“Stumbling” he winced  “it's always stumbling’” red coating the arms tied to his back. “I stumbled through training” he rasped “stumbled around love” his lungs began to retch up clumps of red. “And now?” his laughter sounding like rusty hinges “I’m stumbling over corpses”. He began to choke. The salt from his eyes started to mix with the red iron paste that adorned his face. Heavy hands shoved him to his knees, death promised in their grip. “And what was it for?” the axe raised. “Nothing” The hands were bound. “You are all nothing”. His head fell.

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Chapter 1 Head? Head.

A slow golden sunrise climbed over the distant side of the desaleet valley of tears. Bringing a rare yet not uncommon dreamy beauty upon a place where one would normally stumble over a corpse. Let alone notice the change in lighting. Despite its more common name ( Valley of Tears), its actual name, if one were to look at a map, would read “Canton's Crater”. Named after the ancient chieftain Canton of the conquest. When the chieftain arrived, it was already inhabited by a loose guard of tribal heads. Unsurprisingly Canton lived up to his name and succeeded in taking most of the valley surrounding the massive lake. Ancients called it the second sea. His reign held up until the “Tears Rebellion of the 22nd blue moon”  when the sons and daughters of the valley people broke into his hold and all took a collective vote to dangle him from a rope made of mule leather. Not much is documented after this time period. Most records being lost to the dust of history and the many conflicts after. Canton’s campaign and everything after shed an ungodly amount of ancient blood. Inevitably causing the valley surrounding the great lake to sprout a festering hellscape; which birthed from its new cursed womb amalgamations of flesh. And given hate and will by the ancient, much purer, blood that was let upon the land in its gallons. Subsequently that is why I’m here. Standing before an old stone fort. Trying to piece together how exactly I’m going to rip the decayed beating heart from this slowly congealing pack of skinned dogs. Well not actual muts but they hold a remarkable resemblance to our favorite friends but….. “Nope, not ever gonna pet that”.

I shiver just thinking about what that would feel like. “But then again I’m going to find out anyway aren’t I?.....stupit knee eaters.” The fort is small, only an outpost I assume, but small as in relevance to others. Five walls. Making the shape of a square with a point out to the back. On the opposite flat wall the  gate hung open. And I could smell three watching the entrance. I begin to mark a steady pace round the west edge of the tree line; Avoiding vines and gore, inevitably making my way to the rear of the fort and sliding against its stone wall. Its touch frigid, reminding me of my own frozen blood, a sensation I am all too pleased for. Icey shards begin to form under foot as I will frost to my hands, gloving them in slick cold shards. The wall crunches as I climb, fingers sinking into stone. And with that the wall is scaled. I circle left along the ramparts, while also praying to whatever will listen that the muts can’t climb. Masking my steps, I draw steel. The military issue longsword glistens in the sunlight. Now after descending stairs with what I'd hoped is the grace of a cat, I meet a heavy stone door at the bottom, which seems to be why I could move atop the wall unabated, but simultaneously the reason I have to do more climping. But no ice this time, as thick metal bands make adequate hand holds. Once atop I exit through an agape window, its ancient glass nothing but sand under my feet. Upon my entering the courtyard I’m greeted with iron and rot. As well as three roughly three feet dog creatures facing me, teeth bared in all their disgusting glory. I guess if it wasn't for the fact that the only sound these muts udder is gurgling, I’d have a much worse situation on my hands. “Was I not quiet enough?”  I say to no one. The closest leaps at that, only to catch the business end of a longsword through the face “No more gurgling for you mister” unfortunately it’s stuck. Forced to drop the now sheathed sword. Muts number two and three have begun to circle me. With fewer options than I’m comfortable with, I gather the frost in my blood. Springing sapphire thorns trap the amalgamated flesh that is their feet. Sword retrieved, I make quick work of them. “Could have done that cleaner and quieter but woopty doo dah I’m not in the damn mood” I bolt for the main hall, not really in the right state of mind. Which had me almost catch the spiked end of a morning star as I entered. “What in the three fucks!?” A seven foot headless abomination of roughly human shaped flesh was what! You’d think it was just out for a stroll with the way it held itself, well that and the bare muscle and leaking blood. What's more is that it somehow managed to look royally pissed. “You don’t even have a head asshole!”  Regardless of how it made its emotions known. It still had me rolling to the side as it made an attempt to squish me “I’m not that easy to kill!” I yelled indignantly. Immediately proving my statement false “It” landed a nasty foot into my briefly upright ribs. sending me right back out the way I came. “truce?” I half choked, half joked to no one but myself. My trousers finally under me after fighting the pain of more than one broken rib. Ice was also eating my skin. “Hey can we…” I interrupted myself to retch some blood. “As I was saying, do you think you could just not?” answering me with a sound I can only assume is some blasphemy about my mother. Well that and charging me. Not wishing to be a neat splotch of red; I let icy hell explode from my feet. Careening me just about over where its head should be. With deft ease and some aching ribs I caught his stump while shifting my momentum back around, planting my knees right into the things back, shattering whatever spine it had. Winded, I stumbled back. “Wooh!” I let out a triumphant, if unwise, victory cheer. Snapping back to focus, distubred yet unsurprised that the accursed thing is trying to knit it's rotting fresh together again.  “Oh WE are having NONE of that”  and I’m not comfortable stating what I did next but the point should be clear. The other guy looks worse.  Meat pile forgotten, and a few shades redder than before, I make my way back to the hall where I had my little lapse of judgment. “So where to now?” The main hall wasn't huge, just roughly thirty by fifty feet I’d say. A modest stone table stretched out in front of me, and a shattered throne sat at its end. Sunken in the right wall was a long dead fireplace with black stained stone. To the left a door. With some red dripping from the top. “Ooh lovely decoration” I quipped, ignoring the squelching sound of my feet on flesh as I entered . A couple halls later, and a few dead dog things, I finally made it to a small open courtyard and in its center sat just what I was looking for. A well defined, ashen head with black eyes and shaby long hair resting on a pile of blood and meat. “Heyoo” I called out. The head's vacant eyes remained unfocused, pale skin reflecting the morning light. “You just gonna sit there or should I wait a little bit?”  and almost as if on cue its eyes snapped to me. Then my eyes. Then my grin. It grinned back, showing an almost friendly smile on its human face. “Ok look, I'm not having the best day so could we not do the creepy smile thing?” I say with a disappointed frown. “Well let's get started I guess” and start it did. It's dark eyes began to fix me with a hungry stare, while piles of gore and bones molded to shape. Red tendrils of gore and bone began to form. Jabbing at me like coiled snakes. I dogged, sliced, and slashed my way toward the head. But I wasn't making ground. What's worse is I'd began to take shallow gashes here and there along my uncovered back. "Fuck it, it's die now or die later" I half laughed, And all bets were off. Frost spikes of will and blood began to cover my advance, shielding me from the onslaught. knowing this wouldn't last long, that I'd freeze up any minute, a dash of pure anger and desperate hate was all I could muster. Blades flashing, red on everything, I sent the head into the courtyard wall with a tearing of muscle and fuck knows what else. It cracked when it finally hit the floor. Its eyes flickering. The yard went still. "well that's that then" I choked, stumbling forward "And that's probably curtains for me as well? huh guys?" And on cue six figures dropped from the right and left wall, three to each. I made an attempt to stand. But they were fast. Me? Completely drained, pathetic, and half frozen. Before I could even attempt any form of defensive or desperate maneuver. The tendons in my legs were cut, and I was shoved to my knees by death’s promising hands. They weren't monsters. No, they were brothers in arms. Sent to do what this mission might not achieve. My execution. The leading figure in blue began to read final rights. "Just get it over with" I said with a croaked laugh. "If you are so eager to die then so be it" was what got spat back. They began to raise the sword. "I'll see you in whatever hell we wake up in asshole" And before his sword even reached halfway up, a pair of black pools flickered, and its holder's grip slackened, along with the rest of him. The 

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assassins dropped as one. Rigid bone tipped tendrils, skewered through their dead husks. Puppets with cut strings.

I stared slack jawed at the dead executioners, confusion plainly showing on my features. And with what took me more time than I really liked, I shifted my head to gaze at mister supposed to be dead. "Saving me for last? Poetic'' I said with my bitter confusion. And maybe a bit of sarcasm. Seeming to justify my statement, tendrils began to seep from the cracked skull, all the while it's pit of a stare fixed me in place. Granted I couldn't move at that point so…. "You've got to be kidding" I said with slow mirth" And apparently I was kidding myself, because what I thought was going to kill me ended up hurting way fucking more then I thought justifiable. Thin wiring tubes of skin began to seep under my skin and through my eyes. A larger pair burrowed in my wrists. I screamed every insanity possible, every curse, every blasphemy I could utter against any God I knew. Ants chewing away under my skin, burning balls of metal for eyes, and liquid fire for blood. Wailing, I clawed at them until everything was a void, and I was alone in black. 

Everything itched, my eyes stung. And upon raising to my feet my first instinct was to whip around and unleash unholy vengeance upon that "donkey screwing asshole!" This was screamed in indignant rage. Unfortunately I had to notice that there was nothing left of the fucker besides pale ash. I was about to spit blasphemy about the things mother, which I don't do lightly mind you, then I caught a reflection of my figure in the black ice to my side. "Wait wait what ?!?" But what caught me wasn't the shade of the ice, nor my now pailed ashen shade, but the pits of black that resided where my eyes once were, that got me. Where one would have once seen brown rust colored eyes held only subsidized void in their stead. Next was the hair. Instead of its usual friendly red it was a dark black crimson. I cracked a half smile at that. "Always despised having the same hair as that fucker" but what broke me out of my musing was the thrice damned fucking teeth "Really?" I questioned "A bit creepy for my tastes" I said, testing their new edge. "This is fine and all but why ain't I dead?" Before I could continue my intelligent observation, as my easily distractible self, I heard a faint whisper. A remorseful friend passing on a request. Turning, I gave a long thoughtful look to my now dead benefactor. Then frowned in annoyance.

"Fine" I said with a merithful voice "I won't stumble"