The newcomers' chain clanging could already be heard. Another throng of unfortunate people are being brought by the slave-drivers to their doom. This time, there were thirteen; it felt like their numbers grew along with the brutality of the handlers every time there were new arrivals, which by this point had virtually been every week. One of the fresh ones, who was confined by four handlers, was subjected to particularly cruel treatment, being beaten for every single step he took, his neck must have been in constant pain because of the spikes of the man-catcher they held him in. His movements were slow and deliberate, and the chains that bound his wrists, feet, and upper body as a whole must have been almost as heavy as he was. Yet they were having trouble containing him. A member of the equitaur race. I’ve heard of them, but this was the first time I’ve actually seen one. They’re much taller than I had expected, and this one was very rowdy. They flung him into the cell I had be
He was strange, but calling him strange was the least I could say. But other words I could come up with still didn't fit exactly right. Words like 'eccentric', 'odd', or 'bizarre', did not do his manner justice. "What are you waiting for, Asher? I witnessed you tear steel with your bare hands. Why are you still in this miserable cell? Let us go out, free, and liberate our fellow man." I demanded of him, but first, there was just one query: "How did they even manage to capture you?" I braced myself for once again another flood of gibberish from him as he started, "Well, I let myself get captured on purpose," he said. I said "Why?" in disbelief, not just to him, but in general. "Gods forbid, why would you ever do that? What's wrong with you? Who or what gave you the notion that it would be wise to allow oneself to be taken captive?" "It doesn't matter," I said after a little period of silence, during which I let the shock pass. "You wouldn't get very far even with that wondrous might
Even when looks deceive, this place was full of filth and grime.Although it seemed to be an old opera house, some of the most heinous underworld rituals were still being performed right as I stood here. I was perching on the edge of a box seat to see the other guests from above.Rich people and members of mysterious cabals lurked, gleefully waiting to exchange one person's life for their dirty money. I was there for one of them as well, but I wasn't there to take that life for myself; I was here to save it. Even though I'm getting on in years, my espionage abilities were still as sharp as they were when I was younger, so tracking these auctions wasn't difficult. The young guards I followed, who weren't all that cautious since one of them just couldn't control his mouth, were also of assistance. Inexperience does pay off for some. I don't believe I would be the subject of any suspicion. This auction was already so secretive that even just knowing where it would be held and havin
The old man with the opera mask next to me burst and his blood flew all around, splattering everyone except the violet-haired woman on the stage. She was completely untouched, even though she should have been covered the most. The man's face was the only thing that was unharmed. It was not twisted in pain, and it didn't appear as though suffering but rather astonishment marked his final moments. I knew who he was. Noufu, a governor and high-ranking member of the state. "Jesus Christ," the horse-man yelled, spitting out blood he had gotten in his mouth and losing the grace of his words as he had them before, "What the fuck, Faye." He cleaned off a few more chunks of flesh from his face but he did not seem very affected by it, just slightly annoyed, "you could have warned me and, to me, it looks like you traumatized some of the attendees. Imagine, THIS is what the characters in Gantz must have felt like and I must admit this feels a bit weird, seeing someone blow up. And there's no
The underground of the 'Underground' was a real labyrinth. My cell and a few other areas were familiar to me from my prior imprisonment, but, ugh, I can't seem to navigate myself around in this place at all. I get twisted up from just taking two wrong turns and then ending up somewhere I didn’t expect to be. Maybe I just have a bad memory? It feels like I was kind of getting forgetful these past couple of months. How many people were imprisoned here, I wonder? I have no trouble picturing a few hundred. We had a fair range of slaves here, quite a broad selection, so at least the slavers weren't overly prejudiced about whom to take as a slave. Every form of beast race, young or old, elf or dwarf, all the demi’s, and everything in between. I painstakingly opened up every cell single-handedly, just ripping up the cell bars or doors to make openings big enough for even the most rotund to squeeze through. Some of the liberated slaves came to help me release others. Even if they took
Years after the Goddess of Redemption and Vindication Alexandra gave a young man named Cyrus a second chance at life, a group of gods had gathered as they were interested in learning more about the mortal's activities, now going by the name Asher Burell. They assembled around a big tablet that resembled a mirror in the Hall of History and, each at their own pace, scanned over the brief period of time that two decades were for the gods. Of course, several gods were taken aback, if only by the slightest margins, since the mortal Asher was, in fact, a very peculiar man. One of the most powerful gods, Therogrum, the God of War, Struggle, Conflict, and Honor, sat down on a throne that he created out of thin air. His ancient battle-weary armor, which was covered with scratches and chinks, clanged loudly enough to be heard throughout all the Halls of History.Alexandra, whose standing height did not quite reach his knees while seated, caught his attention as he gazed down at her from behin
“Vipers, I call you, all of you," he hissed, "do you not see the misery you subject them to? Let these souls withdraw from their vessels. Those who are manifestations of despair and let them be.” There were four gods who had spoken out already, but now that the fifth had arrived, silence fell. None had noticed him, he who was lurking in the shadow, one who had seen all already. He hated their happiness, the joy they felt recollecting past events. He who had only seen sorrow and gloom. Out he came, interrupting and dispersing the glee that had built up. Urien, the God of Death, Sorrow, Misery, and Despair. Tall he was, though skeletal like, but one could see the strength that he bore. Long hair covered his sad face, hiding the misery and anger he always lived in. It was as dark as the sunless sky and his clothing, which was bespeckled with golden trinkets made from the remnants of dying stars. On his shoulder sat a raven. Kavir he was called. He was to Urien, as Faye was to
I miss being a horse-man. The day after I left the slave-holdings, I was changed yet again. Faye thought it was a good thing. News of a horse-man and fox-woman who freed a lot of slaves in the country of Alaran as spreading quickly, and anyone who’d be looking for them wouldn’t be looking for who I was now which was just the average human guy. Slightly on the slimmer side with short, dark hair. The rest was average. Average, average, average, recently I began hating that word. It sucked, and I thought the way I looked now sucked too. When do I stop looking like your typical Shinji’s, Kirito’s, Kyon’s, and Oreki’s and start looking like a Kenshiro, Baki, Guts, or even any Jojo. ...Well, maybe not any. We could cap it at Part 4, actually. Araki’s style really changed over the years, never really went back to the ultra manly designs. Even Gappy was too… uh, ‘new araki’ for me. Flamboyant to say the least, but all of the characters did have interesting designs, at least