Several thousand years ago I traveled the world seeking knowledge about those who dwelled on its surface. Once, as I wandered the desert, in the north of what is now known as the Civilized Continent, I happened upon an isolated village.
The village was remote, far from any oasis or rivers, with a population of only a few hundred. Weather-worn sandstone homes made it clear this was no temporary settlement, but a place with a long history. At that time, I had no need to hide my demonic form; my wings and tail were displayed proudly. In those wonderful days, before the Empire performed their Grand Art, information traveled slowly. An isolated village like this did not know of demons, nor the risks they posed. When I approached the walls I was welcomed warmly, and I was invited to stay the night in the village chief's home.
I was immediately curious about how this remote place had enough food and water to support itself. The water they provided me had a taste of metal. For dinner, they served a meat stew. When I asked what kind of meat it was, they deflected my question. A young boy, the child of the woman who provided the meal, told me it was 'dead meat'. I laughed at his wordplay. I didn't know what he meant at the time.
Early the next morning, after a breakfast of yet more meat stew, I spied my host carrying an empty water barrel towards the center of town. I followed him, careful not to be noticed. I had to know where the water came from. Perhaps it was simply some artifact or mage summoning it, but the familiar metallic taste of the water made me unable to accept such a convenient answer.
Eventually, we arrived at the temple at the center of the town. Its intricate carvings were long eroded by the sandblasting wind of the desert, leaving only the slightest of impressions. Entering the building without being noticed would be difficult. Outside the building, the smell of iron filled the air. I was certain the answer was inside.
After observing for a time, I ambushed and murdered a priest carrying a parcel to the temple. By taking his shape, I managed to enter the building without arousing suspicion. Within those stone walls, the smell of iron was even more pronounced. When I entered the building, an elder approached me. I handed him the parcel.
He opened the box, and within were dozens of butchers blades. He told me he was glad they finally arrived, as the ones they had were wearing out. I nodded. The elder asked me to deliver the package to the holy place. I agreed. As I turned to leave, he stopped me. Sternly, he told me that I needed to be prepared before I could enter the holy place, and warned me of the danger of forgetting the rituals.
We sat opposite each other in a small room. The elder cast a mind-controlling spell on me. Of course, such a weak power could not work on a demon. This is what I was told, what I was meant to accept as the ultimate truth, in that room.
The meat grows. The meat bleeds. What you cut away is dead. What remains is alive. The meat can not move. The meat is at peace.
This mantra was repeated three times, and each time he used the spell on me. At the conclusion, he allowed me to enter the holy place. I descended the stairs, box in hand. What I saw below the temple was a wide room with a long trough in the center. Within the trough, filling the length, was a pulsing pillar of bleeding meat. Along the sides, dozens of priests worked tirelessly to cut away the ever-growing meat, placing it beside themselves in crates. A spout on the side of the trough was occasionally opened, where blood was fed into barrels. Through some filtering process, I know not if it was arcane or physical, the blood was purified into water.
At that moment the mystery was solved, and I was filled with joy. The people of this town believed they could harvest an abomination safely through careful adherence to ritual and hypnosis. Perhaps it would have worked forever, had a demon not arrived. For it took only a few heretical thoughts to change everything.
What is cut away is alive. The meat can move. The meat is angry.
Of course, I myself had eaten the meat stew earlier that morning. My stomach was torn apart from the inside by a raging mass, and I expired shortly thereafter. It was well worth it, however. I returned to that village some years later, after I had reformed in the abyss. The sandstone buildings still stood, but of the people, nothing remained.
-A story from Jabrax's past
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"You should all just give up. I can no longer promise you citizenship after your previous display, but I can at least spare your lives." Valefar spoke arrogantly to the forces arrayed against him.
The local Delver's Association Leader crossed his arms and shook his head. "Like hell. I'd rather die fighting."
"Perhaps you don't value your own life, but what about Mayor Fallow?" Farwind nodded to the man dressed in sackcloth, who bowed deeply in return. After waving his arms and muttering for a moment, the man reached into the air and pulled out Guy Fallow.
The mayor was in a horrible state, bloody and bruised. His suit was torn, and long gashes covered his torso. Fallow breathed heavily, and struggled to remain on his feet. Metal bands and chains held together his arms and legs.
Stolen novel; please report.
Shin spoke with contempt. "Such an act only shames you. We will fight only harder to avenge our comrade."
"Besides, he probably enjoyed it..." mumbled Lgur. Ghul gave her a sideways glance and grimaced, but didn't respond.
"I see... then he serves no purpose." Vale nodded his head again, and the man in sackcloth swung his arm. Mayor Fallow's head left his body.
Leader Ghul and High Priest Dicitiam exploded into motion. Ghul appeared behind the slave-like man and sung his halberd down towards his head, the blade like a guillotine. The man in sackcloth swayed to the side with the smallest motion, avoiding the blade by a hairsbreadth.
At the same time, Dicitiam reached for Mayor Fallows tumbling head. His attempt was thwarted, however, as the head was struck from below, sending it flying out of the priests grasp. There, where the head had been, hovered the pixie.
Dicitiam used the mana he had prepared to heal Fallow instead to strike at the pixie, sending a blast of divine force crashing into him. Behind the pixie, a blast of grey energy shot forward from the Phagian priest. The rainbow energy of Yaldabaoth and the grey energy of the people clashed, and both dispersed. The pixie became a blur as he accelerated to incredible speeds in an instant, smashing into Dicitiam's unprotected torso. The high priest flew backward from the impact, bouncing like a ragdoll down the domed roof.
The ant-man soldier's attempt to bite Ghul from behind was blocked by Shin's katana. The two were quickly locked in a rapid exchange of blows. It was quickly clear that the ant-man was superior in both power and speed. Whenever she went for a decisive blow, however, she faltered. Her six legs, antenna, and even eyes would come under attack by something unseen, forcing her to shift her balance or roll with the blows to avoid injury.
Ghul continued attempting to strike the man in sackcloth. He was proving to be a slippery target. Each time Ghul struck at him, the man would dodge with the slightest of motions. At the same time, the strange man would pull various weapons from seemingly the air itself to counter-attack with. After a single attack, he would release the weapon, which vanished just as it had arrived.
Seeing the situation was going poorly, Ghul glanced towards, Lgur who was now engaged in a magical duel with General Farwind. Ghul and Lgur made eye contact. A moment later, Ghul once again vanished, this time appearing behind Farwind, forcing him to block. At the same time, Lgur struck at the slave with a wide area blast of magic.
No matter which way the man in sackcloth tried to go, he would be struck. Up, down, left, right, backward, or forward, all would be consumed by the ball of electricity. So, instead, he walked in a different direction. To those outside, his body shrank inward on itself, at times his interior becoming visible. He dodged the attack by stepping in a direction nobody but him had ever noticed.
Priest Dicitiam stood unsteadily and spit out a mouthful of blood. Already, the pixie was in front of him. Again, he focused divine energy through his statue of Yaldabaoth and blasted it toward the pixie. He didn't even try to dodge. His smirk turned to surprise as the spell actually neared him. Turning his small head, the pixie saw the priest of the people skewered by Shin's katana. Behind them, the ant-man struggled against an unseen force, unable to move.
His last-second attempt to dodge was thwarted by the same unseen force that held down the ant-man. The pixie screamed as divine energy pushed down on it. Dicitiam did not relent, powering the spell until his mana pool ran dry. Nothing remained of the pixie when he was done. Shin, too, completed his work, killing the rival priest by vertical bisection.
Dicidiam did not have time to celebrate, however, as a dagger was thrust into his heart from a direction he didn't know existed. Although there was no visible entrance wound, the damage was clear as the blade exited the front of the priest's chest. A moment later, the dagger faded away, replaced by a flow of thick blood.
If the priest had maintained his composure, he might have saved enough mana to cure this wound. But in the heat of the moment, he had used it all to kill his foe. "Damn... it." Those were his last words as he fell to the cold stone roof.
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"So, what exactly is the plan with this shack?" Cob stretched his arms after completing the delivery.
"We will destroy this building when we leave, thus deceiving the enemy into believing Cithlar's mansion has been destroyed and leading them to believe we are dead, thus calling off their pursuit." Mud finally revealed its master plan to the humans.
"What?" Cob clenched his fist and shouted. "That plan is shit!"
"My plan has nothing to do with excrement."
"There are so many ways this plan can screw up." Cob held up a hand and began counting on his fingers. "One: if any soldiers or scouts show up before we leave, we're boned. Two: This shack is smaller than the mansion! They'll notice! Three: There won't be any of Cithlar's stuff in the wreckage. Four: Cithlar's corpse won't be in the wreckage. Five: If they have anyone who can reverse the damage with magic, you're again boned. Six: I ran out of fingers but trust me, there's more!"
Novus was sprawled on the grass nearby, exhausted from carrying the building. "Well, it should buy us time at least. Aside from that first one, those are things they probably won't notice until we're long gone. And maybe they'll just think Cithlar took his stuff and ran away before burning his house down."
"Yeah, whatever. Just see if we can leave already." Annoyance clear, Cob stomped into the house. "I thought the plan would be good. I can't believe I carried a house through a forest for this..." Mud followed soon after.
In the sub-basement, Jabrax manipulated a console on the curved wall of the Drive room. When Mud entered the room, she turned to greet him. "Oh, Mud. I think I've figured it out. I'm still working on the weapons, though."
The idea of the mansion housing weapons interested Mud, but there was a more immediate concern. "Jabrax, begin moving the house immediately."
"Fine, fine." A dense grid of countless small runes were drawn on the surface of the table she now worked at. Placing a dainty finger on one, she dragged the rune across the table into an empty section of the engraving near the top. Behind Mud, the swirling energies atop the Taegul Drive flowed faster in a wild dance. As their speed increased, the energies actually appeared to separate from each other, forming a curved boundary line between the two hemispheres, while the entire sphere rotated rapidly.
As the energies settled into their new shape, the whirring sounds of machinery filled the room. The motors on both sides of the building activated, and Mud fell on its face as the building unexpectedly lurched upwards.