Cruelty and Anger

The man was dressed in tattered rags, much like the humans who killed the Golem, and had a dark skin tone which stood out amongst the pale tall grass.

Unlike Wanderer, the ticks had not seen it fit to leave the man be and were brutally descending upon him, heedless of the soul-wrenching screams, plunging their drill-like mouths into his body.

In the grass, where they were dispersed and far apart, it seemed that the ticks were few and far between, yet now the true scale of the infestation became apparent, in just a few moments ten of the creatures were upon the man, and lines of parting grass signified that there were more arriving.

Wanderer didn’t even have time to question why the ticks would attack the man but not them, they sprinted toward the source of the screams hoping they weren’t too late this time.

As they ran, a sound broke through the pain-filled screaming, one that seemed an antithesis of the events in front of them, a raucous and hearty laughter.

There, sitting in a cabin at the front of the carriage, sat a rather large, burly man, in his left hand he held a cruel whip, in the other a flask.

He was doubling over in malicious laughter, only disturbed by the occasional sip of some unknown liquor, a few steps away from him stood a woman of a similar state to the injured man, also dressed in rags, they looked onto the unfolding scene with evident pain yet did not attempt to help.

After a moment, the laughing man seemed momentarily disturbed by something, resulting in them banging with one arm on the back of their booth, an action which caused a final person to hurriedly begin cranking a lever that led into a complex contraption.

The machine reminded them of Emio's ritual, always moving and shifting to create an ongoing spell, little pieces and arms of a copper-coloured metal twirling and dancing with dizzying precision.

So far, Wanderer had happened upon many different types of magic, the violent chaos of fire, the stalwart power of earth and the ever-growing wildness of plant magic, yet the runes flaring from the curio showed a new kind of magic, ice.

A part of their mind itched to stop and analyse the scene, to work out why there were signs of merriment from the man as his companion was being devoured across from him, or to stop and wonder at the miraculous contraption that was whirring only a few steps away from them, but they had no time.

They had arrived at the man, still weakly crying in pain, yet much reduced from what it once was.

The Golem set to work, ripping the parasites out from the man's body with reckless abandon, caring little for the damage it did, the ticks would do more if they were left alone.

Yet as fast as Wanderer could take them away, more came rushing out of the grass, each ignoring Wanderer and Emio and darting directly toward the human.

After a few precious seconds attempting to fight the tide, Wanderer realised that they had to move their patient somewhere out of the reach of their attackers.

Carrying the human in their four clay arms, they rushed out of the tall grass and toward the carriage, eliciting a yell from the woman in rags and a sudden stop to the laughter.

While Wanderer's only thoughts were on saving a life, those on the road saw a massive monster of clay, splattered with blood while holding a dying man in their arms and a many-limbed demon of branches and leaves looming behind them.

Yet their screams and yells fell on deaf ears, Wanderer's mind much too focused on the task at hand, too focused to even notice the sharp drop in temperature.

By some miracle, the ticks did not pursue, only a few managing to make it onto the road before they scurried back to their home.

Yet their absence did not place the dying human out of danger, the monster's savage mouths having ripped holes in the man's body that were currently leaking deep, red blood.

“I must stop the bleeding” Wanderer realised.

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Wanderer did not think they would be able to sculpt the human's flesh like they did their own, Humans were strange creatures with things like bones and skin, both of which weren't particularly malleable.

A flashed image of cloth shot through the Vessel's mind, a bolt of inspiration from their Spirit, causing Wanderer to rapidly look around for some kind of fabric.

Their first thought was the books and scraps of paper in their satchel, yet they were old and brittle, more likely to dissolve than absorb.

The Golem’s gaze turned to the rags that partially covered the man, too tattered and destroyed by the ticks to be of much use, yet they gave Wanderer an idea.

The Vessel turned toward the other humans around them, all were terrified but Wanderer had no time to rectify this, the man on top of the cart and woman were wearing little better than the dying man in front of them, but the burly human who had once been laughing was ripe for the picking.

In opposition to the others, he was wearing a thick cotton coat, (likely to combat the cold that covered the area), it was in good condition and would likely work well to staunch the bleeding.

Wanderer turned around and started running toward them, unwilling to waste what little time the wounded man had left, hardly even noticing when their target started shouting to the woman next to him.

“Keep tesiko dertag away from kio, keep kio safe, quickly”, the man barked, whilst shoving the damsel in front of him, taking refuge behind her.

The woman had been cowering before Wanderer had even arrived in her line of sight, but now she was trembling with fear as she was forced into a collision course with a very determined Golem.

Wanderer didn't quite understand why she was standing in their way to begin with, when compared to the likes of Emio, Wanderer could be considered still quite weak, yet a single look toward the woman’s emaciated body showed that the Golem could push her aside like a feather.

As Wanderer approached, the woman seemed conflicted, their mind warring between unknown possibilities, all involving a great deal of fear.

At the last possible second, just as Wanderer was preparing to push her out of the way, she leapt to the side, slamming into the cart as she did so, then dashing and hiding in the protected booth.

Now the Vessel's target was abandoned of its forced protector and standing somewhat helplessly in the middle of the road with an expression of pure rage on their face, their only protection being the whip they brandished in their hand.

The man attempted to fight, slinging the long cord at Wanderer, and while it certainly hurt it didn't do anywhere near enough damage to stop them.

A wrestle ensued, the man fighting for his life and the Golem only trying to rob him of his coat, it was a struggle for both parties, the human being no pushover in terms of strength, but the Golem was four-armed and spirit-blessed, allowing them to win out in the end.

Leaving a terrified and bruised man in their wake, Wanderer rushed back to their injured ward, finding them unconscious and pale from the blood loss, running out of time.

The Vessel set to work, tearing the cloth into strips, and tightly wrapping them around the man's many wounds.

Wanderer didn't know of any knots or bindings, having to settle for wrapping the fabric around the wounds as many times as they could manage and hoping the bandage held.

Wanderer stopped to observe their handiwork, luckily the man no longer seemed to be openly shedding blood, yet they still seemed pale and wouldn't wake up, the Golem simply didn't know enough about humans to tell if they would survive.

The Vessel was disturbed from their worries by the crack of a whip and the newly familiar scream of a human.

Behind them, the burly man had dragged the woman out of her hiding place inside the cabin and threw her to the floor, brutally flogging them with a look of unrighteous rage.

It didn't make sense to Wanderer, “why is he doing this”, they questioned, were the two not friends?

Emio protected the Golem because they were friends, the woman protected the man, so they should be friends too, and friends don't hurt each other.

It was then that Wanderer noticed the fact that wounds covered the woman’s back, old wounds from before the current day.

But if the man regularly hurt the woman why did they not run away, no one would want to remain around someone who abused them.

Their Spirit provided an answer, they stayed because they had nowhere to run.

What could they do, they were weak and starved (likely intentionally) they stood no chance of escaping on foot.

It was then that Wanderer understood why the wounded man was being attacked in the first place, he had likely taken his chances and tried to escape into the grasses, the ticks having cared little for how righteous their cause.

And it all clicked into place, the cruel laughter was because of the failed escape attempt, somehow funny to the imprisoner and the whip was not needed to kill people, but to cause pain and fear in its victims.

By all means, the people around Wanderer were trapped, by terror instead of physical barriers.

And as this terrible realisation dawned on the Golem, a new emotion surged through their clay body.

Rage.