What Lies Beyond the Walls, Book II: Chapter 10
#10 of What Lies Beyond the Walls: Book II
Angus Renhym's backstory is explored as he searches for the reason behind why he gleefully murders innocent beasts in his path.
XXXIV
Green Is Not a Creative Color
He was getting tired of them asking. He had a convincing lie. They needed to leave him alone and stop asking questions. All that mattered was that he was still alive and not like his friend. But they kept staring at him, just like all the others. Nobeast saw what he did. Nobeast knew but him. If everybeast would just shut up about it, they could get past the "tragedy" that occurred. The weasel flicked his eyes up at his parents again before he reached down and swiped the shellfish off his plate. He noisily munched on the seafood before reaching over and drinking the milk set out for him.
"Angus..."
Shut up; don't look at 'em, he told himself. Ignore them.
"Did you hear me, dear?"
Stop. Talking. I already explained it to you. The young weasel grumbled as he snatched another shellfish from his plate. He was just about to start eating it when the weasel's father slammed his fist on the table.
"Yer mother is talkin' to you," he growled.
Angus stopped eating the shellfish and blinked. He slowly looked up at his parents and the stern gazes they were both giving him.
"Wot is it?"
Angus' mother huffed. "Son, we...we're not..."
"Not wot?"
"We love you, honey, but...l-lately you've been acting out. You...d'you remember wot happened to yore friend, Guslin?"
"He was not my friend. And yes. Why?"
"You bit out his eye, son," said Angus' father. "You pounced on him and blinded him with yore teeth."
Angus scoffed. "So wot? He ripped my tunic--the fancy one ye gave me when I turned eight. I got angry."
"Angry beasts do not bite out other beasts' eyes," Angus' mother pointed out.
Fuck this. Just keep eating, Angus told himself. The young weasel ignored her and started to munch on the shell of the seafood, not caring whether or not it was edible. He slurped some of the meat noisily before he began to lick his fingers. He flicked his eyes at his parents again and stopped, knowing they were about to ask more questions.
"Tell us wot happened in the woods again."
Angus swallowed hard. "I told you: I found him like that."
"You found him?"
"Yes. Some...somebeast must've found him when we was playin' hide 'n' seek. I guess...I guess that-that, um, that beast killed him."
"And then you ran back home to let us know wot happened."
Angus nodded. "That's right."
The weasel's parents stared at Angus' stoic face for a moment, hoping he'd give away something that would reveal what really happened in the woods. But the young weasel didn't care. He found the ferret near a bush after somebeast choked him to death. That's all they needed to know. So Angus resumed eating his dinner while his parents dropped the subject altogether. But the young weasel was smarter than that. He knew that his parents would keep pestering him on and on and on again until he told them what they wanted to hear. So they had to die as well. It wasn't hard. All he had to do was wait until they fell asleep. And thanks to his father's training, he knew how to wield a sword properly, as well as an axe. He killed his father first, knowing he was much stronger and would've fought back. His mother spotted her son as he tried to chop her up as well, but her efforts to subdue her son were pointless, as Angus struck her in the abdomen with the axe and kicked her to the floor. Angus stood in front of her, breathing heavily and grinning, his body covered in blotches of blood.
"I killed him. That wot ye wanted t'hear? Hmm? Ye want me to confess wot I did?"
Angus' mother didn't respond. She sobbed quietly and tried to back away as Angus walked towards her.
"I've been soooooooo bored. So very, very bored. That li'l twat was always--he was always so damn loud. I told him to shut up, over and over again. But he never did. Even after I found him, he just kept laughing. He wouldn't stop. So you wanna know wot I did?"
Angus tossed the axe down and walked over his mother. He got on his knees and growled as he looked down at her bloody face. Then he placed his paws on her neck, blinked, and grabbed her.
"I pushed him to the ground. And then I got on top of him, j-just like this. Then I squeezed."
Angus started choking her. His mother opened her mouth to cough a few times, but then her coughs turned into soft grunts and sobs. She moved her legs and arms slowly, but her injury made her sluggish; she was already on the verge of dying from shock. Angus tightened his grip around her neck, choking her so hard he was digging his claws into her fur. Angus started to breathe heavily and snorted twice. He opened his mouth wide and exhaled as drool formed on his lips.
"I squeeeeezed...just like this, mother! And I watched him...I watched him struggle. I felt him fighting back. I saw his life...I-I saw it going away."
Angus noticed that his mother wasn't fighting back anymore. She was hardly making any noise and her body was becoming limp. Angus snickered and exhaled again.
"I saw it in his eyes...when he finally died. And it-it...you...you have no idea...you've no idea how fun it was."
His mother stopped moving. Angus kept his paws wrapped around her neck anyway and waited patiently. It wasn't until her body started to cool that the weasel exhaled and finally removed his paws. He stood up from the corpse and sighed, still grinning and feeling proud over his new form of entertainment. The young weasel giggled before he slowly walked away and picked up the axe. Who needs parents, he thought. Who needs a home? All I need are my two paws, and all the precious beasts in this world for me to play with.
It got easier as he grew older. He didn't need to wound beasts; he could creep behind them and strangle them with rope. He didn't need to fight beasts; he could shoot at them with his bow and arrow, or he could fling stones at their foreheads. For a while, Angus didn't care how he did it, or why. If he saw somebeast and the urge struck, he'd walk away leaving another corpse lying in the forest for the crows to feast on. He couldn't keep track of them all anymore. Some days he'd only run across a lone beast sitting by a campfire at night. Other times he'd spot half a dozen beasts in a small village, or a family or two. He didn't care about the gender or what species they were. All that mattered to him was that he'd be able to plunge his knife into the beasts he saw, or that he'd be lucky enough to choke them to death before they went to the Dark Forest. And yet, something felt amiss. Angus always thought a special entity was missing whenever he performed his kills. At first, he enjoyed it. But after all these seasons, the weasel began to question if his methods were boring now.
Somebeast had to have answers. Somebeast could explain to him what made him so special. Perhaps he'd be lucky enough to find some other beast who acted the same way he did. Angus shook his head and stopped questioning himself. He could find out the answers later. Right now, he needed to get inside this large hut and find more vittles for his travels. The weasel walked over to the hut's front door and knocked on it three times. He didn't have to wait long before the owner of the hut opened the door and revealed himself. Angus forced himself not to frown. He was hoping he'd find another family of beasts. Instead, the only beast he saw in front of him was an aging ferret with a bloated gut wearing tattered clothing.
"Well now, s'first time in a while I 'ad company!"
Angus forced himself to smile and blink. "Hello. I was, uh, just walkin' by. I noticed that I'm low on vittles so...well, I don't suppose you'd mind if I could borrow some of yers for my travels?"
The ferret laughed heartily and stepped aside. "Not at all! C'mon in; make yerself at home!"
Angus stepped inside the hut and exhaled as he set his backpack on the floor. Everything the ferret began to say to him was irrelevant. He tuned it all out as he observed the hut, trying to see what he could use to murder the ferret with. He didn't plan on choking him this time; he had done that enough already. There were swords hanging up on the wall, and a thick table he could slam the ferret's skull against. Angus looked left and right and sniffed; he had to find something new and creative this time around.
"Yeah, ain't t'best hut 'round here, but it be good 'nuff!"
Angus glanced at the ferret and nodded. "Right, yeah! Course mate."
The ferret started speaking to himself, which was the cue for Angus to drown out his words again so he could stare at all the weapons on the wall. He walked over and removed the rapier, holding it in his paw and smiling slowly as he gripped it. The weasel muttered something quietly to himself as he felt the weight of the weapon in his paw. He grumbled and set the rapier back down before he moved over towards the large scimitar that looked chipped.
"Oi, careful with that! That beauty's seen better days!"
Angus ignored him. He lifted the scimitar high and chuckled softly. Then he swiped the sword around three times, listening to the weapon as it sliced through the air. The ferret kept his distance as Angus kept playing with his new toy. He enjoyed this sword even more--he'd have to keep it after he was finished with this ferret. He only wished the beast would shut his mouth and give him all his food.
"...not much cake left, but I got it from one o' them Redwall chefs! Yeah, nice plump beast called Gavley or something. You c'n have that! There's some stew loaded with red onions, some chestnuts, berries and fruit--will this be good enough for you?"
Angus was so mesmerized by the scimitar that he didn't notice that the ferret was setting out all the food for him near his backpack. The weasel blinked and set the scimitar back down before he hissed shrilly.
"That...th-that's a lovely sword there, sah! May I ask where you retrieved it from?"
"Oh. It was, err, some years back. During the War o' the Islands."
"A war, you say? That must've been thrilling!"
The ferret shook his head. "Quite the opposite, actually. It...it were traumatizing. I, um...my sister perished when the enemy found our home an' burned it down. All me mates...it ain't a subject--"
"How long did this glorious event last? Wot-wot happened? How many beasts did you slaughter?"
The ferret awkwardly scratched his head. "Um...few years. We were hired t'try an' stop several marauders and pirates across the seas. Ran into a lotta nasty beasts--rapists, sadists...I can't explain wot happened. We just roamed the seas killin' pirates. They killed us. Rinse and repeat until they were all dead."
Angus took two steps towards the ferret. "So you murdered other beasts. How delightful! How...how did you feel?"
"Like...I dunno. I kept telling m'self I was doin'--why do you care so much? I thought ya jus' wanted some vittles?"
Angus took two more steps. "I'm just curious. Hmph. Did you...did you like it? Were you fixated on death?"
The ferret shook his head. "No. It was...horrible. All these bodies everywhere. Bodies floatin' in the water. Severed limbs an' corpses hanging from trees; don't get me started on the smell."
Angus flared his nostrils. "Tis an invigorating odor, is it not? A-a dirty searat whose corpse has been festering for days, weeks. A young little mousey whose bowels loosened from fright, just before I chopped his head off. A...a beautiful otter who I choked to death with my bare paws...."
Angus slurped, unaware that some saliva was dripping down his chin. "So much fun," he whispered.
The ferret backed away and raised an eyebrow when Angus stepped even closer to him. "Why did you do it?"
"Do wot?"
"Kill. If you didn't like it, why do it?"
The ferret looked up at the weasel and started to wiggle his nose as he backed away again. "Can you back up a li'l bit?"
Angus grinned and stepped forward once more. "Why? Do I frighten you?"
"No, but yer breath is startin' to make me a bit woozy," said the ferret as he plugged his nose.
Angus growled and blinked. "I'll move when you answer my question. Why did you kill?"
"I don't know. I just--I was followin' orders, awright?"
Angus shook his head. "That's an excuse we tell ourselves. 'I don't know' or 'I didn't mean to' or 'somebeast made me do it.' Uh-uh. That's all bullshit. Yo...y-you wanna know the real reason behind it all?"
The ferret started to scowl. "I told ya: back the fuck--"
The ferret shouted as he felt a sharp pain in his midriff. In the span of only a second, Angus had taken out his knife and planted the blade deep into the beast's torso. Angus snarled as he shoved the ferret against the wall, pinning him as he gripped his knife firmly. He started to pant and hiss as his heart began to beat fast.
"Because it's fun! See?! See--look! Look at this!"
Angus looked down as blood started to run down the home owner's body. "Look at how thick that blood is! And-and the sound..."
Angus removed his blade slowly, seconds before he proceeded to stab the ferret again. He struck him steadily, making sure he could hear the knife's blade as it tore through the fur and skin and continued forward, tearing the flesh apart. Angus rumbled as he continued to drool. He licked his lips while the ferret whimpered and tried to find a nearby weapon.
"They always struggle. They...they always think they can escape it. But no...no; it's inevitable. You will die by my paws. Hehehe, remarkable, isn't it? You-you never did this? You never got this close to yer victims? You never watched as their souls left their bodies and headed straight for the Dark Forest or Hellgates? ...You never found this fun?"
Angus removed his knife, and the ferret collapsed to the floor. He whimpered as he tried to stand up, but Angus kicked him back down and drove the knife into his throat this time around.
"This is it, sah. This is why we do wot we do. 'Cos it's pleasurable. And yet...I never asked m'self why it's fun. I just do it. Heh. I-I dunno why I do this; I can't stop. I don't want to stop. But why don't I want to stop? Wot makes..."
Angus frowned. He noticed that the ferret wasn't moving anymore and that a puddle was forming in-between his thighs. The weasel removed the knife and huffed with frustration.
"Damn it. I gotta stop doing that 'fore I'm finished talkin' with 'em. Ah well. Thank you fer the vittles, kind sah! Hehe, I appreciate it very much!"
Angus grabbed all the vittles the ferret had acquired for him and stuffed them all into his backpack. He was just about to grab the pack and head out the door when he looked at the swords hanging from the wall again. The weasel sniffed as he approached the scimitar and picked it up slowly a second time. He growled as he looked at the weapon and started to grin once more.
"War...yes. Such a brilliant, brilliant word..."
It wasn't hard afterwards. After a few weeks of traveling, the weasel came across a warlord named Kitsch who wanted to take over the Northern section of Mossflower after many disputes near the Northlands border. Angus couldn't have been happier after he agreed to join the warlord and his special group of mercenaries who worked under him--the Spawn of Hellgates they were called. The Spawn had no boundaries, no rules, no regulations. All they cared about was doing whatever was necessary to help their warlord win the war. Angus was just a mere foot soldier when he first joined, until he crept along their commander while the ferret was sleeping and cut his throat open. He declared himself as the new leader of the Spawns, and killed anybeast who tried to undermine or take over his position. It wasn't long before spying on the enemy and guerilla warfare turned into massacring villages and kidnapping the enemies' family members. Day after day, Angus would order his soldiers to torture young beasts or a soldier's sibling to death just to prove a point. Other times he'd chop off the beasts' body parts just to see how long they would last, and then he'd hang all the body parts on display in the woods for unlucky wanderers to find.
Hundreds perished on both sides of the war before it finally ended in the fall, six seasons after it initially began. Angus and the Spawn of Hellgates had taken over the territory, and all the beasts opposing them had either died, were their personal slaves, or left the area, knowing that it wasn't worth it anymore. All the bodies of the fallen had been buried or carried off by the river, or eaten by the crows. The whole section of the woods seemed like it was finally at peace now, with Angus and the other vermin troops as the victor. But Angus wanted more. He needed more. The Spawn commander intentionally kept his entire squadron alongside the warlord weeks after their victory was declared--Angus spent day and night trying to find somebeast, anybeast to torment or kill. Eventually, he realized that his job was done, and it was time for another mission. One night, after hunting a few birds for food, he stormed into the warlord's private tent so he could have a word with him.
"If'n it ain't Angus the Hellraiser hisself! How ye doin'?!"
Angus chuckled and rubbed his arm. "I'-I'm good, sah. Been better, but I'm okay right now. Just...jus' lookin' fer more stuff t'do."
Kitsch chuckled as he bent over and picked up a sack filled with treasures from the ground. "Wot 'stuff' are ye referrin' to? I got...heh, we got wot we wanted! All this land's mine, all them silly goodbeasts are dead or gone, an' we're all free t'do wotever the fuck we wanna do 'round here! Wot else is left?"
Angus blinked and scratched his head. "There's more goodbeasts out there! Beasts who could ruin yer empire! I could--"
Kitsch held up a paw and shook his head. "You've done more than enough, commander. It's over now. We won! Nothin' left to do but celebrate and bask in our victory! Speakin' of which, here's yer loot!"
Kitsch tossed the sack full of shiny treasure at Angus' footpaws. The weasel bent down and looked inside the bag, surprised to see all the gems and rubies the warlord and his crew had pillaged from their adventures. Angus' face twitched. He looked as though Kitsch just handed him a bag full of fecal matter. Angus blinked twice and let out an awkward cough.
"S-sir, I...I-I thought...aren't we--"
"Angus, we won, buddy! Hehe, relax! Enjoy yerself now! We all earned it! Go explore the world; find yerself a nice female t'have babes with! Go back home; do something to ease your mind. Isn't that wot you wanted?"
Angus didn't answer. He kept staring at the warlord with a grim face. He looked inside the sack again, then looked back up and resumed staring at the ferret, waiting for some kind of answer. Kitsch blinked and rubbed his nose before he gestured towards the tent's flaps.
"Go head back to your tent and gather up your things. Yer free t'leave whenever ya want."
Angus still didn't answer. He lowered both arms as the warlord resumed looking back at all the treasures he had purloined ever since the war began. The weasel released a shrewd, awkward grunt, and then turned around and walked away. As the weasel returned to the Spawns' personal, oversized tent, Angus dragged his footpaws and the sack of treasure on the ground. He didn't know what to think anymore. All these seasons, all those corpses, all the blood he spilled--and now it was finally over. Each time the weasel blinked, he'd see a faint image of the beast he brutally killed in combat--or before he even joined the army. His ears twitched a few times, and the weasel thought he heard the same comforting wails and screams he was so familiar with by now. But unfortunately, it was only the sound of his fellow soldiers celebrating and drinking bottles of wine or grog. Angus' mouth moved as he tried to force himself to smile, but he couldn't even do that. Some of his soldiers laughed joyously or offered him a drink, but Angus snarled at them or shoved them out of his way.
After Angus maneuvered through the crowd, he reached his cot and sat down hard. He tossed his bag of jewels on the ground and looked down. He couldn't look up at the celebrating beasts; he couldn't stand to listen to them cheering and shouting. Angus snorted a few times and started to clench his paws into fists. The weasel told himself over and over again to calm down, but how could he? There had to be more to this; there had to be something greater. Or maybe this was it. Maybe this is all I have, Angus thought. Maybe...no. Not...not now. Angus removed his large dagger from its sheath and held it firmly in his paws. The memories started to flood back again. Angus thought he'd start smiling as he gripped the weapon's blade. But all it did was make him feel worse. He couldn't stop reminiscing, no matter how hard he tried. Angus closed his eyes and exhaled softly. He shook his head for a brief moment as he felt a lump in his throat and his chest became heavy. This couldn't be it...it couldn't be. Angus sniffled as his vision blurred.
"Hey, commander! Ye wanna get...s'matter?"
One of the other Spawns approached him and sat down on his cot. Angus slowly moved away from him and turned his head away. But he couldn't stop sniffling and whimpering. The other soldier glanced at Angus' face and could see that it was wet with tears.
"Wot...commander, it's...it's okay now. We won. Ye don't have...you'll be all right, commander. No more of this. No more killin'; no more war. We can go home now."
Angus sobbed and sniffled as the other rat reached over and placed a paw on his shoulder. Angus turned and looked at the rat, still sniffling as more tears ran down his face.
"It's over, sah."
"...W-wot?"
"It's over."
Angus could only stare. "It's over," he said. All of it. It was over now. The weasel didn't even blink as he gazed at the rat's tender, reassuring smile. Angus blinked twice and shut his eyes. Then he tightened the grip on his dagger and started to grit his teeth. The rodent frowned.
"Uh, commander?"
Angus whimpered and shook his head slowly. He muttered something without fully opening his mouth.
"Commander? Wot's wrong?"
Angus opened his eyes and glared at the rat. It happened before anybeast could react. The weasel bellowed and pounced on the rat. Then he immediately shoved the blade of his dagger into his scalp. Angus removed his dagger and stabbed the rat again once, twice, thrice; he couldn't stop snarling and stabbing the rodent. One of the other Spawns--a stoat--saw the commotion and walked towards Angus. The weasel responded by tossing the dagger into the stoat's eye socket. The other soldiers were just beginning to realize that two of their own had been murdered. All the soldiers he spent the last six seasons fighting beside were nothing more than pieces of meat for him to rip apart. Half of the beasts went down before they could even reach their weapons. Some had their throats slashed; others were disemboweled so violently that they were nearly bifurcated. One weasel was starting to unsheathe his rapier when Angus sliced his head in half and kicked him to the ground. The weasel stopped and stared at the rest of the beasts, whimpering and snarling, still sobbing even though he was enraged.
He knew they wouldn't attack. They were too loyal to him. They cared about him too much. It was their ultimate downfall, as Angus ended up cutting down all the Spawns with almost no effort. For all their ferocity and skill, the soldiers weren't even capable of killing their own commander. By the time Angus finished, blood was splattered across the tent, and some of the beasts' organs were lying on the ground. The beast wiped some of the blood and tears off his face before he stomped outside the tent and headed straight for Kitsch's tent. The weasel didn't have to travel far; the commotion he caused alerted the ferret, and he came outside his tent to investigate.
"Angus! Wot the fuck's goin' on?! Wot--"
Angus didn't hesitate. The moment he saw Kitsch, he yowled and thrust his cutlass into his torso. Kitsch shouted and gasped as the blade tore through flesh and bone. The ferret groaned as he felt the warm blood running down his waist; he panted and tried to reach for his weapon, but Angus quickly snatched it away first. The weasel kicked Kitsch to the ground, and the ferret started to crawl backwards as Angus crept towards him.
"Wa-wait...wait--"
"SHURRUP!!"
"Why? ...Wot the fuck did I do to you?! I jus--" Kitsch groaned as he stopped crawling and grabbed his gaping wound. "I-I gave you rewards, riches! I...I never betrayed you. I-I never tried to kill you; I was always kind to you!"
"This is wot you call 'kind'?! Throwin' me away like a piece of trash?! Like I'm a torn tunic that needs t'be replaced?!"
"Wot? Th-that's not wot--"
"I'm yer best fuckin' soldier an' you know it! I'm better'n all of you! I'm not some fuckin' tool that ye can use then cast aside when yer done with me! I'M SPECIAL!!!"
Kitsch stared at the infuriated, teary-eyed weasel as he gritted his teeth and continued to growl. Upon hearing those last words, the ferret couldn't help but laugh.
"That's wot this is? You...you think yer special?"
"I'm the world's greatest killer; the world's most magnificent murderer! I'm--"
"Yer a spoiled li'l twat who murdered his own parents."
Angus' eyes grew wide. "Wot?"
"You...you think you're special 'cos you slew your own parents when you were a babe? Hmph. Lookit you. You're cryin' like a li'l bitch 'cos...wot? 'Cos I told you, 'You're done here, go home'? You're upset that you can't go 'round killin' beasts anymore?"
"NO! I'M UPSET--"
"I-I see beasts like you all the time, Angus. Ye always think you're special. Ye always think you're the best fighter, best conqueror, best wotever out there. But there's nothin' special about you. No, nothin' at all. You keep tellin' yourself that you're...you're an almighty being, but yer just another average beast who enjoys cutting his victims apart."
"I'm...I am spec--"
"I have no use fer you no more. I--" Kitsch grunted as he held his bleeding midriff. "That's all yer...yer ever gonna be, Angus. A thing. Beasts like you are always gonna be used simply fer--"
Angus silenced Kitsch permanently when he threw a knife into the ferret's head. After killing the warlord, the teary-eyed weasel stared at his former leader and started to breathe heavily. He slowly fell to his knees and began to whine and shake uncontrollably. But the weasel didn't start sobbing hysterically, even though tears were still flowing from his eyeballs. Instead, the beast grinned widely and let out an unsettling noise that sounded like a wicked laugh and a deathly moan. Angus blinked twice as he nodded and dropped his weapons.
"I'm...I-I am special...special...I'm better'n alla you...I'm special..."
Angus let out the same disturbing noise again, his eyes still watering as he sported the same grin on his muzzle.
"S-special...I am special..."
Clearly war wasn't for the weasel. After his incident with warlord Kitsch and the Spawns, it became obvious that nobeast understood how valuable Angus truly was. He reverted back to his old ways, and resumed traveling around the world slaughtering anybeast who stood in his way. But this time around, he was more creative with his murders. Not content with simply taking somebeast's life, Angus felt compelled to defile the corpses. One time the weasel decapitated a small group of rodents and stuck all their heads on pikes. Some weeks later, the weasel befriended a family of mice and disemboweled all of them, just so he could show them all how "beautiful" everybeast was on the inside. But being alone for so long took its toll on Angus' mind, and the weasel began to lose his sanity. What started as mere killing sprees soon turned into an obsession. What was merely a source of thrills quickly became erotic. But despite everything that was happening to the weasel, he never questioned any of it, nor did he ever stop.
But one day, after Angus had finished clubbing a young rat's face in, he came across a sight that puzzled him tremendously. He could still remember the clouds in the sky on that fall afternoon. He could still picture how calm the rat was, even after Angus finished crushing his son's skull. The weasel breathed heavily as he blinked and approached the rat on his knees. He couldn't fully decipher the rat's incoherent phrases, but Angus noticed a few words he thought he'd never hear ever since he was a young babe.
"You have got to be shittin' me. You...you're_praying_?"
The rat didn't look at Angus. He stayed very still, his head bowed, eyes shut. The rodent kept muttering to himself, even as the weasel started to circle around the subdued rat who had his paws tied behind his back.
"Yeah...yes, you are! Hmph, been a while since I ran into one of your kind. Never really understood why you twats believe in that nonsense. It's a bundle of hypocrisies, y'know. You're praying to a holy being for mercy, yet this very same being is responsible fer creating me! So, in a way, this 'God' yer praying to is the one who's killin' you, not me."
Angus stopped walking around the rodent and stood in front of him. Still nothing. The rat didn't even stop after hearing the weasel's words. Impatient, Angus stomped towards the rat and smacked him across the face. Then he crouched down and grabbed the rat's jaw; he held it steady so the two vermin were staring at each other face to face. Angus grinned slowly while the rat gradually opened his eyes.
"That's better. So, you do believe in this 'God,' yes?"
The rat didn't answer. Angus snorted before he reached down and lifted his trusty dagger. He snickered as he pointed the blade at the rat's right eye.
"Since God is so mighty and powerful, then He should be able to stop me, right? He should be able to snatch this 'ere dagger right from me paws an' strike me down! Am I right?"
The rat blinked and flared his nostrils. "Do what you must."
Angus was still surprised that the beast didn't falter. "I will kill you. Your 'God' is not comin' here t'save you. Surely you must unnerstand that!"
"You have already slaughtered my family. What reason do I have t'fear death?"
Angus stood up and resumed circling the rat again. "How 'bout the fear of me castrating ye? Ye wanna know wot if feels like fer me t'scoop our yer eyeballs while yer still breathing?"
The rat shrugged. "It matters little now."
"Why?! Why is yer life no longer important now that yer so close to death?!"
"Because I have everything that I want. All I wanted to do was grow old, find somebeast who loved me, maybe have a few babes. And I did. These last several seasons have been the best seasons I could ever ask for, an' nothing you say or do to me will change that fact. Sure...my family is dead now, but they're at peace, resting in the Dark Forest. Soon enough, I shall meet them again, and we'll all spend the rest of eternity together, happy and free from beasts like you."
Angus snorted. "Yes, yes, wot a touching story. So, you want me to slit yer throat, or flay you alive?"
The rat finally looked up at Angus and shook his head. "Beasts like you don't even anger me anymore. I look at you, and all I feel is pity."
"I assure you, nothin' about my life has been pitiful."
"Look at what yer doin'. Look at what you've_done_. You...you take the lives of innocent beasts for entertainment. Nobeast can possibly feel ecstasy from that."
"Uh, yeah. I can! I do it every day! And with every kill, I feel that much happier than I did before!"
"But this 'happiness' is only temporary. It never lasts. It never will. It's a curse you'll never get rid of, an albatross that will always cling to your neck. You can tell yourself over and over again that what yer doing makes you happy, but even you know deep down, that this...it's a never-ending hobby that won't give you satisfaction."
Angus scoffed. "Like you know. Why, even as a babe, I slew my own parents! Let me tell ya, that were the most satisfying thing I've ever done in my life!"
"And?"
Angus sniffed. "And I've slain hundreds ever since then!"
"And?"
Angus frowned. "Wotcha mean 'and'?"
"Why is this so important to you? Why did killin' yer own parents give you satisfaction? Were they abusive?"
"No."
"Did they force themselves on you?"
"Never."
"So why do it?"
Angus smiled. "Were you not listenin'? It gave me euphoria! It...it made me realize I was different from everybeast else! Special even!"
"Why in the world would you think that killin' yer own parents would make you special?"
"Because..."
Angus stammered. Nobeast ever asked him that before. He never thought about it. But now that the question was finally being proposed, he couldn't find an answer. Sure, murdering his parents was exhilarating, and slaying all these beasts was definitely fun. But why was it fun? Why did he enjoy it? He never asked. He never seemed concerned to know. He started to think about it for a moment, trying to figure out if there was some reason as to why he acted the way he did, if there was some deeper meaning behind everything. Angus looked down at the rat and stammered again before he scratched his head. He felt like cutting the rodent's throat open right then and there. But for some strange reason, he couldn't.
"Because you hate yourself," the rat answered.
"Wot?"
"That's why you do this: you hate yerself. You can't stand up to the fact that you murdered yer own parents. So instead of livin' up to your actions, you go around killin' as many beasts as possible, thinkin' that 'joy' you felt when you slew your mother and father will make you happy again."
The rat shook his head and sighed. "You do what you must."
Angus blinked and stared at the rat for a moment. And then he scowled and sliced his throat open with the dagger. To his surprise, the rat didn't gasp or look surprised, nor did he seem as if he was trying to cling onto his last moments of life. He stayed very still as the blood flowed down his chest and clothing. And then he slouched over and fell on his side, letting out a soft sigh as he passed on. The weasel stared at the dead rat and his family and scoffed. Fuck do you know, he thought. Fuck do any of you know? The weasel retrieved his weapons and stole all the supplies from the rat's family and took off, as opposed to staying behind to marvel at his destruction. All day and night, the only thing he could ponder were the rat's words. Clearly he wasn't right. It was obvious that the rodent was trying to toy with him, trying to make him go insane as he spent all his time rethinking his current lifestyle. Angus sat alone in the forest, gazing at his small campfire and listening to the crickets chirping and other bugs making noises in the distance. He had nobeast to kill now, no way of pleasing himself. All he had were his thoughts and the burning wood in front of him.
The wood crackled, and Angus flinched when a spark flew off and hit him on the leg. He swore and patted his leg for a moment before he stared at the fire again. The weasel rubbed his paws together and held them over the fire. He blinked and held his paws closer, only to wince once he burned himself. Angus swore and stared at his paws, and then he looked at the fire again. Something in his brain finally clicked. He held his paws over the flames once more, and was singed a second time. But he didn't swear or direct any anger towards the fire. After all, it was only doing what it's supposed to do. The rat's words, warlord Kitsch, all those times he asked himself why he was the way he was--he finally understood now. Everything that they said was irrelevant. Angus let out a tiny chuckle, feeling a large weight lifted now that it all made sense. The weasel smiled widely and laughed again. He clenched his fingers together and giggled uncontrollably. Then he slouched over onto his side and started to hoot with laughter.
It was all clear now.
He didn't change. Even as Angus developed and aged over more seasons, he never stopped killing for sport. And now that he knew why he acted the way he did, there was no reason to ever question himself again. The weasel traveled west, evading those who sought to slay him for his war crimes and leaving more bodies in his wake. He heard from local birds and some vermin about the rise of the Red Sand tribe. And upon knowing what the tribe was allegedly capable of, he just had to find them and join in on their fun. So the weasel walked all the way to the western coast until he spotted the so-called markings of the deadly tribe. Various patches of the sand were stained with dark fluids, most likely blood. Although when Angus arrived at one of the sandy beaches, he was surprised to see fallen vermin still resting on the sand, their corpses attracting flies. When the weasel found the vermin who were still alive, many of them were wounded or already on their way to the Hellgates. Angus chuckled as he approached a small group of beasts crowding over a wounded ferret.
"Now don't tell me that this is the infamous Red Sand tribe I've heard so much about!"
A rat jerked his head around and immediately removed both of the cutlasses he had behind his back. "Back away. You've no business bein' 'round our lady."
Angus rubbed his chin. "Lady, huh? Dont'cha mean yer bitch?"
The rodent scowled as he stomped towards Angus, only to stop when one of the ferrets called out his name.
"Rektar...it's fine. Stand down; I'll take care of it."
Angus placed his right paw near one of his knives in case he needed to use his weapon. Rektar lowered his cutlasses and stepped aside so the ferret in question could walk up and face Angus herself. She tried not to limp as she walked, but the laceration around her midriff made it difficult for her to move. Angus rubbed his nose and gazed at the ferret in blue with red tattoos spread across her face. The ferret stared at Angus and exhaled.
"If you jus' came here to shoot yer mouth off, I suggest you leave. Your tongue may still be intact if you depart now."
"Yes, of course. The famous Angus Renhym is frightened of a tiny li'l cunt who can barely stand."
The ferret stared at Angus and scowled. "Yer Angus Renhym?"
Angus snickered as he bowed slightly. "At yer service, 'lady.'"
The ferret scoffed. "Fuck off. I don't need beasts like you in my tribe."
"But I insist! After all, I'm sure you've heard of somebeast with my particular skills--"
The ferret raised a paw. "I'm sorry. Correct me if I'm wrong, but less than a minute ago, you called me a bitch, an' then a cunt."
Angus laughed. "Well, some dog did push ye out of her hole fer you t'be here, right?"
The ferret still remained calm. She started to walk around the weasel, blinking and leaving her footprints in the sand. She sniffed the weasel and few times, scowling whenever his strong, musky scent flowed into her nostrils. She reached over and placed her left paw on his shoulder, causing Angus to raise an eyebrow. The ferret squeezed his shoulder and Angus winced. Afterwards, she ran her claws down the beast's back until she grabbed Angus' tunic and lifted it up. Angus was still looking confused, wondering why the ferret was constantly groping him. He grunted again when the ferret examined all of Angus' scars and bruises. He had a nasty cut on him as well that looked like it became infected. The ferret lowered Angus' tunic and scoffed before she walked in front of the weasel. She stared at him for a couple of seconds before she walked towards him and punched him in the stomach. Angus grunted and opened his mouth, giving the ferret enough time to grab his mandibles and gradually pry them open.
The second the ferret pried his maw open all the way, she veered her head away after she was blasted by the weasel's foul breath. The ferret groaned with disgust before looking inside Angus' mouth. Most of his teeth were yellow and cracked and his gums were red and partially swollen. Some of his teeth were missing, and a couple of them appeared to be black. The ferret kept staring at the beast's teeth and red tongue before she stuck her thumb inside Angus' maw. She pressed her thumb against some of his teeth until she noticed that one of the cracked ones was loose. So the ferret pushed against it, making Angus mumble.
"Whut ga fack ya do..."
The ferret grunted as she pushed harder. And then Angus shouted as the tooth broke off and landed on his tongue. The ferret let go of Angus' maw and stepped backwards, while the weasel spat out the tooth and some of the blood forming in his mouth.
"You're dying, aren't you?"
Angus spat out more blood and swore softly as the ferret approached him again and resumed walking around his body. Only this time around, she slyly removed one of Angus' knives from his waistsash. By the time Angus realized what she had done, the knife was already at his throat. Angus shut his eyes and exhaled.
"I suggest ye put that knife down."
"Or what? You gonna kill me with yer breath?" The ferret chuckled quietly. "The war, all these seasons on yer own, with nobeast to nurse ya--it's been rough on your body. You have all these cuts and bruises; your shoulder feels like it's been dislocated one too many times; you got a nasty infection around your sides too, right above yer kidney. I wouldn't be surprised if you lost all yer teeth by the fall. There's no way you'll make it past winter either--not with what I've seen."
The ferret dropped the knife and backed away from Angus. "I don't need to kill ya. Neither does my tribe. I give ya a season, maybe two. Then I'm sure you'll die in pain and agony, lying on the ground, your trousers full of shit as you contemplate why your body is hurting so much."
Angus rubbed his cheek for a moment and spat out more blood in the sand. He flicked his eyes at all of the ferret's troops, taking note of how uninterested they were in him now. The ferret was on the verge of turning her back on Angus after seeing how damaged his body was. But this was the weasel's last chance. He still had time to give in to his sadistic desires before he reached the Hellgates.
"Yes...I've aged terribly. And may-maybe my body isn't wot it used to be. That's...that's why I'm here. Yer the Red Sand tribe, are you not? Surely you need somebeast like me to kill for ya? I...I prob'ly don't got much time left. Won't be long 'afore somebeast out there kills me fer all the shit I've done in the past. So...so tell me: wot is it I can help ya with?"
Rektar walked beside the ferret and talked in a soft voice. "Lady Sesslyn, we can't trust--"
"This isn't the first time we've worked with mercenaries. Won't be the last. Besides..."
Lady Sesslyn grinned. "I doubt this weasel will even survive the ambush."
Angus chuckled awkwardly as he held up one finger. "One. Ju-just...just one! Just one more! I-I need--I need to relive that moment again! Let me...let me help you! Let me kill fer you; let me cut beasts down with my weapons; let me choke the life out of them; let me chop them to little pieces! That's...that's all I want. One more...then it'll be finished. I've been on this world long enough...maybe it is time fer me to die."
"But you wanna go out with a bang, don't you?"
"Yes," the weasel hissed as he grinned. "A grotesque, wondrous, blood-filled bang!"
Lady Sesslyn shrugged. "If you think yer up for it, good for you. If you end up perishing durin' the fight, well, good for you anyways. ...I only ask you of one thing."
"Wot's that, m'lady?"
"Don't call me a bitch again."
Angus smirked and bowed. "Of course, m'lady."
After all the confusion in Tearmann, Angus and a few other soldiers were separated from the Red Sand tribe. The weasel had no idea that a badger like Urthquake and his army would be in the community, but when he saw the giant behemoth with his own eyes, he knew he had to kill him. If there was one last thing Angus had to do before he reached the Hellgates, it was killing the Badger Lord, along with several of his hares. When Angus and the soldiers finally regrouped with Lady Sesslyn, she ordered a few scouts to search the area while she and her army headed back to the coast to find more reinforcements. So Angus and another weasel headed into the murky swamps and began to spy on the Long Patrol as they traversed the muggy lands. They always stayed hidden in the trees, only coming down to gather food or to void themselves. Angus didn't care about the other weasel though; she always kept talking to him in a snide voice and was prone to exacerbating situations. One day, the two weasels were spying on a couple of hares in the rain when Angus started to thump his tail against the tree branch they were sitting on.
"They're so...oblivious. Ignorant. Just ripe fer the takin', yes. ...How much longer must we wait, Dersky? How much longer before I finally have my fill?"
The weasel rolled her eyes. "Why, Angus? You gonna shoot yer load too early if we wait any longer?"
"I just might, dear Dersky!"
Dersky flicked her eyes at Angus and snorted. "I'm sure ye would."
Angus grinned as he scooted close to the other weasel and nudged her with his muzzle. "Sumthin' you wanna tell me?"
Dersky scooted towards her right and shook her head. "No. Just that I hate you, an' you disgust me."
"An' why is that?"
Dersky turned and stared at Angus. "I saw you. That night. I saw you st...they were dead. Y'know that, right?"
"Of course I do! That's wot made it fun! Hehe, ho-how many did ya kill in Tearmann? Five? Twelve maybe? I got a lot of 'em! I remember chasin' down this one li'l molebabe. He shat hisself y'know--stunk up the whole damn buildin' with his mess! Then I cut his head in half as he ran from me. Hmm...gotta love that smell. Ye c'n always single out the cowards that way!"
"Wot the fuck is wrong with ye?" Dersky snarled.
Angus smiled. "Wot's wrong with you?"
"I'm not the one who enjoys killin' children! I'm-I'm not the one who is aroused by cadavers! You think it's enjoyable goin' around slayin' innocent beasts in their beds?"
"If you hate it, why do it?"
"'Cos...'cos orders. That's why."
"Wrong. You do it 'cos you want to. You do it 'cos you do like it. The problem with beasts like you is that you don't like that you like it. But I do. That's why I'm not sittin' on this branch wonderin' if I'm a horrible beast or not."
Angus started to grin. "I know wot I am. I don't fight it. I just have fun!"
Dersky nodded and sucked on her teeth. "Fun, huh?"
"That's right. Fun."
"You--" Dersky shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her muzzle. "Yore not some proper beast, Angus. You're a wild, voracious dog. You have no morals, no honour, no sympathy. All you care about it yoreself, how you can have fun, how you can make _yore_self feel better. All you do is eat. Then all you do is shit everywhere, and you go around showin' off yer shit to everybeast you can find, thinkin' they'll be proud of wot you've done. But nobeast is proud. We all look at you with disgust. Yore lost, Angus. Yore a lost dog who wants a new master, but everytime you find one, you just eat him or her too. So you wander around the world lookin' fer somethin' to do, but in the end, all yer gonna do...is eat and shit. Then yer gonna keel over and die alone, knowin' you wasted yer whole fuckin' life doin' nothin' but eatin'."
Dersky blinked and snorted at Angus before she turned away scowling. Angus simply stared at the weasel, speechless, dumbfounded almost. He didn't have any kind of witty comeback or snide remark. He blinked and sniffed once, realizing now that there was no way he could continue working with Dersky. He thought the weasel's words would faze him, but what did she know? What did any of them know? Nobeast understood him. They never would. Angus smiled as he chuckled wryly to himself and looked at Dersky's footpaws hanging over the front of the branch.
"How strong are yer legs, Dersky?"
"Wot the fuck do my--"
She didn't have time to yelp as Angus shoved her off the branch. The weasel quickly stood up and started to run towards another tree, just as Dersky fell on top of tarp Captain Becker and Lieutenant Hollis were standing under.
Perfect. Nobeast around. Nobeast to interfere. It was just him, the darkness, and his prey. Angus started to drool as he observed the brown hare with black blotches all over his fur. The weasel watched as the hare rushed over to a tree heavily damaged from late spring freeze. Angus saw the hare set his lantern down on the ground and heard him groan and swear. Then he turned around and squatted so he could evacuate onto the tree's roots. Angus snickered. This hare is just dying fer me to kill him, he thought.
"Oi, Jadden! You all right?!" somebeast yelled.
Jadden exhaled with relief as he continued to release loose stool onto the tree. "I'm...I'm-I'm fine, Hon! Just give me a minute, wot!"
Angus was already on the ground by now, his body concealed by the thick swamp and the dark night. He pulled out his cutlass and licked his lips as he crept towards the hare.
"Fuckin' shrooms," Jadden groaned as he passed gas and kept going.
Angus waited for a moment as he got his cutlass ready and debated on how he should kill the hare. He thought about slaying him quickly, but after waiting for the past few days, he figured he could torment the hare, even if it was just for a moment. So Angus stepped forward, crunching on some dead twigs and leaves on the ground. Jadden yelped and bashfully looked around the corner of the tree.
"Damn it--I SAID GIVE ME A MINUTE!"
Angus stomped towards the tree just as Jadden began to stand. The moment the hare turned around and stepped out into the open, Angus struck. The weasel swiped his cutlass at the hare's stomach, cutting right through the fur and flesh. Jadden shouted and fell to his knees; he began to pant and wheeze as the blood and fat trickled from the wound. Angus stood in front of the hare and grabbed his ears, then looked down at the soldier with a devious grin.
"Gotcha," he growled.
"Jadden? You done yet?" another hare called out.
Angus lifted his cutlass and held it against Jadden' throat.
"HO--UNGH-AAHH! AR-AARGH!!"
Angus struck Jadden in the throat. But instead of decapitating him right then and there, he removed his cutlass and watched as the beast bled out. Jadden gurgled and thrashed his paws around as he tried to reach for his sword or sling. But the hare couldn't keep his paws steady, nor could he defend himself before Angus struck him in the throat again. More blood gushed out of the wound; with all the sounds Jadden was making, Angus thought he was throwing up as well. He listened to the hare gurgle for a few more seconds before he struck him in the neck two more times with the cutlass, cutting through the rest of the bone and meat. The fifth and final strike finished Jadden for good, and Angus promptly removed the beast's head while the corpse remained still as the warm blood oozed down the body.
"Tike, did Jadden split off and go with you?"
"No, I haven't seen...wait, wot's that?"
"Jadden!"
Angus kicked Jadden's headless corpse down while he kept the hare's head to himself. He scampered behind a tree and waited until the other soldiers found his corpse. He heard the hares as they stopped running and began to observe Jadden's body.
"Fuck--he's dead!" shouted Honward.
"...Shit. We gotta warn the others now! There could be other vermin around here, wot!"
"Okay! You go...where's his head?"
"Wot?"
"The fuck's--"
Angus sprinted from his hiding spot and attacked Tike first. He grasped the ears of Jadden's severed head and swung it at Tike's head as though it was a ball and chain. Tike shouted and fell as Angus smashed the severed head against his. Hon turned and spotted the weasel, seconds before Angus swung the head against Honward's cheek and knocked him over. The hare grunted as he collapsed to the ground, his head throbbing. Angus started to breathe heavily as he stared at the wounded hare who dropped his weapon.
"Hehehehe...gotcha!"
Angus bashed Hon in the head again, knocking him out alongside Tike. The weasel laughed as he stared at the two unconscious hares. Then he dropped Jadden's skull and crouched down, sighing.
"Hmm...now wot t'do with you two..."