| Present day Ortal's home, The Spires As soon as the writer finished with one parchment he pushed it aside and continued on another, driven by something. The quill tapped against the writer's block as the writer was trying to find the right words to explain the next pice of writing. It had been fantastical the way he remembered it and he wasn't sure how to put it down. As if decided, the quill moved to submerge the tip in the ink and started writing on the parchment. |
| The following excerpt of text is based solely on an interview with the person himself. I, as the writer, can not confirm in good faith if these events are real or not. Fall, 4th, Year 464 The Prairie, Sahova testing ground It was a strange feeling, seeing your own body move without you calling the shots for it. The Undrykas watched as his body moved. The skull that covered part of his vision seemed to distort his view and shift colors around. He watched his hand as it shifted into something else, something horrible. Claws and shell covered his hand, truly that of a monster. "It's not nice to call others a monster. I don't call you one because you look different from me." The Undrykas had never moved around so quickly. In the space they were standing in, because that's what it was, a space, was nothing, nothing besides the Undrykas. It was dark inside, the back of the space completely dark. The area where he was in was lit, lit by the light that came in through the two large orbs behind him, the orbs that had allowed him to see how his own body moved without his commands. It wasn't a place he had been before nor did it seem tangible or real. There were walls, or at least, an end to the space, but they constantly shifted and rippled, as if made out of water. Except for the floor, which remained stable, the entirity of the space he was in constantly warped and changed. "I do apologize, but I'll be taking your body now." Out of nowhere, it lashed at him, appearing out of a ripple in the middle of the room a clawed hand, just like the one he had seen his hand turn into lashed out at him and clawed over his cheek and face. There was no blood, no gushing of red liquid over his face and neck, but the pain was there. The pain of having half of your face ripped open was present. The Undrykas screamed, or at least tried to scream, but there was no sound, just his mouth opening wide. His hand pressed to his face as he staggered back and fell, hitting the floor. From the ripple, the claw was followed by a foot and the rest of the body followed after the foot until a person stood in the space with the Undrykas. Or what was left of a person. The Undrykas could see the human traits and appearance the creature had but most of it's body was warped, changed and shifted. Morphed. The Undrykas crawled back, one hand on his face, the other clawing the ground trying to find something that could be of use to him, something that would help him get away quicker. But there was nothing. The ground was completely flat, not a single stub or stick or slight elevation to grasp at, just flat. He crawled around and got on his knees, trying to get up on his feet and away from the monster. "I told you. It's not nice to call others monster." The Undrykas fell again, face first onto the cold, hard floor. His teeth bit into the ground as he screamed once more. A large chunk of flesh, almost from his neck all the way down to his waist, had been cut out of him as he had attempted to flee. The pain was unbearable. But even with half of his backside missing, the Undrykas crawled away from the monster, tried to get away from the place they were in. "I am not a MONSTER!!!" The Undrykas got up on his feet and staggered, tried to take the first step to get away. His feet couldn't feel the floor anymore, there was nothing beneath them, nothing to carry his body away from this monster. Confused, the Undrykas looked down to the ground, trying to see why he wasn't moving. The shelled hand was sticking out of his chest, the sharp claws wiggling in the air as he was lifted up from the ground. There was so much pain, so much suffering in this short span of time. His entire back had been carved out and now a hand sized hole in the middle of his chest. Why wasn't he dead? He wanted to die, wanted for this pain to end. Why didn't he die? The claw disappeared from his chest, pulled out again. But the monster wasn't finished yet. A foot was placed in the middle of his shoulder blades. Like the hands, it was completely distorted, and the claws, like an eagle, dug into his back and neck, holding him in place as the claws grabbed hold of his wrists and pulled his arms backwards. There should have been a snap. There was the pain of his shoulders breaking as the monster pulled his arms behind him. He screamed, he cried, he begged, but there was no sound to leave his lips. There was no end to the pain. The monster applied more strength to his foot as he pushed the Undrykas down. Please let me die. Please let it end. He had felt a similar pain once. When his hand hadn't connected properly again after a projection. A mistake of his younger days. Back then he had simply fainted and a more skillful projector had fixed his hand up. This time there was nobody to fix him up as the monster ripped his skin and muscles and tore of his arms. For the first time, his scream produced a sound, a hollow, empty notion of sound. In hindsight, the Undrykas described it as 'knowing there was a presence of sound but without actually hearing anything'. Armless, in shock and tears, the Undrykas fell forward, his face hitting the ground once more, no arms to protect him or support him. Why was this monster doing this? He didn't want to die? What had he done to deserve this? Questions popped into the Undrykas' mind as tried to worm away from the monster behind him, laughing at him. Through all the pain, the sharp cuts on his face, the gash on his back, the hole in his chest and the two stumps that used to be his shoulders and arms, the Undrykas could feel something else, something far more prominent. Two small stings in his leg. Despite the overwhelming pain all over his body, the burning of his body, he could feel those two specific stings in his legs, combined with a warmth, spreading from the stings, moving through his body, spreading faster and faster. His eyes were drawn to the two orbs in the space, looking in the world outside. He saw how his hand held a small skull in it, two sharp fangs portruding from the end of the skull. The Undrykas pushed himself up, his hands placed on the floor as he got up on his knees and on his feet. The fact that his arms had been ripped off just a moment ago and had now seemingly regrown wasn't even registered by the Undrykas. He turned around, looking at his assailant. Their eyes met, the monster's glowing yellow, the Undrykas a bright green, flashing defiantly. He didn't know how long they stared at each other. All his life he had been the punching bag, the monster, the outcast, the Undrykas. Not anymore. He was going to hurt this one, the one that wanted to take his body. "It's mine, monster. You won't be taking my body." He wanted to punch him, kick him, stab him, kill him. The thoughts flashed through his mind. The monster staggered back, hit by some unseen force. It clawed at the space in front of it, trying to resist or to defend itself. To punch him. The monster's head flung back, hit by an unseen force against his face. The kick him. The monster doubled over, staggering back as it tried to breathe, holding both hands onto his stomach. To stab him. The monster got up, standing up straight. The hole in its chest allowed the Undrykas to see through it, see the rippling space behind the monster. To kill him. No! No! Don't do it! But the voice, the monster couldn't stop it. Nooooooo!!!! The monster dove back in an attempt to stop the last thought, into the ripple, out of the space they had been in. The rippling of the entire room stopped immediately. The Undrykas held the skull tightly. The space was gone and he was back in his own body, looking at the skull in his hand. He was grinning at it, an evil touch to his smile. Master Taren Alter had actively tried to kill him. Someday, the master would die. By the Undrykas' device. Turning away from the giant ribcage, the Undrykas started to walk, holding onto the skull with one hand. In his pocket, the snake skull continued to spread its warmth on his skin and body. Master Taren Alter had to die. The thought echoed through his mind for the next two days. As stated before, I, the writer, have no real proof of these events, nor of the reality of them. Perhaps they were a side effect of the malediction effects the Undrykas had been exposed to at that time. There is no way for me to confirm these events as the writer. |
| Present day Ortal's home, The Spires The writer finished the final note on the parchment and scribbled his autograph underneath it. The scroll was covered with the mix of sand and wood to dry up the ink before he rolled it up. He walked towards the stack of other rolled up parchments on the top of his book shelf, the other fragments of memories and feelings he had managed to get back over these past seasons. But he didn't put the scroll on the pile. Instead, he moved back to the desk and opened a drawer, sliding the scroll inside of it, alone, out of sight. |
