Forsaken
Forsaken...
Life... forgotten... Empty within... That is how all who are Forsaken feel. The only thing they feel. And the only thing they will ever feel as the world around them crumbles into ashes before their immortally dead eyes. It's no heaven... but then again... it's not hell either; there is still pleasure to be had in killing, suffering... letting the world feel what they feel. The reason I am writing this is to let that world which we torture so that we are not evil... just dead... enjoying the only thing there is left to enjoy...I openly wish I could still feel something other than bloodlust... that I was alive... b-
The one known as Felroot in life blinked as the old-style quill was knocked from his rotting hand by someone-yet-unnamed's elbow 'Hm...?' He grunted with the effort of moving his neck to see this intruder 'Yes...?' His voice rattled, curiosity winning over his desire to remain silent in his continuing sixty-year's sorrow.
'You are writing again...' It was a woman. Deceased like him. Also brought back to unholy life by whatever power controls such things, like him. He took a moment to look her over. She wore nothing... not surprising; her body seeming to have utterly rotted away, leaving nothing but parts of her legs and head in one piece. She looked to be... a wolf of sorts. At least... that was what the canine shape of her skull indicated. 'Why...?'
A thought, empty as his soul (and ribcage), came unbidden. She would have been beautiful if alive...He sighed. He kept his memory of life alive, always. He would cherish the memory of what sunlight felt like... 'Trying to tell an ignorant and childish world that we are not evil...' He looked tiredly at the page he had been working on. What was the point of it? No one would read it... It wouldn't even get into the hands of the living... Never. He sighed again. A mournful noise that all undead made in every minute of their useless existence...
'... it is pointless.' She turned and began limping towards the door of this abandoned, derelict even, room. He stared. Her limp was unnatural to her.
'... have you been injured...?' Part of him had a morbid curiosity; much unlike his brethren, who would or could not feel.
'... Yes... I lost my hips...'
'I see... Gain revenge... Grow stronger... Move on...' Felwood dipped his head slightly. Although that comment would make any living being laugh... it was serious. She had lost part of her body... and would never regain it...The look in her eyes indicated that, if she could, she would be spilling tears. So would he in fact. Nothing could shame you after death... so what you cried... so what you killed dozens... so what you-... He cut that thought short. It was too graphic for him to allow it. Still... the despair of losing your flesh was the last emotion you could feel. Everything after was emptiness. Oh sure... some were lucky enough to reawaken after only moments after death, able to keep their bodies together with various magics. Only technically alive. They could eat, drink, sleep... as if they were living... but their soul would still be dead... He blinked out of his mental ramblings to find that the once-female had left. He allowed a faint whine for her before picking up the quill from the makeshift desk in front of him, and continued writing. As he would until the task was complete, even if it took months... years... he didn't care. He had the time.
There was a scream. Terrified in the dark 'No!' ... fevered panting... a brief shuffling noise and whatever space there was filled by a gentle grey light. The feline, a tiger, with blue and red stripes covering her entire body was sat up in a homely room. The light reflecting off a mirror and various other objects. She had a hand over her breast, partly to hold the bed sheets up, but mainly to help still the hammering of her heart. The nightmare had struck again. She had dreamt, twistedly, that she had died in some horrific way and found herself awakening... dead... in a tomb... the dream was so real... She gasped lightly and cried. There was a moments pause in events before the door opened, silent as to avoid disturbing anyone more than necessary.
'Cristine? Are you alright?'
She took a breath of much needed air before replying 'Y-Yes... Dad... I-I had that nightmare again...'
'Again...' The speaker sighed before coming into the circle of the light, which was coming from a hastily cast holy-fire orb as is hovered above the girl's head. He was a dragon. With dark blue scales that matched the blue stripes of her fur. Muscular with soft eyes that seemed to see you and everything else all at once without moving. His tail had coiled on itself anxiously, obviously from the scream that his daughter had unleashed just seconds before. His voice was strong, but strangely high-pitched 'Are you sure you wouldn't like something to help you sleep?'
'I... n-no...' Her voice, although hoarse, cracked, was musical. Every word spoken at a different, yet similar tone to the last.
'Water?' He offered.
'Please...' She smiled as she watched her father show off his long-mastered arcane ability; putting his hands close together over a glass that always stood on a small end table by her bed. He quickly created some water, filling the container within a few seconds, the blue glow dying off relatively quickly. She suddenly felt dry at the sight of the water and took it with a mumbled word of thanks, draining it in less time than it took to create. Fresh and invigorating as always, it was. She glanced up at the white, burning orb just above her and smiled wider. What happens when you combine a priest's holy fire with a mage's mana agate? The answer was this. So easy and quick to cast, this would deal serious damage to anything that may attack. As well as being deadly to the undead and demons. It was perfect for her. She lived a very sheltered life... protected from all manner of monsters by her skilled parents, and others like them 'What's the time?'
'I think the sun should be rising soon.'
Cristine took some relief for herself. Night time was dangerous. Even though this small house was protected, anything could easily try to scare her into fleeing into the dark outside 'Can I have breakfast?'
'I don't see why not.'
She knew that he would tell her to go back to sleep for a few hours under different circumstances but, after she's had a nightmare like this one, she could never sleep. All that did was bring more nightmares of death and undeath. She pushed the blanket covering her away and stood, walking to her simple wardrobe to find some suitable garments for the day. She didn't even need to look over her shoulder to know that the dragon standing close to the door was still looking 'Hey, stop staring.' She giggled as she leafed through the pile of robes on a shelf near her midsection.
'Can't I be proud of having a beautiful daughter?'
She blushed, pulling out her favourite. An interestingly patterned green-and-white garment 'You just better not have a-' She had looked over her shoulder at that moment to see that he had an erection. She rolled her eyes 'Dad!' Sure, that would be viewed as disturbing to most girls of her age, but she had known about these little facts of life a long time ago. Besides, her parents were very relaxed compared to most and, as such, didn't feel any need to hide it when they got aroused around other family members. He just grinned a goofy grin and playfully tried to hide himself with a hand. She giggled again while slipping into her robe, her surprisingly dragon like, and fur covered, tail having just enough room as it moved from side to side lazily. Her clawed feet making tiny clicking noises as they hit the hardwood floor. She spun slowly 'Well?'
'Stunning! I could just come over there and eat you!' His grin turned toothy. Showing off his fangs deliberately.
Another thing most wouldn't think is normal. While it was quite often that she and her parents flirted, it was always playfully tasteful. Only once had her father made a really saucy comment which had been promptly received by a playful slap across the muzzle. Her parents, and herself, had laughed themselves into hysterics then. It was almost too funny. She walked around her bed and went past him, giving the tip of his member a hard flick 'Put that away before you hurt yourself.' And she added in the best flirt voice she could come up with 'Unless you plan to use it.' She grinned impishly and left the room, going down the stairs. She glanced back briefly to see her dad with a claw on the back of his head, chuckling as he blushed.
'Careful, I just might!' He made a low growl with a wink.
'Ooh, I'm just going to have to tell mom that you said that!'
He tilted his head to the side and looked at her with one eye 'Than I will just tell her that you touched me.'
She had to fight down a laugh as she took the last dozen or so steps to the bottom, going through a doorless doorway to enter the kitchen. It was an entirely tiled room, looking distinctively modern with it's cream-colored pieces of porcelain decorating the walls and floor. The clicking of her claws became louder on the harder surface as she made her way to a wooden table, casting a spell carefully to set the small bowl of oil on the table alight. A second later and the bright flame lit the room, making the plates, cutlery and glasses twinkle with reflections. She took in the light for a second before heading to a cupboard which reached from floor to ceiling and yanked it open. The ice inside reflected the flame well and the inside lit up, almost glowing. Bending to take a fruit from a lower shelf. It took a moment to properly grab the frigid morsel and, just as she managed to take it without flinching, she felt a pinch on her butt. She snapped to attention rigidly and yelped. Spinning on her back claw, she came face-to-face with her chortling father 'H-Hey!'
'What?' He replied innocently. Another second and he noticed that Cristine wasn't laughing '...?'
She wordlessly glared at him. It wasn't funny in the slightest 'What the hell did you do that for!?'
He blinked. And, all at once, blushed, widening his eyes a fraction 'Oh, sorry... I guess that was going a little too far...'
She maintained the glare for a precious moment before bursting out laughing, it was scary how good she was a feigning emotions sometimes. Even she knew it 'Gods, dad, the look on your face!'
He stared for some time before giving in and laughing quietly. That hadn't been a very nice prank but... apparently... he could still see the funny side 'That was wicked...'
'You asked for it.' She stuck her pink, feline tongue out at him, going towards the other side of the kitchen to pick up a plate and knife. All silver. Only a slight testimony to how much her parents were needed in this relatively small village. There had been no attack last night, which was rare, and so the defenders had gotten plenty of sleep. She wondered about that as she sat down at the table, on an old chair that no one had gotten round to replacing yet. There were a lot of reasons for it... maybe the living were finally beating back the dead! Or maybe... maybe they were preparing for a larger assault for the next night... She shivered and pushed the knife into the fruit, breaking the tough skin and allowing some juice to escape. The thought plagued her as she cut it in half to make removing the skin easier. What if a real force attacks? What if-'EEK!' She almost fell out of her chair as her father's face appeared in front of hers.
He laughed 'I said: what are you thinking about? It looks serious from the look on your face.' He sat next to her.
'Well... it is, I guess...' She focused back on the half-skinned fruit on her plate 'There was no attack last night... I was thinking of what that could mean.'
'Ah, don't worry, Cristine. A normal attack doesn't even bring me out in a sweat.' He smiled, rubbing a claw across her shoulders 'Besides. You're protected as long as you stay in the house.'
Felwood crouched next to a warlock, his knees creaking audibly in the night's silence 'Situation...?'
'Very good... We are all ready...'
'And you're force is...?' He sighed as he looked over the palisade walls ahead, the endeavours of the living to keep them out... pitifully annoying.
'We have four mages... six warriors... a rogue... ten priests... and two Orc hunters...'
'The Orcs are helping...? Hm... there must be plenty of things to foul here...' Felwood laughed without humour. He had meant every word. Orcs were disgusting creatures. Even to undead such as himself.
'We await your signal, commander...'
He bowed his head at the warlock 'Any time now... they are weak compared to us...!' Rising, he lumbered forwards to the opening in the wall the road created. Although he had been dragged into this campaign, he would enjoy it in his capacity. Killing was a joy that very few of the Forsaken can pass.
Cristine sighed slightly as she watched her father leave the room to rouse her mother. Although the flame produced enough light, she still felt vulnerable in the night. She was. There was a shout outside that made her fur stand on end 'ALARM! THE VILLAGE IS UNDER ATTACK!'
She bolted from the room, almost colliding with the doorframe as she hurried through 'D-Dad!' She called, taking the stairs two at a time, using the heavy rail attached to the wall to speed her ascent.
'What is it?'
'T-The watcher called!' She stopped, pressing herself to the side as a blue form barrelled past.
'Okay, stay in the house!' He vanished into the kitchen.
'Mum!?' She continued, heading for her parent's bedroom.
'I know, I know, I'm getting dressed!'
She nodded. Her mother never took long to get ready. She reversed direction, going back down to the kitchen just in time to see her father close the door behind him as he disappeared into the dark. She went to that door to watch. All she could see what the glow of spells flying through the air.
Felwood cursed. There was a mage residing here. A powerful one! It was hopeless to continue the fight. So, like a shadow, he slipped into the darkness. He was close to running the way he came, but he could hear a faint clinking from that way. There were mail wearing warriors there! His eyes swivelled back and forth in a vain attempt to escape. But, too bad for him, there was nothing he could do! He blinked and narrowed his eyes at a kitten standing just behind a door with a small glass pane set into it. She was only ten years old, as far as he could tell. Perfect. He grinned evilly as he took a spell casting stance, drawing the energy of fire from the air. In under a second, it was complete. He jerked both hands forwards, hurling the ball of burning mana at the little girl. She only realised what was going on at the last instant. An instant that was far too late. The door was reduced to splinters as he heard the satisfying scream. Without further delay, he blinked to the door and rushed in. The girl had survived. How miraculous. He bent slightly to drag her up to her feet, drawing a dagger from a sheath at his waist to hold to her neck. There was an angry growl behind him. Ah, most probably the father. He looked and almost dropped the girl in shock, it was that mage! 'Stay back! Come any closer and she dies!' It was pointless to say anything. He was speaking a different language anyway. He allowed no nervousness as he turned to face the destroyed door 'Get out the way! Now!' Felwood pushed the knife tighter against the kitten's neck. The whimper he got back from her was pathetic. Not that he could blame her in any case.
'We are wiped!' The last remaining member of this attack fell just meters from the door.
He shuddered internally. The only thing keeping him alive was the fact that he had a hostage. And keep it he shall. He advanced on the door slowly, making his intention clear. The draconian mage, with regret, stepped to the side, talking to the girl. He could understand some of it, having studied the language from what captured living said 'I... save... don't worry... we... catch... guard...'
That was all he needed to pick up the meaning 'You nothing do sort! I kill!' He shouted in the common language to the best of his ability. The young tiger stiffened, obviously frightened to death... poor thing... but he needed her to escape first! The dragon was wide eyed with shock, clamping his mouth shut. Good. No more scheming. There was a shriek from behind. The mother. Damn. A quick glance informed him that it was a priest. A priest! Now he was truly fucked!
'Cristine!'
He filed that away. Knowing this young one's name would be useful. Pushing to get her moving forwards he kept a tight hold on her shoulder, the dagger in place to slice through her windpipe if anyone tried anything. They went out the door. There was a huge number of people around them but he ignored every single one. His eyes focused on the gap in the palisade walls. It took a moment for him to register that his hand holding the knife was getting wet. It wasn't raining... He realised that the girl was crying. Just great 'As soon as I am safely away, I'm going to let you go, girl.' He knew she wouldn't understand but, hell, it made this so much easier for himself. The road was visible now so he picked up the pace, pushing to keep her moving 'Or maybe I can get a good price for you...' Felwood muttered. There were many in the Undercity that would just love to get their hands on a living person for experimentation. A perfect way to earn some gold. But... and this caused him to sigh... his memory of life brought guilt. Never mind. There were other ways to get money. Not that he needed any. He blinked in surprise as she stumbled slightly. His hand held her shoulder firmly as he pulled her back upright. A glance over his shoulder indicated one thing; they had been walking for much longer than he had thought. He silently cursed his mind for blotting out in such a way, and at a time like this! He stopped moving, bringing the tiger girl to a halt. She was trembling from exhaustion, drooping slightly. Felwood grumbled ever so quietly as he looked around. There were no living. It was clear. A look to the ground showed dry grass, not bad for a fleshy body to rest on. He pushed her down, watching as she crumpled and fell, unceremoniously, on her ass. He felt a grin twitch a corner of his mouth. The living need food and water more than the undead so, without any further delay from his wandering mind, he leisurely created water and simple bread, handing both to the girl.
'W-... What...?' She muttered exhaustedly, looking up at him.
'W-... What...?' Cristine felt herself say as she stared first at the dead creature's face and then the lump of bread and flask of water in either hand. She was numb from the long walk, not to mention the still painful burn covering her front. While her robe had absorbed most of the magical energy, the fireball had still severely scorched her body.
'Eat, drink, tired.'
That was another thing she found startling... it could talk in a recognisable language-... What did it just say? 'H-Huh...?'
'Eat.' It placed the bread in her paw 'Drink.' The flask went to her other 'Rest.' It sat down itself, much to the protesting creaking of old bones.
The meaning of the simple gesture reached her dulled brain 'Oh...' She looked at the bread. It looked stale... but... she didn't care. She was too hungry to give a damn about the quality. She brought it to her face and took a bite, fully expecting the taste to be awful... She chewed quickly 'Oh God...' It tasted great! How or why could wait as she felt her appetite flared up, causing her to wolf down the bread in what must be an amazing display of hunger. She felt eyes watching and risked a glance at the astonished undead mage 'Th-... T-Thank you.' She managed to blurt, snapping her gaze to the fire. Fire? It must have lit it while she scarped the sweet bread down... '... More...? P-Please...?' She asked timidly.
'... Yes.' It seemed amused as it created another loaf.
She took that as well, mumbling out thanks through a mouthful. She remembered the flask in her other hand and cautiously drank some. It was so refreshing... like the first drop of water to touch someone's tongue as they emerged from an arid desert. One thought nagged her mind urgently... '... why...?'
The undead obviously wasn't listening. It's eyes were focused on the fire. Suddenly, it looked at her 'Years?'
'Years...? ... M-My age?'
It blinked and nodded. Obviously memorising a further piece of the common language 'Yes.'
'... t-ten...' She shivered slightly and edged closer to the fire. That move made her wince; the warmth aggravating the burnt front of her body and she found herself asking 'Why me...?'
'... weak. I need, get away.'
She blinked, realising that she had spoken out loud 'I-... I'm not weak!'
'May... be... Rest.'
She watched it for a full minute before her brain could process the meaning 'Oh...' An upwards glance telling her that it was late afternoon; she normally slept about this time anyway. A rustling caught her attention. The undead creature was... writing? She blinked and shook her head. No. It was probably just doing something to pass the time... Cristine laid herself down slowly, her muscles complaining loudly, with her side to the fire. What was going to happen? Would she ever get back home...? She resisted the urge to cry about never seeing her parents again and, instead, forced her thoughts onwards. Why didn't that... thing just kill her? It could have done so at any moment... what value did she have? It occurred to her that other living must have been captured before... was she to become a slave? She shuddered. Maybe it was just curious... Yeah, right. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to imagine herself at home and in bed. The illusion worked to some degree as she soon slipped out of consciousness.
Felwood glanced up from his writing. She was obviously asleep already... he frowned. She must have been tired after that long walk. He put the page and quill to the side and moved beside her, curious as to her lineage. She was obviously part tiger, part dragon... he nodded to himself. The mage and the priest must have been her parents. He spread a tiny patch of fur on the back of her wrist with two fingers and blinked at the blue scales underneath. Interesting. Taking his dagger, he cut off a single strand of her blue fur and watched, fascinated, as it lost it's colour as he took it away. Translucent fur? Now that might be worth some money... He shook off the idea of skinning her for her fur like a common beast and put his dagger away. His attention turned to her robe. It was totally undamaged, even after taking a fireball directly. That was intriguing. A magic resistant robe? Had it blocked his attack entirely? He unknowingly put his hand on her upper stomach and flinched as she whimpered. The robe was wool, he noted as an afterthought. Was that a reaction to pain? Maybe his spell had only been partially absorbed... With a vague interest, he pulled up the robe, over her head, and off without any hassle. He blinked. The front of her body looked terrible. Her fur had been scorched off entirely and her scales had an angry red tint. He stared for a moment before pulling over the pack he had worn on his back for almost two days and searching around inside. It only took a moment to find some rolled up linen bandages and a mild adhesive. Both he tended to use when his mount had a injury. It was a demon, naturally. He also dug out several large fish. He didn't know what they were called, but he did know that they possessed medicinal properties; infection resistance, namedly. Using his dagger, he quickly removed the flesh from it, piling it onto a bandage. After evenly covering the bandage he laid another one over it and pressed to make the fluids in the flesh soak both lengths of linen. He half smiled as he froze it.