Johnny awoke with a splitting headache. As he groaned and writhed, he felt an itching all over him. Opening his eyes, Johnny found himself lying on a cheap straw mat. He sat up and started to rub his temple but pulled away immediately. Touching it repeatedly, he understood his headache came not only from liquor. A lump that felt like a fist trying to bury its way out of his skull throbbed. He scanned the room only to find a straw mat he laid on, a bucket, and a door. After using the intended purpose of the bucket, he quickly threw it outside his room and slammed the door. Johnny staggered over to the other side of the room and flopped down next to the straw mat, kicking it out of spite for making his morning itchier.
Johnny took some time to pull himself perpendicular to the floor instead of parallel. He assumed his meditative form, crossing one leg on top of the other and hands down on his lap. Always the first thing to do, even after a decade away. Slowly breathing, he let his eyelids close on their own time and sank into himself. Johnny's stomach rumbled. He began to wonder what he would have for breakfast. Or was it going to be technically lunch or dinner? Johnny recomposed himself and refocused back to his meditation. Resuming his breathing, Johnny let his mind wander, yet did not focus on it. Contradictions were the nature of meditation, after all.
Johnny then let his spirit move from atop his head downwards, diagnosing the body. His splitting headache had a minor base from his indulgent act, but the majority of the pain came from the show of ‘friendship’ or ‘trust’ or whatever the Orc believed in. No, Orcbai. Come to think of it, Johnny still did not know his name. A question for later, he refocused. Down his neck, everything was working, with air migrating in and out. His shoulders, his upper arms, and his forearms registered as perfect working condition. Johnny assumed the low-quality healing potion worked much slower than one that did not come from a slum market. When he went to his hands, his right reminded him that it was healed but still a touch sore.
He turned his attention back around and down into the torso, Johnny’s heart still beating strong. Blood moved through and out, gobbling the air his nose gave to his neck that gave to his heart. Johnny began to feel his blood run throughout his body, distributing vital life essence, the flow of its currents coursing all throughout his being. Johnny went down to his core and down his legs. Though tired, he found no true trama, completing his first stage. Now, it was time to gather his magics.
Breathing slowly in through his nose, Johnny grabbed the air around him and forced it down his body, pushing out the air waste through his mouth just as slowly. The air cycled again and again, filling not only his lungs but also his spirit. Finally, the first step of spiritual rejuvenation was completed. Johnny felt his air magic refilled, always the easiest. Next was fire. It was easier to cycle with the lamps, though the angry magic weaved into them would make this tricky.
Johnny extended his spirit, touching slowly around the source of heat. His soul felt the two types, one of life and death and the other of artificial malice. Focusing entirely on the true flame, Johnny still felt like fingers of pure hatred were crawling over his body. No, it felt like spiders trying to find a way in his soul. Malicious, spiteful, angry spiders. Johnny snapped his focus back onto the actual heat from the flame. That could have corrupted his soul, though Johnny wondered if it was already corrupted.
Focus. Johnny redoubled his efforts and let the world fade. Only the fire of the lamp consumed his attention. Heat began to spread throughout his spirit, the energy of life began to engulf him. As Johnny let it do so, he redirected the chaotic energy into a path. Ensuring it felt free to do so, he looped it into itself so the flame always had something to chase.
Water. It always water after the fire. Having your entire being, soul included, feel dried up does that to him. Johnny took a deep breath in, letting the circlet of air hold it longer than mortally possible. Exhaling, he pushed his presence throughout the room, finding anything. Obviously, he could not find any flowing water sources, and he would be surprised if any liquid other than blood flowed into this place. Johnny felt his eyebrows raise. He searched for blood in the room, whether already spilled or previously. There. Below his straw mat, blood that soaked into the floorboards but not yet filled in. Johnny shuttered instinctively. Water is water, he thought.
He concentrated his efforts on the principle of water. Ever flowing, ever moving, ever changing. The blood seeped into the floor, so Johnny let his soul flow within it. The blood felt more. Metal-like. Johnny had an idea. As he flowed with the blood splatter, he also concentrated on the metal aspect of the blood. It felt like iron rigidness, sturdy and strong. Johnny remembered collecting his magic through mud before. Just this time, it was inversed. The mud was earth dominate, while the blood was water dominate. Pinned in his subconscious for later, traveling with the Orcbai would see much blood to renew his energy.
Returning his focus for the final time, he reversed his understanding of mud for blood. Water used to travel through the earth, now earth travels through the water. This time the earth was purer than the tainted water, once again reversed from before. He let the water flow through, wrapping it around his center like fire and air. Then, Johnny concentrated on the spirit of earth in the circlet of water.
In contrast, water was easygoing and listened with gentle suggestions. Earth, in comparison, respected strength in order to be commanded. He had to be precise with the removal, flinging earth into air or water into fire would collapse the whole system, and he would have to start over. Not to mention the magical backlash.
Calmly and waiting for the perfect time, each piece of earth magic was expelled and then coerced into forming a circlet itself. Johnny smiled. He finally attuned each of the four elements to his soul, feeling the calm, yet robust, roar of energy in his core. But there was still an emptiness, something missing in the middle of all this commotion. Johnny knew the empty hole in his center was reserved for his fifth element. Metal, wood, void, space…? Then his stomach growled. Scratching it, he muttered, “Right, haven’t eaten in a while.”
Johnny opened his eyes, stretched, cracked his neck from side to side, stood up, and opened the door.
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Johnny kept getting lost throughout the ‘inn.’ There was no true rhyme or reason, and was way too noisy for his liking. Rooms were haphazardly splayed throughout, with some having doors. Johnny peered into some to find debauched acts that even he found, unpleasant. Then those with doors had sounds of unwilling: gagged victims, revolting crunching, and way too cheerful laughter were more macabre than he was accustomed to. Johnny wondered if he walked down a couple more levels and if it was possible to knock on the Gates of Hells. At least if he opened them, some of these damned souls would get their comeuppance early.
Johnny’s mind drifted towards the Orcbai. What kind of situation did he get himself into now? Maybe this was where the Orcbai thrived, and that thought spooked Johnny. The knot on his head reminded him of the lengths the Orcbai was willing to see if someone could be a ‘friend.’ Johnny's wandering thoughts stopped with him when he wandered into a bulk of muscle. Peeling his face off and quickly crouching into a fighting stance, he looked up to find the familiar Orcbai’s grinning face. “You’re up!”
“Yes, and I….” Before Johnny could finish, a chunk of bread was forced into his mouth.
“Breakfast!” Urlug beamed and held out a bowl.
Johnny stared down at the bowl. It had floating meat parts in it, and knowing what was happening behind some of the ‘inn’ doors, Johnny was hesitant. He peered back at Urlug and began to speak. Johnny realized that he was unintelligible with his mouth full, so he finished the bread. After swallowing, he asked, “Name please.”
“Huh?”
“Ya. Big. Green. Bastard. What. Is. Yar. Name?
“Why are you talking slow? Did I jostle your brains that m...?”
“WHAT’S YAR NAME?”
“Oh! Urlug. My name is Urlug Johnny.”
“It’s Johnny.”
“Huh?”
“My name is not Joan-nie, it's John-ny! There’s a ‘huh’ in my name, not a ‘aah’!”
“Oh, I gotcha JoHUHny!”
“Damnit.”
Johnny just accepted it. Maybe over time, this beast would understand. For now, Johnny looked down at the bowl, pointed, and asked, “What meat is this? I’m not a fan of eating sentient beings.”
Urlug replied, “Cat.”
Johnny stumbled, “What?! How...how do you know?”
Urlug pointed at the chunks and answered, “Looks like pork. See how the color is kinda the same with that fatty look to it?”
Johnny hesitated, “Sure?”
“Well, that, combined with the stinky fishy smell, tells you it's a cat.”
Johnny peered up suspiciously, “How the Hells do ya know that it’s ain’t a mortal?”
Urlug grinned toothfully and said, “Easy! Humans look like beef but taste and smell like pork, actually called long pork! Baimon has this coarse texture look and taste…”
“OKAY, I GET IT! CAT CHUNKS! GOT IT!”
Johnny snatched the bowl before Urlug could continue. He was slightly relieved he was not looking at a sentient being’s flesh, but somehow, that did not quite help. He looked down at the swirling cat meat and started to feel sad for the animal. “And Orcs taste like…”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Johnny saw what looked like rice that was not washed thoroughly, if at all, floating alongside the meat. With a massive frown, Johnny began to drink it. The flavor was awful, but not the worst he ever had. That dishonor lay in some moldy bread in the gong hole back in the Middle World, but this came close. He could not decide if the flavor or the sentiment behind the cat was the reason for the awfulness. Johnny decided it was both. Scarfing down the rest without any thought, Johnny, with a wretched look on his face, asked, “So what now?”
“Now we find more!”
“No thanks. I think my culinary horizon seems to have abruptly ended with cat drippings.”
Urlug furrowed his eyebrows, “Uh? I meant finding more to join us in glory Johnny!”
Johnny said, “Oh! In that case, whatever. Beats eating cat and being here.”
“Good! By the way, stick close. Cannibals stalk behind some doors, and I heard long pork is a favorite here.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Johnny followed, stopped for a brief moment, checked a doorless room, and then continued quickly behind Urlug.
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After pushing open a trapdoor, the pair found themselves in the middle of the slums. Cheap wood with a rainbow of dull-colored clothes littered the scenery. Gone were the stones and chiselings of the ‘true’ part of the mountain city. Scores of half-starved and half-sun baked mortals slept on every part of the street that would not run them over from uncaring feet or wheels. Gangs of vultures lined the cobbled roofs and spires, waiting for the city to grab their attention when the next course would be ready. Monks and priests, no longer giving alms or salvation, readily bore arms and armor to protect the few holy sites in this step to the Hells.
Johnny examined from beneath the sewer lid, assessing that the monks were not part of his Order. Once he was satisfied, he climbed out of the hole and began to ease the cover off when Urlug smacked it out of the way. The disc went flying, embedding itself into one of the buildings. Johnny stared at it and jeered at Urlug, “Maybe yar skills could help bring a new architect design! I heard that some mortals love the ‘a fucking monstrous beast hucking rubble at my house’ aesthetic!”
“Really? Why?” asked Urlug as he climbed out, “That’s stupid of them. Their home ain’t sound that way.”
Johnny just stared back, “It’s called sarcasm.”
“That’s the name of it? Weird name.”
“What? No! That design doesn’t exist, I’m making a joke!”
“Oh! Joke. I don’t get jokes. They are boring.”
Urlug walked past Johnny and said, “Now, to find more recruits. I’ll be back. Enjoy yourself!”
“Excuse me? Do you think…?” and before Johnny could finish, Urlug was already in the thick of the dredge of the city.
Johnny shrugged. He sat in a dingy corner to avoid drawing attention to himself. Amongst the other beggars, the stolen rags he wore perfectly blended him in. Johnny could sit here and wait for Urlug, or better yet, find a way out of this city. However, something worse began to creep towards him than any chance to run into the law. Boredom. Johnny knew when boredom crept, so did mischievousness. And that itch Johnny could not just let fade away. He needed to scratch it.
After scanning the city block briefly, he found his quarry. Over where the merchants were few and the homeless fewer, there were stern-faced monks. They looked less like giving alms to the poor and more militant, carrying ornate spears and decorative silver and red robes. One was Human, and the other Orcish, but leaner and shorter than Urlug. Johnny guessed this is what a ‘true blood’ Orc looks like. Both were built quite well, their chest exposed enough for the world to see their honed bodies. Johnny grinned ear to ear. He leaped up and began to strut towards them, puffing out his chest as he did so.
When he approached, the monks stared at him and looked at him impassively. “Back away beggar, we are not a charitable order.”
“I’m no beggar! I am from the Order of the Orderless! Our specialty includes pulling straws for who gets to be the Grand Master of the Hour and giving out foot massages. What about ya guys?”
The monks lowered their spears and aimed them directly at Johnny. He threw his hands in the air and shouted, “Woah woah woah! I’m asking a question! What crawled up yar asses?”
“The Order does not exist. Now move…”
“Well, duh, it exists! I’m standing here living proof of it!”
One of the monks, the Human, snapped, “I studied every Order across not only the Eastern World but the Middle World as well, and I do not…”
“Well, that’s because we Orderless are from the Western World, duh!”
The Human monk stopped and glared at Johnny suspiciously, “Then why are you all the way out here?”
“To learn more about the Orders, like ya! Except with open arms and,” as Johnny gently brushed the spear aside, “not pointed sticks.”
The monks looked back at each other and slowly put their spears back into an on-guard position. The Orc asked, “So where in the Western World is your Order located?”
“Hold on,” Johnny held out his finger and wagged it, “I asked first. What is yar Order about?”
The Human monk raised his eyebrow and shrugged, “The Order of the Bloodied Palm.”
“Oooh, menacing!”
The Orc scoffed, “It is not about murderous intention or destructive will like you mock, but one of opened kindness yet with a steady blade at the ready against the unkind!”
Johnny frowned, “Isn’t that a contradiction?”
In an instant, the Human retorted, “Of course it is! Every Order has aspects that contradict each other. I’m assuming your disorganization of your organization is an excellent example?”
Johnny put his finger on his chin, looking up at the sky. He began tapping his foot hard enough that the dirt beneath them began to kick up a bit. The monks stepped back, and Johnny snapped his fingers, “Ya know what! Ya’re right! But I’ve also heard that ya Eastern Orders practice an extraordinary amount of self-discipline compared to our Western Orders!”
The Human monk puffed his chest a bit, “Yes, we are honorable as we are dedicated in our humility, chastity, and piety. Rise above the base debauched nature, especially those of this reprehensible city.”
Johnny’s eyes widened, “Wow! Ya have musta have given up a lot from life to pursue yar humbling ambitions!”
“Yes,” the Human monk nodded sternly, “Our dedication to peace with arms has left no room for…”
Johnny leaped forward, grabbed both sides of the monk’s face, and kissed him straight on the lips with a loud ‘mwah’! “Does that count against going from yar chastity vows?”
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Urlug shook his hand from the sting. Usually, he would be happy feeling the pain he bore on another, but he was getting tired of seeing a mortal before him in a coma. The Dwarf boasted that he was the bar’s best brawler, so Urlug had to punch him. As before, this city has proven that it only breeds inferior warriors. Urlug would have to be on his way, but first. Urlug turned back to the unconscious Dwarf and looked at the other mortals watching the fight. The winners of the bets did not relinquish their coins nor have them plucked from their hands. No one dared make a move, that is until a Rakshasa began to crawl carefully towards the Dwarf.
Urlug lifted his leg up high, and the feline mortal darted back to the circle. Urlug rested his foot upon the Dwarf’s head. The crowd’s eyes widened. The ever-faint sound of the Dwarf’s unconscious groans signaled what began. Urlug kept his gaze on the Rakshasa who dared to help this weakling. The Dwarf spat out blood, and the foot of Urlug slowly sank into his skull.
The Dwarf awoke, his eyes opened and began to fill with blood. Reaching out towards the crowd, all the mortal could do was let out groans of pain and desperation noises. Urlug grunted, pushing all his weight down his foot. The Dwarf’s head exploded, beard, bone, flesh, and brain flying in all directions. The crowd jumped back from the gore. Screams and shouts filled the air with fear and shock. Urlug snorted, relishing the sight. His moment of triumph halted as he heard booming shouts coming from outside.
Urlug peered out the door to find Johnny sprinting with a devilish smile across his face. Two armed mortals charged him with spears and were shouting some sort of battle cry. The Human was particularly red in the face. Urlug remembered the debts Johnny owed and charged. Drawing his giant axe from his back, he let out a battle cry of his own.
The true-blooded Orc bringing up the rear heard the roar and turned to face the noise. Urlug drove right into him, shoulder checking the monk, and flung him backward. Urlug then used the same momentum to swing his massive axe and cleave the monk in two. The top and bottom halves spun everywhere, painting the streets with blood and guts. The Human monk and Johnny turned around to see what had happened, only to find Urlug locked in eye contact with the other monk.
A bright red face soon turned into a pale white one. The monk’s jaw was agape and was frozen solid in place with fear. Urlug brought his axe above and behind his head, ready to cleave down the middle. Johnny jumped over the monk, raised his hands, and shouted, “WOAH! Easy Urlug!! I provoked them, not the other way. Relax!”
Urlug just stared down at Johnny and the petrified Human. He lowered his axe and nodded, “Easy, got it.”
Johnny sighed and turned, “Sorry, I was just playi…”
Urlug shoved Johnny out of the way and brought his axe down, slicing from the shoulder of the monk to his hip. The top slid down from the rest of the corpse. Johnny turned and began to protest until Urlug bluntly said, “They attacked you, and you are part of my clan, you are my brother-in-arms. No one tries us.”
Urlug walked away, leaving a trail of blood and gore dripping from his axe, smearing the street as he dragged it onto the ground. Johnny stared back at the monk parts and pulled out a sack. Johnny pulled out a handful of healing potions. He looked back at the deceased monk and got a knot in his stomach. “Misguided,” Johnny said solemnly.
Johnny uncorked a bottle and guzzled the healing potion he swiped from the monks. He then put the rest of the potions back in the lifted pouch and hurried back to Urlug.
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Urlug’s stomach growled. He scratched it and looked all around the alley. He found a rubbish pile, kicked it, and stomped on it. Rats scurried from the attack, retreating into the crevasses and pockets of the nearby city. The fat ones were not as lucky. Lazy and lethargic from eating every piece of food they could choke, Urlug grabbed one after another, devouring the rancid sacks of fur and meat. He took his time, chewing them like gum, and finally swallowed when they stopped fighting. Urlug then spat out the fur and other indigestibles. He turned to see Johnny with a wrinkled face. Urlug asked, “What?”
Johnny quipped, “I thought you were part Baimon, not an owl mortal-thing.”
Urlug stared at Johnny in confusion once more. Urlug asked, “Would it be better if we got actual food? Like bread and whatnot?
“I already had breakfast, remember? Cat rice soup and bread? Also, why did the pit have rice and b…?”
Urlug went stomping towards the town, looking at the houses. Johnny followed, “Where are you going?”
“Finding more breakfast. Those rats were not enough. Also, I don’t like listening to you too much.”
Johnny stopped and turned around quickly. He saw the tale tell signs of an inn, it being the only stone building in the city with a wooden banner of a mug. Yet Urlug was heading in the opposite direction. “Urlug, the inn is…”
Johnny turned back to see Urlug kick in a random door. The sounds of weak hinges snapping, followed by a heavy thud and a pitiful yelp, informed Johnny what Urlug was about to do. Urlug found the desolate home to be weirder than he anticipated. Maps, runic scripts, and mad drawings littered the walls in an imitation of hoarder’s decor. A frail, old Human stood there shakily, wielding a rusted knife. “What the hell are you doing? That was my door! You owe me a new fucking door, you fucking fat fucking oaf!”
Urlug gave a frown, “First, rude.”
“YOU ARE THE ONE WHO BROKE DOWN MY FUCKING DOOR!”
“Second, don’t care. Third, I’m hungry, and I need food.”
Urlug marched inside. The Human was shocked, then furious. He let out a desperate battle cry and charged Urlug. Urlug watched as the little mortal scampered towards him, flailing his wimpy blade in the air. He caught the old Human’s wrist and squeezed. The old man choked on pain, and the dagger dropped from his grasp. He began to claw at Urlug, acting more animalistic than mortal-like. Urlug began to get annoyed and squeezed even harder. The sounds of his wrist snapping echoed throughout the shack. Johnny finally stepped in the doorway and shouted, “Urlug, what the hell?!”
Urlug, still holding the little Man, turned and stated, “He’s weak. I’m strong. I’m hungry. It’s the way of nature. Now,” turning back to the frail Human, “I want food, good food.”
“Does this old man look like he has any decent food?!”
Urlug began to reassess the house, then turned his attention towards the elder and asked, “What are these maps and drawings?”
The Human spat in Urlug’s face. The scraggly old mortal let out a feeble grin in defiance. With his free hand, Urlug wiped the spit from his face. He nodded approvingly, “I respect your will, old one.”
Urlug punched the old man in the stomach. The helpless Human spat out blood all over Urlug and the floor. Urlug let go of the old one’s wrist, watching him plumet and hit the ground hard. He then tore through the maps and drawings, finally finding one coherent enough. Urlug shoved it in his boot and stomped toward the Human to ask what the map was about.
Then, out of nowhere, Urlug flew across the room, crashing into a table and landing in a wall. Urlug was more confused than hurt. He dragged himself out of the wall, dusting off rubble. Then the house shook. Looking up, Urlug saw the roof falling, rotten wood crashing down, and splintering across his shoulders and back. Climbing from the rubble, he saw Johnny putting down the old Human. Urlug staired, then put two and two together, “Why did you knock me back?”
“Why did ya attack the old man?”
“Because I wanted food and wanted to know bout the scribbles!”
“And ya couldn’t just ask instead of torturing him? Some folks, yes, but not folks like him!”
Urlug puffed out his chest, “It works. Sometimes weaklings need…”
“And stop with this weak and strong shtick! It’s gonna get ya in deep shit, and since I’m apparently roped in with ya, it’s gonna get me into deeper shit.”
As if fate itself tested Johnny, a rock pelted his head right where the knot was from the previous tavern. “Shit!”
Johnny turned to see a small mob clambering towards the duo. The old man began to cackle and say, “You gonna get it now, already heard you guys making…”
Johnny punched him on the side of the head, and the old man went down, knocked out cold. “Let’s go!” Urlug shouted.
Urlug furiously charged away with Johnny sprinting after him. Shouts were slung along with debris, stones, and household tools. A pair of Humans stood in their way but severely overestimated their abilities. Urlug slapped one to the side, knocking him into a building. The other jumped back and stared in shock as Urlug kept charging through the streets. Johnny jumped, landed on his head, and leaped off him, knocking him downward onto the ground. Johnny caught up and mocked, “So what now genius? We have an angry horde who wants us dead because of yar, ‘I’m strong, so I do what I want,’ bullshit!”
Urlug said, “We get into a chokehold and fight and kill them.”
Johnny plainly replied, “Yeah, fuck that. I’m getting out of this city.”
Urlug laughed, “Ha! And where do you plan to leave?”
A screech of a gull cracked over them. Johnny looked up to find the bird in question. Johnny began to follow the bird from below, jumping into an alleyway and over rubbish. Urlug turned and shouted, “Hey!” and ran right through the garbage.