James was in the mindscape, his eyes looking up at the dark oblivion that was the sky.
“Why am I here?” he asked aloud, his eyes looking for Faust. The Centurion was nowhere in sight, the only thing visible being the water that spanned for miles.
“You are here because of us,” a legion of voices called out. “James Holter.”
James jolted at the sound of his name, his eyes searching the mindscape. Nothing was in sight, but the young man could still feel a presence with him.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” James’ thoughts came out of his lips, echoing in the mindscape. He gritted his teeth at the realization. “You’re the thing who tried to enter my mind that day. Back when we first met.”
“You still recall the sound of our voices? Good.” The legion of voices, both human and goblin, sounded joyful at the idea of James remembering.
“You monster. I’m going to burn you down and—”
“And dance on my corpse. Yes, we are familiar with your current thoughts. You have such an interesting mind. Shame we cannot take it over.” The voices sounded genuinely coherent, unlike the last time the young man had clashed with it.
James wasn’t sure what to make of it since his last exposure to its mind gave him a genuine idea of the abomination. That the thing was stupid and hungry. Now, however, the thing sounded intelligent. Like it was beginning to develop and mature.
“When this is all over, you will be gone,” James called out. He forced down his instinctual fear of the idea. It was dead now. Those Lumen Knights had also promised to get rid of this thing forever once they got hold of the samples. Soon enough, this nightmare would end.
“You’ll be erased from this world, gone away like a weak disease,” James reinforced.
“We doubt it.”
“You sound sure of yourself despite the fact that you’re nothing more than bits and pieces,” James shot back. He looked around the mindscape, trying to see where the voices came from.
“We can always rebuild.”
“I won’t let you. No matter what, I’ll keep hunting you down. I’ll keep burning your bodies, and I’ll keep doing it until you are nothing!” James shouted out these words, feeling his anger boil. His emotions faltered, and his eyes focused on a distant cloud emerging from the darkness. It moved like an animal, its shape unrecognizable. The thing’s shape was beyond comprehension, yet James was watching it, staring at it.
“You will fail or die trying. No matter what you do, you will lose,” it spoke out before it quickly dissipated. James could feel something cold brush against his back.
“You are a coward deep inside, under all that bravado. You hesitate to do what is necessary. To go against your own morals. You can destroy our bodies, Sure. But will we be the only one in your way?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” James asked, his fists clenched. Despite the thing being behind his back, James didn’t dare look at it. Something deep in his instincts, something primal, told him it would result in him losing his sanity.
“How can a man like you stop us when you cannot even bring yourself to take a life…”
The whispers tickled James’ ears, sending a surge of adrenaline through him. Before he could even manage an answer, the Outlander was whisked away and sent back to the waking world.
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There was the sound of constant ringing and blurred voices. James blinked, his vision slowly returning to normal as he tried to sit up, his lungs begging for oxygen. He tried to breathe but only coughed, forcing him to turn over on all fours. James spat and hacked onto the stone ground, his double vision finally going away as he focused.
“Blood,” he muttered, noticing the crimson mixed with his dirty spit. James groaned, standing up on his knees as he tried to get his bearings.
“Delphine’s mercy! He’s alive!” An audible voice sounded out amongst the blurred ones.
James blinked, looking towards the source. Some light was coming in through the roof of the cave, but it wasn’t enough for James to identify the man rushing towards him. Suddenly, James felt his instincts react. Faust’s spirit flared inside of him as he was suddenly back in Yorktown, burning buildings around him as fog and smoke obscured the running form of the marauder.
‘Enemies!’ Faust shouted mentally, his voice clear as day. James reached for his sword, only to find it gone from his side, lost at some point.
“Get the hell away!” James gritted his teeth as he shouted, forcing himself to stand as his hands grabbed the nearest weapon, a broken piece of a round shield. The marauder stopped, surprised at James’ words.
“What?” He asked in a confused tone, raising his hands. Another marauder showed up behind the first one, slowly walking towards the young man.
“Hey! Calm down!”
Both marauders slowly approached James, no weapons in hand.
‘It must be a trick!’
“Get back! Now!” James shouted, feeling a sudden heat flare up around his eyes. The marauders stopped at that, visibly stunned.
“J-James, it’s us!” One of them suddenly spoke up, his voice stammering as he raised his hands in surrender.
“What?”
“It’s us! Edmund and Archibald! Lower the… shield, please.”
‘Archibald? Edmund?’ James blinked, suddenly back inside the cave. He felt himself relax, dropping his improvised weapon. -Still, there was something strange about how the two mercenaries looked at him. He soon noticed how the world gained a faint blueish tint.
“Ugh,” James winced, closing his eyes as he placed a palm on his forehead. It was hot to the touch, as if he had a fever.
“Gods.” He heard Brant’s voice suddenly speak out from behind Archibald.
“I can see his skull,” Edmund pointed out. His voice had a tinge of fear. James opened his eyes again, noticing how a blue glow bathed his surroundings.
“He looks like a draugr,” Brant added, visible from afar. James looked down at his hands, realizing that the source of the blue glow and its heat was coming from his eyes.
‘James, you’re going to need to calm yourself and focus.’ Faust sounded exhausted, strained almost.
James followed the spirit’s words, focusing his will as he shut his eyes once more. He took a deep breath, clenching his fists and releasing them slowly. The heat slowly died, leaving James in his normal, tired self. The young blond man then collapsed, groaning as he fell to his knees. Archibald and Edmund rushed to his side, helping him up as they dragged him to where Brant was.
James watched as they did so, his eyes passing over the many bits and pieces of the creature they had fought earlier. Smoking limbs and burnt flesh littered the ground, reeking of an awful smell. James scrunched his nose, making a disgusted face as he forcefully looked away from the sight.
The two mercenaries sat James next to Brant, who was holding his right arm in pain. He didn’t seem to care about his arm, nor about the many cuts across his arm and face. He was fixated on James, who looked back with a worried look.
“What the hell was that? Your eyes—they looked cursed,” the older man said, moving to face James.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“I agree with Brant here. What happened back there? Why did your eyes glow like that?” Edmund knelt down, brow furrowed.
“Not only that, but that thing… It spoke your name. As if it knew you,” Archibald mentioned. “You need to explain. Now.”
James sighed, moving to get comfortable in his spot.
‘Should I tell them everything?’ James thought to Faust, who did something akin to mentally shrugging his shoulders.
‘Best if you tell them the more ‘believable parts’ instead of the whole ‘from another world’ thing…’
James could agree with that since he knew even Seamus had a hard time believing that story.
“Alright. I’ll do my best to explain… this.” James gestured at the smoking pieces of the abomination. “And why my eyes were glowing the way they were,” James looked back at his group, taking a deep breath.
“It started back in Yorktown, a small fishing town south of Valenfrost.”
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Helen looked off at the island Dahlia and her team had embarked on, squinting to see if she could spot the source of the loud boom.
“What the hel is happening?” Haggard asked with a look of surprise on his face.
“Not sure. You think things went down badly?” Helen asked before she looked back at the deck. Everyone was staring at the island, murmuring amongst themselves. She could spot Seamus over by the railing. His brow furrowed as he looked on worriedly.
“I think we should check on them. We still have that third boat.” Haggard said as he moved away from the railing, causing Helen to raise an eyebrow.
“What? Are you serious?” She asked, following Haggard across the deck. “You’re just going to leave me here with that coward, Seamus?”
“He won’t have to,” a voice called out. Helen jumped, surprised by Seamus’ sudden appearance. He had a determined look on his face as he walked past the ex-marauder.
“I’m coming with you,” Seamus stated, to which Haggard nodded in approval.
“Alright, get the rowboat ready. I’ll be there in a minute.” Haggard patted Seamus on the shoulder as the young man hurried across the deck. The towering man then glanced at Helen. “I guess you’ll be staying behind the marauder.”
“Ex-marauder,” Helen emphasized, teeth gritting. She had no issue being seen as a criminal, but she would never be associated with that asshole Deimos. “I can help you know,” she added, sighing softly.
Haggard chuckled, shaking his head. “I know you can; the only problem is will you help?” There was some silence between the two, neither speaking before Seamus called out.
“Haggard, let’s go!”
“Coming!” Haggard waved off the younger man, calling back. He pushed past Helen, moving to call over the shipmaster. Helen clenched her jaw tightly, cursing under her breath before she turned on her heels, facing Haggard with a burning gaze.
“Hey!” she called out, her words stopping the man.
Haggard turned around, raising an amused eyebrow. He didn’t speak, instead opting to cross his arms expectantly as he awaited an answer. Helen hated Haggard for that, swallowing her pride as she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath before finally speaking.
“I… I will help,” Helen forced out.
“Why?” Haggard then asked, that stupid, amused look still on his face. Helen gritted her teeth, lowering her voice.
“Because if you or that shaman were to die… I’ll be left in these.” She raised her shackles to show a point. The truth was, if Dahlia were to die, it would leave Helen shackled without a key. She doubted the shaman would risk the key with someone here, least of all Haggard himself.
‘And even if she left the key with Seamus, I doubt he’ll be able to fight well enough to save his own life.’
She could always convince the crew to let her free or help break the shackles off. Still, she doubted they would want to help anyone associated with the Marauders of the North, ex or otherwise.
“Ah, fucking marauders! I wouldn’t expect less,” Haggard guffawed, shaking his head. He responded, his laughing getting on Helen’s nerves. The woman suddenly stepped forward, grabbing the taller man by the collar and pulling him down to eye level.
“Ex-marauder,” she growled. “And I’ll be damned before I’m left in these chains for much longer. Let. Me. Come.” She stared down Haggard, noticing a dark look passing over his eyes, but it soon passed. His surprised expression was soon replaced with a grin just as he pulled away from the ex-marauder.
“Fine, we’ll take you along.” Haggard looked back towards the shipmaster. “Dimitri, you think you can drop us off close to the southern island?”
“No problem, I’ll get Liam on it, my friend!” The shipmaster grinned and walked off, heading to the quarterdeck.
Helen looked back at Haggard, who straightened his collar. “Alright, let’s get you outfitted.”
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“Hey! She’s coming to!”
Dahlia’s vision was blurred. There was even red tinting the vision on her right as she blinked slowly. Despite the blurry figure, Dahlia could tell who it was right away. Bjorn’s grin was wide, his teeth tinted with red. The dwarf was clear as day, and Dahlia’s vision was back to normal as she tried to sit up. Bjorn did his best to help just as a sharp pain coursed through her head. Dahlia winced, putting a hand to her temple as she groaned.
‘Too hot,’ she painfully thought, taking in deep breaths of the freezing air as her body tried to cool itself off.
‘Damn gnomes. That thing went off ten seconds before it needed to.’
Dahlia reminded herself to have a talk with the two gnome inventors whenever she went back to Vindis.
“Ugh,” she muttered, looking at her surroundings.
“Careful, try to rest for a bit, yeah? You must’ve hit your head at some point,” Bjorn’s voice called to her.
Dahlia blinked, her eyes looking at her drag marks on the snow.
‘Did he drag me here?’
Dahlia tried to get a peek at where that abominable creature had been.
“Is it dead? The thing,” she added in a mutter, her eyes squinting. She got her answer soon, as her eyes widened at the amount of damage the grenade had done to the crystalized bear. There was nothing but bits, blackened and smoking pieces of flesh, scattering the once snowy clearing. Miles was standing nearby, admiring the aftermath of the battle as if it was an awe-inspiring sight. Finn was next to him, holding onto his bandaged side as he watched with Miles.
“Yeah, it’s dead,” Bjorn answered her question after a few moments. “We killed the shit out of it!” He was grinning at the sight of destruction, helping Dahlia up as she stared at the clearing.
“We need to gather its remains,” she managed out, stumbling as she tried to walk before falling on the snowy ground. “Burn it all before it can come back.” Dahlia watched as Miles came up to her, extending a hand to her.
“We’ll have time to do that,” the mercenary assured Dahlia as she took the man’s hand. “For now, rest. You’re roughed up.”
“Roughed up? That’s a funny way of putting it. She looks like hammered shit!” Bjorn commented as he chuckled.
Miles didn’t seem to hear the dwarf as he helped Dahlia to where Finn was, sitting her down on the log he was on. Dahlia noticed her belt on the log, one of its pouches open, and visibly looked through. She raised an eyebrow, looking over at Finn’s bandaged side and Bjorn’s patched-up arm. She looked at Miles, who reached into the pouch to pull out bandages and a couple of marked vials.
“So you’re the healer now?” Dahlia commented with a smile, watching as Miles poured one of the vial’s contents into a rag before reaching over to pat it over her open wounds. Dahlia winced as she felt her head wound burn on contact, watching as Miles worked on her.
“I learned to heal myself during my time with the followers. You tend to get hurt often when you’re out there chasing dangerous and interesting people.”
Dahlia noted the dried blood on the man’s grinning mask, which made it seem even more sinister as he worked.
“What happened after it knocked me out?” She asked, wondering about what had happened before she regained consciousness.
“It tried to go after you, but Bjorn saved you with that shield of his,” Miles said, gesturing towards the nearby ground where the dwarf’s dented and malformed shield was laid.
“Gods…” Dahlia muttered.
“He almost had his head lopped off for that stunt, but his helmet saved him. Finn tried to go for its head, but he almost got gutted.” Miles pointed at the taller man, who gave him a dirty look.
“Thanks for that, by the way. Almost got me killed trying to get that thing’s attention,” Finn complained.
“It was your own fault for thinking you had a chance of killing it. I just wanted you to get its attention so I can get a clear shot,” Miles shot right back, just as he finished dressing Dahlia’s head wound. Finn scoffed, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the clearing.
Dahlia peeked over Miles’ shoulder, examining the clearing once more. She frowned before struggling to stand up again.
“What are you…?” Miles asked but didn’t stop Dahlia as she stumbled to Finn’s dropped sword. She picked it up, dragging it along the ground as she made her way to the other side of the clearing. The shaman could feel everyone’s eyes on her, possibly wondering about what she was doing.
They would soon get their answer as Dahlia stopped at the tree line, her eyes looking down at something. It was the abomination’s upper torso, or what was left of it. She could only make out the half-caved head and exposed ribcage as it tried to wriggle away.
Dahlia had seen it struggle from afar. She wondered how long it had been trying to get away without Miles’ knowledge. Still, it didn’t matter anymore, as the shaman had intercepted it before it got away. If it even could get away. The remaining half of its skull looked up at Dahlia, seemingly staring at her despite both of its eyes being gone.
“I pray that there is a god out there who can save your damned soul. Unfortunately… Not a single one comes to mind.”
Dahlia pierced its head with Finn’s sword, forcing all of her strength into the strike. The thing made a gurgling noise as it died, its remaining body soon losing all of its movement and color before dying.