Private Tales In the Service of Mankind

[Jericho]

Every single shot managed to find it’s mark. The boy screamed out in pain as he was riddled with bolts, falling silent as two bolts pierced his skull. The boy slammed into the ground, convulsing as he slowly bled out in agonizing pain. His blood pooled beneath him, dyeing the ground a vile crimson.

Despite what seemed like an easy victory, horror fell upon the mixed group. The captain simply fell to his knees, stunned at the execution before him. Some men and elves behind him began to puke, there stomachs unable to take the ghastly sight in front of them. The captain, simply looked at Trajan, his face contorted with horror. “What have you done...” He gasped, tears welling up in his eyes.

As the boy laid dying, gurgling on his on blood, the chime of a bell echoed through the group.

 

[Trajan Meng]

Trajan lifted his warhammer and the Bulwark disappeared. He sniffed and spat on the ground in front of him. Didn't spare a look back at the sound of the vomiting or the sound of knees hitting dirt. It would seem the xeno deceiver had them enthralled in some perverse manner or another. No matter.

It would fall to Trajan to liberate them. To cleanse Arethil of the demon's corrupting and insufferable presence once and for all.

For the men and women and children of Nostra.

May they rest in peace.

"Reload," Trajan said to his men. And, with practiced and drilled swiftness, they did as he ordered. "Make ready to draw your hand weapons, if necessary. Stay alert. Claire."

"Yes," she said.

"Are we clear?"

Claire eyed the captain. Her lips pursed. But she said, "Yes. Flanks are clear."

"Good."

And Trajan stepped forward once his men had finished loading their bolts and had their crossbows at a high-ready position. Walked until he stood before the gurgling xeno wretch.

Lifted his warhammer.

And swung it down with all his might at the xeno's head.

 

[Jericho]

The captain charged forward, knocking Trajan aside before the war hammer could connect with the boy’s head. “Open your damn eyes! That’s not him! That’s not him you fool!” The captain rushed to the boy’s side, pulling the crossbow bolts out of his body.

The mixed group stood, crossbows at the ready. They couldn’t help but shudder in their boots. Yet as tense as they were, they wouldn’t dare fire unless ordered to.

“You seem scared, my little rabbit.” A garbled whisper echoed inside Claire’s head, followed by the soft chime of a bell. “How much do you really know about your leader, little rabbit. How well do you even know the man you so blindly follow.”

 

[Trajan Meng]

Trajan staggered back. Kept his footing. A sharp exhale of air from his nose.

"You and your men are enthralled to the demon. And for that, you have my sympathy. But I will free you from the demon's sinister cajoling," Trajan said, lifting his warhammer once again. "Stand aside. Listen to the voice of reason and stand aside. I do not wish ill upon you, for you are my brother, but I will do what I must. For the sake of your men, if I cannot save you as well."

"Red!" Claire yelled. "Fucking red!"

Trajan's men started glancing about. Scanning everywhere and everything. The wagons and the hills and the dirt path and the trees.

Claire wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. Backed up more toward one of Trajan's men. Going back to back with him.

Min'dellar, still sitting on the lead wagon's driver seat, just chuckled at the whole affair.

"Shut the fuck up, Min'dellar," Claire said.

Another crow caw.

"Stand. Aside." Trajan said to the captain. "Now."

 

[Jericho]

“No! I may not serve the boy any longer, but I won’t let you desecrate this dying boy anymore!” The captain shouted, standing in front of Trajan, blocking his path.

“Hush my little rabbit. Listen to my voice.” The whisper chirped, images flashing within the poor women’s mind. Images of children being massacred by a shadow. Images of their mangled corpses, blood dripping from the eye sockets. “If you want Trajan and the rest to be spared, then you shall do as I say. Otherwise, I shall do unspeakable things to them, you will be forced to hear their screams. Do you understand love?”

“That boy, has a collar. A collar with a silver bell attached. Jericho is never seen without that damn thing!” The captain explained, pointing at the dying boy. “This boy, he doesn’t have that bell. This boy, was an innocent child!”

 

[Trajan Meng]

Regrettable.

That the captain had lost his mind. Focused on a collar that would have been trivially easy to remove.

"Red! Red! Still fucking red here!" Claire yelled.

Trajan could spare no more time. Not with Claire's indication that xeno trickery was still about.

"Forgive me," Trajan said. "For what I must do. Your men will understand, once they are free."

This had to end. Now.

Trajan took a few steps back. Standing clear.

And he gave the order.

"Men! Open fire on the xeno."

Trajan's men all took aim at the xeno boy on the ground. And unleashed another volley of bolts at it. Regardless of the captain standing close by.

 

[Jericho]

The captain swiftly moved out of the way, tears streaming down his cheeks as the bolts embedded themselves into the boy. The boy convulsed for a second, then stopped. At long last, the boy was finally put out of his misery. His eyes stared blankly at the sky, his spirit rising to the heavens.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?” The garbled whisper shouted, battering her with another set of images. This time, it was of her fellow men. They were screaming in agony, whilst shadows did nefarious things to them. One was slowly being skinned alive. Another was having his eyes gouged out. Around her, shadows seemed to grow, steadily creeping closer to her. “Run into the forest, run as fast as you can love. Do as I say and they’ll be spared this ghastly fate.”

 

[Trajan Meng]

A mercy, that no bolts had gone astray. Trajan did not want harm to befall the captain unless it had proved absolutely necessary. And, as fortune had it, it did indeed prove unnecessary. Trajan sighed.

"I am sorry for what you had to endure," Trajan said to the captain. "This day, and twenty years ago. I am truly sorry."

And just as a wave of relief came over Trajan, Claire spoke again.

"Red..."

She wiped at her closed eyes. Holding the crossbow in one hand.

"Still red."

Trajan scowled. This infernal demon. Was there no end to its trickery? And there were those layabouts and complacents and collaborators and sympathizers who would dare call his methods harsh, his views extreme. When evil such as this stalked the world, wielding such unholy power with wanton and callous abandon, predating on the weak and defenseless, raping and pillaging with no end in service to their base and insatiable and sick desires, spreading terror and misery and death and destruction and threatening the annihilation of all things good and pure and worthy, then what, pray tell, what were mundane men and women meant to do? Simply permit evil to flourish through inaction?

No. Trajan could not and would not stand idle. Not against the threat of xenos, nor the threat of indiscriminate evil by otherworldly fiends. He owed his brothers and sisters, the whole of humanity, that much. And he would do his part until his dying breath.

A throaty hmph. And he said, "Staggered reload. Those to my left, draw hand weapons. Those right, reload."

And the men did as they were told. Six of them holding their crossbows with one hand and drawing swords and axes with their other, the other six reloading their crossbows as their brothers watched their backs.

Trajan walked back toward them and, more specifically, to Claire. Still she stood back-to-back with one of the men currently reloading his crossbow. She looked exhausted. Distraught. But a strength renewed in her eyes once he stood before her.

He didn't even need to say it. Nor she. It was understood between them.

Claire, you are my sister.

Trajan, you are my brother.

And we are kin.

And Trajan's eyes left hers and kept watch about the hills and the wagons and all else around them. Looking for the cowardly xeno fiend.

 

[Jericho]

"So you have made your choice, eh? You have decided to forfeit the lives of your comrades in exchange for your own?" The voice quizzed, echoing throughout the band's minds. Next came the images, flashing through their minds. Images of them being ripped apart by shadows. Images of them being individually. Images of children playing happily in a field, their eyes gouged out, their voices demonic.

The mixed group however, was nowhere to be found. Only the captain remained, alongside him the robed elf. The proud old man, who seemed to be as tough as nails, was curled on the dirt, sobbing. "Marie....I'm s-sorry..." He mumbled, shuddering on the ground as the elf watched over him.

Shadows seemed to stretch and grow towards the group, whilst a heavy fog began to roll in from the east. As the visibility began to drop, a force slammed into one of the men, knocking him to the ground. Within seconds, his skin began to rapidly break out into hives and boils.

 

[Trajan Meng]

"Red."

"Red!"

"Red here."

So said all the men at nearly the same time. And Trajan likewise said, "Red."

The mixed group had fled, it would seem. The captain merely a shell of himself, a man broken. The robed xeno beside him. Trajan spoke while continuing the scan the surrounding area, "Report."

"Ready!" "Ready up!" "Loaded."

The various responses of those men who had their crossbows reloaded.

"Staggered reload," Trajan ordered. And those who had loaded crossbows held theirs at a high-ready while the other six put away their hand weapons and quickly set about reloading their own crossbows.

It didn't take long for another report.

"Movement. Movement, east," said one of the men with an already loaded crossbow.

"Claire," Trajan said, turning east. Alliria. Only days in that direction. What manifest evil they were spared, if but for a scant few moments, by the stand Trajan and his followers would make. "Eyes west."

"Eyes west," she repeated, turning with the man she had her back to. Aiming her crossbow west and past the wagons as he aimed his east.

Fog. Always fog. Granted, it was not red. Not like in the Pandemonium crisis. But deceivers were fond of skulking within fog. They wore their cloak of cowardice like a badge of honor and imagined themselves strong as they shrunk and hid from battle.

"Gather 'round," Trajan said as he lifted the Emblazoned Sun. The head of the warhammer pointed toward the ground once more.

And he slammed it into the dirt path once more, and the Bulwark appeared again. Despite the amount of charge it would use, Trajan extended it to maximum radius, five meters. Enough for all his men and Claire to shelter inside. In all things risk, yes, but he had little choice. A full-sized Bulwark would sap the charge from the Emblazoned Sun quickly, leaving Trajan and all the rest utterly defenseless against the foul magic the creature wielded. But he needed it to cover everyone. No one left behind.

Claire and all his men hurried inside. All but one, who didn't make it before something knocked him down and the fog enveloped him and the sight of him lost.

And he shouted with pride, "I serve willingly! For Mankind!"

Otto Merrick. His name was Otto Merrick. A man who cared for his family, his home, and his city. A combat veteran of the Anirian Guard, who had no aspirations of climbing the ranks and becoming a sergeant and beyond, but who had served with honor and valor all the same. A man whose sole concern was the well-being of others, whether it be his wife and his daughters and his mother, his fellow soldiers standing beside him in line combat in the Guard, or his brothers and sisters in the Luminari.

May his name shine for all time.

"For Mankind!" Trajan echoed back to him.

And, as one, the eleven men and Claire all bellowed, "For Mankind! Hurrah!"

They stood. Trajan in the center with his warhammer touching the ground and the shimmering dome of the Bulwark emanating from it. Claire, now next to him. And the eleven men, shoulder-to-shoulder, crossbows aimed outward to cover all directions and hand weapons redrawn for the five men whose reload had been interrupted by the arrival of the fog.

They stood.

United.