>
>
> Thou can live in thine glass delight forever,
>
> Have thine threads spread and never sever
>
> Don’t take the trade, let thine dreams fade
>
> It is not the past’s flood, but this is thine blood
>
> What you want thou shall have, but never see grow
>
> If the moon's foolish heart takes a lover,
>
> its dazzling face Oras black shroud shall cover
>
>
>
> -
>
> Nesande’s divination
>
> Probably 2nd Era
>
> Assembled by Lithoniela, of Baltoris
>
> Between 197? -345? NC
>
> In her voluminous
>
> Ode to the Lost*
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*(Part of the priceless collection kept in the sealed 'Sorceress Domed Hall' in Dan)
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-
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Glen
Arguen Garth
Hardir O’ Fardor
All monsters need feeding & a den
Part II
-An echo of another-
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Luthos loved that goat a lot,
but she gave him cockrot.
Glen span around, forehead scrapping the granite, landed with his back on the stairs and watched the shadows twirling around him as he catapulted into the abyss. Part of a ceiling here, the edge of stairs there. The armour getting the brunt of it, used as a sledge he sort of glided upon. Hands and feet trying to stop him from spinning around whilst falling. The wall smacking him from all sides, chin glued to his chest and pieces of clothing ripped clean through.
Bang and boom.
The armour not stopping all of it.
Metu you piece of fuckin’ shite!
He put a hand on the wall to stop the momentum, lost three fingernails and the flesh underneath it in half a second. The pain so sharp and great, he cracked a tooth right in the middle.
Down.
Down.
Bump.
Fuck that!
A splinter sharp as knife.
Blood in his eyes.
Down.
Bump.
Don’t turn ye turd!
Puke in his throat.
A piece of tooth and half a lip stuck in the gap.
Down.
Big bump.
“GAAAH!” Glen coughed out a lung splattered on the opening right after the end of the murderous staircase, staying still for moment feet over head, battered cheekbone touching the tiles and then rolled to the side unwittingly.
The first man, or woman stupid enough to ever do it.
He tried to vomit but it came through the nose mixed with blood, the world still spinning around him and the light shining in what looked like a giant dome over a series of cratering caves. If caves were made out of cut granite pieces and had a ceiling made out of quartz-like stones that sparkled brilliantly when touched by his light.
Glen spat down to clear his mouth, his jaw numb and leaking blood from several cuts. A piece of skin flapping over his brows, big as his palm. Half-blind and with one working arm, he tried to get up groaning and cursing Jinx for luring him into this madness. Her greed will do us all in, he decided wincing and closed his tearing bloodshot eyes.
At least I can move the fingers. Shoulder popped out from all the bumping about, but at least I didn’t hurt my head too much. He put a finger in the wound on his face to see if he’d a hole in it and growled in pain furious with himself.
Then something grabbed him by the foot, heaved him savagely. He smacked his head on the granite tiles, went out for a second, but came back around panicked, found himself dragged by something towards one of the caves.
Very fast.
The tiles turning to cobblestone, then to ground.
With the occasional stone and dry branches.
Others hard as iron, ripping his pants and skin, others brittle, breaking upon contact. Even turning to dust.
Ash.
Tons of it.
The beast growling, hind legs sending material on his face. Bugs and shit. Pebbles and twigs. He bit one clean through, lost the other half of his tooth, the gum getting most of the work done. Tasted rotten marrow and bone.
For fuck’s sake.
What is this shite?
“Hey! You hairy turd!” Glen croaked and reached for his dagger, still being dragged inside the cave. At least a kilometer it seemed. The beast had a long fang clean through boot and foot. Kept pulling at him with it, but slowing down. Glen snarling and thrashing like mad, left arm dangling useless, until he used it as lever twisting sideways and popped it back in. The jolt of pain almost killing him.
It also made him super mad.
He stooped, lifting his battered torso grabbed at the long tail with one arm and slashed at it with the other. Ripped it off, more than a meter of it. The lion’s growl of pain reverberating inside the dark cave, just as it hurled him away keeping his boot.
And a bit of foot.
A piece of toe along with it attached to the phalange.
There’s pain and then there’s someone ripping your toe out.
“AARRGGGH!” Glen growled maniacally, but it turned into an incoherent shriek of miserable hysteria the next moment as he rolled on the ground. The Nimra lion’s eyes glowed like diamonds when the light shown on them for a moment. It turned its beastly head away walking gingerly. The fangs on it the size of his dagger.
Fuck.
Hey tall, Phina had said, all cute and wide eyed. But this thing was the size of a horse.
A steppe horse, but still…
“ARE YE PLAGUIN’ KIDDING ME?” Glen bellowed, blood in his teeth and eyes wild.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The former thief was hurting so much, he couldn’t feel a thing.
The lion growled and started circling him, the cave huge.
Glen had no idea where he was.
“STAY BACK YOU FUCKER!”
Glen tried to get up, realized he couldn’t step on his right foot, but clenched his jaw and did it anyway gawking at the large predator. He got Angrein’s sword out, the blade howling when he unsheathed it, absorbing some of the light and giving out a pale glow.
Nimra let a low guttural sound that made the walls of the ancient cave vibrate and then three more sets of eyes appeared from the caves depths. It was a call that dinner had arrived it turned out.
The sword cackled.
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No one wants to get eaten alive inside a cave, under a temple that dabbled as a slave prison for a moon and the feeding place for lions for another. Perhaps even a den of sorts that had a big-titted Goddess sitting on a throne above it and cannibals for priests.
So he fought them to the death.
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The lioness swung at him with a claw, but Glen pulled away, split that claw in the middle. The Nimra hobbled away with a growl of pain and a smaller version of her jumped on Glen’s back, sunk its thin long teeth in his armour piercing the skin and drawing blood. Glen twisted around, send a hand up found whiskers and a wet nose, an eye at the end of it.
Plunged his index finger in, found that soft wet orb and plucked it out, nerves and all. The small lion let go of him blind in the eye and another came at him, tried to bite his leg. Glen raised it, snapped its head back with a knee. The cranium hard as a boulder. The second lion tumbled down, Glen stepped forward and run it through with his sword above his left front leg. It went out of its belly with a splash of dark blood.
He got his sword out, the lion thrashing fatally wounded and its mother leaping his way enraged. Glen slashed her across the face, the Nimra dodged but lost an ear. She pulled away the ear still attached by a bloody piece of skin, circled around him hobbling and came at him again. Glen stumbled back, equally hobbled tripping on the third lion that had sneakily tried to gnaw at his bleeding foot and almost went down. He kicked with his bad limb, got the big cat between the hind legs and sent its dropped balls back into their cavity.
The Nimra lion’s mother snarled irate at him, but she’d gotten enough wounds on her to give the large predator pause. The problem was Glen had been even more injured and was running on pure adrenalin and anger.
More anger than adrenalin.
A bit of fear as well, but he’d forgotten about that part with everything on the line.
He hobbled into position, the blind cub out of the fight, the other looking for an opening and the big lioness regarding him with hatred.
“You are gonna lose it all,” Glen warned her with an even more malicious glare.
The Nimra lion let out a snarl of defiance. Glen turned his light about looking for his dagger. The one eyed young lion whined, a dark bleeding hole where its eye had been and Glen hissed spotting the witch’s dagger a meter from it.
“Come here,” he said raising his rapidly blackening left arm, the dagger materializing in his grip. He did it on instinct and without thought. Glen didn’t know about magic, but knew how the dagger worked and what it wanted in the trade.
The lioness growled, faked a left attack and then leaped on him from four meters away opening her jaws impossibly wide, the long white fangs gleaming in the sinister radiance coming from his lightstone. Ripped from its cord and half-buried a foot from him, it still gave out enough glow to illuminate the giant predator’s bulky mass coming.
Use her cub, Glen thought and hurled the dagger, whilst stepping aside leaving his shadow behind him unwittingly. The dagger had just casted Quickstep, the first rank of the Greater Gift of Dodge.
The sneaking behind Glen young lion collapsed lifeless, the dagger plunged to the hilt on the lioness’ forehead cracking the cranium and a reeling Glen stumbled blind until he found a wall, or part of it.
He went down the next moment.
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Oh, good grief the pain!
Glen opened his eyes, the soft light coming from Flix’s stone blurring his vision and tried to push himself up. His left arm had turned into a piece of burned wood. Coughing up and shuddering from jolts of pure agony coming from too many parts of his battered body to count, he doggedly hobbled on his legs. The right dragging behind him and bleeding on the ground, he approached the dying lioness, the damage in her brain had half-paralyzed the impressive predator.
Kill them all, the dagger hissed and there was no mistaking its voice this time.
Merciless undiluted evil.
What the fuck had the witch used in it?
Where had she found it?
There you are, Glen thought and stared into the wounded beast’s eyes. The Nimra was breathing erratically, but could only move a claw weakly.
“I can hear it whining,” he rustled grinding his teeth, the gap bleeding in his mouth, tasting of iron and ash. “You stepped into my den and now yer done.”
Kill her.
Glen grimaced, placed his ashen blade over the large body and aimed it between the lioness ribs, then pushed down with all his weight cutting through rough hide and flesh until he found the heart.
Kill it.
He hobbled slowly, his elongated shadow spreading inside the cave and approached the one-eyed young lion. The size of a big dog already. The wounded animal snarled and retreated further inside the cave with Glen following it.
Kill.
It stopped near a crack, the chasm behind it blowing wind on his face. The cavern running crosswise with the den under the temple and probably leading outside, but for some reason it made its stand there. It didn’t last long. Glen used his longsword again. By the time he finished, he could barely stand having worn himself out and suffering from severe blood loss. The small black cub hidden inside the crack came out, when he put his back on a rock to rest.
Or die.
Ah, Glen thought tiredly. That’s why.
I would’ve done the same.
It whined softly, small yellow eyes glowing in the dark. No bigger than a cat. Glen grimaced and reached into his mangled satchel praying something valuable was still inside. The leather had hold up surprisingly well and he found one of Flix’s expired potions. Shook it once and it barely moved, having turned into a sludge. Glen sighed, checked to see if he’d something else inside it, but only found four square gold coins, lockpicks and a stale biscuit.
Worst came to be he would die with gold in his pocket.
Kill them all.
The baby Nimra whined loudly watching him uncorking the vial. Glen groaned, chucked it all down hoping it wouldn’t kill him outright, the Nimra whined even more and Glen tossed it the biscuit afore he passed out.
> He dreamed of a glass dome in a land of ice. The stalagmites like living columns growing out of it, ever spreading at the edges in intricate flower patterns that shown like diamonds in the sun. There was magic everywhere there, sipped into the sturdy walls of the large exotic estate the glass dome stood on top of. The small city grown out of it in a semi-circle reminding him of Goras in the architectural style, or Rida, but having a different quality to it. Rich virgin forest expanding as far the eye could see, white-bark giant trees spreading far beyond the frozen but lively city.
>
> Glen returned to the large estate, but this time he went inside the dome, the light making the furniture glow, everything intricately engraved and of pure white gold. It bounced off of mirrors, on the heavy hand-written tomes on the floor-to-ceiling library and danced over the many tables teeming with vials and round bottom flasks. He paused to stare at the king-sized roofed bed and the hundreds of small bottles of different colored oils.
>
> A black cat sensed him and jumped on the table he was always standing on.
>
> Laid more like.
>
> Placed.
>
> “What’s the other dagger for?” The cat asked, staring at him.
>
> This wasn’t his dream.
>
> Something rustled, a veil was pulled aside and the most beautiful Zilan female he’d ever seen walked inside dripping water, her skin steaming as it dried up. Long hair reaching her waist, a washed out blue, with thin purple streaks in it. Eyes the color of liquid silver, with touches of purple and blue. There’s a goddess in the flesh, he thought stunned.
>
> Do I know you?
>
> “Assurance he said,” she sang and petted the cat slowly, after taking it in her arms. The cat purred and started suckling at her naked breast, before stopping to look at her. “In case something happened,” she added with a smile.
>
> What the actual fuck? Glen thought.
>
> “How do you know it’s the same?”
>
> “I know my daggers Melon.”
>
> “It feels different. I know he claims it’s the same—”
>
> “Eh,” she stopped him. “It’s the Wyvern bone. Sometimes it makes stuff appear different.”
>
> “The other didn’t.”
>
> “You’re overreacting.”
>
> “I’m a cat baby,” Melon replied and rolled on the ground.
>
> The sorceress laughter rang inside the dome and then she chased the cat through the room until she collapsed exhausted on her bed, breathing heavy. It was a mesmerizing ten minutes. She rolled on the side after that and took the dagger in her hands to stare at it.
>
> Kill them all, the dagger hissed and she chuckled.
>
> “You’re evil Gimoss,” she told him. “And an idiot. You can’t influence me. You’re dead, a fading mindless echo,” the sorceress added and he felt the chill sipping into his bones, shivers wrecking his body.
>
> He’s not, Glen thought as the dream started fading away. That’s not Gimoss. I know him, the fucker was never dead.
>
> You’re talking to something else.
>
> You—
Glen.
Oh, my god please.
Glen you piece of shit!
WAKE UP!
“GAH!” Glen gasped and opened his blurry eyes, his face hurting and bleeding down his nose. “Fuck, the potion didn’t work,” he croaked putting a black hand on it.
Ah, at least I can move it. We will work on the color later.
“It did,” Jinx said sniffling and hugging him desperately. “I punched—
“What?”
Jinx stopped talking and stared at him shocked.
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her, realizing she was probably shook seeing him all mangled up. “The worst is over.”
“I thought you died,” Jinx explained coming about. “Saw you jumping down the stairs, but you weren’t there when I reached the bottom.”
“Twas a tumble,” he corrected her. “Your nostrils are leaking by the way,” Glen groaned and tried to stand, whilst Jinx wiped her face, but failed and sat back on his arse again. “How the fuck did you find me?” he asked her and Jinx pointed at the small cub nested near his legs.
“Yer cat kept crying and I heard her,” she explained. “The Den has incredible acoustics. She led me back to you.”
Glen tried to smack his lips, found a gap in his teeth and grimaced.
“That’s not a cat Whisper,” he growled. “That’s a fucking lion!”
“Lions are cats silly,” Jinx said with a chuckle and made to punch him on the shoulder, but stopped seeing his murderous glare. “So what exactly happened here?” Jinx asked with a cat's wicked grin.
“Haven’t figured that out yet,” Glen admitted glancing at his dagger. “Get the cat, we are getting out of here.”