With his meal done and his belly full, Akhen left the tavern with a few gold mizas still spinning on the rough table he'd occupied. He made his way around the Commons with a lazy pace to consume some time. As the sky began to redden like a pool of blood and the first stars glittered like newly cut diamonds, he headed for the storehouses.
As he went ahead and the first torches of the city were being lit. The windows illuminating in sundry glows of gold, white and orange, Akhen ruminated for a while. To think that such a city was ravaged by a flood not so long ago seemed impossible if one looked at it but here he was, in the middle of it all. The tired faces of mothers and fathers, hard-working men and women lumbering back to their once obliterated homes like ghouls after a long hard day of rebuilding made Akhen wonder what it was that made the city sink into such a ungovernable state.
Not all these people are killers, thieves, rapists, gang-members; some of them actually seem like decent folk, hard-working people – Akhen mused internally. There were some good people in the city and some good still lingered in most, and here was evidence of it. This rebuilding surely wasn't forced onto them, Akhen began to wonder whether the flood might not have actually been a bad thing, perhaps it alone had brought back what sliver of humanity that these citizens had. But then, he remembered, a lot more people were dying in the publicly and nobody lifted a finger to help, a lot of these people actually went ahead and condoned the hangings and butchering of others. Akhen had even seen a man lynched by a mob simply because the latter's brother found him in bed with his wife shortly after the flood.
Was Sunberth the ultimate reflection of humanity? Had mankind sunk so low on its quest to be the mightiest of the gods' creatures that its shameless depravity and putrescence was sentient in the form of this city? This congested hovel of a city, was it the clearest sign that mankind shouldn't have survived the Cataclysm brought on by a bathetic god?
Akhen shrugged, he knew he'd never find an answer that would suit his needs. For all that happened, Ivak still seemed irrational for his actions in Akhen's eyes; perhaps all gods were irrational creatures like humans, the mercenary didn't know.
A few chimes and impressive structures grew in the distance. Large, shadowy behemoths that seemed to move because of the torchlight that washed across the streets. Some of the storehouses were vacant and unnumbered but others were heavily guarded from what Akhen could see, piled with sundry merchandise from various merchants. The glares the guards tossed the afro-haired mercenary weren't pleasant and Akhen returned them in kind fashion. It took a while until he found the storehouse he was assigned.
It was a large, homey structure like the ones surrounding the entire compound, its white paint had began to vanish and left the plaster exposed to the elements. It seemed secure with its second-story and small windows but Akhen knew that it could easily be penetrated with the right manpower.
The first person Akhen saw was a middle-aged man sitting atop a barrel outside the large storehouse. Standing upright, the man smiled and waved : “Ah! I'm guessing you might be Akhen?”
The mercenary nodded.
“Well, Acton said you're not the talkative kind of fellah. The name's Eddin, Eddin Whitelance,” he introduced himself with a smile. Eddin was an exquisitely built man, his face was plumb and healthy, and his was bronzed by the sun. He wore a heavy vesture of armour, a chest-piece, some grey, dented greaves and had a small wooden shield. He also carried a dreadful ball-and-chain spiked mace that curled like a fat-headed snake at his side. “Come inside, let me give yer a little tour of the place. And get you suited up.”
“Suited up?”
“Of course. Come, this way.” Eddin hopped off the barrel with a clank and entered the wide, open door.
Inside, Akhen walked into a dark, shadowy building with a high, flat ceiling. A wide hall opened at the other end of the house and rows of light-less rooms occupied the sides. Akhen saw a tall, halberd-wielding Akalak in armour just like Eddin's at the oppose end of the store house. Another man stood beside the Akalak, he was much shorter, shorter even than the average Eddin – in his hand was a small iron shield and a broad, double-edged war-axe hung on his back – he was dressed in a chest-plate, visor and gorget.
A flight of stairs led up to the second story and at the end of the narrow hall, Akhen was met by another two figures. The first was one of the most entrancing creatures with the palest skin he'd ever seen, it was as white as newly fallen snow and her shoulder-cut hair nearly matched her skin tone but was a pale blonde. Her light, glimmering eyes took the countenance of sapphires, but she compact figure was nonetheless pronounced even though she wore a breastplate and greaves. A slim rapier was sheathed at her waist.
A woman as a mercenary was commonplace but the scaled patterns along this one's arms made Akhen raise a brow.
A konti... mercenary? He thought. Eddin chuckled when he saw the look on Akhen's face. “I know right? It blew my mind too! I thought all they ever did was heal people and pray, who knew they had the killer instinct in them too!”
The konti sneered and tossed her hair aside, whether she was brushing off Eddin's words or the intense stare of the man across her, Akhen wasn't sure but what he was sure of was that the man across her wasn't supposed to be here.
“What's he doing here?” Akhen leered when he saw Jethro turn toward him. The brute marched down the hall and grinned.
“Old Acton was worried you lot wouldn't be able to handle it so I convinced him to come supervise you, especially you!” his finely made chest-plate gleaned in the low hanging torchlight. He cupped his jewelled broadsword and eyed the mercenary murderously.
Akhen brushed the bodyguard aside and followed Eddin down the hall, on his left were small squares cut into the building; these provided a vantage point to constantly watch over the street below and on his right were rooms likewise cut into the building like ones below but these were amply lit with torchlight and Akhen saw chests heaped and stacked onto one another. In one particular room he passed though, he saw heavy sandbags piled into a corner.
“I dunno what he's pushing but his bodyguard there forbade anyone to enter, so I guess we'll never know.” Eddin whispered lowly. He looked over his shoulder and saw Jethro glaring then he patted Akhen on the back and shoved him into a small room at the end of the hall.
The room was visibly smaller than all the others in the storehouse and had nothing expect a few mannequins lined up against the wall, all of them were stripped except for one. “Get suited up,” Eddin said.
Akhen saw the suit of armour and snorted : “I'm not wearing this. I never agreed to wear his armour.” “Well, you have too, none of us like it either but Jethro there said if we don't we're not getting paid.”
Akhen growled and slipped on the visor-less helmet, then the chain-mail and finally the breastplate : “It smells.” Akhen finally said. Eddin shrugged : “He's a cheapskate.”
“Aren't they all?”
Eddin chuckled. After fastening the breastplate and picking up the small wooden shield assigned to him, Akhen left the room with Eddin. As they walked down the hall, the latter briefed Akhen on how they would guard the storehouse. He and Akhen would keep watch at the front of the; Erto the Akalak, and Tandem the Short-One (as they found it fitting to name him), would guard the rear. Nyala the Konti and Jethro would guard the uppermost of the storehouse. At each bell until dawn, one of the partners would leave and be replaced by someone else thus allowing fresh eyes on a new spot. Akhen found the plan idiotic but he wasn't surprised when he discovered Jethro was the one who came up with it.
The night went by in relative quiet in the storehouse compound, Akhen and Eddin sat at the foot of the stairs. The silence allowed the afro-haired mercenary some time to obverse his surroundings, the storehouses across them were empty and unguarded, the one to his left had a few guards meandering about and gambling and the one to his right was lit but Akhen saw no guards whatsoever. The first bell sounded and Akhen replaced Tandem at the back of the storehouse. At the back, the surroundings were pretty much the same expect that two of the storehouses across them were well guarded.
Erto was a silent creature. His dark-purple skin gave him a fierce and ominous presence that he knew he had and carried well with him. He seemed more like a statue than a living being, even in armour one could imagine the knots of muscle hidden beneath, he exuded shameless strength and vigour, his halberd was clutched tightly, his savage eyes burned in silent determination and pride. He and Akhen hardly exchanged words and he left when the next bell sounded.
As he waited for the next person to come join him, Akhen took out his smoke pipe and stuffed it with Blue Vision, he found a light and let the herb simmer before taking a puff. The euphoric properties took a hold of him and he leaned against the wall to savour it. A space passed and he was joined by the konti.
Her pale face took on a golden glow in the torchlight. She sat beside the mercenary and was quiet for a moment; Akhen passed her his pipe and she took a generous pull from it, coughed and said a few words of thanks.
“You know,” she started after a few chimes. “We not all the same.”
Akhen raised a brow. He heard a snicker and knew the herb was taking effect on her, “Some of us don't want to be confined to some desolate temple where we spend two hundred years of our lives praying and healing! I was a priestess once, you know? I was good at it too but these past forty years of my life have been the greatest moments I've ever lived. I get to do whatever I want, whenever I want, however I want.
I've been to places people dream to be, done things people only do in their wildest dreams, tasted foods that nobody ever will. I've fought pirates, thieves, aristocrats, I've had more mizas then I'd ever known what to do with and blew it all in a few nights in gambling dens and parties that would even make the gods jealous! I-- I have lived! And after this, I'll do it again until I'm old and worn-out!”
The konti laughed for a few chimes and from thereon Akhen knew never to give her kind Blue Vision. Nyala giggled and turned to face him, she simmered into giddy fits : “What's your story?” she asked with squinted bloodshot eyes.
Akhen shrugged. His story was his own and he preferred to keep it that way, but he replied : “Killing. I'm pretty good at it. Do I like it or do I hate it? I dunno, I just do it when it has to be done. I'd prefer a good book and some of this Blue Vision here instead but I guess when the wind howls, I have to answer the call.”
“I guess we're not so different, you and I.” Nyala chuckled. Akhen never replied, his eyes narrowed when he saw the storehouses across them suddenly darken. A few more chimes and the entire street was completely pitch black.
The next bell rung and Akhen left for the second-story. There he guarded with Tandem, another quiet fellow who brought his own pipe. The two men smoked in silence and for the next few bells the routine continued, with luck the afro-haired mercenary never found himself stationed with Jethro but he and Eddin were once again guarding the front this time. Eddin Whitelance was admittedly a talkative individual, before the thirtieth chime Akhen already knew of the ex-Sunberthian-guard-turned-sellsword's love affairs and family history. Eddin had grown up in a common Sunberthian household, little to no education, he being the lucky one to be born from a long line of miscarriages by his mother; his grandfather was a guard, his father was one too and he became one once his aspirations as a bard were crushed when his father threw his castanet in the Slag Heap.
Akhen watched as the storehouses abreast their own turn dark and in the distance he heard an owl hoot.
“So, I grab her hair right? And by Lhex, I'm telling you she was a screecher, and I– I... hey, ar... are you even listening?” Eddin asked when he saw Akhen stand up.
“No. Now shut up and listen...” Akhen interjected, killing his pipe and stashing it. He heard a faint sound shuffling toward them, the louder it grew the more he realized it was coming from inside the storehouse, the two men turned and Eddin chuckled when he saw a mop of ivory.
“Oh, it's Nya-- dear gods! What in the void!”
The konti came lurching forward and crumpled at their feet, a pool of blood flowed beneath her convulsing form! Akhen turned her over and Eddin recoiled with a curse. Her throat was slashed! They watched as she trembled with white eyes, gurgling crimson foam out her mouth.
“Who did this?!” Eddin snarled, unhooking his mace. The konti raised arm but it turned limp and she died.
“Get inside!” Akhen spat.
“Wha?”
“Now!” Akhen roared and dipped his head when he heard something wheeze passed his ear. A crossbow bolt! With that the men flew into the storehouse and heard more bolts snap behind them!
“What in the hells!” was all Eddin could mouth.
The rear of the storehouse was unguarded and Akhen saw two men turn the corner, their crossbows snapped, “Shield!” Eddin roared! And Akhen raised his arm instinctively. A bolt snapped into his wooden shield and the other flew over his head!
The two men dove into one of the unlit rooms when they heard footsteps behind them. They stood across one another, parallel the open door with their backs against the wall so could listen. Then they the heard voices of the intruders.
“They're hiding in there! Get them!”
“What about the two upstairs?”
“We'll take care of them, now go get those bastards!”
“Who are these guys?” Eddin asked. Akhen quite quiet, he was listening intently, perhaps their footsteps would tell him how many they were. He was sure these were Acton's former guards, they were well-equipped just like he said.
He heard footsteps shamble toward them slowly, there was no light in the room expect for the one, narrow channel that was provided by the hall and penetrated inside. Akhen pressed his knee against the shield, removed the bolt lodged within and was ready. The light around the frame warped as the first intruder stood by the door, his short-sword drawn.
“See anything?” the second interloper asked.
“Ain't see shet, I–” a scream! The man turned for a second and Akhen pounced. The bolt shattered an eye and the fiend recoiled heavily into his accomplice! He screamed and Akhen emerged, he threw his arm out and bashed the man's face with the shield, pushing the bolt deeper! The man screeched and his stunned friend gaped as Eddin ran out howling, his ball-and-chain mace spattered the stunned foe's skull asunder in one clean sweep!
“Whaaaa! Urgh...!” the first brigand died when Akhen smashed his face to bits with a splintered shield. The afro-haired mercenary slipped off the bloody buckler as quickly as he could and drew his sword from its sheath, nearly forgetting he moved it to accommodate the heavy chain-mail and breastplate he now wore.
I hate these damn things!, he hissed internally.
At the foot of the storehouse's stairs he and Eddin discovered the cause of the first scream, the two other brigands were slumped over in a pool of crimson. Erto and Tandem and slain them quickly but it seemed that the Akalak had a crossbow bolt lodged in his arm.
“We have protected the storehouse!” the Akalak leered venomously! “No shet!” Tandem interjected sourly. The two clamoured down the stairs and regrouped with the pair.
“Hey guys, I think we might have to do a bit more protecting,” Eddin murmured, the men turned and saw small band of intruders enter from each end of the storehouse, they were twelve in total but they were armed to the teeth. Hatchets, spears, short-swords, poniards, maces, a myriad of instruments Death would be envious to wield flashed with the thirst for blood! “And where the hells is Jethro?!”
“Dead or he fled. I smelt the cowardice off him anyway.” Erto groused and held his halberd limply. “Tch,” Akhen snorted. “Hurdle up everyone, back-to-back. We can't allow them to flank us!” the mercenary continued.
“Aye.”
“Got it!”
“Shouldn't have to tell me twice!”
Akhen and Eddin took the front. It was a rush of bodies that came toward them, flashing iron, howling contemptuous slaughter! An axe arched and bounced off Akhen's sword, the latter whirled his arms and splattered the attacker's head! The body slumped but Akhen was already engaged with another. A swing sheared the head off an upcoming attacker. Eddin joined in. His mace whirled like a cyclone and bashed apart the faces of two men simultaneously. They crumpled into death!
The ex-Sunberthian-guard-turned-sellsword spun his weapon over his helm, it fell and turned solid flesh to pulp in an instant! Erto roared a savage war-cry and speared a young foe through the face. His halberd swept above his dead foe and ripped through the breastplate another. Tandem charged. The squat warrior moved like a bull enraged and his war-axe were his horns. He gored through bodies. Slashing. Hacking. Mauling. Maiming... They all were. It was crimson that flooded their vision and nothing else. The storehouse was drenched in screams.
“Erto!” Akhen heard Eddin call; his crimson sword bowed, cleaving through the midriff of an attacker. A body fell atop him and he bent to shrug it off. Crimson, Purple... Erto lay dead beside him. Spears was wedged deep in the Akalak's chest and skull!
A ravenous snarl from Tandem returned Akhen to his senses but something knocked them back out of place! The visor-less helmet protected him from a flying war-hammer but he was cut from the dent. His head ached, his left eye was mazed. He sneered and brought up his sword to defend from the war-hammer again but the force behind his attacker's swing knocked it out his hands!
The mercenary looked up and caught the grin on his aggressor's lips. Akhen's arms shook. They hurt. They trembled.
“Now you die, dog!” the fiend snarled. His war-hammer arched! It fell and the fiend died...! Eddin's mace tore through his skull before he could get a killing blow! “Get u—rgh!” Eddin slouched as a bodkin lanced through his neck. He shrugged and bellowed savagely as his mace swung sideways and bashed through the skull of his killer! Both men lay dead, each others weapons bleeding.
Akhen picked up his sword and trembled to his feet, he lurched suddenly. Whirling sword-first he eviscerated the axe-wielding entrant that charged him! The man bent and Akhen sidestepped a thrusting spear suddenly. Swivelling his arms, his sword split the shoulder of the man!
It was pure instinct now, that was how he would put it. Each action was super-charged by the instinct to survive. He moved through the bodies and to go aid Tandem, the Short-One was barely breathing, his chest-piece was stabbed to finality and he was swinging drunkenly. Four men were left – no, three as Akhen came charging like a blood-drunk beast! His bloodied sword sung its melody. First flesh then bone and the body beneath him whined one last time!
Tandem killed two more, his heavy skin-flecked axe rattling as he sheathed it into the abdomen of one and right into the chest of another. The Short-One snorted and his eyes finally fluttered one last time. He slumped – and died. It as blood-loss that finally did him in.
The last of the assailants looked up at Akhen and what he saw must have shook his very soul – the blood drenched, slow breathing form of the afro-haired man must have taken upon itself the visage of a monster, a heartless butcher of men, to him in that dim, grotesque torchlight. He looked at his short-sword and back at the figure of Akhen slowly.
“Well?” the blood drenched Akhen snarled. The man yelped, tossed the sword aside and shook his head frantically. “Screw this! Jethro isn't paying me enough for this bullshit! My life is way more important than some stupid merchandise! He can come sling it all himself!” With that, the man fled.
“Where do you think you're going, yer spineless dog!” a voice boomed out the furtherest room in the storehouse. The fleeing man screamed and recoiled as a crossbow bolt flew out the darkness and ripped through his skull!
“If you want something done right, I guess you'll have to do it yourself!” Jethro snorted. He came out the room and faced Akhen, a grin carved its way onto his boyish features. His short black hair gleaned as his small, thin snout flared. “So you're the one who survived, Dira must be feeling kind tonight. I get to send you to her personally!”
Akhen raised his sword, his arms ached, his body was trembling and he knew Jethro would take advantage of that. He eyed the hall for anything worth using and snarled when he found nothing. So be it, he thought. If he died, he died but he would make sure that he cut down that bastard in front of him.
Jethro drew his jewelled broadsword, he taunted Akhen as he walked toward him slowly while sliding his visor into place. When he cleared the space, he lunged suddenly! His massive armoured body twisted and the massive blade hewed through air. Akhen dodged and lumbered back. Their swords locked and broke when the afro-haired mercenary shoved his opponent back with a kick. Clanking clumsily over corpses and grunting with bestial anger, Jethro charged!
Akhen narrowly dodged the side-sweep of the broadsword; he cursed the heavy breastplate he wore, and returned with a overhead arch of his own sword. He missed! His blade hissed and hew into one of the cadavers and was stuck!
Jethro chuckled; “Since this very morning, you don't know much I wanted to do this!” he leaped like a lion, slashing his massive sword! Akhen leapt back! Narrowly avoiding the sword that ripped through his shoddy chest-piece! Mazed, Akhen lost his footing and tripped!
He fell back into a heap of bodies and rolled aside as Jethro's broadsword carved through the flesh and bone of the dead! Akhen's hand fondled the ground for something, anything – it clutched something rough and the mercenary flung his arm out with all his might! Jethro's headgear was torn off his shoulders by a chuck of wood from one of the splintered shields and he shook his dazed senses. He turned but was knocked astray by a closed fist from a lunging Akhen! His sword slipped as both men tumbled into the mound of corpses!
Punching!
Rolling!
More Punching!
Even more rolling!
The two traded savage blows! Akhen delivered brutal jab to jaw of his opponent that left Jethro bleeding. Back and forth the went until Jethro's massive bulk pinned Akhen down!
“Die you bastard!” the bodyguard snarled and wrung his fingers around Akhen's neck in a strangler's vice! The afro-haired mercenary clawed at his opponents hands desperately! He pelted the ground for anything and found only blood and soft flesh...
“You know! I think killing you is better than slashing that konti bitch's little throat!” Jethro howled and applied more pressure. Akhen felt himself slip. His vision blurred. His sensed numbed. His chest tightened...
His weak arms hovered, searching for something – anything!
Then... he felt... something... something around... Jethro's waist... it was small but... if only... he could... just!
“Haaaargh!!” Jethro snarled as Akhen's arm shot up abruptly! Through the neck! A poniard!
Crimson arched out Jethro's neck in fiery jets and hands around Akhen's neck slowly began to weaken until finally... breath! The bodyguard slumped forward and crushed Akhen with its shuddering bulk. The sounds of Jethro's final breathes were horrid; the gurgling, moaning, grunting sounds of a dying creature always were...
It a took a few chimes for the heavy body to completely go limp and when it did, Akhen shoved it off him, sat upright for breath and staggered to his feet. He looked around, there were bodies everywhere and none of them showed signs of life. It was a foul sight indeed. All this death for some merchandise – he wondered what it really was he came to protect.
With a hiss Akhen slipped off his helm, his heart clinched when he realized how badly damaged it was. A massive chunk of it had been sheared off, narrowly missing his head!
The mercenary spat and tossed the head piece aside. He looked around and spotted Jethro's helmet, it was still intact. He staggered toward the thing and picked it up, it was not to wear; it was to hold all his loot. He turned, looked at all the bodies littering the hall, shrugged and began searching them. Anything valuable he found was dumped in the helmet, whatever wasn't he threw away. It took at least a bell to rummage through the corpses but when he was done he set the helmet aside and climbed up the flight of stairs.
It was those sandbags, he knew. That was the real reason these men came here and now he wanted to know why... |
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by Akhen on June 9th, 2016, 7:41 pm 
