[noyiff] Cerberus Journal - Two
We had walked a long distance through one of the greener areas around the Styx. Mostly grassland, with a few borrows here and there. Our goal was to reach the forest, downstream. There was no rush, but we knew there were some newcomers who had banded up and got in a conflict with the older population of the place. Something about lumbering and planting a settlement. We were eager to hear both sides. Maybe a few houses in the middle of that realm wasn't that bad.
Throughout our journey so far, we had enjoyed a soft breeze coming from the east. It came from the Styx, which flew westward, ever westward. It's wind constantly stroking through our fur, tickling our flanks and rushing past our ears. Obviously, it was Right who first noticed the slight increase in temperature. We stopped and turning around just enough to cross against the wind, we sniffed the air and prepared ourselves. We couldn't be sure yet, but if the winds coming from Styx warmed up, it sometimes meant a daemon would show up.
The heat increased further, and with it came a smell of sulphur. We lowered ourselves and flexed our muscles, expecting the newcomer to show itself any moment. Until suddenly a familiar smell of coal and fur blend into the air.
In front of us the grass turned brown, then black. A rush of heat smacked us in the face and the very fabric of the realm ripped open - the all common way of portals tunnelling through. Huge paws stepped forth, scorching the earth where they touched and claws digging into the newly formed crust. Broadly the traveller towered in front of us, the portal closing as quickly as it had opened. Six glowing coals starred at us from their eye sockets, surrounded by the black fur that covered the entire figure. And three maws opened synchronously to growl: "Herder."
Still in what remained of our battle-stance we looked up, ears flattened and eyes big. There must have also been something dumbstruck in our faces, as the three short and square maws turned into a snicker, all in perfect synchrony.
"You look so small and fragile. We'd like to crush you."
It was Right who growled in return. "You look puffed up and miss-placed, warhound. We'd like to shove you. Back where you belong!"
His side heads kept surveying the area, ears and noses twitching, turning that way and that. A well honed habit to serve his purpose. Lefty kept looking at the huge paws. Just standing was enough to put the local structure of this realm under stress. Voicelessly Lefty chanted arcane words to calm the realm and strengthen it.
"Herder. Are you not miss-placed yourself?"
Middle cocked his head and Right rose an eyebrow. "We don't understand. What do you want of us?"
"Listen.", he barked. "We come from the realm of the living. We were summoned by a skilled though inexperienced necromancer who had found himself a damned soul. A ceased girl, who, from her grave, lured other children deep into the forest where they'd get lost, or onto a nearby street, where they got road-killed." He bared his teeth with indulgence. Warhounds usually enjoyed their job, they were able to taste despair and agony, and devour it. "So that necromancer thought the damned girl some sort of evil spirit and managed to bind us on the task of finishing her."
With that, he just glared at us. It took us a moment of uncertain blinking before we muttered. "So?"
The warhound growled. "Can't you herders use your heads for more than barks and chatter? She's a damned, just a lost soul. She is not of evil."
Now we got it. Warhounds could handle all sort of destruction and chaos. Their general purpose was to carry out these very things to keep the ever moving wheel of war devouring war going. Chaos consumes chaos, leaving behind order - where other hounds had their tasks - then again order destroys order, spawning new war. Obviously, the girl was of neither nature, thus the warhound was powerless. Her neutrality rating her clearly as one of our subjects. Again, our faces must have given us away.
"So you're heads do have brains. Good." Turning around, the air inflamed instantly around us, and in front of the warhound a portal stood yet again. Without a word, he climbed half way through, just stopping while with one of his burning eyes from the sides he glared down on us. We stammered a few attempts of an half baked protest, but at the first sight of his fangs we followed obediently.
And stepped out into a rainy air, next to a street coming from a town nearby. The warhound stood next to us, steaming even though his presence should not have any effect on reality, nor the other way around. Lefty starred at his paws again. They burned even the solid bounds of the living realm. But since this was not our place, we felt but sorry for the next tracker stumbling upon these marks.
"Follow."
Unseen by all things alive, we went down a short road, which ended in little more than an overgrown path. To our left was a field of nettles, to the right a line of trees that formed the out-skirt area of the forest. Soon we got through a tunnel which went beneath a highway. To our eyes, it seemed like the corners of the artificial tunnel would glow, so much death had gathered here. After that we were quite within the forest and realized the highway went through a part of it.
"That's the street were some of the children got killed. Not here imminently, further down though. It's not far to the graveyard."
Bit further to the south we went and into a denser thicket of trees. There he led us to what seemed to be the graveyard of the former county. It had a huge fence and gate, a prominent pavilion, and behind it all the graves. We could already see traces of the deceased, who were still in slumber and slowly losing their bonds. A vibrant thud startled us, and we looked about to see the warhound who had but sat down.
"Go. Do your thing, and quick."
His heads resting on his forepaws he seemed to not pay us any more credit. Mumbling a bit, feeling disrespected, we went up ahead and through the bars of the gate. The moment we set paw on the graveyards ground, the rain turned real and soaked our fur. Carefully we looked about and made sure no one was around. Now we would be visible. This place was rather closely connected to the realm of the stranded, the shores of the Styx, so the borders of the realms went thin. Where the fence was, we could see a faint stream, behind the solidity of reality. The Styx went by, and what ever soul was ready would be set over by the ferry man.
Since this was constructed in the fashion of a circle, we turned left and watched prick-eared for anything standing out. First graves we got by were empty, not of bones but empty of souls. A bit further behind, we saw a massive man sitting in his corpse, the air around him full of smoke and the odour of red wine. Without realisation he greeted us, falling right back into his dead dream. We smiled. He was almost ready.
A few tombstones ahead we saw what we were looking for. Out of one grave a bridge made of shadow, light and will rose, right over the Styx One leap took us in front of it, another beyond.
Where we landed, the inherent ability of our kin kicked in instantly. Without blur or overlapping, Right saw the dead shore of the Styx. To this side the ground was cracked and dry, remnants of dead growth everywhere. To the eyes of Lefty, all around us the thick forest stretched, the fence of the graveyard right behind us. And Middle saw the narrow pathway which came from the bridge and leading straight on. With that in mind Lefty was able to make out traces of it in reality, but it was overgrown and clearly long forgotten. As we followed it, Right saw mostly dead animals from the forest. They didn't need any attention, since they were gifted with strong instincts in life and death, leading them where they had to go. However, Right also spotted a middle-aged man in tattered clothes. There were dark markings around his neck. Lefty peeked into his direction and above, his sharp eyes discovering what was left of some cloth wrapped around a branch higher up. The tree seemed quite easy to climb.
We focused on the path, not able to leave it now. "No time for gentleness" Right snarled, barking a few unutterable orders. Not to the man, who stiffened in fear, but at the rotten wildlife about. A moose and two boars were soon up behind the lost soul. The boars bit his ankles and the moose took him on the horns. The shrieks of the tormented damned faded behind us and ended in an unearthly splash. The Styx would spit him out where he was less endangered, and less dangerous.
While we went on and on, we soon found two children, their souls still rather shapeless, surrounded by an ongoing echo of their wailing.
~Mooomyyy
~Moooooomyy
~MOTHAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
As should be, Lefty cold soon spot where they got stuck. It wasn't the first time a ghost played hide and seek with other children, unintentionally causing them to cross realms like we did now, which made their living body end up in inaccessible places. Tightening his lips like no living dog could, Lefty began to whistle through the woods of the living, a sound of birds in the sky and branches in the wind. The plants responded, and with untraceable changes the corpses became visible, waiting to be found. Which should be enough aid for the souls as well.
Middle had been absolutely on the track the whole time. And now the pathway finally opened up to a clearing in his view of the realm. Lefty saw nothing but trees and it didn't make much sense until he realized all the trees here and now stood in perfect order and were of the same kind. A part of the forest which was thus planed and planted.
In the clearing, we had to stop for a moment. This was all a perfectly possible place for the girl to hide, it was her chosen residence. In life she likely enjoyed to play here. It was a situation so stereotypical it almost annoyed us. But, then again, if it didn't happen again and again, it couldn't have become stereotypical. So Middle lowered his head and sniffed the ground, then the air and twitched his ears. We were able to make out her trace, but it was everywhere. She must have been running about a lot, just before we arrived.
"Then she noticed us.", Right concluded.
Again, we looked about, not for her but for what would make a perfect hiding place close by, to access quickly when in haste. There were a few trees in that view of the place, but there was one with undergrowth close by. Putting our bets on that, we approached slowly, not intending to frighten her any more.
>go away!<
We stopped. For a girl, her voice was quite commanding. Middle could see a skirt and tiny feet under the growth. With a voice practice a thousand times to be soft and warm, he said. "Don't be afraid. We're here to bring you home."
>no.<
Lefty had to look very closely, but he could make her out in reality, too. Only Right didn't see a thing, which was strange.
"Just to visit your family, k? They miss you."
>I don't like dogs.<
That made us blink. Sure, just like animals with their instincts, humans took their primal feelings along with them. Still, it all was a bit off.
"Why? We are not just a d-"
>A dog crippled my foot when I was thirty-four.< her voice turned even harder. Through the foliage, we could see her long blond hair, the small head, and wrinkled face of about ten times the age this souls appearance ought to be. >Get lost. I want to play.<
We backed off, and were able to watch her face filling with youth. Tricky soul she was, indeed. The lack of traces in the view of the dead made clear how perfectly iron her will to play was. But she was human. And just like before, there was a bet we'd like to play out.
We turned and left her quietly, but as soon as we were back on the path, out of her sight, we ran. Past the wailing children and over the Styx, like hitting a wall we got soaked in rain, crossed the graveyard straight ahead, flew threw the bars and past the warhound. He raised a growl, but we had no mind for him now. Just a few more leaps, and we had reached the tunnel beneath the highway. Most of the dead stuff around was mashed together and some of the remaining souls had quite a hard time to form themselves. Nonetheless beyond the piles we found what we were looking for.
Together, we whistled our tune. Leftys lively melody, Rights hollow notes of dead trees and endless caverns, and Middles silver notes of spirits resonance. Together, bones and filth, breath and beat, spirit and spectre united to our song. From the slowly fading injuries we could tell it was another road-kill, parts pushed down the bridge on that side, the rest the other, and a few pieces came from down both ways.
"We require your service. Do you commit?"
The cat meowed its agreement and our ritual was complete. Being now tied to our will, it jumped between our shoulders and we ran back. The warhound didn't pay any attention to our second passing, not beyond a low growl of irritation. Bars, rain, bridge, wailing. We stopped many paces before the borders of her area. The undead kitten leaped over our heads, landing on soft paws and shaking itself, puffing up the fur. It worked quite well, the way the kitten blend into this dead dream served perfectly to cover all remaining traces of its actual condition. We stayed and waited, while it walked in, its ears and eyes ours for the moment.
We could see the girl in her full youth, jumping through the high grass while singing a sweet song. She stopped, still singing, doing a cartwheel once, then standing on her hands before tumbling to the floor, laughing happily. It was then that she noticed the kitten. Her eyes brightened and we knew our bet was well placed.
>Here kitty kitty.<
It meowed once and eyed her. A few more gentle calls from the girl and the kitten approached.
>Aren't you a cutey.<
The girl took it in her arms and stroked it's soft fur. It felt incredible weird, all the dry fur rubbing directly on the bones. But her own fantasy made it seem all right to her. She sat there and kept stroking the undead kitty, humming softly.
> Come now.< The girl got up, kitty still in her arms, and walking towards the pathway. >I've got to show you to my children. They'll love you.<
And while she walked, behind her the dead dream crumbled. We stepped out of the path and let her pass by. While the girl entirely faded from the view of Lefty, Right saw more and more clearly a tall woman, about 90 years old, her arms, though empty, held exactly as the girls in front of us. We stayed at her side, unseen, keeping watch of her so that nothing interfered with her way back, and the path behind her fading properly. Instead of a bridge the ferry man already awaited her. With a sigh of relieve we sat on our hunches and watched the old lady, accepting the hand of one fine gentlemen who kissed hers, while the girl giggled at the sight a the funny fat man in his colourful boat. While they departed, we hopped over the Styx, having to leave this place the way we had entered.
Behind the bars the warhound was standing.
"You've done your thing?"
"Yep. She's save now and won't return."
The warhound looked deep in our eyes. "Do you guarantee she's gone for good?"
We snickered and nodded our heads. "Yes. Should we show you where she's going ashore?"
He rewarded us with a snort of distaste. "It seems we are done then." The air ripped, and again the portal appeared. This time though, he stepped aside. "Off with you."
With a happy leap past that burning mountain of a hound, we departed.