemagne was a man of his own ethics. He would never be so bold as to claim his beliefs had anything to do with honor: still if a man offered help for nothing in return, a debt was owed, and he believed in repaying such things.

"These thinnies release strange beasts...stranger still that the gods folk pray to would allow such a thing to exist." That such a thing was wholly natural seemed more than a bit far-fetched to him. In Charlemagne's experience, strange happenings and supernatural phenomena were almost always the work of a malignant party.

"What's your intent for the one here, then? Your guild just send you to observe?"

Kallach, Dragoon

 

[Dragoon]

Charlemagne came with a question that intrigued Phallendarr. they’d think simply knowing what the thinny is would be enough to satisfy the people, yet here they are scouting. Surely there’s more to it.

Phallendarr could only think to himself, nothing about this being appears to be ill intent and yet it’s hard to believe it travelled here to simply watch…

This conversation had done nothing but distracted Phallendarr from their surroundings. Had anyone or thing began to stalk them they’d certainly be susceptible to an attack.

Charlemagne Kallach

 

[Kallach]

"Don't get me wrong. The gods are pretty fickle in their own right, but at the very least they are liable to give something in return if you worship them. A kind of 'I scratch your back and you scratch mine' relationship."

The gods could indeed be jerks, but Kallach never thought about it. He wasn't an atheist by any stretch of the imagination, partially because magic existed and partly because the existence of higher powers could not be denied. Only the insane and dangerously foolish would dismiss the miracles and supernatural abilities performed by numerous religious leaders around the world.

"Look at it like this: the deities of mortal men are like big fish in small ponds, so they don't have many, if any, competitors to contend with."

Kallach sucked on the stem of the pipe, inhaling another mouthful of ivory-white smoke. He breathed plums that distorted into various geometric shapes, ranging from circles and triangles to completely formed trapezoids.

"What's your intent for the one here, then? Your guild just send you to observe?"

"My superiors, those old dusty farts...."

He smiled inwardly. They were ancient, the kind of wise old men you'd expect every wizard to be. And so they saw it fit to send younglings to do all the manual labor. Dirtying their wrinkled hands was clearly above them.

"Really, they could've sent me anywhere. Anywhere but here, in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere. They expect me to capture one of the creatures that crossed over, so that they can 'examine' it."


The hairs on the back of his neck bolted up and a jolt shot up his spine. A breath hitched in his throat, which constricted slightly from irritation .

It was close by. And whatever was approaching wasn't a person, an animal, or even friendly in the slightest.

Kallach's pupils dilated and his gaze narrowed as he pumped magic into his eyes. As a result, he could see the silhouette plodding towards them from beyond the treeline.

Dragoon
Charlemagne

 

[Charlemagne]

Any kind of relationship beyond apathy between himself and any 'gods' was anathema to Charlemagne. Most folk spoke of them far too reverently for any concept of equality to be realistic. This one, Kallach he called himself, offered something of a mercantile viewpoint. That made more sense to the mercenary. Nothing in this world came free, least of all the favor of its supposed creators.

"Big fish maybe, but I'd hesitate to label them with any true sense of divinity. They're certainly astronomically powerful I'd assume. Power does not make one worthy of worship though." The mercenary mused. "Not really sure what does honestly." He was feeling himself now. Well enough to wax on the philosophical at the very least.

The familiar scent of burning leaves was a welcome distraction from the unpleasant bouquet of rotting vegetation and bubbling mud that pervaded this part of the swamp. It urged him to reflexively reach for his wineskin, only for him to dismally remember that he'd already drunk the lot of it.

His gaze dropped to his hand for a moment, then to Phallendarr and Kallach. "You have to capture one alive?" A brow was lofted. "We've got a corpse of...something back there." He jerked a thumb back the way they'd come.

His curiosity abated as the stranger responded to some stimulus from beyond the treeline. Charlemagne whirled about to discern what the man was looking at, a hand rising toward the pommel of his greatsword. "Can't get a damn break," he grumbled through grit teeth, body tense as he waited to see what was to greet them.

Dragoon, Kallach

 

[Dragoon]

That is if the swamp didn’t take it back

Phallendarr said responding to the offer Charlemagne gave to Kallach.

It’d be quick he’d notice the change of the atmosphere, from the conversation of missions to the tension before battle. It was almost as if the whole environment around them felt it as well, the creaking trees became silent. Water still, almost appearing frozen at a glance, even the stench filled winds flowed away. Phallendarr shifted their head in the direction that everyone looked, a beast of some kind perhaps. It’s piercing stare stood out through the trees and vegetation.

Surely though this battle will be quicker than the last. After all this new traveler transcends a simple man and Charlemagne was almost at full health, and certainly battle ready.

Phallendarr couldn’t risk using too much magic this time, they’d resort to physical combat. They stretched out their left hand, the palm of their gauntlet expanding and bursting open in to pieces splashing into the waters below. A tentacle-like appendage shot from Phallendarr’s palm, it was like their skin, a milky white and slick to the touch. It wiggled around violently before solidifying from the base down. Slowly it formed into a broadsword, it’s design rudimentary until it got to the the blade. Barbed and Jagged made to not simply cut but mutilate.

Phallendarr closed their hand around the grip of the sword as it detached from their palm, it’s point dipping into the waters below disrupting the still flow.

Charlemagne
Kallach

 

[Kallach]

The entity that appeared was humanoid in appearance, but only in a hazy sense. It had a swollen torso and a bent back. All four of its limbs were grotesquely thin while yet being extraordinarily lengthy.

The hunchback made it hard to guess the creature's height, although Kallach wagered it was anywhere from two and a half to three meters tall at its tallest point.

There were no traces of body hair on its skin. In fact, it didn't resemble a human hide at all. The creature's leathery skin was seen by Kallach, who noted its vast thickness and turquoise coloring, the latter of which caused it to bunch up and wrinkle in many spots. It looked like a pug had been crossed with a human.

The strangest feature was a second mouth on its upper torso. Its wide gape exposed a single row of upscaled and downright gigantic human teeth. One could've fit a grown man halfway into the opening and, judging by the creature's impressive bulk, it could've likely bitten the said man in half without much trouble.

It stared at them blankly, or would have if it had eyes to see with. No, it wasn't the case. The creature's tiny, bulbous head had two eye holes, but they were empty and filled with nothing but blackness and translucent slime that spilled out in weak rivulets.

The creature tilted its head, revealing a large tongue through its second mouth. The colossal ball of flesh, the size of a human torso, swung around, flicking and tasting the air.

It made Kallach wonder: what if it was actually blind?

But, no, it wasn't always the case. These beings didn't follow the same set of rules as Charlemagne or himself. By comparison, even Phallendarr appeared fully human.

One thing was certain.

"Holy ravioli, that's one ugly motherfucker!" bellowed Kallach atop his lungs.



Dragoon
Charlemagne

 

[Charlemagne]

No breaks indeed.

Charlemagne's eyes narrowed as the beast strutted out into full view. It was a truly disgusting creature, some form of abomination that seemed to fit the bayou all too well. It lacked the animalistic characteristics of the monstrosities Charlemagne had come across in his travels. It did not speak in rhymes or riddles as they did either, but it looked unholy enough to be in league with his pursuers.

The greatsword was heavy and a bit awkward in his hands. His freshly healed limb was still a bit numb from the magical procedure, and it took him a few seconds of measuring the weight to wield his blade properly. He angled it toward the beast when he did so, legs set wide to better balance himself.

"One day of peace from you bastards, that's all I ask." Charlemagne grumbled. His fight with the crocodile-beast had been taxing. He'd find it within himself to face this one too, though if another came along, he might well be useless. One could not swing around a greatsword all day without ending up exhausted.

He peered into the creature's empty sockets and found no sentience within them. The others had been semi-feral things, speaking in their old tongue and offering words of worship to their god. This one, like the crocodile, seemed to lack such higher functions.

Perhaps from a different source then. Perhaps this 'thinny' and not the old goat. Perhaps both problems were in league with one another. He supposed it didn't really matter right now.

"After this, consider my debt paid," he added to Kallach as he marched toward the monster. That march quickly shifted into a sprint, his aching muscles whining in protest as he hefted his blade over his shoulder. When he closed the distance, he would swing the blade low at his hips in hopes of hamstringing its legs as darted past around it.

Dragoon, Kallach

 

[Dragoon]

Phallendarr witnessing the horrid creature make it’s appearance remained emotionless. It was beyond that of a basic organic being, the way the second jaw was on the upper torso. Where would it’s lungs be, it’s heart, it was indeed an abomination or as the stranger described it, extraterrestrial.

Their interest peeked, their thoughts and focus only broken by Charlemagne charging at the beast. In that moment he was nothing more than a beast, appearing to mindlessly charge at a unknown enemy. Yet humans say they are different from animals, a lie. Phallendarr stomped forward exploding into a sprint, no matter how the man was viewed, he’d needed to be alive for Phallendarr to study. They caught up to Charlemagne just by his hip until gathering their feet and jumping forward. They’d position themselves mid air behind the beast waiting for it’s reaction to the man’s attack.

Charlemagne Kallach

 

[Kallach]

"Wait a mom-"

When Charlemagne cut him off, marching away in the direction of the creature, Kallach raised his voice and was about to say something. Kallach would have warned him, but he chose to remain silent and let Charlemagne see for himself why charging the thing without first inspecting it was a foolish idea.

Despite being aware of Charlemagne's presence, the monster seemed unconcerned by his approach. The beast only reacted when the warrior swung his massive sword at it. And react it did, and with incredible speed. It was a blur for a single second, whipping one of its gangly arms through the air like a whip. It sprang forth with such quicksilver speed that an untrained human eye would have struggled to detect the movement.

It blocked Charlemagne's attack with its forearm, right above the wrist, preventing major injury. Charlemagne's blade should have sliced straight through the skeletally thin appendage, but it didn't. The creature's flesh solidified upon impact, giving Charlemagne the sensation of striking a solid lump of steel.

The group could now get a better look at the creature's hands, which were hardly hands at all. Each of the talon-like fingers had at least five joints, with huge, slightly curved claws at the end. Kallach had little doubt that they could rip through flesh and armor, as well as stone, judging by the creature's capacity to accelerate rapidly.

"Well, I was about to warn you."

He scratched the side of his head and smiled sheepishly. Kallach then jabbed a finger in the approximate direction of the beast. They would have noticed he was pointing to something above Charlemagne's head if they had bothered to look.

The creature's second clawed hand was gradually being lifted into a striking stance.

"Look at your defenses now," Kallach said a fraction of a second before the hand began its downward trajectory, descending at equally frightening speeds.

Charlemagne
Dragoon

 

[Charlemagne]

Phallendarr moved in with him and for that he was grateful. Charlemagne had never been the type to sit back and observe. His time in the Spine had taught him well that hesitation, much like apathy, was death. That strategy worked well against mortals. Most men fought similarly if they weren't specialized in their training and tended to react to stimuli in the same way. One could afford to go in blind when they knew what to expect.

The creatures were different. Each of them seemed to carry abilities beyond that of normal living things, augmented either by magic or sin, and often times both. Some degree of planning was warranted in dealing with them. That being said, recklessness had served him well against the beasts, even the strangest of them. None of them, at the least, had been capable of withstanding the bite of his sword.

The mercenary's eyes went wide as the weapon clanged upon unnaturally strong skin. The impact sent shockwaves up his arms, threatening to shake his bones out of their joints from the force of it. Charlemagne's lips pulled back in a gruesome snarl, newfound frustration firing through his veins and clearing the fog of his exhaustion. What hell had this monstrosity engaged in to be rewarded with skin that could parry a greatsword?

Kallach spoke but Charlemagne paid little attention. He was too busy drawing back his sword for another hammer-blow upon the creature's face. As he swung downward, so too did the abomination. Another shockwave exploded through his arms as the rising blade met the falling arm at full force, the weapon bouncing back as if he'd swung it into the face of a boulder. The beast pressed his moment of weakness, its gaping maw splitting apart as it lunged to snatch him up. The mercenary shouted with surprise as he jumped back, falling flat onto his ass, but avoiding the unnatural jaws.

Another hammer-blow from the unnatural arms crashed into his forearm as he rose to his feet. The plate wrapped about it buckled beneath the force of the blow, pain firing up his arm though the nerves remained useful. A blow from the other side followed, this time caught on the edge of his greatsword as he drew the blade in close to his chest. Once again it took advantage of his defense and sought to enclose it in his jaws. Charlemagne was ready for it this time, his footwork saving his life as he jumped back a few paces on the balls of his feet, just barely missing the teeth. His arms spun in a vertical swing that would have cleaved a man from shoulder to opposite hip in hopes of cutting the thing in half.

The two arms interlocked to block the blade, and with a seemingly infinitesimal effort, shoved the weapon back and Charlemagne with it. He slid back across the gravel and mud, teeth grit so hard they felt like they might shatter as he leveled his blade. "First armored one I've seen," he snarled to his companions, his gaze never leaving the beast. "You with the goats you ugly cunt?" He demanded of the creature.

Dragoon

 

[Dragoon]

Phallendarr remain to hover in the sky until the creature repelled Charlemagne’s attack. Phallendarr shot down at the creature at immense speed, the rush of wind that followed their movement stripped the tree of their leaves. Holding their sword forward ahead of them the point of the blade struck against the back of the iron skinned monster. Its hide only repelling Phallendarr’s attack, they pounced back before the creatures counter could strike. Softly landing a ways back from the creature stabbing their blade into the soft vegetation. despite their attack it didn’t even bother to turn and look at Phallendarr.

It was quick, to quick for anyone to attack without putting their body on the line. With some form of awareness that had yet to be determined. It’s skin with a durability that surpassed even a iron swords. A mouth that could snap them in half at will, and talons that would butcher them in seconds. It was hard for Phallendarr to strategize against this thing.

They rose their sword from the earth and pointed it at the beast, softly releasing their grip their hand spread open holding the blade through telekinetic abilities. It softly span picking up speed after every revolution, the air around it believing pulled in like that of a horizontal tornado. Perhaps.

Phallendarr shot the spinning blade forward piercing the air before it with great force. It seemed to be aimed to the spinal score of the beast in hopes of paralyzing it if the sword pierced the hide.


Charlemagne
Kallach

 

[Kallach]

Phallendarr's assault hit the creature and should've severed its spine and rendered it completely crippled, but it didn't. The blades dug in, but never reached bone, for the creature had no spine or backbone beneath its odd skin. Its very existence defied all scientific explanations.


It catapulted itself into the air after half-turning and squatting awkwardly with its deformed legs.

Despite its clumsiness and lack of acrobatic talent, the monster had no trouble pushing itself seven, or even eight meters off the ground.
When it fell feet first near Phallendarr, it shattered the ground. Like shrapnel, loose particles of soil mixed with gravel shot in all directions.

"Fucking hell. Be careful you guys."

Kallach had just just managed to protect his face from the makeshift buckshot with one arm. His eyes would have been smashed and he would have been completely blind if he hadn't acted quickly.

The ground beneath their feet trembled fiercely, as if there had been a large-scale explosion nearby. Kallach immediately took a step back, trying not to fall over or lose his balance in any way.

What in the absolute tarnation-

Things didn't seem to be going well for the three of them. Or maybe they were? The creature acted in such a way that Kallach was almost convinced of its blindness and lack of wit.

Only when the assailants were near by did it react. It made no attempt to evade Phallendarr's strike, which it clearly could have done if it had detected it in time.

It left him thinking....

"I'll come up with something. Just buy me a bit of time you two."


Over the carnage, he shouted, craning his neck to get a better look at the thing.

It stood stiff as a statue inside its own small crater, (small in comparison to it, despite being at least a meter deep) bending slightly forward. It hadn't bothered to assault any further, though its second mouth, which was facing Phallendarr, was slavering and flicking its big tongue, displaying its voracious need.

Dragoon
Charlemagne