It was raining ghouls and Oak was less than pleased.
If in five seconds we are still in this street, we are dead, he thought and grit his teeth.
He cast two jets of flames, first towards the ghouls in front of him and Geezer and the second towards the ghouls approaching from behind. Both groups of monsters recoiled from the heat and bright light, screeching in fear.
Oak took advantage of the small window of time afforded to him and started running towards the door of some two story manor on his right. He hoped there was a window or a door on the other side he and Geezer could slip through and maybe get some distance between themselves and the pack hunting them.
Worse comes to worst, they all have to come through a small doorway to get at us and I might be able to make that work.
A ghoul landed in front of him, jaws open wide and ready to taste his flesh. Oak raised his shield and ran right at the ghoul. The monster was a tall and wiry killing machine moving with liquid grace, but he had weight and strength on his side. He bashed the ghouls' teeth in with his shield and used its body as a battering ram as he ran through the door of the manor right behind it, carrying the thing with him until they hit a wall inside the house.
The ghoul was still attempting to spit out its splintered teeth when Oak lit its head on fire and ran his sword through its stomach. He threw the screaming thing over Geezer's running form and out of the manor. The ghoul bounced on the cobblestones and then lay motionless on the street. Some of its fellows chose the promise of easy meat, and dined on the poor thing, while the rest rushed after Oak and Geezer.
The ten feet long pillar of fire Oak used to bathe the entire doorway, and fry the first group of ghouls running through it put a damper on the monster's enthusiasm, but they still kept coming, jumping over the smoldering corpses of their kin. What remained of the carpet in the entrance hall took fire and the stench of smoke and burned meat mingled together.
Deciding to hold the doorway for a moment to thin the ghouls' numbers was easier than actually doing it. Oak dodged a swipe from a pale, clawed hand and then cut it off at the elbow. The ghoul tried to jump at his neck, so he split its skull with his blade and kicked the corpse at another ghoul's legs. The monster tripped and Oak stabbed through its neck, severing the spine.
Not enough to kill the bloody thing, but it will keep it down for a long while. Hopefully, the nest is not nearby or I will be at this until my beard turns gray.
He kicked the burning remains of the carpet at the dead ghouls piling in the doorway and threw a nearby chair and some type of wooden clothing rack on top of the pile. Building a pyre out of the corpses of these bastards was appealing to him on an emotional level.
Oak spared a glance at Geezer. The hellhound was hiding behind him, eyes locked on the doorway and the ghouls prowling on the street. After the sudden bout of bravery outside, the young dog had reverted to his cowardly self.
“Hang in there buddy, we will get through this!” Oak shouted. He wished he had the time to hold Geezer in his lap and give the dog's ears a thorough scratching.
More ghouls tried to squeeze through the doorway, getting in each other's way as they hissed and spit in a mad rage. Oak went to work with his sword and shield, hacking through pale flesh and even paler bone, dousing the burning pile of corpses at his feet with blood and offal. With every swing of his sword, the pile grew higher.
Another abrupt break in the action presented itself and Oak stood there on the stone floor of the entrance hall, breathing deep and easy breaths, covered in blood and things better left unmentioned. Things could be worse, he thought with a smile on his face.
+ 8 Souls
+ 1 Fuel
As he focused on his hearing, he found his thoughts were almost prophetic in nature. There was so much noise piercing the air that he got a fairly accurate image of the street outside and the ghouls prowling in front of the manor. A group of ten ghouls were currently climbing the walls of the manor, and they were about to break through the windows on the second floor.
“Sneaky little shits,” Oak said and started throwing anything and everything flammable onto the pile of dead ghouls obstructing the doorway, before setting the pile on fire again with a concentrated flow of flame.
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Clothing racks and stands were an excellent addition to his pyre. The dry wood burned merrily, crackling and sparking as the flames rose ever higher. So high, in fact, that the doorframe caught on fire too, which wasn’t too bad, unless there was no other way out.
I Better go and find that other way out right away. Or make it, if none exists.
Oak felt the strain of casting so many spells in such a short time frame. There was a slight chill in his flesh, and someone kept driving a spike of pain in the middle of his forehead.
The sound of breaking glass above him signaled it really was high time to get out of the building.
Geezer led the way as they rushed through a living room, a dining hall, and finally, a large kitchen. There, Oak found a servant's entrance to a small backyard, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, which bordered a back alley passing behind the house.
They jumped the fence, turned left and started running. The back wall of a house up ahead on Oak’s right had partially collapsed, and he angled towards it. He intended to cut through the house to get some buildings between them and the ghouls.
As Oak climbed over the rubble made of stone, mortar, and broken pieces of furniture, he suddenly felt a tingle climb up his spine. He and Geezer had crossed a boundary when they stepped inside the house and Oak could feel something pulsing in the Waking Dream. Before he could stop himself, he lifted his gaze from the rubble and saw a stone slab covered in runes and filled with ghosts leaning against a wall.
A resonance formed between Oak, and the loci of ghosts. He saw the loci just as the loci perceived him. Symmetry was a dangerous thing and a small, tightly woven string of memories slipped past his wards and began to spread. Oak stumbled but continued running, desperation fueling him as the thought-plague started its work.
Geezer guided Oak through the partially collapsed house as he stumbled around like a drunk, thoughts colliding and spinning out of control. He could hear ghouls somewhere on the street behind them as he walked forward, right shoulder leaning onto the wall of the hallway for support.
I need to hide somewhere and work this out, Kushim thought. Work out what, wait where am I? Why am I covered in blood?
“Oh no, oh no, did I kill someone, oh please no, why do I have a sword in my hand, I am a scribe not a warrior, and where did you come from,” Kushim asked, and looked at a dog who he somehow knew was named Geezer.
Something was deeply wrong with his body. He was much taller than he should be and the dysphoria stemming from being alienated from his own flesh made him throw up on the floorboards.
I…I need to go home. If I go home, I’m sure things-
Oak convulsed and violently rocked his head. The foreign memories had taken over for a second. If Geezer had been a human or an elf, the thought-plague could very well have spread from him to Geezer when they crossed eyes, but luckily Geezer was a dog with very different thought patterns and memory formations than a human being.
A ghoul came around the corner behind them and collided with the wall in its haste to taste flesh. Geezer barked a warning, and the ghoul jumped on Oak’s back. He dropped his shield and grabbed the ravenous beast with his left hand before it could sink its fangs into his neck.
Oak’s frustration boiled over. He rammed the shrieking monster against the wall three times with bone breaking force before he stabbed his sword through the ghoul's chest.
Oh, for the love of-
“Aaah!” Kushim screamed as he stared at the pale, black-eyed monster in his grip, and dropped the disgusting creature. The ghoul wailed weakly as the blade slid out of its chest and tried to reach for him with its claws.
I have gone mad. Me, Kushim, fighting monsters! I must call the guards and seek a house of healing-
Oak slapped himself hard. The memories receded, and he was once again his own master. He stomped on the ghoul's head, splattering brains and skull fragments all over the floorboards. Good riddance.
+ 1 Soul
By the Chariot, this is annoying.
The sound of claws scraping on roof tiles reached him, and the Ears of Amdusias painted a picture to his mind. A group of ghouls climbing over the manor he and Geezer had just left, some already dropping into the backyard. More would surely follow.
Eyes peeled, Oak continued to walk down the hallway, desperately searching for a place to hide so he could deal with the thought-plague. I don’t like my odds if I have to fight these fucking things with the memories of some scribe bouncing around in my head. The hallway ended, and the space opened into a small entrance hall with a glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
There, on the floor under some type of faded carpet, Oak spotted their salvation. The edge of a small cellar hatch, barely visible in the darkness. He stepped to it and grabbed hold of a large iron ring handle embedded into the wood. The wood creaked, and the hinges screeched their protests as he heaved the hatch open. A set of narrow stairs descended into the darkness. Oak pumped his fist in the air in triumph.
Some good luck, for once.
The hatch closed with a thump and left Oak and Geezer in total darkness. He summoned a small flame to light their way, and he and Geezer walked down the stairs to a small storage cellar filled with crates and boxes.
Oak sat down on a crate, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. It was time to dive into his own mind and deal with mister Kushim’s memories. As claws scratched the thick hatch hiding him and Geezer from the ghouls, Oak let himself fall towards the center of his own consciousness.