The Depths of Despair Part 6: Run for the Light

Tendrils of black energy arced across the cave and singed the walls.The air seemed to constrict then expand rapidly in a pressure wave that shook the ceiling and sent Fland flying. He landed several feet away with his ears ringing and smoke wafting off of singed cloths and hair.

Fland tried to survey the scene as his vision came into focus. First, he looked to the hobgoblin. The hobgoblin was lying on the floor, not moving at all. Its left arm now ended in a singed stump. Fland quickly looked down to make sure his hands were still there. They were, though they bore burn marks. His light maces were mostly intact, though slightly melted. A glance to the side showed that the goblin that had been being lowered into the pit was most likely dead from the blast.

Fland looked about until he saw what had happened to Elarr and the bugbear. The bugbear had been knocked to his knees by the blast, but was quickly recovering, swinging his ax about wildly. Elarr was the least stunned. His magical shield had apparently absorbed much of the blast. Unfortunately, it seemed to have finally collapsed from doing so.

Fland hurried to regain his feet, moving unsteadily. As he stood, he drew the dagger from his boot sheath. Forcing his hand and mind to steady for a moment, he threw the dagger at the bugbear. The dagger was well balanced and made one full rotation as it sliced through the air. The point bit deep into the bugbear's meaty forearm, causing him to drop the ax.

Elarr was not of a martial mind, but was not unfamiliar with how to defend himself in close combat. He saw the opportunity to strike and took it. Gripping his crystalline walking stick in both hands, he swung it hard. The sphere at the top smashed into the bugbear’s jaw with a spark of arcane energy. The crack of bone and magic sang out as the monstrous jaw was shattered. Elarr used the staff to help himself to his feet and brushed some disheveled hair out of his face as he stepped over the felled bugbear.

“We need to leave fast,” Fland said as he retrieved his dagger, “I’m betting that even with that sound ward thing, someone heard that.”

Elarr was stooped down and quickly gathering a few pieces of the shattered orb. “I really wish you had not done that, any of it,” he said with deep frustration in his voice.

“Censure me later, we need to get out of this place now,” Fland responded with a rare amount of urgency. The goblin hole had proved to be fairly abusive to his nerves, far more than he had expected. He wanted to back in the fresh air and away from the malignant presence that still haunted the cave.

The pair raced back through the caves, all pretenses of stealth cast aside. Dashing past the mutating goblins, they saw the two bugbear guards from before approaching. Fland’s guess had been right, and the guards had come to investigate. The bugbears drew their crude swords and snarled as they opened their unsettling jaws then charged.

Fland struck first with a javelin. The tip pierced on through the belly. It slowed, but did not stop. He wanted the fight over fast, and preferably at a distance. Beyond their monstrous strength, something about the unnatural creatures shook him once they were close. He had felt it when he passed them earlier and during the fight with the others. It is hard to fight when your hand shakes your stomach is turning about. Better to attack these brutes from a distance as much as possible.

Elarr made a quick gesture while incanting a few arcane syllables. He pointed the tip of his staff towards the lead bugbear and a zigzagging line of silver lightning struck it full in the chest a few feet from striking distance. The monster was stunned by the sudden crater burned into his hairy chest. Fland capitalized on this and sprung forward to strike it twice across the brow.

CR-CRACK!!

As the lead bugbear dropped, Fland brought one mace up to block a clumsy blow from the one he had impaled. This close in, he could feel the unnerving aura that surrounded the creature, that made it more horrifying. To Fland's mind, that was just unnecessary. A quick exchange of blows sent the creature to the ground, though it had left a nasty cut to Fland's arm.

“Damn these things are strong and they don't know when to bloody die!” Fland cursed as they set to running back down the twisting tunnel.

“They are bred to be killers,” Elarr panted out as they ran. He was not as athletic as his companion and had to work to keep up.

They quickly passed by the fork in the tunnel. As they ran, behind them they could hear the sound of goblin feet slapping at the floor and goblin voices shouting. The pair ran faster, knowing that if they did not make it out of the hole quick, they would be outnumbered.

“I think the wasps just realized that we've been kicking their nest!” Fland said with some of his cocky humor returning. They were only a short distance from the cave entrance and he could already smell the fresh air. He was ready to be away from the corruption of the pit and back in his element.

The goblin horde was closing fast. Despite short legs, the goblins were fast. As well, they were rested unlike the duo who had been through several grueling fights in a short time. Still, the head start was enough and Fland was at the crude ladder out of the pit after another minute. He was about to head straight up when he noticed that Elarr was not following. He turned and looked at his partner who was rapidly scrawling runes on the floor.

“I don't think we have time for whatever you are doing,” Fland said as he hopped back down. Elarr continued to to draw the runes and ignored Fland. The elf rapidly worked his way along the floor too the wall and started up it. He muttered an incantation as he worked.

The first goblins rounded the corner as Elarr marked the ceiling. Screaming an obscene battlecry, one goblin hurled a spear at the elf. Fland leapt forward and knocked the spear aside before it could impale his partner.

“Definitely out of time,” Fland said as he grabbed the collar of Elarr's robe and pulled him towards the ladder. The circle of runes was nearly complete and the elf mage hastily inscribed the last bit with the tip of his staff and shouted a single arcane syllable as he was tugged away and forced up the ladder.

Fland hurried up the ladder, half pushing Elarr as he went. Glancing back he watched as the lead goblin sharged with his stone tipped spear. As the goblin reach the line of runes he fell backwards as though he had hit a wall. He was then trampled by the next few goblins racing behind him, who were also knocked back by the invisible barrier.

Finally, out of the hole, Fland took in a deep breath of fresh air and tilted his face up into the sunshine. This lasted only a moment before they were both dashing for the treeline. Their horses were tethered a short distance back.

“The barrier should hold them for a short time. If I had time to finish it properly it might have held them for a day,” Elarr lamented.

“No help for it. Time was not on our side.”

“We would have had more time if you had not been so reckless.”

“How was I suppose to know about the damn trap?!” Fland shot back, “Besides, it all worked out. I destroy the orb that hobgoblin witch or whatever in the Nine Hells that thing was.”

“I didn't want you to destroy it you fool!” Elarr shouted. The elf turned and saw the blank stare on the human's face. He gave a pained sigh and elaborated, “That was no goblin relic. Where did it come from? How did a hobgoblin get it? Who gave it to him? Worst of all, I fear you may have released...something.”

“What?! You mean like a demon? I did not see a demon after I smashed that thing,” Fland replied slightly chastised.

“No,” Elarr said as he climbed on his horse, “You noticed how corrupted it was down there,” he stated, “It was from the orb. That was just what was leaking out of it. I think that the orb was containing something, a malignant power, or perhaps a life force. When you smashed it, you let it out.”

“That sounds bad.”

“Indeed, but it depends on what was released,” Elarr said as they rode. His voice sunk into a lecturing tone that told Fland that the mage was now musing on the academic merits of what they had learned, not the practical effects. “If it is just energy, then it will just dissipate eventually. It will slow the healing of the land, but the scar the goblins put there will take time to heal even if we had procured the orb intact.

“A life force, however, will need something to contain it. It could search out a new vessel. More likely it will seek to return to its source. The implications of which are hard to deduce at this point. I hope the few fragments I grabbed will provide some insight.”

Fland took this in and thought for a few minutes. Finally, he smiled and shrugged. “Nothing to do about it except wait and see. That hobgoblin is dead and I'm betting that means no more of those bugbears for the time being,” A nod from Elarr confirmed this. “We can get the militia and run down the rest of those cave rats without too much trouble. That is what we were suppose to do. Besides, I frankly would not want to travel with you if you were carrying that creepy orb around.”

“Even more reason for me to regret its destruction,” Elarr said with a tired voice. Fland only laughed.

All the News

So I have a few little bits of news to update those that follow along. Its been a very, very, VERY busy few weeks for me. I had hoped to have a few more things up this month, but while time is infinite, I am highly finite. Still, much has been done and will be done yet.

The first is that I am trying to get published again. I really meant to update on this one sooner, but was to busy doing the writing. This time in an anthology of geeky erotica called Geek Love. I have written erotica in the past, but generally keep that separate from my other writing. Since I'm hoping it may be my first published work, I thought it warranted a mention here. 

The story itself is about a researcher that develops robotic hands that can be controlled with a neurolink. Of course, sometimes we want things that we are not willing to say out loud...and that can have interesting results when there is a swarm of cybernetic appendages that will act out your true will. 

I have to offer a very special thanks to my supporters that helped me focused and did proof reading for me. If you are interested, here is the link to the Kickstarter. Sign up for print please. If they get pledges for 500 print copies they will add 100 pages, which helps increase the likely hood that I will be selected. 

The next big news is that I will be trying to write an entire 50,000 word novel in November for National Novel Writing Month! Obviously that is going to be a major time drain. Expect some updates and excerpts here during that time. I will be doing the outline in October, but right now I am trying to settle on what to write. 

I have a few ideas bouncing around. For a while I was thinking of doing an urban fantasy novel about a werewolf that I've had in my head for a while. I am not very familiar with that genre though, so I'm thinking I might be ahead to wait on it. I really should read some of those Anita Blake novels. Another big idea was to actually write a book about an EMT. I've wanted to do one of those. Most recently though, is an idea of writing a novel about Fland and Elarr. I'm certain that a few of their fans would be happy with that.

Speaking of Fland and Elarr, I plan to have the final chapter in Depths of Despair up by the end of this month if it kills me (and it just might). I had planned to follow with a few periodic shorts about them while focusing in on a few new stories. However, if they are selected to be my focus for National Novel Writing Month, those ideas will likely be merged with the forth coming story.

Finally, a little note on what is to come in the future. The next big story I plan to do will be of the Superhero genre. I have several to introduce, but the one that will have a big story arc is Night Raider (though the name is still subject to change). He is a police officer that is forced to become a vigilante after being framed by some corrupt officers. 

Character Overview: Fland

For those of you that have been following my story, The Depths of Despair, Fland should be quite familiar. I have had a few people comment on how they have found him interesting. With that in mind, I thought he would be a good start for a segment on the characters I create.

The idea for Fland originates several years back when I was creating a D&D character. I had found a rather fun feat that would let a character wielding two light maces make extra attacks if he scored a critical hit. I realized that for a ranger it was pretty easy to get that fighting style early on. I started building the character so that he could really get mileage out of his fighting style. Light maces are low on damage, but with this feat I could build up a character that was very dexterous and make a lot of attacks. Sometimes quantity out wins over quality.

This of course led to Fland's signature fighting style. I always try to describe him as making rapid attacks, usually in pairs. I want readers to see him as making half-a-dozen rapid attacks before the enemy can react. I've always liked watching baton twirling, and that really impacts the descriptions of his battles. He twirls and rolls the maces, hitting once then spinning it in his hand to make another.

I knew that when I created Fland, I wanted him to be a very archetypal ranger and adventure. He needed to be good at all of those key skills. He can climb and jump with the best of them. Tracking a squirl in the forest is no big deal to him. Social charm and lore, however, are not his strong suits. He is direct and only knows what is in his area of expertise. This leaves him with weaknesses. Every good character needs to be bad at something.

The desire to have him be a ranger's ranger also helped to flesh out his look. A suit of brown leather armor so that he is mobile. A green clock to blend in with the forest. I have not really given a good description of him beyond that yet. So far, I personally have pictured him with mid length hair. Dashing, but not long enough for someone to easily grab in a fight. The rough face of a seasoned warrior, with an every present cocky smile.

Fland's personality was only partially formed when I started writing. All I had to begin with was this idea that he was at heart an adventure. What is an adventurer? Well, they are brave and driven. This is a guy that is smiling after a fight. He is a bit of a jackass. He's good and he knows it. That is what the first scene shows. However, as things go on, it becomes clear that he is a professional as well. He is going to meet his goals. Of course, not being well versed in lore and more than a bit impatient means that he is going to take the most direct rout, even if it is not a good idea.

Now, the final fun thing to know about Fland is his name. Originally it was going to be Flann. Its a medieval Irish name that I picked out of a book. Apparently I miss-typed it in the very first sentence (first word in fact). Now, that is the kind of touch that really adds some personality.

The Depths of Despair Part 5: Facing Fear

Fland watched as his death approached. Paralyzed with fear, there was no course of action that could save him from his inevitable and gruesome fate. He would have made any bargain, agreed to any devil's deal to be freed from his living nightmare.

As one of the bugbears prepared to deliver the deathblow, flames that bared his escape burst into the room. Materializing out of thin air, as though birthed from the sputtering flames stood a grim elf. Fland's attention was turned to the newcomer along with the goblinkin. With a sharp thrust of both hands, the elf sent the bugbears and their master flying back across the room.

Fland realized now that his fate would be doomed down another path. To many times now he had angered the elf mage. Elarr would not rescue him. Instead he would meet out a dire punishment to insure Fland's slow death. He closed his eyes as Elarr started a spell, preparing for his end...only to have his mind suddenly clear.

It took Fland's mind a moment to adjust. After a heartbeat his mind was able to put together what had happened, and what was now going to happen. As his senses refocused the first thing he noticed was Elarr's voice, “-thrice damned fool! Now do something useful. We have to get the hobgoblin away from that orb.”

Fland did not need any encouragement. The bugbears and their master were already back on their feet. One had both of its meaty hands wrapped around a primitive stone ax while the other held two crude swords. The one with the ax was the first to charge and Fland stepped forward to meet it. He ducked low so that the powerful swing. He came up and bashed both maces into the bugbear's side. On a human or elf he would have felt the satisfying crunch of shattered ribs. Instead, it was the sensation of a dull thud. This was not going to be a fun fight.

Evading a counter attack by the ax wielding bugbear, Fland found himself facing the second one wielding two swords. The blood on his face indicated that this was the bugbear that Fland had smashed in his surprise attack. As it lashed out with one sword it opened its maw to roar at him. The bugbear's lower mandible split down the middle, revealing a line of sharp teeth to tear meat off and pull it down fanged gullet. It was enough to chill Fland to his core and make him wounder if he had fallen back into some kind of nightmare realm.

Fland was throne into a rapid dance of dodging and deflecting attacks. The bugbears were raw power, but their swings were wild and unskilled. Any blow from that ax or a sword would have been his end. He preferred not to contemplate what his fate would be if either of the slavering, flesh rending mouths was able to bite down on him. His maces lacked power, but moved like lighting as they knocked attacks out of the way. He would riposte with a quick strike of his maces to bludgeon arms and legs. Multiple blows were adding up and he could tell that he was wearing down the bugbears' endurance.

Unfortunately, he was not battering down their defenses fast enough. They only needed one good shot to hack him to pieces. Time was not on his side. While they might not be geniuses, the bugbears knew to flank an outnumbered opponent. Fland was pinned in with only seconds to live. Did he want to let the ax cleave the back of his skull or take a sword through the gut?

Time was about to run out and the ax was closing in on his head while he smashed his maces into the other bugbear's abdomen. A bright blue light lanced across the room to strike the ax wielder and send him to the floor in a howl of pain. Fland was going to shout at Elarr to hurry up with the next blast only to watch as a ball of dark energy collided with his partner. Elarr screamed as he dropped to the floor as black energy coursed along his body.

Fland cursed himself for not paying more attention to the spellcaster. Glancing to where hobgoblin stood, Fland saw that the twisted creature had one hand on the dark orb while the other crackled with foul energy. A hand of energy that was now pointed at Fland.

A line of black energy cut the air where only a heartbeat before Fland had stood. The sword wielding bugbear did not seem to care that he had nearly been caught in the dark slash as well and pressed the attack. Fland stepped into the the bugbear's reach as the next line of energy shot towards them, using it as cover. Before blade or fang could close on him, the beam of energy burned into the bugbear's side. The bugbear staggered, giving Fland the opening he needed.

CRA-CRACK. CRA-CRACK.

He rained blows down in rapid succession until he had cracked open the bugbear's skull and turned it into a bloody mess. Before the corpse could hit the floor, Fland was sprinting across the floor toward the black hobgoblin. He ducked under one slash of energy then leaped high over another. The tension that had been building deep inside of him since entering the cursed warren had reached its peak. He let out a cry of rage as he slammed his maces down at the spellcaster only to have them stopped by a barrier of black energy.

The fight was in close now. The short, but vicious creature snarled at him as it tried to cut him in half with the slashes of black energy. Fland dodged and whirled his maces to drum against the black barrier. He could not batter his way through the ward, but the hobgoblin could not gather enough energy for an effective attack. They were locked in a stalemate until one could figure out a way to attack the other.

Behind him, Fland heard a comotion. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw that he was not the only one hard pressed. The ax wielding bugbear had regained his feet, and one of his fallen partner's swords and was trying to hack Elarr to pieces where he lay on the floor. A glowing circle of runs hovered in the air forming a shield for the prone elf. Fland knew the barrier would eventually collapsed and that maintaining it meant Elarr could not focus to make another attack.

Fland was tired, frustrated, and now desperate. He pounded on the barrier to keep the hobgoblin busy while he racked his brain for a plan. He looked down to the orb where the hobgoblin's hand rested on the orb. Did the barrier extend to the orb? Fland feigned to the left then sidestepped to the right. He raised up both maces then brought them down in a powerful arc towards the evil orb at the center of his troubles.

From across the room where he fought desperately for his life, Elarr saw what was about to happen. He managed to croke out a weak, “No,” but it was to late.

CRASH!

The Depths of Despair Part 4: The Heart of Fear

 There were many sights that Fland wished that he had not been witness too. He had watched comrades die in battle. He had seen the boddies of men that were tortured to death. He had even seen a man futily tried to put his own bowls back in after being gored by a boar. What he saw now, though, would easily rank at the top of things he would rather forget.

Goblin were strewn about a small cavern writhering in pain. Their flesh looked melted and many bore open wounds where the skin had burst open. They were all greatly mishapen, their bodies growing bloated in what seemed to be an inconsistent manner. Some looked taller while others had one or two limbs stretched out. Most had swollen heads and their bottom jaw had split down the middle. Their skin looked like melted candle wax, excpet where tuffs of fur had sprouted.

Despite rolling on the ground and obviously wailing in pain, no sound entered the tunnel where Fland and Elarr stood. While Fland felt no need to hear cries of pain, the silence made things that much more errie.

"Silence wards up ahead, four around of the tunnel," Elarr said in a cold whisper. Fland glanced around and could indeed pick out four sigils scratched into the stone.

"Whoever is in charge probably doesn't want to spook away the rest of the tribe," Fland responded, "Goblins are calous to one another and like torture, but I don't see them wanting to stick around if they think they are the next one in here."

"Indeed," Elarr said, "However...I think these are likely volunteers, though they may not have realized what they were getting into. I must have a look at the process.”

“Fine,” Fland said as he creeped forward t move past the silence runes, “but make it fast, those guards have probably found the ones we kiled by now.”

Stepping past the runes was an assault on the sences. The air suddenly came allowed with the sound of a dozen wailing and moaning goblins. The ward had apparently blocked more than just sound, Fland also found a thick scent of putrid flesh filled his nostrils. It hit him so suddenly that he nearly retched. In addition to the noise of the twisted goblins, Fland also faintly heard chanting coming from around corner up ahead. Stepping over a curled up goblin, Fland slyly checked around the coner. Even with the invisibilty, instinct told him to seek cover when spying. What he saw was just another horror in the long list of abominations he had witnessed since waking that morning.

Around the conrer was a chamber with a pit at its center. The pit was filled with a foul, bubling green liquid. Suspended above the liquid on a crucifix was a naked goblin with bloody runes cut into its body. Any time a drop of blood dripped down into the pit a flash of smoke would billow out. The goblin’s screams blended in with the pained moans of those that must have gone before it. The chanting came from a cloaked figure standing near the pit. As the incanter spoke, it slowly ran its hands over the surface of a black orb that seemed to glow from within with a malignant energy. Fland had a feeling deep in his core that the orb was the source of unease that had been eating away at his resolve. The only other creatures in the chamber was another pair of burly bugbears working a winch to lower the desecrated goblin into the pit.

This was the center of it all, where the coruption was pouring out into the world. This vile chamber was leaking out its evil magic to pervert the land. It was why cave felt so unatural and the forest was becoming twisted. Deep in his bones, Fland was certain that the orb was the key to it all.

Fland crept forward, intent onf finding a better position. He knew Elarr would have counciled waiting, but the opportunity to end all of this in one swift action was not to be missed. He gripped his maces tighter as he tensed for the attack.

A flash of fire out of the corner of his eye was the only warning Fland had. He threw himself forward and went into a roll. That was all that saved him as a web of flames sprung up where he had been only a moment before. A slower man, or goblin, would have found burning lines of fire criss-crossing their body. Fland could almost hear the epitats that Elarr would be hurling at him later for setting off the trap.

Fland came up from the roll on his feet, still moving forward. With the fire web trapping him in the room with at least three enemies, he needed to even the odds desperately. The activation of the trap had turned all eyes towards him. The invisibility spell was fading away from his sudden burst of movement. That was still enough suprise for him though. He lept up so that he could bring both maces down with more force on the nearest bugbear. They made a loud cracking noise, but the creature still stood, though stunned from both the twin blows to the head and the unexpected attack.

Fland delivered a solid kick to the massive creature's abdomen and sent it realing backwards where it colided with the other bugbear.

With the two brutes tangled with eachother, Fland turned to the spellcaster, wanting to take him out of the fight fast. Now facing eachother, this was Fland's first chance to get a real look at the one he determined must be at the center of this abomination. At first he thought it was just another goblin, but that was not right. It was taller, lankier. Its head seemed elogated, almost conical. More than anything though, was the wicked intelligence behind its eyes. This was not some dimwitted and cowardly goblin.

He charged forward, covering the distance swiftly. The creature only grinnned with its mouth full of razor teeth. Fland had a bad feeling about that grin, but attack was his only option. When he was only a few strides away, the creature pointed its hand at him. All of the dread of the forsaken goblin warren were suddenly compressed on Fland.

Fland screamed in utter terror as pure, unadultered fear flooded his mind. The creature before him was the thing of nightmares. Here he was, trapped in a cave with it, no way to escape, no where to run. He looked about in panic for any place to escape. He backed away, shoutting at the monster to keep back. Then he looked over and saw the bugbears. They were huge and impossing. How could he have possibly have thought to fight such demons? He backed into a corner and cowered, knowing that surely these were his last moments before his heart exploded in his chest from the mind numbing fear.  

Depths of Despair Part 3: Passing the Guards

Fland and Elarr were quick to make their way back up the tunnel and to relative safety. They put enough distance between them and the cavern that they could talk louder than a hushed whisper.

"So now I take it that you want to head back to the surface," Fland said.

"No, not yet," Elarr responded, "I still would like to try down that other corridor first."

Fland raised an eyebrow in suprise, "I thought being reckless was my job. Im pretty sure that tunnel branch snakes down and comes out near that creepy place towards the back. I couldn't tell for sure from our angle, but it looked like there was a tunnel coming out near it."

"Agreed. I noticed that as well and I'm hoping that is the case," Elarr said as he tapped the crystalin orb of his short staff lightly against his chin. "I want to know what is in there for certain. It is something vile and dangerous, of that I am certain. I would rather not leave it a mystery for long."

Fland turned from Elarr to lead back up the tunnel to the branch they had passed by earlier. "That is fine by me, but getting to it is the trick. It is set far enough away and it looked like there was enough stuff to block the view of it from most of the main camp, but I can't see taking those guards out without alerting the rest of the hoard."

"Leave that to me."

Only a few minutes later, Fland was leading the way down the other tunnel branch. As predicted it soon started a steep incline and hooked around towards the large cavern. Caughtiously, they approached the mouth of the tunnel and peered out from around the corner. Indeed, there was little chance of the main camp seeing them approach the eerie crag, but the two guards would see them plainly.

Elarr tugged Fland back a few steps. "Keep close and stay silent. I can hide us from sight, but we'll still be audible. Don't make any suddent moves, like swinging those clubs about. The spell will not be able to keep up and will break. Do not get more than two steps from me either the magic will be stretched to thin to work."

Fland nodded at all of this, though he took slight offense at his maces being religated to the status of simple clubs. Afterall, they were well balanced and finely crafted weapons.

A few arcane words and a quick gesture was all it took for the pair to fade from view. Fland spent a moment trying to look at his own hand. It was quite disorienting to not be able to look down and see where his feet were on the ground or his body in relation to the wall. It was hard not to jump when he felt Elarr's hand grope his arm and take a light grip.

After getting his barrings, Fland led the way down the tunnel. Elarr, who had practice being invisible, kept up with Fland, even avoiding bumping into him when he came to paused at the mouth of the tunnel. They crossed the cave like ghosts, drawing nearer to the bone decorated entrance. With each step closer, the evil spector that seemed to hang over them grew stronger. Fland could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise up. Even in a place that was inherently eerie and evil, something far more vile must be waiting for them through that portal. That is what a finely honed danger sense told Fland and he did not doubt it.

Fland watched the guards intently for any sign that they noticed the approaching pair. It was also a chance for him to get a real clear look at them. They were as tall as him with muscular builds, though there seemed to be slight deformities and the muscles did not apear asymetrical from one side of the body to the other. Their heads had an ursine shape. It was like someone had grown a goblin to his size then sowed a bear's head on the body. Bugbears. Fland had heard of the beasts, but never encountered them. Nothing he had heard made him want to scrap with them though, for they were said to be as viscious as goblins were cowardly.

Each step brought them nearer to the cave and the bugbears, and with it the unnerving feeling that haunted them. However, that seemed to double instantly once Fland stepped within five feet of the bugbears. He felt a sudden streak of fear run though his body. Something about the unatural creatures left his muscles shaking. He was prepared for this though, the lore he had been taught said that the creatures had an aura of fear about them. Of course, he had prayed that was just myth.

Almost ready to step through the bone decorated cave to the next chamber, Fland paused when he heard one of hte bugbear's sniff the air. His heart felt like it might stop at any moment. Slowly cranking his head to the right he saw that guard had raises his nose to test the air. His hands tighted on the light maces, preparing to make a quick strike to gain the upper hand.

"You smells somethin'," the guard asked. Fland was glad that he had learned a small bit of the goblin tongue.

"No, can't smells not'in'," the second replied in a congested voice. The guard snorted then spit a thick glob of phlem on the floor

Fland wished he could let out a sigh of relief as he started forward again. Once they were moving down the new tunnel, it was Elarr whispered, "I felt you tense and thought for sure you going to attack."

"Frankly I was," Fland replied as he continued towards the bend in the tunnel, "but even I try not-Gods have mercy!" Flands thought was cut off as he edged around the bend and saw what it was the goblins had hid away in their accursed warren.  

Reaping

Collin watched as the man rained one kick after another onto the prone boy. He had been watching the man beat his son for almost ten minutes now. The fat, slovenly abuser had broken the nine yearold's body within the first few minutes, but his rage would not be aswaid. The boy had given up begging, now just hoping to be rendered unconscious. Collin knew that soon the boy would receive his wish, he would be unconscious forever.

That was why Collin was there, a silent observer to the horrific scene. He was assigned to reap the boy's soul at the appointed time. Today, Jimmy Henson of Whitehall Kentucky would die at eleven twenty-two pm, local time. It would be in the form of a brutal kick to the head from his father that snaps his neck, killing him instantaneously.

Collin was regretting ariving so early. He could do without watching all of this as a silent, impotent observer. He stood back in the shadows with his dark robe blending in. This was not necisary, he could not bee seen by the living. His pale hand gripped his scythe painfully hard. He wanted nothing more than to slash through the man, pulling him violently into the afterworld. The man was cruel and evil. Nothing would have been more just than to drag his soul through the Hell Gates. He could not though. As a reaper, he was forbiden to take anyone before their time. His only job was to take souls to their finall rest, justice was decided by other powers.

As the boy coughed up another mouthfull of blood, another figure entered the room. Collin glanced over to see Agnus pass through the wall. She took short, measured steps that brought her to stand beside Collin. She was dressed the same as him, in flowing black robes. A skullmask hung from her rope belt. While Collins was etched in runes and gave a grim vissage, Agnus's was smooth and plain with a tranquil look. Only two crossed glyphs on the cheeks adorned it. Her scythe blade was thin and precicse like a surgeon's scalpel topping a slender shaft of mahogany.

Silently, Agnus moved to stand beside Collin. She let her scythe rest in the crook over her arm while she folded her pale hands into the sleeves of her robe. After a moment, it was Collin that broke the silence.

"What brings you here?" he asked. He voice gruff, the violent scene putting him in a foul mood.

Agnus held up her own sheet of parchment as she explained, "The man will be dying soon. The police will kick in the door and shoot him three times. Unfortunately, it seems they will arrive to late." She tilted her head to indicate the unfortunate fate of the boy.

"It's a pitty we can't just reap him first, though I think by now it is to late for the boy in anycase," Collin responded. His eyes flared a bit at the thought of dragging the abusive father to the afterlife that he deserved.

Agnus's lips pursed tightly in a frown before she said, "Be careful with such talk Collin. You know that we can only reap in the assigned order. This is as horrific as anything, but the boy's fate is locked."

"I know the laws," Collin said tightly. Then he added in a lighter tone, "That does not mean I have to like them."

"No, no you don't," Agnus added sympatheticly. She looked away slightly as one of the boy's legs made a splintering sound. "I hate reapings like this. I like the quite ones that pass in the night or when it brings relief from suffering."

"You are good with children though," Collin noted, then paused, "We could trade assignments?"

Agnus did not hesitate, holding out her scroll to him, "Done." After another hard kick, she added, "Take him the hard way."

"I intend to," Collin said firmly.

The pair watched the beating continue for another minute until it was time to reap the boy. Agnus solumnly approached the boy from the side that was not being kicked and knelt beside him. At the appointed time she reached forward and gently touched the boy on the shoulder.

Jimmy sat up, looking around confused. He was like a young pup openning its eyes for the first time, seeing the world in a hazy light. Tentatively he asked, "Wh-what is going on?"

Smiling softly at him, Agnus said in a soft voice, "You are going to a better place Jimmy. I'm here to take you away to a place where you will not feel pain or fear."

"Will mamma be there?"

"Yes Jimmy, she is waiting for you," Agnus said. She offered Jimmy a her hand and helped him to his feet. She guided him to step out of his body and led him toward a wall. Agnus knocked once and a door appeared. When she pulled it open, brilliant white light shown through, illuminating everything save the shadows that surrounded her and Collin. Jimmy squinted as he was led through the door. As soon as they were through, the door closed and dissapeared.

Collin stood alone in the room once more. He watched as the man beat the body of his now dead son, appearing to have not even noticed that he was brualizing only a corpse. Collin lifted his hourglass and held it before him so that he precieved the man through it. He watched the sand fall, rapidly emptying. The man had little time left. Each grain of sand another second off of his life.

Grimly, Collin put away the hourglass as it drew near empty. He took his mask from his belt. With solumn determination he placed it on his face. The white mask adhered to his face, binding to him completely, body and soul. No longer was he Collin, he was now Death personified. The mask had transformed him. Gone were the trappings of moral flesh. Hidden deep in the shadows of his obsidian robe was a skeleton with bleached bones.

He gripped his scythe in both hands and approached his target. As he did he could hear the sound of shouting and boots outside the door to the room. As he raised the scythe a police officer kicked in the door with a shout. As he prepared his strike the officers surveyed the room and saw the tortured body of poor, departed Jimmey. The man shouted curses at the police officers as they shouted at him to stand down. The man reached for a knife on his belt and the officers opened fire.

Death struck.

Death swung the scythe in a powerful arc that cleaved the man from shoulder to hip. As the body felt forward to lie on a pull of blood, the man felt backwards in two pieces. His screams echoed through the room as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He looked up to to see Death looking down on him and began to realized what was happening.

"No, noooo! I can't die. Please!" the man begged in terror. Were he capable he would have fouled himself. "I'll do anything. Just let me live a little longer. Whatever you want, its yours!"

Death ignored his pleas and pointed, first at the man, then at the floor. He waited a moment, watching as dawning crossed the man's face, as it sunk in what Death meant. Death took his scythe up again even as the man renewed his pathetic begging. Death slashed down, this time at the floor.

Where the scythe raked the floor it parted in a widening fissure. Floor boards broke and curled away. They pulled back to reveal a gapping casm. Fiendish light issued up from the pit, casting eerie shadows that danced about.

Death reached down for the man who tried to writhe away. It was no use though, and the frigid, skeletal hand of death grabbed the man's hair. Death drug the man across the floor even as he tried to claw at the boards to delay the inevitable. Death drug him into the fisher and down a flight of crudely carved stairs.

The man's body bounced along each step on the narrow staircase. To either side was an impossibly long fall that ended in a lake of fire. The cries of tortured souls and the laughter of demons filled the air in a madening cacophony.

After what felt like an agonizing eternity for the man, Death came to a stop before a colossal gate. The arch was made of mortored skulls while the doors were a pair of massive iron gates. Death forced the man's head around and pointed up to the top of the gate where something had been inscribed in the primal tongue.

While the alphabet was unfamiliar to the man and the language was unknown, he was still able to read it. It was a message that made itself clear to all, to let them know uniquivecly what their fate was to be.

ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE

"No no no no NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!" the man screamed, but it fell on deaf ears. Death dragged him forward as the gates opened. Once through, they slammed shut to seal the man's fate.