The office was a sanctuary of opulence and menace. The walls were lined with grids of bloodletting metal, each square etched with arcane runes. These mystical inscriptions were the only known safeguard against the metal's insatiable thirst for life force.
Above these grids hung a series of family portraits, each capturing a different generation of the Redrock lineage. A closer inspection revealed a gradual transformation: their fur grew increasingly red, their bodies more imposing and feral. Horns, once modest, had evolved into spiky crowns of intimidation. The most recent portrait, positioned prominently above his desk, showed figures that dwarfed even the tallest of humans and goliaths.
As for the desk itself he sat at, it was a masterpiece crafted from a rare type of obsidian found only in the Earth's deepest recesses. He took a grim satisfaction in knowing that its acquisition had likely cost at least a dozen lives.
A disorganized pile of papers cluttered his desk. On one side, requests from adventurers seeking permission to explore the Rubra Mountains; on the other, pleas for additional manpower. He relished the power of deciding who would be loyal enough for the safer jobs and who would be 'randomly chosen' for the perilous ones.
A laugh burst from his lips as he thought of their slogan, "Fairness for all, may Sefeteris bless your journey." These days, he had to find amusement where he could. Rising to pour himself another cup of liquor, his legs jostled the table, sending a few papers tumbling to the floor.
Annoyed, he bent to retrieve them and his eyes caught an old request, its ink almost entirely faded.
Permission of exploration of the Tunnels
Party wanted: 5
Expected difficulty: High
Role Needed: Meatshield
When did this arrive? He searched his memory but came up empty. It must have been delivered during one of his absences, and he'd never bothered to check.
As he pondered the faded request, a fleeting vision invaded his thoughts—a formidable woman cleaving through a horde of bandits and his younger brother watching with eyes full of stars. The corners of his mouth curled into a malevolent grin.
Perhaps it's time to meet my niece, he thought, and for a moment, the room seemed to darken, as if in agreement.
—————
Laughter poisoned the air, kicking off the walls and piercing one’s head like a spearhead. With fake smiles, poisoned cups were exchanged between the beasts while their putrid teeth sunk into rotting, charred, meats.
A noxious perfume hung in the air like smog, it rotted the lungs and clung to skin like tar. It disgusted his bark, He could feel it eating at his skin.
These… Beasts, wore cloth to symbolize their “status”, a fickle thing that came and disappeared at anything that was seen as a slight to their fragile pride.
Pride, a word he discovered soon in his cursed life, is the lifeblood of 'civilization', where one’s image, one’s 'face', is something more ethereal than the blesses of moonlit dreams.
He was forced to stay in the room, dressed like the beasts and carrying a metal plate with poisoned cups atop it. He served them with a disgusted sneer as the intoxicated beasts treated him like an attraction, pulling clumps of moss out of his head.
The sounds and the sights made him want to rip everyone into pieces, but he was powerless. His people suffered for these creatures' entertainment, forced to use their throats to make painful sounds that brought pleasure to them.
Like attractions, they stood in cages, hanging around the room as the beasts' gazes leered at their bodies. They found some type of vulgar arousal at the sight. Leering at the rotting bark and drying moss, they were hypnotized by their heart flames, flames that shone dimly in their eyes.
With every breath, He’s body shook, his flame threatening to extinguish itself, if only to stop his wretched existence. But he resisted, even if his flesh disgusted him, his skin bearing some of the softness of the beast who violated his mother.
His blood was a disgusting connotation that shouldn’t exist. His people bore no such thing, but He did. A vile poison ran along his 'veins' and the abominable member, his heart, made sure that every inch of his being felt its presence.
Some of the beasts, the ones being introduced in the new cycle of indulgence, still held a sliver of decency. They held themselves from poison and their words held more truth than deceit, even if it meant little. One of the newly introduced beasts approached him.
The beast’s eye was a grey akin to unmovable stone, but he had the bearing and look of the most disgusting of the beasts. The rulers of the hellscape, people who called themselves Redrocks, bulls standing on two legs, bearing heights capable of dwarfing most races and covered in fur the color of blood.
“A cup of white wine, Please.” The beast’s voice was strangely meek as it looked at He. Almost as if it was scared of his visage.
Approaching the beast He warmed his throat, the words formed painfully on his underdeveloped muscles. “Here, Sire.” He’s voice dripped with hatred, almost as poisonous as the concoction that was being taken out of his hands.
The beast froze at the words, taking a few moments to look down at him, as if incapable of believing its eyes. “It wouldn’t hurt to be more polite.” A hint of the sternness expected of beasts finally seeped into its voice as its eyes creased in a frown.
“Sorry, Sire.” He said, his heart flame burning with nothing but spite as his gaze threatened to burn a hole in the beast.
The young beast’s frown deepened while its head swirled around, looking for direction in the lair of decadence. “I could have you kicked out for this, you…” The beast’s gaze bore into him, trying to discern He’s heritage.
He’s eyes bore onto the young beast, a challenge, a duel for dominance, one of the few ways that he could keep himself in control. “Sire, feel free to complain.” Taking a step forward made the beast walk back, almost toppling over itself.
Some heads twisted to look at the scene, just another show for the creatures that filled the hellscape, as He prepared his throat again. “Just call me He, I don’t bear what you disgusting beasts call a name.” Even if He was at least fifty centimeters shorter than the beast, his presence made the young beast’s unprotected heart falter.
Soon, a noxious sound spread along the room. One of the so-called rulers, more resembling a slime covered in red fur than a bull standing on two legs as its folds trembled with each short breath the indulgent creature took. “Come on nephew. Being bullied by young Tarenth.”
Hearing the cursed word made He’s heart flame quiver, not in the hatred that nurtured it, but in recognition, like a beaten dog hearing a dreaded call.
The young beast quickly tried to regain its composure, putting an empty facade as it stared down at He, “I was just taken by surprise, Tarenth.” The name was a disgusting thing, the cruelest act done on him, a bind to the world of the beasts.
“I have no name.” He pressed, the light of his eyes spilling over, illuminating the dim room with the violet light.
“Just because you’re a bastard doesn’t mean you’re not a Redrock.” The large beast's laughter echoed in the room like daggers, “Even if an inferior one. Tarenth.” The large beast insisted, emphasizing the last word.
“I bear no name.” As the words left He’s throat, a weight fell upon his back.
He's world shook as the softness of his skin did little to protect him from the young beast’s fist as they fell in the rhythm of drums on his back, bringing him short of breath and felling him to his knees.
Soon the young one stopped, looking at the large beast for affirmation.
“Little Tarenth, what’s your name?” The large beast asked, its voice taking a sickly tone as if it were talking down to a beloved pet.
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He’s back groaned with each movement, still throbbing from the hits, and with every breath he could feel his bones creak, having cracked under the unrestricted punches. “I bear no name.” He said, the words barely coming out of his throat in short bursts as blood pooled in his lungs.
The young beast lifted its fists, ready to punish He for the attack on their pride, only for its fists to stop inches from his back as the large beast's voice echoed, “I think that’s enough nephew, look at the poor thing.”
Struggling to breathe He looked up at the large beast, it looked down at him with a sadistic smile, its large face shaking with each labored breath as it struggled and failed miserably to hold back its mirth.
“Tarenth, return to your room, you have the day off.”
On shaky legs, He managed to stand up, feeling the painful movement of bone as the poison in his veins worked to move the bones back into place. His fists trembled and his flame burned brighter as he glared at the young beast, his body screamed for blood, for righteous retribution.
Images of his teeth sinking into flesh flashed into his mind. Images of his incessant dreams where he feasted on the writhing mass of flesh that tormented his every waking moment.
But a look at the cages held him back, with worried eyes his people watched him, urging him to surrender like they did long ago. He didn’t fear the pain, it was a feeling he was well acquainted with, but looking at his mother, he held himself back.
Glaring at the young beast and coughing the last of the blood out of his lungs into the rotten room, he took steps to leave. Maybe the sight of his prison will ease the anger that bubbled like tar in his stomach. A dull hope, but hope nonetheless.
Walking past conversations as the room regained its vile liveliness, He walked past the velvet curtains that isolated the room from the rest of the world.
With hurried steps he went up the unadorned stone stairs that spiraled upwards and out of the secluded space, the walls were engraved in runes that muted any sound, bringing He a much-needed comfort of silence as he soundlessly left the lair of depravity.
One day, They’ll have their dues. He repeated the words like a mantra in his mind, occupying his thoughts with the dreams shared by his mother in their moments of rest.
The sun would be devoured by starlight. A massive serpent, a creature that embodied the very essence of the heavens would shroud the life-giving stars in its maw. Its teeth which held the destructive powers of meteors wouldn’t touch the sun but would stop its protection, allowing for a dayless day.
Creatures would flood the land, crawling from the recess of the earth from which the sun’s protection couldn’t hurt them. They would cleanse the lands, and the world would become a silent, dark place. The only light would be the cities going aflame and the only sounds would be the screams for mercy as the beasts sought after beings that had long forsaken them.
His mother often offered him the visions with solemn finality, fearing the prophecy bestowed upon their people. He saw that as a blessing, as a righteous punishment for those wicked beasts who jailed themselves behind walls of profane obsidian.
He may not know much about the world outside the prison, being born within its confines, but He still dreamt of them, and his mother offered her memories with a comforting smile. Of how they should live, among the titanic trees that dared to reach the heavens, hunting beasts that dwarfed the mountains in which they were held captive.
About how gods should act, not the prunes who held themselves on a throne of clouds, but in the land with the people. Like how the great Amber Lord held himself, each of his legs big enough for people to take days walking around it, only for it to start moving the next moment.
Instead, he was deprived of that life, being forced into his knees to worship a being that was so worthless as to offer nothing more than solace to those being taken in the dark of the night. A being that spoke of rest on death, but never dared to interfere the deeds of the wicked.
A God that feared the beings that worshiped it.
A worthless being not worth the title.
With a tumultuous mind, He finally felt the wind upon his skin, a soundless breeze that helped stop his churning thoughts.
Walking out of an unassuming entrance on the side of the mountain, he was met with the imposing figure of the Rubra Mountains. Monumental jagged peaks dared to pierce the clouds, pulsating under the crimson dawn as water flowed out of some of its peaks, giving it a look akin to bleeding wounds.
An unnatural beating of his heart followed. A thing he grew accustomed to as his body called for something. An ethereal feeling that called to the poison in his veins, something that the accursed blood of the beasts yearned to reconnect to.
One day, He yearned for the same as the poison, for even if the promise of power was foul, anything would be accepted as long as it brought an end to the beasts.
With heavy steps, he ascended the side of the mountain. The sight did bring him some peace, as his bare feet connected to the earth and he felt it sing to him, while walking he could hear the earth. He walked past where trees started to take root, the land warned of instability, of lack of nutrients and water.
Only then did he notice that he still held the metal plate from which a solitary poisoned cup still sat.
I… He was without words, his body was acting without input again.
He pondered bringing the plate back to the house so it could be correctly taken care of, but a pettier part of him won over as he took the poisoned cup out and let the plate fall to the side of the mountain, it made a satisfying sound as it rolled to meet the ground.
It bounced off pieces of white still stuck to the crevices of the peak, still not cleaned by the birds before landing square where a piece of meat still rotted.
Looking over the poisoned liquid for a few moments, He stared at its red coloration, looking over the poisoned liquid for a few moments, then took a deep breath.
Dropping the liquid in his mouth and letting it rest there, He gargled the liquid. He felt the poison trying to work on his anatomy, seeping out of the liquid and trying to dull his senses, to lower his mental capabilities, but found itself lacking against the more potent poison that already ran through his being.
Soon the only thing left was something better described as grape juice than the so-called wine, He approached the plant and let the liquid fall from his mouth and onto the exposed roots.
The roots eagerly absorbed the liquid and its leaves shook slightly, thanking him for the treat as He resumed his ascension.
After a few minutes of nothing but burgeoning trees and the wind of the mountainside as his company, another type of sound met him. Conversation, an indication he was finally approaching the servant quarters.
The trees slowly grew greener and less sparse, something that took a great amount of work as the mountain tended to be harsh on the species the owner of the peak preferred.
Slowing his pace, He took his time to reach the conversation. He let his hand wander the golden bark of the trees, taking in the scent of lime that left its green leaves. It hated its home, the soil was too hard for its roots, it wanted something softer, and it yearned for darkness.
From the few times he was allowed to leave Crimson Guard, he saw at least a dozen species that would better fit the environment, but none of them were to the tastes of the ruler beast. It liked the golden shine that enveloped the trees in the moonlight, making the whole mountain shine like a pile of gold.
“Like I said, Tarenth works close to here,” A voice said, breaking every so often. “He helps keep the trees healthy with his druid stuff.”
There was a yelp from a high-pitched voice. “Something bit my leg!”
What came next was the sound of hustling leaves followed by something tumbling. A form rolled out of the growing bushes in front of He, crashing into his chest and bringing both of them to the ground.
A head adorned with green hair broke out of the tree line, looking at the scene with a cheeky smile.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” The young girl’s voice trailed out as she stared at He, who was currently pinned under her.
He looked at Vad, the young green-haired half-elf who called himself He’s friend, and then to the young human girl who was practically drooling at the mouth staring into his eyes, enthralled by the violet flames that burned within them.
“Can you please, get up,” He kept a stable voice. Moving the young girl aside, he got up, not wanting to deal with another one of Vad’s schemes.
The girl quickly scrambled to her feet, finally tearing her eyes away from his and hiding her face in her hands, blushing. “Sorry.” She quickly extended her hand, “I’m Shiv.”
Beating some of the dust from his clothing, He shook her hand. “No name, call me He.”
A nervous giggle left the girl as she sent a side glare at Vad, “Sorry, I’m new here and Vad told me you’re called Tarenth.”
Vad, now fully out of the tree line and fully visible in his uniform, walked to the girl and patted her on the back. “I didn’t lie, he is called Tarenth, just doesn’t like to be called that.”
This was a song and dance that already happened multiple times before, “I don’t like your race, not interested in you.” He said as the girl visibly deflated, hiding her face in her hands and her eyes reddened with tears.
“Come on Tarenth, give her a chance, isn’t she a cutie?” Vad remarked as he held He’s arm, stopping him from walking away.
He gave Vad a placid look, before shaking his arm free and resuming his walk.
“You’re a waste of good looks, you know right?” Vad said, gesturing for Shiv to follow him. “And I didn’t come here to introduce a new girl for you to reject, she’s gonna help you tend to the trees from now on.”
That made He freeze, working on the forest was a code. Stopping, He looked over the girl, who for her part blushed and looked nervous under his scrutinizing gaze.
He knew how to judge the age of any living thing his eyes laid on, no matter how alien to him, he could always do it. And by human standards, the girl looked on the older side, he would throw her in her early twenties.
Growing chest, more meat on the bones, rather clear brown eyes, and a head with flowing blonde hair, but she was barely three years older than himself.
“You should ask for another task, I don’t like other people.” He declared, putting an unusual seriousness while staring into the girl's eyes.
Using his body to shield the girl from He's stare, Vad looked straight at He. “Come on Tarenth, she was really excited to work here, you may not know this because you were born for this job. But working on the forest is quite a promotion from cleaning the toilets.”
“It is not.” He declared without a second thought, taking a step closer to Vad. The young man was the same age as He, barely thirteen years old with shiny amber eyes. He didn’t tower, but He was taller than Vad, enough to look down on him.
Vad simply sighed, “You’re a dick, you know that?” Vad then moved Shiv in front of him, “Go on, make your case.”
“Hi, I’m Shiv,” She stuttered, “But I already said that.”
The girl looked at her feet, fidgeting her fingers, obviously nervous as her breathing quickened.
“Yes, you already said that.” He said with the same even tone, “You don’t want to work here, whatever your family was offered is not worth it.” He’s voice held an extra edge as he warned her.
“It’s a promotion of four silver!” Shiv regained some of her composure as she exclaimed, her eagerness clear as her voice rose higher and higher, “That’s is like… more than double what my whole family makes weekly!”
Placing his hand on Shiv’s shoulder, He intensely stared into her eyes. “Go to whoever told you to work here, and tell them that Tarenth—” The word felt like fire in his tongue, “—Told you to fuck right off.”
“I can’t!” Shiv practically screamed at He.
“What does that mean?” He was taken aback by her sudden growth of a spine.
“If I don’t accept this promotion my family will be moved back to the lower quarters, and we’ll go back to cleaning latrines and vomit.” There was a glint of determination in her eyes, a light that He sought to extinguish.
Sending a look at Vad, he gestured for him to leave, “I’ll talk to her, go back to work.” There was a coldness to He’s voice as he ordered Vad to leave them alone.
With a shrug, Vad started walking away, “Your orders boss.”
Shiv went back to her nervous self when Vad left. He waited for a few more moments, making sure that Vad was out of earshot.
“Was that a test? Did I pa—”
Shiv's words were cut as He’s fist met her stomach, making her double over, retching onto the ground. “This is what will happen to you if you accept this job.”
“WhY?” Shiv's words came through broken gasps.
He shoved Shiv back, “Will you still accept the job?”
Shiv’s eyes still held that determined glint, “I- My family needs the money.”
She was still too naive, and one thing that He learned was that violence would instill the message for people to stay away better than any words. He brought his hands down onto Shiv’s face, squeezing her cheeks.
“I’m being gentle, repeat after me,” He said, letting his hatred for his duties cover his words like tar. “I’ll refuse that job.”
Using her strength, Shiv tried to pry He’s hand off her face, clawing at his arms. But she was weak, she would break under the beasts’ attention. He saw that too many times, the beasts loved to see broken faces going through the motions.
“I’m trying to help you, if you still accept this job—” Squeezing harder, He let his nails dig into her cheeks, “I’ll do this every day, I’ll break you. Say the words.”
Shiv’s eyes still held that glean of hard steel as she kept clawing at his arms, her fingers fully ineffective to pierce his skin.
This show went for minutes on end, with He’s grip strengthening while Shiv’s clawing grew more desperate as she refused to say the words, she just had to say them and this would be over.
Damned humans, can’t see when someone is trying to help them. He thought with bubbling annoyance, finally letting go of Shiv’s face and staring down at her with contempt as she rubbed her face and cleaned the thin lines of blood that ran down her face.
“Meet me here tomorrow at sunrise, if you’re late I’ll punch you; If you annoy me, I’ll break your teeth; If you prove yourself ineffective at your job, I’ll break one of your fingers. Is that clear?” Each word was laced with venom as violet light spilled out of He’s eyes, giving him the appearance of a lich with a body of wood staring down at the shaken Shiv.
“I’ll be here before the sun, I’ll not open my mouth, I’ll give my soul for the trees” Shiv declared, her voice shaking but still lacking the fear that He hoped to have instilled within her.
With a shake of his head, He started walking to his room again, sending a last look at a recovering Shiv. “If we are in public, call me Tarenth, or you’ll see how gentle I truly was to you.”