Chapter Fifteen: Beyond Reason
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Many would dive, striking iron the pressure turning the feeble to ashes, the uninspired stricken and lamented, curious thing pressure the weight of man. Be it societal, physical there was reason only few rose drenched in flames soaring higher than peers, those sole individuals that cropped just at the time needed, borne- As if planted. A force of will that brought with it a new drive pushing forward progress and the lower with them. Was it inherent in all of us or stock of lives given by miraculous birth, many would dispute the ladder for sake of empathetic reasoning a thing no scholar should sully themselves with.
Evidence was a nature of all men were born predisposed, tempered by the stock given. For what reason other, than the generations of such elementalists, stonemasons derive their lineage?
...
Between musk, twisted thorn bushes a slow march continued an armament of steel and iron, against seemingly endless swampland of Dorrin cursed and hissed at their emergence. Swaying back, fourth a cage jolted with every bump, thick bars entrapped those inside moaning of wood amongst tears and scars, pools of dried blood.
"Chaos Lords, beings unholy borne with the drudges of demons deaths of innocence was immeasurable, powers as hell incarnate only grew by the toll. Devious, unruly and treacherous were creeds they sought bringing an aura of depravity under their rule of dark sky. Humanity was the lesser forgotten used as mere playthings in games. Fragile existences they were, these so called bugs they deemed to use as fodder went nearly extinct, yet this is what drove them further is it not? These small creatures the lords glanced over didn't succumb to the darkness, not giving up they held themselves strong striking down the lords with a unified power."
Mindless prattle Richnell thought in a distant gaze, open to all his figure slumped over. The horizon had barely changed, only but two set of moons had seen his state, still towering peaks surrounded them that had since been obstructing the path days prior. Richnell's body ached his skin had lost its warmth, showing now only a pale complexion. With the sun rising, the second had turned into a third trial. Growing ragged passages kept repeating, dwelling in his mind delirious fantasies never stopped... At his sides Richnell's hands were pierced, each nailed to these crevices brimming them with his departing warmth, a lack of sensation came along his limbs, looking at them without inquiry he knew, he had lost the ability to move. Death never came, a cleric just close enough to stitch the blood back in, a profession more torturer than healer. As practitioners of suffering, extending the pain, lengths of torment just to break and wear the mind. The extreme methods far too cruel and inhumane at what point did they relish screams of the dammed?
Hisses of vegetation pluming foul gasses, an ear wrecking buzz of flying insects too happily sucking nearby blood and latching themselves to horses. Dorrin was inhospitable to man toxic life, corrosive sludge and smog of methane. Small and unseen death was far the worst a scratch an itch determined coffin size, insectoid repellent barrels of lavender stitched to garments, the lucky few sporting mage assistance. Scouts held lanterns, a task to further ward the endless wave of insects trapping them inside, despite measures the tiny bastards felled men on every trek. Further one ventured more twisted the land became, arachnids big as small dogs, pits of sludge and spitting slime corroded metal and flesh within minutes. Viperwigs stick like creatures, that stalked in shadows, thin prehensile tongues that disguised themselves as vines able to suck the nutrients of any animal or wanderer. Only the best of armor or ward protected one in these swamplands.
Even still a lapse of judgement, ignorance and unprepared for the harsh cruelty of the wilds killed just as quick. No more than a dozen carriages and numerous hooded knights drudged through lying water, men on horseback rallying the sides scouting over the tall hedge and towering weed for any disturbance. No mark came upon the hung banners, a golden cross joined with a crescent moon a symbol Kesh's power. Indentured workers dedicated for the sole purpose of flag bearers any mishandling scarred upon them, it was not difficult to hold a pole up straight, but through knee high mangroves, sludge for hours under a grueling sunlight? The matter changed then, evident from the burn and slashes upon their naked backs.
As if the symbol held any meaning besides an oath of death, Richnell cursed himself his actions, days prior he was amongst them. The wool over his eyes, borne into the doctrine but the death of children younger than his sister harbored ill? Families slain for what misguided purpose. Numerous men passed his speed as the swampland turned to small hillocks, some had parted a glance or sneer. Turning Richnell's cage followed an embankment becoming rougher jolting up and down, the spikes dug deeper. Tearing already scarred hands a small grimace slipped on Richnell's face. A soft chuckle came from the knight pulling his cage, hearing the plight he couldn't help but laugh. Richnell would've knocked the fuckers teeth out if able, but he saw no out in this.
Once the Twilight Sect wants something they get it.
"I hope you're enjoying the ride back there." Not caring to look up at the mans ridicule, be it not the first nor last Richnell felt nothing but disdain, even so that itself seemed too placid. The knights brutish smile had jeered one to many, perhaps something will come of it Richnell sighed as he resisted the urge to retort. Without the ability, or the freedom to do anything what was the point.
Slowing the cart wheels ceased, with sounds of galloping quieting a stallion rested. Grunting the horse lowered its back allowing the armored knight to dismount. Looking forward the knight kept a composed figure, in front a black carriage took his view it was elegantly crafted with four Selnars pulling it. Creatures much sturdier than any horse, in appearance the two where similar but boasted four additional legs and thicker hide. Yet its most defining feature was the curved tusks said to be stronger than steel, fearsome the Selnars held imposing auras. However peculiar still was only but one man, full draped in a brown ranger's cloak pulling the tenacious beasts. Putting reins to the side, the man's cloak parted showing his chain armor underneath fitting the body snugly.
Hannigan jumped from his seating, causing a shallow thump. Fully on the ground he adjusted his collar and grasped the sheath at his waist while walking to the carriages door. Besides the single thump he walked with no sound, his steps didn't mutter, only casting a disciplined posture. Once at the doors side he lightly knocked, "We've arrived at the designated campsite captain." "Come in" A deep voice came answering, not deterred he pulled the doors handle. While opening to the interior Hannigan threw back his cowl not wishing to disrespect the captain, Hannigan's face no longer hid in the shadows. Normally none were allowed to see under his cowl, usually those that did died a agonizing death. Not because he was ashamed, afraid of those speaking what they saw. But because of a witches hex, surging as a etched cross running along his forehead a visual curse that invaded any unprepared causing them to wither and die; a lifelong curse that grew with each body it took- Till Hannigan too fell victim by it's power.
Hannigan only knew a few with enough power to resist the curse, one being captain Jabaloth...
The carriages interior was exquisitely crafted, looking hand carved by a master and still had pieces of metal plates for defense, not obstructing its beauty. Its walls where nearly all coated black with a grey undertone. Gold seams ran along each side and slightly glowed as if not just paint. Hannigan only stopped for a moment paying the decor no more thought as he sat inside parallel to the other party. Jabaloth remained stern watching Hannigan enter, eyeing him get comfortable and give a bow which he greeted with a slight nod. "Displayed quite the proficiency in handling those beasts outside. I'm kind of impressed." Jabaloth said cracking a smile. "Surely you jest my ability pales in the presence of you captain." "You are too modest Hannigan, you've managed to get us here a day earlier than expected. Your predecessor would have taken much longer." Hannigan prodded the words, "I do what must."
...
Departure from the capital stirred these men, Jabaloth appraised his new handle a man whose skills and knowledge of this backward wilds worth enough. The journey would be a grueling one, "Entertain me, what do you know of our current destination?" Jabaloth's measured words not lost on Hannigan as he stiffened the captain's imposing figure filled the carriage. "Current pace provided, Freywyn is another month of hard marching-"The mission." Jabaloth sighed parting a glance outside the carriage window, "The local order was not called upon, immediate mobilization yet no airship or gate arrays.' Hannigan pieced the laid-out information, in a low tone Jabaloth continued,
"Officially, we are to investigate the disappearances of acolytes belonging to our order but there was a secondary concern,
a unusual spike of energy." The air turned tense, "What Freywyn's magelord is in possession of, we need to know." A single contingent to face might of Freywyn, shudder the thought' Jabaloth folded his hands, and pulled a strained look. "We don't have the full picture yet rising doubt about our plans isn't wise. Those who do find themselves in an early grave." Chills ran down Hannigan's back, feeling the piercing gaze of his superior. "Don't loose your faith." Jabaloth spoke while reaching inside his breastplate, pulling out a long cord embellished with etched metal wire, and the same crescent moon cross from outside. Grasping it intently to the point his plate gloves could be heard warping. Hannigan agreed saluting across his chest, "I don't question our faith."
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"Knowing the source of energy is paramount." Jabaloth said as adjusting his armor, placing the cross back inside his breastplate. "Still It is unusual sending our troops just on a passing energy with no information... Normally they would've contacted the local order to investigate this issue but we were instead." Jabaloth continued, "Something is definitely not what it seems." Motioning to the carriages door. "Let's leave these issues for later we still have time." Silently Hannigan pulled out the carriages door holding it open. Rays of sunlight gushed from the doorway brightening the dim insides, in quick movements Hannigan tucked up his hood, appeared outside awaiting at the door. The surroundings stood in open fields out of the lying swamp, more rock and hard soil, along the camp numerous knights in groups of three patrolled, peering at the shadows and depths of the untamed. The servants unloaded carriages setting up the burdens knights did little to lower themselves too.
The atmosphere shifted, the movement of workers and knights in a blink replaced by fear and devotion. All outside who stood watched, the leading carriage opened, bending under Jabaloth's weight with stoic expressions the knights waited. Nothing was uttered. To show the proper respect, no wind caught breath or lingering whispers only shuffling and muffled squeaks emanated from the carriage.
Jabaloth's armor subdued even sunlight, no glare or gleam yet it was unmarked but none would delude themselves, to think that armor had not seen blood of thousands. Older than the captain himself, legacy enchantments and smelted with master metallurgy such armors were passed down through Twilight sect, more than any crown the weight it bore told volumes of the kind of person he was. Jabaloth's brown eyes drew to the distance glaring around in scrutiny, before resting on the still pillars awaiting confirmation.
Affirming the display Jabaloth saluted across his chest. Seeing his stance the tense faces relaxed and took on one knee kneeling, knowing the devout before him Jabaloth flashed a dignified smile. Puffing up his chest Jabaloth lightly clapped twice, yet those over two hundred meters could hear. Hannigan leaned back momentarily witnessing streams of air burst from the claps, "Impressive." Hannigan uttered softly. As if the loud bang awoke them- The knights sprung up in an instant. The sun had risen there was much to be done, with such thoughts embedded in the knights they resumed their assigned duties.
Two figures strode forward, unperturbed no soul obstructed them. Confidence weighed in each stride taken, however subtle the steps they spoke in varying tones telling numerous tales but these were distinct. Richnell had heard them before one bearing to his former Captain and ultimately his judge, jury and executioner. The other spoke not to him but paces behind the familiar presumably his replacement. The wheels had stopped and rearing its ugly head came the fourth trial one of judgement.
The metallic mesh ever so slightly swayed, coupled with soft stretches of leather and an indiscernible hum masking all but the wearers gait. In comparison to Jabaloth's left who's undercoat armor beckoned those around, willing to creak and bang at a moments notice. Only briefly they shuffled tens of feet from the carriage, approaching to the tailing cart. The guarding knight stepped forward, "You're dismissed." Jabaloth perched his back with authority, the knight departed not sparing a glance. A tense expression settled seeing the abysmal display before him, Jabaloth scoffed as he traced across the cage's rim. "Two days, sentenced as usual to those who questioned their faith." Hannigan spoke giving to any inquiry.
An unneeded formality Jabaloth thought, why else would he be standing here towering over rabble in a cage. "I Jabaloth F Moloch give judgement, for the fallen. Those which decided not by themselves but were twisted by words of devils, utterly lost what was most dear. The faith that held them, that lead them and saved them." The cage showed no movement, motionless Jabaloth felt a stone in his chest seeing a pale corpse. Though quickly passing into anger, small veins along his forehead, "I said keep those awaiting judgement alive..." Jabaloth grunted, "Hmph dying before judgement, a failure even in the death I'm disappointed." Grasping writing boards and ink Hannigan inched closer, "Shall I make the arrangements for the fallen's family, the buds of discourse they may sow?"
"Yes it should be appropriate to finish them off quickly." Jabaloth replied, departed from the first coffin intruding upon the next. The filth that reside in these cages, like rats they infested the view as just wasted space, "Heretics they deserve worse, if not for the ritual I would've choked them out long ago." Jabaloth sneered as he stood overlooking the second...Lines of blood fell from stakes, accumulating in pools that too dripped pilling along the ground in lines of crimson. Not a corpse, only one to be, yet shallow breaths nonetheless wearily gave presence.
Occasional twitching, sporadic breathing the man was alive, or just living... On a thread, still was among the skies, not six depths below maybe that could've struck solace. None thought so, wind itself gave a terrifying force on threads easily snapped, "It hold's on... Yet not for long." Jabaloth said carrying a display of disinterest vacantly gazing to the drenched soil at his feet. "I Jabaloth F Moloch give judgement- "Hold... Your tongu..e." Richnell snapped, a coarse voice stumbling to escape his lips. "Save the preaching for the quire." Richnell's mind grew more troubled in every haggard gasp, his skin white. Clammy, drenched in a putrid smell, hair astray some now coated in blotches of dried blood. His bones protruded, pronounced themselves sharply around his sunken body as if Richnell dealt with an entire famine by himself.
"It speaks." Jabaloth jerked resting on his swords hilt, "Enough of your insolence, I have no patience on what you care." ... "I-... Richnell spat covering his view in crimson. Jabaloth froze gazing to his armor and boots tainted now with not just a heretics presence. "Defiled my attire..." Jabaloth said meeting Richnell's weary grin. "Do. You not want judgement? Ready to meet the next life?" Choking the cage it's bars slightly warped under Jabaloth's grip, "Whenever you live. Or die repenting for what you've done is my decision. No one else, I reign here." Focused on Richnell, Jabaloth took in his pitiful state "I.. Had no choice, it was all planned from the beginning I only follow his will." Richnell haggard a sentence more.
"You call death Richnell." Hannigan barked. Once more another one in the fold Richnell pondered, only gauging by his replacements feet and tone. Not wanting to meet directly, maybe he would be standing if under the cowl of sweet ignorance and a rhetoric filled mind. "This.. It's better than the alternative it needs be, instead being played, used by butchers. Only following what I choose and nothing else. The things I've done no judgement, no repentance can ever absolve me these hands, the past... Will never wash off."
"I don't just soak in my own muck, I lay drenched in the blood of undeserving innocence." Richnell jerked, "Just be done with it. Nothing said will sway the ordained judgement will it?" Jabaloth's gaze tightened, with a stern expression leaned back from the stench, "So that's it. You speak as if you wish to die, you're not wrong Richnell. You should die but not as a martyr." Exchanging glances Hannigan smirked, "This fool wishing to protect utter savages, those heretics we righteously slaughtered had no god. They worshiped a dammed tree." ...
"Wha? Savages, they.. were just people, families women and children." Richnell said, lingering on the latter his voice faded growing rasp. "Death is considered a mercy here." Jabaloth continued, "Death may dwell in your mind as a reprieve, an escape from the torment. That won't happen Richnell. You'll be slaving for the rest of days." Huffing Jabaloth turned. "Hannigan make sure he doesn't choke on his own spit." Richnell fell, peering forward at a soon distant horizon, quickly delving deeper as if an inescapable chasm his heart lurched once more. "S-Stop kill me- Dammit!"... Richnell screamed though only to a scorning scenery.
Fear struck, the atmosphere swelled, exhaling rapidly Richnell's mind raced with countless possibilities at his demise. "Was it right?..." Richnell drifted, his surroundings blurred such as his thoughts "This choice... has condemned me. Defying these tyrants reign, for what? I saved no one but my conscience."
...
The hillock was just a small reprieve from dredging swamplands, the surroundings would have their due to temper the resolve of these men. Erratic but methodical knights preformed their designated duties, not caring for idle chatter or anything that might cause distraction from what needed be done. The clatter of metal carried as many worked encased in armor, not giving the slightest chance of weakness if an attack were to occur. A pair of workers we preparing the perimeter, staking planks and wire not long after, tents stood draping over large sections the field. Nearly replacing it's entirety in walls of cloth and fluttering banners barring the Twilight sect's symbol.
Burning singe of a inhospitable air, bellowed to the right a figure cast perched higher upon the hilltop their dark silhouette loomed over all below it. Slight glances from the curious gave an immeasurable feeling more vast than anything they could fathom. Only a unyielding sense of inferiority and solemn fealty consumed them, proud of it satisfied looks echoed from deep within those daring to peek. Observing the trifling workers Jabaloth sighed casing his view to the side "Tainted. The flock must seek repentance for unholy incompetence, idiotic they devout not to our all encompassing observer, instead they drink ill gospel from heretics and frauds as if from a mothers teat. Straying from the destined path, minds filled with corruption... Is it wise to allow them existence however fleeting it may be?
Jabaloth paused, "There was a time I thought the same. What's the point of keeping those heretics alive... As if all the sin they committed warranted no immediate death." Hannigan bowed faintly, keen on each word Jabaloth gave. "Forcing them to serve us, like dogs under the banner they disowned, shamed or butchered is quite amusing. The last days they live in servitude to the ones they had betrayed is it not a fate worse than death? Their sin all it amounted to was just chains and shackles." A deep smirk rose on Hannigan, "Never thought of it as such, truly a fitting end." Hannigan snickered as he took in the numerous cages below.
"The insignificant roach who dared to stain your boots now follows the rest, soon the small detachment will reach the mines. The nearly unending trials much of them had loathed, thought was over was just the cusp." ... Jabaloth remained silent caring not for idle chatter, time like this needed not be wasted aimlessly. "We have matters to attend to do we not? Lets not waste anymore daylight." Jabaloth said giving Hannigan a stern expression, "As you command."