“What is wrong with you morons?” Skrakch spat out the words, his chest heaving, his fur spiked in pure anger, as the Ratling struggled to calm himself.
“The last thing I need right now is you simpletons fighting, much less over that cursed thing!” He growled, tail lashing from side to side as he glared at his so-called associates.
Winifred and Meekknuckle at least had the awareness to look momentarily ashamed, even as the Goblin dangled helplessly from the much taller woman’s hold.
“Meek not mean to yell, Meek just need Ruby back! Because little half-man take what not his. What Meekknuckle need!”
Each word that came out of the Goblins mouth seemed to reignite his fury as he began scrambling to break Winifred’s handhold on him, but the brawler barely seemed to notice his attempts as she maintained her grip on the squirming creature.
Only it wasn’t Winifred that spoke next, as Zacharias let out a short bark of condescending laughter. “Listen Squeaks, you’d best keep your pet Goblin in line, it’s not my fault the little freak tried to attack me. And it sure as shite ain’t gonna be my fault when I give him a good thrashing either.” The Halfling shrugged nonchalantly.
“Meek…hate…short man…take happy from Meek…” Meekknuckle growled as Winifred continued to hold him back.
“Calm yeself,” The brawler said. “The Wee man’s nae worth it… and if ye don’t knock it off, I’m gonna have to put ye down. Hard.”
“If you let him go, I’ll be the one to put him down hard.” Zach agreed with a grin as he plucked one of his daggers from his sleeve. “But trust me, the little shite won’t get back up afterwards.”
Skrakch let out a controlled breath, as he struggled to calm himself, before a sly smile came to him. “Don’t you worry about Meekknuckle, Zacharias.” The Ratling said silkily.
“Because it’s your turn to use the Purene Ruby, and I sincerely hope whatever you see when you touch that damned thing is the worst experience you ever have,” Skrakch added scathingly.
Zacharias shot an irritated glare towards Skrakch, before relaxing his demeanor with a shrug and a roll of his eyes.
“Listen mate, I’m sure I’ll be fine since I’m not a fucking overgrown mouse, a dramatic bloody woman, or a puke-covered Gremlin.”
“Some of us,” he grinned, puffing his chest out with pride, “Are bloody professionals.” He rubbed his gloved hands together and cracked his fingers ostentatiously. “Now enough of this bollocks, let’s see what this shite is all about.”
Zacharias ignored any of his companions idiotic rejoinders as he pulled his glove off with his teeth and let the stained leather drop to the floor, before encasing the Purene Ruby in his open palm.
While he’d been glib in his responses to Skrakch and Meekknuckle’s attempts with the Artifact, that didn’t mean he’d been ignoring what had been going on in the small office space. Quite the contrary in fact. He’d been careful to monitor the flow of Mana from the Ruby as they’d interacted with it…
Which was why the Halfling was momentarily surprised that the Ruby didn’t appear to react at all to the physical contact with his skin.
Closing his eyes, Zach commanded his Mana to surround the Ruby and watched in confusion as the Artifact refused to respond in any way.
The hunk of gemstone simply sat in his hand like a lump of stone, not a hint of the Artifacts power peeking through its exterior.
He was aware of the eyes of his fellow Rogues on him. No doubt Squeakers would be wearing that shit-eating grin that Zach had come to despise so much.
‘Well.’ He silently told himself. ‘There’s more than one way to skin a Sunglow Mongrel…”
‘So what if it’s not willing to play,’ Zach thought to himself, ‘Then I’ll just force the sodding thing to open up.’
While Skrakch always liked to think of himself as the most magically inclined of their group, Zach had nothing but confidence in his own abilities. Magic was all well and good, but sometimes shite just needed to get done.
‘After all, I’ve never met a lock I couldn’t force.’
Commanding his Mana to swirl over the Artifact in his palm, the Halfling didn’t bother with any half-measures, instead hammering his intent into the Purene Ruby.
And it wasn’t long until his assault was rewarded, his Mana pouring into the Ruby as Zacharias’ vision began to swim.
----------------------------------------
When he next opened his eyes, Zach found himself in a familiar location, yet oddly, not one he felt he’d ever been in. It just had a strange sense of familiarity to it, although it was impossible to tell whether that was a good or a bad thing.
He hadn’t been exactly sure what he was about to see, but the thief had no illusions about his likely untimely demise.
He’d been prepared to see a painful, slow death at another’s hand, as someone usurped his burgeoning criminal empire. After all, wasn’t that the way of the world? Kingpins didn’t stay at the top of the pile for long before someone came nipping at their heels.
Maybe it would be a cloaked dagger to the spleen from one of his many unsavory thugs, or perhaps a late night visit from one of the Crown Prince’s more violent minions.
Which was why Zacharias was surprised to find himself standing in an empty tavern, and the realization quickly hit him as his surroundings became clearer. It was the same one he’d grown up in. He could even smell the exact same hints of bile and piss that had etched itself into his nostrils all those years ago.
“The Hells is this?” Zach spat to the side, eyeing the empty barstools with disdain as the floorboards creaked underneath his feet. “Where’s the gruesome deaths I’ve been promised? Squeakers is going to be pissed if I'm destined to pass away from a touch too many pints.”
‘Though… that doesn’t fit either.’ Zach mused as he scanned his surroundings, looking for any hint of what was to come. ‘Bloody place got ripped down and replaced on some noble’s command.’
He’d been there to see it. And, of course, to have a good scavenge through the building as it had been torn down.
But now….
It looked as ‘good’ as it always had done. As he’d always remembered it. Hells, the bloody floor was still sticky underfoot with Gods Below knew what!
“Well, come on then. If I’m not about to see some bloody future visions of deaths and devastation, at least have the decency to show me something I don’t already know.” He goaded the empty air around him with irritation.
Maybe what the others had seen had started this dull? Some kind of nostalgic trip before everything went completely tits up?
“Hells, the Dungeon under the Old District had the decency to include a decent pint at least.” Zacharias finished with a huff, though as he continued his scan of the empty room, he was surprised to notice someone had suddenly appeared behind the bar.
It was a lovely lass, or at least the body of one. Zacharias could spot the billowing curves from a mile away, but the Halfling didn’t let himself get distracted by the woman’s ample exposed cleavage.
Instead, he focused on the creature’s face, or rather, the lack of one.
Which, fair adieus, was a bit of a mood killer.
The apparition didn’t have any of the facial features Zach associated with humanoids, instead having pale, smooth skin without blemish or feature.
It reminded Zacharias of a painting half-finished, as if someone had gone to the trouble of carefully colouring a person’s dress, then just completely ignored the dame’s face.
More interestingly, the figure didn’t seem inclined for movement, simply staring off into space.
‘Well, she would be if she had eyes, anyways.’ He mused, stroking his chin.
It was a surreal sight to see someone without eyes or a nose, but the thief simply kept a wary eye towards her as Zach continued his scan.
“Going to need more than that to spook-“
As he continued his slow spin, Zacharias could see more of the apparitions had joined the first, though most of them were simply shades of men, each quietly standing near the previously empty tables, or sat near the bar.
Each one tickled a memory in the back of Zacharias’ brain, but without their faces, the Halfling couldn’t place any of them. They were like parodies of the patrons that used to frequent the place. Like weird faceless puppets waiting to be controlled by unseen hands.
They could have been anyone really, unlike the hunched over form that had suddenly appeared on one of the stools at the bar. Even from behind, Zach could place the disheveled blacksmith’s clothes anywhere, so he wasn’t totally surprised to see his father’s form sitting at his usual spot at the bar.
The drunken lout had been a near permanent fixture at his favourite pub, and when his Mother would send him out to retrieve his wayward parent, Zach had always known exactly where to head.
Now though… Zacharias flipped a throwing knife into his palm before tossing the blade directly into his father’s back, though the thief wasn’t surprised when the blade barely seemed to pierce the man’s flesh.
“Can’t blame a bloke for trying.” Zach huffed out a laugh, before making his way over to the hunched form, making a show of his nonchalance as he pointedly ignored any faceless spectors he passed. “So what’s the trick here? Cuz stealing most of these ugly fucks faces is just doing the world a favour.” He grinned to himself as he strutted toward the bar.
If this was similar to what the others had experienced? Well shit, they were clearly just being overdramatic about it all.
Settling down on an open seat at the bar, the thief wasn’t surprised to confirm his father’s face had been wiped clean as well, smooth skin staring down at the countertop.
“Hah! How’s the poor worthless git supposed to get pissed if he’s got no mouth?” The Halfling smirked at the pure irony.
“Truly, the world is a better place without the old bastard’s face in it.” Zacharias laughed as he reached out and plucked the throwing knife from his father’s back. A quick look at it confirmed there was no blood on the tip, and no wound either, but Zach focused on his air of nonchalance.
“Seriously, I clearly got my looks from me mum. She was the prettiest lass in the land, whereas The Old Man?”
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
“Ugliest fucking git this side of Dray’Mel, always looked like crap that had been run over by a horse drawn carriage.” Zach grinned as he kept his eyes roaming, though…
It started as a quiet sound, just barely on the edge of his hearing. Like a whisper. A single voice in the silence.
“gniyaced dna daed ,eno sselluos ,eno sselluoS”
Zach looked around the tavern once more. The beings were still faceless and yet the whisper was getting louder as though other voices were joining it.
The patrons stood up, one by one, blank empty faces turned in his direction.
“!Eno sselluos !eno sselluoS”
The Halfling narrowed his eyes, hands twitching over his daggers as the whispers became a chant, the chant became a crescendo.
And then… as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The faceless patrons turned their backs and slowly began to fade away on the spot, black essences like smoke, unfurling and drifting downward into the disgusting floorboards…
“Well, what the fuck was that all about?” Zach demanded angrily.
During the weird turn, his ‘father’ had remained entirely motionless.
A thought was nudging at him as he stared about the bar, taking in the entire place, looking for the next odd occurrence. The place was a rancid sinkhole as it always had been, but it was large.
Hells, it was nearly twice the size of the Plagued Rat, and that particular slice of mediocrity was one of the largest taverns in Dray’Mel.
‘So… where was this tavern actually located? And why can’t I remember what it’s name was.’
Distracted as he was, Zacharias almost missed it when his father’s head swiveled towards him. The Halfling didn’t have enough time to dodge back before a wave of disorientation washed over him.
----------------------------------------
A torrent of debilitating vertigo crashed into him, but Zacharias pushed past the dizzying feelings as he forced his eyes open, immediately scanning the area for any signs of danger.
He wasn’t in the bloody tavern any longer with the fucked up smoke-like creatures, but he was surprised to realize that this time, he knew where he was immediately.
After all, it was his home….
And not one of the many he’d bought for himself with his ill gotten gains, or one of his secret boltholes dotted throughout Dray’Mel, but rather he was standing in the center of his childhood home.
It was a simple homestead and it had never been the height of decadence, but as the Halfling looked around himself at the state of disrepair, Zach could tell exactly when it was meant to be.
He spotted the shattered plates that had been shoved to the side and left to rot. There were hunks of fuzzy green bread alongside fruit that had been reduced to black puddles of ooze that coated the tops of the cabinets in the tiny kitchen area.
A mirror, once polished every morning, was now smeared with grease and blood, an ugly crack splintering it straight down the middle.
His nose was assaulted with the fug of old wrymwood leaves, the remnants of the rolled up sticks overflowing from an old chipped mug.
He could see the dirt and filth that coated the only good rug that his mother had diligently weaved from various rags and he wasn’t surprised to see the filth covered armchair his father had taken to sleeping in once…
‘Once my mother was gone.’
It had been years since his father had pawned his mother off for a mere pittance, no doubt to clear some kind of ill-acquired debt, so Zach had to admit that he’d made peace with the fact at this point. Murdering the duplicitous old fuck had certainly helped, but he vaguely recollected how angry he’d been as a child, but now…
Well, you see enough shitstains selling out their friends and family for a taste of Dragon’s Blood, you grew numb to it. His father wasn’t a monster like he’d thought of him as, he was just another pathetic junkie.
“So if you’re showing me this to get under my skin, it’s not working.” The Halfling announced in a bored tone as he kicked his way through the filth and over to the nearby chair.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he had the distinct feeling of being watched.
“Seriously though, is this some kind of trap? Or are you pissed that I killed your last owner.”
He laughed as his own joke before spitting on the floor and shaking his head in disdain.
“Whoever heard of an Artifact that held grudges? Fucking pathetic mate!”
As the Halfling kept a steady eye on his surroundings, he wasn’t overly surprised when two figures suddenly appeared beside him, but just as it had been at the tavern something about them felt off.
His father looked exactly as he remembered him, his open vest soaked with booze and flecks of what he could only assume was vomit. The old git certainly smelled the same too. Rancid sweat and stale wrymwood leaves.
The only thing that had really changed from the faceless form that had greeted Zach in the tavern was the leather belt that was tightly squeezing the life from his lungs.
The Halfling remembered the belt clearly. It had, at one point, been brown. But it hadn’t taken long for it to look and smell as foul as the man himself. Zach could still hear the crack of the belt as it tore through the air before the inevitable blossom of pain when it hit his young flesh.
His arm, his back, his face. The old man was never a good aim even on the rare occasion that he was sober.
Now the drunken lout was frozen in the midst of being dragged off his chair, though Zach had to admit it was a shame he couldn’t make out the face his father had made as he died.
The other figure though… most of these unmoving spectors had seemed fully fleshed out, clothed in distinctive robes and their bodies were at least in a semblance of normal proportions.
It didn’t take a genius to know that the other figure was meant to be Zach himself, as he choked his own father to an early grave.
It was poetic that he killed his father with the one thing that had caused him so much pain.
What didn’t make sense was the fact the image before the thief was distorted, the child version of Zacharias being shown with limbs out of proportion with his body, and the clothes he was wearing were a strange array of leather and cloth, each of a differing colour.
It looked like a mashup of a dozen different children, each body part lifted from a different humanoid to form a foreign creature. The faceless figure looked closer to a misbegotten chimera than a Halfling child.
Its left hand looked normal enough to match Zach’s own, a pale Halfling arm holding one end of the leathery belt, but his right arm was nearly twice as long and covered in scales.
“The fuck…” Zach snorted out a laugh to himself. “Is that supposed to me, mate?” He addressed the strange feeling of being watched once more.
“That’s just wild, the Hells do you think I am? Can’t say I’ve ever sported scales before. Much less… does that thing have a cat’s tail?”
Looking it over closely, the Halfling quickly moved past the nonsensical monstrosity, but as he looked at his father’s flailing arms, a small frown crossed his face.
When he’d finished choking the life out of his father, he could distinctly remember that the only thing that had irked him afterwards were the scuff marks that his father’s nails left on the wooden flooring.
He recalled looking down at the ugly lacerations. The filth and grime could be washed away but those marks were permanent. Forever a scar on the floor his mother had taken so much pride in cleaning every morning.
Zach glared at them. Deep, thick grooves from where the old bastard had struggled to pull himself away to safety as the air constricted in his throat.
Checking below the chair was easy enough, and they were exactly where he remembered them being. It all made sense, right up until Zach thought about the actual kill.
His father had been wasted, slumped over in his chair and sleeping away his celebratory booze. The pockets of his ragged pants had been empty, and Zach knew it had been wasted away behind the bar or across the card table.
An empty pocket meant an empty belly.
The drunken prick didn’t have a care in the world and hadn’t even moved as Zach threaded the belt around his neck.
Hells, it was a good few seconds before his father had even reacted to being choked, the lack of air finally cutting through his clouded mind.
The old timer barely had time to flail his arms around near the end, but in truth, it hadn’t been a murder to boast about. It had been easy enough that even a small underfed brat had managed it.
No, the small detail itching away at Zach was something both obvious, and yet something he’d never thought about before today.
“How the Hells did the old man leave those marks when his feet weren’t even able to reach the ground?” Zacharias muttered to himself, pacing about the murder scene in front of him.
‘It wasn’t possible. So why do I remember it so clearly? I remember my old man choking so viscerally, his… his face contorted in pain…’
The Halfling could feel a pressure building in his skull as he tried to picture his fathers face, staggering backwards against a nearby wall. The old man had been… elderly? With wrinkles or maybe a mustache? Surely there had been a beard? Had it been gray or perhaps salt and pepper?
Zach felt like he could almost remember it, his father’s drunken face and his bright yellow scales from his constant drinking.
‘Scales?’
Halflings don’t have scales.
Yet why had that felt so natural to think?
His father…
His father had been…
‘What was his fucking name?”
Zach suddenly felt a sick feeling settle into his stomach like a rock.
“Fuck him. What was her name?”
‘What was my mother’s name? How can I remember this bloody shithole right down to the fucked up state of it, but I haven’t got a clue what my own mother’s name was?’
Zacharias could feel his breath run ragged as he struggled to stay upright, sweat dripping down his face as he stared at the monstrous image that was meant to reflect him.
He backed up, away from the fallen body of his father and the freakish creation of his younger self. His sweaty back came into contact with the greasy wall as his stomach churned.
It was chaos incarnate, but piece by piece Zach felt like he could almost remember each individual limb, like an itch at the back of his mind.
But why? Why would he ever remember something like that? He was a Halfling through and through…
Why would he remember that he was…a thing…a creation…
An amalgamation of this and that, thrown together in a gross parody of life.
And then, of course, he suddenly knew why. It suddenly all made sense.
“The fucking Ruby. It’s all the fucking Ruby’s doing. This shit is supposed to twist my melon exactly like it did with those other fucks. Only I’m savvy enough to realize before I freak out.”
The thief felt a renewed sense of calm, even as his body collapsed to its knees, and the scratched floor rushed to collide with his skull. His eyes closed as Zach felt himself drift away, darkness pouring over him.
----------------------------------------
There was no panic, no fear. The darkness was all he’d ever known, and it washed over him like a blanket. It held him together as he became more aware.
That was the way it had always been. The darkness meant shadows and shadows meant deception. A protective cloak that gave him the edge. The only accomplice that was worth his time.
He could feel viscous liquid on his skin, the air inserted into his lungs. He could feel the metal tube lodged down his throat, and the occasional flush of nutrients discharged down into his stomach.
There was nothing, and he was nothing. These simple wandering thoughts perhaps but what were they really? Some said the dead could speak, could think. Hells, some wankers thought the dead could dream and imagine and create.
Didn’t mean shit.
You were the sum of your parts. And wasn’t that all he was?
Parts.
Until he felt the command as it pierced his soul.
‘Open your eyes.’
At first, he didn’t understand. The command washed over him, yet he ignored it. A part of him knew he was meant to respond, but it didn’t matter. Not yet.
Instead, he only continued to exist. There was no drive, no desire to plague him. He simply was, just an empty shell with no purpose. He was-
Create…
Zacharias thrashed wildly in a surge of movement, his lungs burning as he desperately clawed at his eyes. Surrounded on all sides by thick water that stemied his movement, the Halfling began to retch as he felt the metal tube digging at his throat.
His fingers scrabbled at his face in pure panic as the thief realized his nostrils had been sewn shut, and his eyes were covered in a layer of gunk that blocked his vision.
With his breath caught in his chest, he desperately wrenched himself from side to side as the metal tubing finally dislodged itself from his throat, only to be replaced by an unending stream of liquid as Zacharias struggled to close his mouth.
Each breath burned at him while his lungs filled with water, Zach could feel his eyelids being ripped apart with his own fingernails as he desperately cleared his vision.
He needed… He had no idea. No clue where he was, or why he’d been trapped like this, but as the stench of his own blood mingled with the liquid around him, he could barely make out a faint light near him.
Kicking out desperately, Zacharias was stunned to feel a solid barrier just in front of him. Stamping down on his panic, he kicked out with as much force as he could and ignored the jolt of pain that spread through his legs.
Because he was rewarded with a beautiful sight, a web of cracks spreading out around him. All he needed to do was keep kicking. Keep struggling even as his brain began to cut off.
His second kick pierced the barrier of whatever he was being kept inside, and Zach watched as liquid began jettisoning past him.
‘Glass. It’s fucking glass.’
Reeling back for a third kick, Zacharias felt a tendon tear in his left leg, but the Halfling refused to stop. His foot smashed out of the glass container… only to remain wedged in place.
Spun out of control, Zach couldn’t yank himself free as bits of broken shards shredded his leg into mincemeat, but he couldn’t stop here.
He would… he… would…
----------------------------------------
As the sounds of the pathetic snotball ranting drifted into his consciousness, Zacharias felt an urge to gulp down the fresh… Well, fresh enough air.
He was back in his warehouse office, whole and uninjured. And being stared at by a smug fucking Ratling.
The Goblin was studiously ignoring him, instead choosing to direct his complaints to Winifred who was nodding at him, one hand on his shoulder, a sympathetic look on her face.
Disgusting.
Resisting the urge to shake off the experience, Zacharias instead plastered a wide grin on his face, and watched as Skrakch’s own smirk fell away.
“Well, that was a bit boring.” Zach lied glibly, rolling the Purene Ruby across his palm and shrugging nonchalantly, “Turns out I’m going to die of old age, not exactly thrilling stuff.” He mock-yawned and stretched idly. “Nowt we didn’t know, eh? Dying rich and comfy, in bed with a couple of good looking birds! I can think of worse ways to go!”
Across the office from him, his Iskrin accomplice let out a feral sounding snarl as the idiot puffed up his fur. “You’re shitting me. You saw one death? That’s it!?” Skrakch demanded with a glare.
“Listen Squeakers, some of us are destined for greatness.” Zach replied smugly as he polished the Ruby on the sleeve of his jacket. “And some of us, well, just look at yourself mate.” He added with a snide chuckle.
“And I’m not worried about some shitty little magic toy.” Zacharias lied through his teeth, staring down at the Ruby and noting the little swirl of darkness that seemed to be swirling in the center of the Artifact.
"Some of us are just made better."