One soul is worth much.
We all know in reality, it is not applicable. To hide under a skirt and won’t get slap unless searching for mermaids. But one dost know, even that soul is worth much. Controlling a semi-real puppet is hard on its own hiding behind the skirt lifted curtains. With Tulip around to help, makes it more profitable and stress free.
“W-this is absurd.” Clive inspect. Everyone cannot tolerate the mad skirt destroying item. No less a man who glue his face with a mask, and worse is him, complementing myself of beating train warriors with a smelly carpet. Gregory knew what I planned from the old days of guys’ night out/hangout.
Introduce the cloth within the art. A choreograph dedicated to split the mind from humor and weirdness and into strange and eerie of the martial art set. Four sets with throw-off movements from between each, deceiving the eyes. The elderfact at the waist, cover to toe, worn like a dress without the viewer to notice from all the act. Lets have those Play-Stop-Play edits please. Am I becoming a man-she? Nope, you’re just being duped because ye know not me writings.
In fact, I’m not done with this show-off puppet ritual. I now must do a back flip, in which I did. Horrible and did it went wrong that an overweight man like I would tip, almost breaking the neck. It is shameful but let it not worry the readers. Again did I try to obtain this achievement knowing full well the politicians are astounded that I would even attempt the second time. An adult humor a child wouldn’t find amusing. Successful it was. Three acrobats into a handstand. Huh. Why?
The drape dress fell and cover my body, arms and hands. Out from that third flip, gradually was it shown. What was reveal beneath was not the legs. Oh no. This is the creepy-argil arts. But for you children, we’ll just call it creepy-magics. Where one’s leg would the viewers would believe to be is replace with the body of a creepy, upper flesh of a doll. So life-like one couldn’t differentiate ‘cept the skin color. It was pale blue in resemblance to the actual dead.
There was nacreous lightning storm in the council. Boom! The atmosphere was unsettle. What was it called when a puppeteer dance by himself, tricking viewers of having a partner on stage though is clearly a puppet “attached” to him?
“What in tarnation? He’s moving like he wasn’t doing handstands? What black spell is this?! Could he be, Aurekall . . . no, not the right time.” said Clive.
The doll, dress-to-fight, giggle creepily and martial gestures of kiddish, playful, and full estranges. Pocahontas defies the rule of ladies first. Where are you Chosen One?
“Argghhh, where is he!? I’m so mad! Where is him, that son of a lich!!!?” In a groggy madden voice, came out Neeto from under the covering. Torn and rip it into twos, after the manner of the tiger style while spewing words. These embarrassing dads at the beach. Will they learn that sucking in the belly will not guarantee regular Joes super strength and looks. To show off the good side and toughness is never the wisest when someone is willing to slip the carpet from under. How will the children respond? Pretty much with an, “Auughh. Quit embarrassing us, dad! I hope you choke!”
“Brother.” His kin coming to check if he was okay.
“There he is! Today, you die!! RAWrrr-LARrw!” And continue the man of his forward shuffling tiger claw arts. Sound effect please. His brother, monkey style. Two of his tribe tag along, pig and goat style, right after sucking in the bellies.
Let me iterate. These men are putting a bad name in the kung-fu era. Missed the conception of deception. The understanding of natural motions. Fully graded and committed were these men of Neeto’s parade. Fully personify themselves of useless animal actions. Tired the stamina but sure dost make good entertainments.
They’re gulpins. The brother, running around down on four in the manner of a monkey with rabies, stop here-and-there acting as the beast scratching and hording until monkey flips and attacks. The other two, one is oinking with strange alien or hand dance rituals, pattern attacks; lastly, the goat style, a scissor leg no-shadow kick skill of his shrugging the floor while squealing like an old goat.
I know this is a joke; but after a couple of minutes, it turned a new leaf. They were the real deal in teamwork to murder I unlike the varsity kids. Music gotten tense. Those battle suspense lead-up caught everyone off guard including me. Other knights and tribes joins the hay ride. The bellies they suck in and puff the chest.
“What are you waiting for?! You men from another world are powerful. Show some back bones! Go get him before this Neeto person! I want my glory!” Oh, the cenosity. Some isekai have no choice and commence along with the chief and his tribe. These headmasters are easily desirous, fulled of covetous means.
The stratagem of mine is showing some progress. Their morale had drop even according to the skill prepare and unleashed. I am not glad that had it gotten the statesmen involve. That is very bad. Sebastian is a clear tell, hammering to capture me, a professional victim in this ploy of mine working for the very same agency. For now. Time to bait the large fish.
Mayor Clive step into the fight. Would someone make a good puppet battle music? Catchy melody that would move the jig saws in the court of policies. Interesting combinations of instrumental takes, intricate plays of connections. Tickles the soul, subtly invite a man’s awe, one who’s childish thought would partake in. Ever the tune’s rhythm lure the listener. Yet, pleases in the end.
“Oh, Azurelog? Most auspicious turn out of event.” said I. Hearing it being called Aurekall by Clive, I was somewhat stump.
Details, details, details. People don’t like all details. I fought unexplained for the amount of sequences. Did me many fathom things with the linen artifact that out-guesses the viewers. Playfully yet creepily was the puppet that usurped the minds of readers from not the general standard believe-to-do ideas. Sadly is my November rain. Freshly was them commitments to entertain. Force and trick Mayor Clive in opening a secret compartment of the music box with my own fingers from combat engagement. The harmless blue ember sparks spew to Vanessa's entourage and even to the court taker.
“Kuv yoj Nom Phaj 3.5!” I martial dance and weave hand signs to throw off me game plan and the rest repeated the joshing, “Kuv yoj Nom Phaj 3.5, what?!” Sound the trumpets, the trombones, the clarinets, the oboe please! Jitter that piano player till decease!
“The tongue of Azalee?” Not one bit Clive understood. The mayor of Joyous Spring rejoins the hunt.
“Babe, I solly!” I said and the rest repeated the joshing, “Babe, I solly?! Huh!! Aiii-yahhhh!!!” Were some men defeated in the most extreme way to awe the audience, admitting they were sorry when retorting my light humor, “Good!” I made hast to the goal while being chase by Clive’s synthetic attacks.
A newt of a song abrupt. A challenger appears! A catchy nineties up-beat action theme is the best description, nicely it glitch to funky sweets then dies out after the introduction. For this hypocrite of the faith to drop unannounced from above, intervene with his largely wooden cross one who he laid before it, round and round he spin till the touch of the floor. Thump! A man like I in a fight was pretty much ignoring. Too busy with Neeto’s killer band but the coming music I did like.
“Repent, foul creature. Breath in the vapor and be elevated! You shall not touch I. A saint of untouchable ligh---!” Will I be condemn when kicking the hypocrite, Besus Bright? Surely the idol, this crucifixion existed long before would be the better choice.
Wasting no time and did the master of kicking people on the floor, Lord of Hobos, kick the sitting rock of the cross; letting Besus no time to finish his falsified ministering. The cross flew upward and did it lift much of its dust, tilted about fifty-five degrees. When he believe I would end, engage him I did while fighting crazy tiger Neeto with another kick to the cross head. Went the hypocrite flying, slow and heavy was the idol, the heaviness of mach three. Besus Bright lunge with the cross through the wall’s foundation! The man was tied and stuck. His followers came to free him.
“Get me down from here and you’ll be bless and not demoted!” That was what I heard in the background seeing men with peculiar hair cuts climbing on top of one another to reach in the corner of me eyes. More out-guess trick foey fights happen will I leave it to your imagination to make you great again.
“How can this be?” Clive couldn’t comprehend.
The attack on the puppet’s chest, was it strange. For the hobo’s arms were out at waist where the abdomen was spliced. The attack on the shoulders and did the hobo’s leg came out from under the puppet’s arm pit, in the moment of swing, moving the elderfact’s position. The attack combos around peculiar spots and the hobo’s hands came out under the cherry storehouse, defending against foot fights, even his legs was in the most unusual spot along the arms. If indeed was stop, will the puppet’s legs join the fight. The attack to the thighs, breezing away the skirt curtain, was the hobo no where to be found under. Perhaps hiding in the upper compartments? The attack to split upper and lower halves did the enemies dealt with two creepy fighting torsos and too, was the hobo not under the dress or in the puppet. The attack to the destroy the dress, did the elderfact flip and plays defiantly tricks with upper and lower halves, switched places and fighting engagement with the hobo in skirt. The attack to incapacitate run arounds, was the feet not present. A strong feeling as if the hobo was hanging upside down defending against onslaughts.
Yea, have I amazed Clive. Do let me continue being awesome for the minutes because you called me a Gary Stew in a book of satire. Inside and out of the puppet had devastated the enemies. Ethereal portal? Nope. The skirt was a nuisance to the statesmen. Random magics firing through voids and actions. I was most pleased that the puppet too was fighting alongside I. Two brains in one.
Battling all around brought onlookers into the arena. Vanessa’s troupes are no exception. Have I, as in the puppet, went for the court taker as a meat shield. Neeto attack the footing of the puppet believing I was there the third time. Came humbly before the feet was the battles of my contacted hands, shuffling works that brought the chieftain close. The joking old puppet was a ballerina. Twirl and twirl. Spin and spin. Slightly lift the skirty dress; in the matter of embarrassment from such Neeto’s harassment, slightly denying it’s, you could say, “ravish” consent. Appear from the shade is I!
I absterge that wicked clawing assault by the answer of my right foot of justice. Though had justice in the name, it is much vituperative. Come I clean from this abnormal strike from below, where one, who this Neeto will get to see the tunnel of wanting glitter, appear me before his present. Landed my work, this tech foot onto the upper chest, kick him back where he belong! Raspberries.
The dress flew, magnify wildy from a fluid spin to grab the court taker, did I came out hidden from under the dress, split the power stance back into my trigger stance. The dress drops back, reveal the veil of skirt and body of the puppet fell behind, conceal between me legs. It was hidden under the tooling. Magically has it vanish.
Swung the side opening of the dress in the likeness of the hero of China, Wong-Fei Hong. And with the right foot of justice stamp of approval dated the bellies of laid victim to the deadly dress-to-fight sequential works of mine. Now these bodies of moaning victims was piled on top of one another. About three bods worth in count. Would a women whistle at me when revealing too much? Nah, still have the hobo’s greatest pant untouched. Too bad, no view of full-bare hairy legs.
Me hand outward. The gestalt gesture of saying, come back. The free right hand, elbow rest on the right thigh. Assuming Neeto’s band wanted to carry on our little reunion with the court taker hold in my possession at the neck in the arm.
“Hattori!” Scream Vanessa and mildly coughing. So I look at him.
“. . . Art thou not the cult’s finger, . . . Hattori, The Red Salt of the Beggars’ Clan.”
Mayor Clive shocked. The Fuehrer shocked. Sebastian shocked. Intelligentsia shocked. Vanessa shocked. Others were confused. Chieftains, “We don’t care!!!”
The title, The Red Salt is well known on the wanted list. To be also label as a member of the Beggars’ Clan is unheard of among the knights and statesmen. Why would I, a useless main said that? Well, with a patch of sew clothing upon an old raiment, clearly not of the same material was the reason. In the olden days of Asia and elsewhere, there are clans who disguised as beggars. To sew clothes upon another is a method to determine who is a brother of the sect. Not all histories are in the Holy Library-On-Wheels.
I just have to laugh softly, “Well, aren’t we all beggars. Spiritually.”
“W-what are you talking about?! Help me! Save me from this mad man!” On Hattori maunders about other subjects.
“Are you insane, Seneth. He is no more than the court taker of councils.” said Sebastian alone with the hurdle words of Vanessa Shaver, “No, you must’ve been bewitched.”
“You’re in self-denial.” I spin-threw him in the manner of throwing a discus at elbow’s hold. The Red Salt cast a mildly black magic, enough to gain his foothold, teleport once, short distance and low dust shewn. His left hand at face and neck to massage the struggled flesh. His countenance darken. Three seconds later.
“May the father of darkness watches me. Silly breed. I despise your lineage. Should’ve weaken it.” Spoke the court taker who then mummer a malison, wiping with the thumb and the residue on the callus. Vanessa was worried, pore on his strange dialect.
“It’s true.” Clive explain to Vanessa the power of the music box. The rite he knew not to achieve its locking mechanism but knew by the colors of the embers. This power reveals oneself truly for an approximate of fifteen minutes. The explanation of her great-great grandfather down to her father who took on the duty as the speaker of the house. They’ve been continuously poisoned to their deathbed. Vanessa realize a moment too late. The tea she was served. Shock, though sip a small bit until I caused her to fall on her peaches, loosed hold of the tea, spilled on her blooming curvature bosom.
Turn him to look at me mask, “I would’ve not thought that there where anyone else capable in finding the whereabouts of the cult’s fingers. Yet, devising the used of the Box of Embers, Aurekall is it? Remnant of fire and ashes bestowed unto thee! Who are s’you to indite a hero’s hymn?”
“Aurekall? Box of Embers? Am I no hero, but a lowly hobo-on-wheels named Seneth. Caught the culprit red handed.”
“Tsk, and I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling kids!” Hattori hissed the beast to back away the ready knights nearby. He was not about to go down without a fight. “Do not underestimate us fans, hobo. WE ARE SUICIDAL . . . !” His irises uncontrolled, wavering, “Seneth of the Black Maaask!!”
And wasted no time, Hattori pull out a Desert Eagle from under his cloak, aimed the arms to the side of his head, contact, follow a standard kitchen knife in his left, made contact to the neck, slit a quarter of his throat along came the late shot, once, bleeding as he talk, gurgling of what was not made out. To you viewers will I say this, his last statement.
Power comes sacrifice.
You must be wondering why would a handgun named the Desert Eagle be in a fantasy genre? Because, it’s fantasy.
Screams from disgust that heaved the room of such sight. The old tramps fled from fear, troubled from this malignant offering. Directly from the slit neck, a blob creature with distinct features race for freedom, and behind it was another, King Devil, it whom it called.
“Kneel before me, human. Worship me only! Woe, I bringeth misery! Bwa Bwa Bwa” Clive went first to stop the almost-naked demon.
“Fudge.” Fudge means nonsense, children. Now I was behind the fans who this small group of wannabes that joined the ill self-cutting cult is known. Saw many strange behaviors erupted from the weak men and women within the council of this last forsaken event. Am astounded as well of the repercussion that little chicken neck could spout out a monster head quite large. This King Devil that had he, or it, introduces itself a vampire too?
“Why does it have to be another bloodsucker? I am tired of this genre. I wanna fight a jealous fairy witch instead with her favorite line, baka.”
With it’s bat ears and sabertooth like fangs, dead corpse seasoned in burnt gray ash and a cueball as well; the belly of fat and those muscle thighs with six digits of sharp painted nails of his couldn’t beat his own dangerous breath. What more can you ask for, to fight against wrinkle face OG? I was mentally stabbed.
The cult had promised them infinite power from within them, but to unleash such potent black magic, one must face death alone. Of this initiation, fans are only allow to slit their throats. The higher ranks slit their bellies. The lesser suffers greatly.
Clive jump in front of me, swirl out Aurekall and pepper sparks flew out of the fervent music box once more with the change of color theory. Enchanted with additional words and techniques that made no sense to I other than what was about to bring; fasten the spell before the creature was fully free from the human scrag.
Inscription of the heeds. Twelve, they come in numbers; they who sat upon their throne. Heed the saying of the flame. Singing, joying, harmonizing with the veil; they who brought no darkness; who they that slept in the Abyss; to take wicked and fallen souls, to feeds them to the realm of Faethis Beyths.
Third Lord of Nod shown his mighty face with both mighty flat hands, slapped to one flesh. And upon that forsaken throne, he who dwell below Faethis Beyths arisen with him. The Judge of Jude. Night of sun ascend.
I quoth, “Shuuuu.” Quiet as a mouse pulling the slightly off sign. “Pretend you don’t know me.” Narbodci watches on from the court venue.
“Touch he not.” saith the Third Lord of Nod. For young Greg broke away and came to the judge. Demanded him the passage to the river Lynx. Denied the saying the judge did for his Want is greater than his needs. Then the Lord of the Dead disappeared with the Nod into the abysm leaving Gregory to defend for himself. Hattori’s soul, latched with the demons was taken to Faethis Beyths.
“Narbodci!” Gregory contemplated to speak out loud to the damned. All that the ghoul did, smiled at the accused.
The blob creature still lived. And did it came for a host; this piece of slob that was cursed from earlier works of Hattori’s murmuring mayhem. The closest sacrifice was Vanessa!
Less than a blink of seconds, two magics, stone woods forced from the ether, detained the blob creature! As soon it raised it’s head, came quick as lightning, the fuehrer! Unhinged, uncringed, tireless, and with much strength, slay the creature into oblivion. The stone woods lightly scratched. The fuehrer flank and power flick the black blood away from his thin sword, flash a tech and hold it in reversed and sheathed.
“Lady of the court, your revenge is done. As you were.” said the fuehrer. He walk back to the main round table in a fine posture, the good back and hand rested behind. The right hand, fixing his military suit.
The elvfyn king stood quite and took a sign of relief. No weakness shown on his face. Yes, a relief to not have to show his true magic arts to the council. But for those strange anomaly that accrued in the beginning of the crazy fight, some, though no less than two of his great hidden spells were copied. Clive called for doctors to examine her health once more. The time was about 7:05 pm.
“Bravo.” The ghoul silently clapping. Narbodci attacks with words in which I will not list of his remarks.
“What is to a vampire that he is an ambassador, a negotiator, a debater, an elector of officials? Does not his fang shown? Corrupt me not for I cometh unto this holy hill.”
“Come again . . . de mortuis nil nisi bonum.”
I find it odd for Latin to be in this realm other than me using it. A hidden isekai? Nobi retort what the ghoul had said. He arrived with a group of his state electives and guild presidents of Autumn. In this late evening he came into the headquarter of the Council of Five.
The mayor’s entourage have also found many hands of the night. Went the greater knights, more with authorities than the royal knights and bind the perpetrators. Hastening suicidal arts before questioning is a waste.
I went by the mercy of the good court. Came along with the mayor was a face me couldn’t mistake. It was Domino. So as the mayor liveth, gave his attendee his rights to speak. I was spare.
Some minutes had past.
Me, Nobi, his right and left hand, as well as Knightmaster Teb, Sebastian and sir Collins and his high knights with Greg were the last of the halls. Sebastian stood in for the baron, a filler, as head of judges. For Nobi, believing it was the right course of action.
In the waiting room, large it was deceiving the eyes and is of pargeting, decorative not with only fantasy plastics of high grades but scientifically hew in rare metals and in cured woods beyond understanding. The images of intricate designs and histories as drapes concealing atmospheric importance. Was it not an eye popper with the wide elevated window nor was the elaborated flooring of the room.
The furniture, the tables, the desks were furnished, complementary to the taste of unity and pleasant to look. Neither where it plain nor overwhelming. And the round about pillars and arches within the center of the room, carved in them of man and woman in their most perfect state, all in their unique action holding the effigy of light that lightens the room from different heights. Was the host adorn with many unknown plants. The order of balance, its outer wall are dedicated to full carvings of knights in stones, taken out from the pillars. At the peak center is a lectern and a book of rarity sealed by some aura frequency. There, was the quest completed.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“What meed will thou mayest take that I, in according to my powers, as mayor of Lasting Autumn can give in good substance?” So was the mayor who spoke first. From his speeches will I must readjust my tone, the civilized of old.
“Will I not take the rewards of which the Mayor may have in mind. But, to honor a code of brethren in my youth.”
“No rare bijoux? No things of gold and silver? Neither befitting titles or roles nor mighty as the call to own lands? The doling of warriors? Can’st thou say, a freer of slaves? . . . Name it.”
“Gregory’s innocent.” Greg looked at I surprised. So did the Mayor subtly before examining Greg’s countenance from where he stand. It was my volition.
“Who will vouch for his character? We know nothing of this man.” Sebastian was worried. I had nothing to said to him and did it locked me lips that the mayor replied in my stead, stopping my first word coming out completely.
“Ever still is the sun’s gaze in trance, you too, still know nothing of me, Sebastian . . . I’ll vouch for him that if he keeps his word, his crime is pardon, and so shall his innocent is spare. On one condition.”
“M-mayor?! Out of the question.” Domino and the Mayor seemly laughed unlike the devil’s laugh preside over the public.
It was not before long that Mayor Nobi went on other businesses with me, Knightmaster Teb and Domino alone. Clive was re-summoned, and has the young man enter into the room from the Norman doorway. The mayor was to clear up some deep water misunderstanding and political heaves. I, in the presence of smartness and policies might hebetate just to listen to an intelligent bundle. And sure was I right with the mayor’s battle in speeches he gave me that had stab me three times in the heart and two times back. My lost. Nothing personal nor degrading like the general populace.
“Verily.” said Domino. This concluded the official court.
“Caw caw caw.” The crows feast in a small cornfield.
My shield carpet was given back from the polices, the guards, the knights, whatever fancy your taste. If one is to lose such an item, most of it are pawn off or sold to fund the civil departments. Yet would some keep it as a token of duty. Well, ain’t it a level three version to stealing. But dare I would say, this is not the truth and so is it not a lie of these public services.
There are sour apples in all barrels. Some fully ripe and some rotten. Some spoils and some inflicted with infestation. To know that the barrel is bad, would not one separate the good from the worst? No one does. Too much work and heed many to plainly said, “Let others do it.” Then when no one takes to hand, the whole barrel, worth of apples are utterly destroyed. And the adage is, “There are some bad apples in all barrels.” It speaks in threes indeed.
After all, men’s justice aren’t always righteous.
The sun is at its lowest point from the view of the mountains. Gregory dressed to travel out of the land of Autumn. And upon the open field, I was there ahead of his time, waiting, waiting before the odd totem poles and white rocks. The birds cawing and the light chirp of insects then to the sound of trampling hoofs, he came with his newly gears and two regular horses. I was to see him leave with hands in pockets as usual. Though wanted I to question him on certain unexplained episodes, Greg spoke regardless of readiness.
“Knowing you too well, will I speak, Nuj. You wonder how we got into this world, correct?” Still smart as ever for a soccer player, a sports maniac, an exercising fanboy.
“That depends . . . We? Then tale, Greg.” I pulled out my Omphalos White Stone from the inner pockets of a hobo’s lovest jacket, this white pebble that had belong with me from the very beginning, observing the front and back, moving it between the fingers, palm to face.
“Strange is it? My sisters and me.”
“. . . . What happen?” I lean upon the crooked totem pole with my hands cross for the minute, shrugging before settling and pull one arm out to dwindle the pebble. The sprites in light came out enjoying the fresh breeze, letting them graze by the grasses, purring. Yes, like purring little kids saying “Ahhhh” in front of an electric fan. Greg got off his horse and pet the animal. He sees the sprites but gave no mention of it.
“Three years had past is enduring to remember. Yet, . . . . linger like yesterday’s memories.” Greg sigh, I re-adjust and said to him, “You’ve matured.”
The flashback begins:
After my father incurred debts for a local loan shark, he went into hiding in the countryside. Being the oldest, I was charged with his misfortune other than my mother who secretly became the loaner’s lover. Though this cheating didn’t last, she was thrown onto the street like any other declarative call girl. A family shame is it?
I couldn’t afford to pay the bills using every bit of grants to cover the expenses instead for the college life. My life was partially turn upside down, the constant work to pay dues. Once a middle housing now living in a shady infested studio apartment.
What are the odds for parents who does not work? The odd chance that my mother who surfed the worldwide web day-in and day-out becoming a prostitute. I could not accept it.
Still with the body of a fair thirty-year old single women, little by little it worsen as young and old men come in the night, some nights, three men, and did my mother advised my sisters to join this line of work, witnessing countless extreme bedroom plays beyond their age. It was easy money she said to them and with all the riches of ladies’ Want did hang on her clothing.
Herself maddens me as men leave the complex the moment I enter the bitter home. Call the police? Then what? The polices were corrupt. What would it accomplish? Police looking down at me laughing like the old men? Child Protection Services? Selling the self for profit is a trip to jail, yet friends with benefits, a way to say it's not prostitution if were to get pay by other methods. As the oldest, all I can do was looked away from the men who passed me every night, ashamed of such a mother, hoping things would be find now that we can pay the rent and put food on the table with filthy monies.
The days goes by stranger and worsen and I knew what must be done. Me and the sisters planned to leave with the money I saved. But no matter how many time it is attempted, my mother had ways to stop it. She didn’t wanted to loose her “insurance funding” and deliberately shows them the sex slum of social media to get the girls interested.
First was cover your ears and eyes. Now, imagine. When I heard they were somewhat involved in clear openness one night, I removed them from the premises. We broke ties with our mother that night. She lectured us as we left. Indeed there was truth in it and did I hate to admit it.
We had no where to go. Living in a tent in a quiet alley way is all we could do for sen-nights. I lost my job, the sisters quit attending school and the mother framed me. It was bitter. So bitter was the taste of cups. The people treats you worse than trash away from the public eyes. I really want to slit their throats. . . I’m a murderer in the heart. So is everyone else.
I’ve tried many times. Who will wanna hire a dirty man? Who will hire a man framed as a predator? No one. Interview this days. A decent man will not fit that world’s ideology. I was at my end with the cash I had on hands. Stealing became a habit from local convenience stores. You couldn’t even turn to a charity base organization. Even they will turn you to the police regardless of the truth and laugh behind your back.
If to let an innocent go, under the pretext of guilty, will it not be consider as aiding and abetting? A charge rise against them? I hate that old world’s logic. It’s pathetic from my view. Just a way to get good men and women to turn an eye.
. . . That night, . . . that dinner, . . . that cold winter, in the direction of the dumpster, there was a shine. A luminous ball. So great was this pearly light that grew and blinded the surrounding. I know not the days we were out cold but awaken with a strain in the neck, a multitude of plywood on top of us, came to my senses that we were in some forest region.
Flashback ends here.
“The living feels the pain of life; yet the dead feels the stings of both.” Not once looked at him. Only at the sprites communing. My closed mouth grating on the teethes. The air pouch slid to the left. A fair response to one’s thinking according to me.
“A year did pass by that I concluded we were in your world just by the hidden designed in the native raiment.” said Gregory.
“Child Protection Services (CPS)? Well aren’t they the sex traders under the nose. So bold of you, Greg. You didn’t need to tell me personal drama but it’s fascinating how clothing can defined me. Conclusion?”
“I know you. The breaking and specific dotting of lines to show distant or lighting effects in your arts. It is understandable and an unmistakable style. One of my sister is a fan of yours. Did you not know?” After fighting a fans of the ill cutting cult, I wasn’t able to bring my mind to see the better of days.
“Right down to the details. A nobody in the art field. No perfect practice for years and the skills dwindle. Still, a poor artistic man. That is why I went into writing for some time off.” I had stopped from being distracted by the shinny pebble, thought for a bit and look before the starry heavens. “Life is a puzzle.” The sprites bubbly their voices.
“Hiku’s smirk is all over. You’ve matured . . . Clearly haven’t age since last I met, say, three years?”
“More like an eternity, but whose to believe such. Now, . . . what of this Count Narbodci?” The second question I pose with a purpose. Did I not look at him but his foot, took my time.
“Count? We did not meet the haberdasher Narbodci and his daughter until the spring of the third year. Our life was going well communing with the local residents until the peddler himself founded a strange ring lurking behind a tombstone. That was when I notice he had changed. But it wasn’t until I founded him ripping his daughter’s neck, draining the blood that I was convinced he had became a ghoul. Did he cursed me in the process; stolen my sisters from the front door and carried them away up north. It was the last I heard off when a resident who saved me from his cursing. Though had I lost conscious. North is where I must travel.”
“Not much to go by. To fly thy road to the north, be careful. The council spoke much about those carpetbaggers. Navertheless, the road you walk are not of mine businesses. But before travailing, pass the Walls of Thyein, there is one more thing I need to ask of you Greg. Third times the charm.” Me, carrying my carpet weapon. To say carpetbaggers, hurt I a lot too. Though little am I of their ilk. Just coincidence.
“What is it?” Gregory got back on his horse.
“. . . Where are the rest of the gang?” And he ever silent but I was serious. The wind blew rougher.
“. . . . . . . . . . . Macbeth is in Highland.” His eyes turned away from me scouting the distant and before him spake of the things which disgusted him, in matters of term, upsetting by which the young man lived through. Another portal to haunt Gregory by his vile mother in iniquity.
“The others?”
“Sorry. Has the gang ever stand strong together during the college years? Clearly not from my view. Ruefully, you will find weirdo Macbeth in Highland. I do know this. His career is with the fashion knights. Yes, the country is so, the Dark Souls community.”
Had I scratched my head what to think of it. I have declare an imagination of what Macbeth’s armor would look like. First up, his skin is either red, yellow or blue, distorted features-in other words, a very ugly man, over exaggerated mismatched armor pieces, special weapons and kinking attitudes. Don’t forget the teabags and the emoticon gesture for pointing downward or whatever fancy his taste.
“Hmmm, figures he would go there for the dark fantasy.” I put on my thinking cap.
“If you do find my sisters, do what you can. There’s chance I will not come back alive. Neither will I want to return to the old world of bondage.”
“Discretion is the better part of valor. You know I don’t babysit. But for old times sake, will I must pay my debt back to you. Their names would be . . .” That was when I saw Gregory’s genuine smile. Never he was patient with the eyes and closed away with the shown of profile.
“Here.” Gregory wrote down their names and I look upon the torn cloth. He quoth, “I’m under his curse. In which I will not utter their names.”
“Be as it.” I read two of the three names.
Before I could finish, Gregory rode away on his horse, tantivy from a whip to the beast into submission. No good byes. Which could have stated, we would probably meet some time again. It should’ve been safer for Greg to work with my guild in finding them. But knowing a young man of twenty-three must proof his manliness out of vanity, so he goes on his own quest. I cannot stop nor change his mind when he is determine to do his own labour.
The manifestation of blessings. Yes, has it not came into my mind. If I did, would I need to use it just to get gains? Yes or No? Live like a man without cheating corners to be praise. I watch him gallop away and soon went the merry road.
Years of appearances doesn’t connect the dot. For Gregory, it was a matter of three years pass since he ended his college life. For Sandou, fifteen years went by and he is a cracking pottery. To state that the power of travailing could have something to do with it. And Greg? A lucky death circumstance? The more I dig, the more I’m confounded in the head. I so end.
A change of scene.
An archway hang with bright decorative flowers and leaves leading to a sub chamber that descend. From the olden stairs, curved about forty-five degrees was a thin hall cover in tapestries, floor spam with deflowered bright flowers settle on the palish masonry, long and high is the ceiling with droplets of cuffs follow by a charade of strange sea smoke. The chains clutter with the light breeze entering from the choked vents. The hall had no mirrors, windows nor doors. A one way room to an opening. A separative cell line in the under nights, stink of rats, a recently used laver and soiled rags made appearance, and foul odors one who could determine a man from a women, the uncleanliness of life. This cell of Nou.
“Mythius, Mythius, Mythius. ‘Tis always about Mythius! Poor pity Mythius. Will I have his head stake!”
It was Calsufur that came into the deflowered room for his guerdon. To greet and make amend his contract, to show his love. He was and still is, her leman. Howbeit, that is only his pretend. No rede given to straighten his conduct thereof. A mild speech he present and has it made the black magician mad the moment he knew. Found that the condensed jail was empty when lit. Lowly gnash the teethes of the only personage who he believe, this archivist who knew of his keepsake.
“Luden.” Calsufur left the premise. The sable cape fly.
Now, the name Luden is well known and accepted within the religious cutting cult, third in command is him. But surely had let the mighty Calsufur to take the lead. For he is unaware of his little mischief. As he is, the almighty of their faith. Luden, the floodman of counselors for all the churches of the black arts, knowing true blasphemous secrets in the sect and how it is run that Sandou preciously wanted to abduct. In this secret covenant of darkness, a pledge of wicked in blood oaths, the puppeteer runs the show. The archivist who gave Calsufur the job. The archivist who archives the plentiful death of children under the age of nine.
A thick iron door have echo, creaked and closed. Upon this door where other priests of blackness and fans took Nou, stood the great Luden. Calsufur came and demanded where his matchless love being taken.
“Will I not have it! To take what’s worth of mine fealty! She is no use to you. Give her back!”
“Sholly mate, my boy. I fear what would be destined for your fate so soon. You should thank me, Calsufur. I am prolonging your life if you would only listen to such a merciful lord as I. But heed you no warning from me from your conduct of business is only hastening your death. He he ha”
“I control myself, Luden! From the pits of death that maggot of a man made me suffer for his glory, I made myself strong in the dark. You have no rights. My fate written by me own blood hands, survived all these defile years.”
“In curse indeed. Hey hey he. Dare to take advantage of thy words? Be cautious of ever. Oh thou harken foolishly in dark wisdom. Your hate for Mythius is strong. Little time to waste, have I sign a petition instating the need of the clown coats. Till the freaks come, advise that wilted lip to shut. Our fans have been found within the district of the courts. A loose tongue is abroad.”
“I could care less about the court than for my love. You know full well Baker cannot be trusted. What of the Old Mother? Had she heftily paid for a yoke of blood. Simply we can’t denied her request for this senile freak conqueror.”
“Hai Hai.” It was Eryane. The thirty-year old who dress and look like a teenager of old Japan.
“Oh? My darling worker of the dark faith, how is madam doing?” said Luden.
“Madam Lisabeth is most pleased. Worry her not, Calsy. My master’s youth is most precious but aside from gains, I fear my lady will indulge too much. It would be nice to slow down the collections. She too is concern about her elderly weight.”
“You half-hand maidens gets on my nerve.” Calsufur hated that woman.
“EeHHH.” said Eryane in her playful cosplay. She was pretending to be a stereotypical dumb Japanese girl who had a limited education. The eyes went closed.
“Mind our lord not, Eryane. Yea, insure am I. Calsufur, my boy. Dealings of the shadow world are wack. Your lovely Nou will lay as bait to save your life. Endure, endure that shameless pride. Otherwise, thy will be done like unto the Jaredites. He he he ha ho ho, behold, fair is the maiden and delightsome is she, not deprived of that which is most dear and precious above all things, which is chastity and virtue. Again, fret not Calsufur. Her womb will not be wasted to dry seeds. Go and wait in the spring. Summon the new master of the Gadianton robbers for me will thou?”
“For what? Aurekall is it?” answered Calsufur.
“. . . . . . Yea, Kawatondi. It’s just good business. First, will we need them to archive the next special batches.” Calsufur was upset, left to find a henchman.
“Priceless.” The archivist and Eryane continue their plentiful talks. Went they into a tunnel boarded with a variety of masonry practices. Gloss of nighty mosses on the bricks and stones in darkness. The tainted lamp Luden carried, squeaked of rusty iron.
“I utterly don’t trust the new cadet.”
“Really? For a lovable woman such as I to barge in your play field, excuse my rudeness, Luden.”
“Nonsense. I am most delighted. An assurance policy. Mind the matters not with our lord. If thou will excuse me. Will I must go and play as host. Good health to madame.” Luden left into a mirror portal with his four bodyguards in heavy cloak. The only thing noticeable was the high heels they wore.
It was a different pathway took since the day our main came upon the darken chapel in Lasting Autumn. And at the side of this mirror doorway to the unknown was the stolen Memyria Gate, trapped in the earthen walls. How vast it is that the cavern of abyss, the Labyrinth, was carved to fit. She proceeded to its resting place, conceal somewhere in the area of Jura Mountain. The jingle of eight seconds activate. Did Eryane dance in the likeness of Seneth’s humor.
“Open Sesame Seed! Khweeeh, that was so embarrassing! I can’t believe he would do that. Khwe-Khwe”
The onslaught was successful in the play that Luden had ployed. Come again, Darrio to make ends; and upon that evil altar, below the bellies of parasitic whales, in the cascaded hall of corses, within the basement of the chapel, located in Autumn, the laud king inform the dark priest of the job he took.
“My, WELL DONE, King of Bandits! I took for naught that you’ve found a way into the party. Sleazy and sly to slide your way into the ball. I congratulate you for the upmost performance.” Darrio throw down two heads of important figures. A quick glance amazed Luden extraordinary that the king do pay attention to details.
“Dong Moo, Guild Minister of The Right. Frederick, The Boot Licker. Excellent. But, where is the head of the baron?”
“Tsk. Now, the deal, Luden. Honor thy words.”
Luden clap, “In sooth, first, a present. My love’ist giving rewards, a democrat am me. Come meet your new friend, Sandou, O young man of khem. I have a request to thee.”
So his mission was given before hand. For they to truly trust the man who wears the phantom mask, Sandou will run this little errand of theirs’. Simply he was being used to their content as he would believe to take their rules. Certainly he knew.
Then Darrio brought up the question, “You want your garden to be rooted to me?! How unethical of the cult to do. Will Calsufur agree if your best men are given away?”
“Tch tch tch.” The index finger metronome. “Fret not. The Bowel Cutter Cult has an unlimited of surprises. But do say no such thing for I to root you to our cause. An extension of our base to blame? Clearly I dare not, Darrio, the fourth. I am no liar. In time in need will thee claim the Want. For he is witness and helper of thy court.”
“And canis major will side with the gryphorses?” quothed as a cruel joke.
“Again I dare not come with a donkey. To come and sell your faith; to bring they salvation; to commune your brethren of me ways. A brother of blackness is what I am, giving gifts necessary. Aren’t you glad? Thy liberals loves me. So shall the police.”
“Screw you, you peevish old man!!” Luden was scarcely offended.
“Darrio, forget it!”
“We lost too many men.”
“Shut your mouth, Pehsang! Don’t patronize me.” Told he the loudest of the three henchmen. Mellork persuade Darrio.
“Boss, we cannot let the cutting cult to intervene deeper. I know that you’re worried about your sons but we cannot substitute time and resources. This side quest has to wait.” The laud king manage to alleviate the anger built up.
“With the death of the right minister, this country is alarm. What now of the men left on the ships?” asked Chelseo.
“Leave the vessels hidden with Bautmoss and his crew. We’ll go by train. The rest will rendezvous to Noggin Allen by foot til the storm past.” Ghesly suggested. There were more important things that must be done. Luden interfere. Gave them a bit of dark advice with a heinous ploy he had conjure.
“That is the last time you talk like that. The enemy is strong and formidable!” Darrio stop Ghesly from fully drawing his katana.
Darrio decided not to chase for Aurekall. It was the council’s way in capturing his guildmates now that the elderfact has enter the hall of five. Prophetic prophecy stated that rare items of Want cannot and will not be stolen from within the protective frequency. In due, the laud king had lost many better men and expendable men. His past came to haunt. It was not wise for a follow-up attack. What he had done save the cult of their faces as they parade the street of Askistari City excited of their cutting religion.
“Fortunes, fortunes smiles upon them!” shouted they for ill joy, “Fortunes, fortunes, lucks we give them!!” and continues with a shower of praise. Flowers thrown, snickers of threads, ribbons low and high, sprinkles of ash and salt onto your head.
Their faith have gain popularity, under the name, The House of Luck. Everyone was for the lottery. No matter how small it may seem, the throng thrives to feel good; to win even if the luck bears limited winning sensation. That is, no different from those who gambles from a cheated lottery, control by the upper hands run by the states.
And from that city, strange warped-like tunnels lead all around the nine city-states; dangerous to be hold by the cult, The Labyrinths. Many were made and mane in the days of the olden worms. To think that the land, formerly known as the Kingdom of Crymea, Fedread, the king of Askistari knows not of the existence of hidden routes. Or does the usurper, Barbarossa knows? For he is known by the title: The keeper of thoughts and the master of charades in warfare. How else could he jailed the heart of Highlands’ most valuable priestess.
Fedread, who was once good, who sits on the throne, in the hall of decapitated kings, is dead.