|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 5:42 pm
Siegell swung his glaive across his body as a bewitched bandit ran at him. With a spray of blood, the man fell to the ground and spread in the snow a crimson stain radiating outward from his neck. Siegell never stopped his relentless march toward the copse ahead of him, his long fur coat dragging in the snow as his shield shone in the bright sunlight reflecting off the fresh snow.
Shastah was somewhere behind him, locked in combat with a pair of bewitched tiger laguz. He could barely hear their muffled yelps and snarls as they attacked and were repelled by the mighty wyvern's claws and club tail. Of this, he was glad.
Siegell kept marching on toward the copse. A few more bandits rushed out to meet him, and his weapon flashed back and forth through the air, delivering lethal blows. He held it in one hand, wearing a shield on his left arm. A hand axe flew at his head from within the trees; he canted his head aside to dodge it, then suddenly broke into a run. As the axe came back around, he smacked it out of the air with his glaive and dashed into the trees. As he sprinted along the rough and recently-forged path, Siegell was aware of the dead eyes of bewitched children on all sides, watching him and yet not seeing him run past.
He could feel the blood pounding in his neck as he ran. He couldn't see into the middle of the small, but dense forest, but he knew that's where his target would be... He wished he could listen to see exactly where he had to go, but it was too risky to remove his ear plugs, even for a second.
Siegell's eyes narrowed as he leapt over a fallen tree and ran to the lip of a ravine.
At the bottom stood a small, hunchbacked bard with a flute, playing his song and glaring at Siegell, whose white and gold outfit seemed to radiate its own light, with infinite hatred. He was surrounded by several gruff-looking bandits who stood staring ahead like zombies, holding their axes and swords limp at their sides.
On the other lip of the ravine, all the silent children of Hamelin were gathering, their eyes blank and their stares dead, to watch this strange man garbed in white.
Siegell made no speech. He looked at the bandits guarding the Pied Piper, then stepped forward and crouched as he slid down into the ravine, raising his shield in front of himself and his glaive above his head.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 6:48 pm
His children... his beloved, beloved children. All of them, taken under his wing, doing as he bade like the good children they were and working to defend him until death did them part- they were very reliable pieces of himself, so to speak. And very, very obedient. So very obedient, in fact, that he had never had one turn against him. Whereas many parents complained and lamented the rebellious natures of their nestlings, here he was, sitting with his flute to his lips while his beloved children never so much as budged without his permission.
Having a spell that would enrapture their hearts, minds, and sense of self didn't hurt matters. With his lips on the cold wood of his panpipes, he did not breathe- though he was sorely tempted to attempt to make this man one of his own, there was no point in just... doing it. Not so hastily. Not so quickly. He wanted to savor it, watch the man's face contort into various expressions from his words before his music took the man over the edge, into the realm of a blissful nonexistence. He would watch the man lose control over himself, and he, the Piper, would watch with unparalleled glee as he got himself a new toy.
Realizing what he was thinking, the man leaned his chin on his hand, and moved the pipe away. Freud would have had a field day with his thoughts, and they really weren't all that bad to begin with.
"Into the woods, the chipmunk runs, unaware that wolves hide alongside the acorns he seeks. What are you searching for, here in this forest, sir warrior of white? What do you hope to find, searching around my domain?" Standing up, he started as if shocked, putting his hands up to his cheeks and feigning surprise.
"But my, where are my manners? A piper stands in your midst, good sir, merely a piper." He swept into a deep bow, then moved his arms out wide in an arc, motioning to all of the other pairs of eyes that stared at them from the woods.
All around Siegell, disheveled children brought the treasures of their former homes, and bandits stood around the Piper's back, seemingly in a trance with empty eyes. And yet, those axes were ready, despite how their breathing was almost as if in a state of sleep. Swords, too, were in hand, but they did not move a single muscle without the Piper's bidding. When he bowed again, they all bowed in turn- children, bandits, and all.
"And these... these are my children."
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 7:16 pm
Siegell didn't seem to pay attention to one bit of the flowery language. He continued sliding down the ravine, and as the Maestro spoke to him, he moved forward. As they all bowed...
Siegell rushed forward and whipped his glaive up and around, cleaving open the nearest bandit's face. He pulled it back as the other bandits immediately rushed to attack at the Maestro's command. His shield swung up to catch an axe blow as a myrmidon's sword was parried aside by Siegell's axereaver, which thrust forward and then pulled aside, slicing through much of the young man's stomach. Blood gushed onto the fresh white snow and bubbled up through the dead man's mouth as he collapsed.
Siegell spun, deflecting another hand axe into a tree before bringing his glaive straight down and opening up its wielder from neck to groin. His shield turned away the axe on his left again, then swung up and bashed the offender in the face. He fell back with a broken nose, and with a deft spin Siegell removed his lower jaw and most of his neck with his glaive. He was like a bolt of icy-white lightning among these lumbering amateurs, already several feet away by the time the axeman's face and neck released a burst of blood into the air.
Carnage followed Siegell's gracefully spinning blade, and yet it seemed that nary a fleck of red could stain his person. A female myrmidon rushed at him from the front, a burly axeman from behind. Siegell's weapon whipped around across his chest and ripped the myrmidon open from shoulder to hip. She stumbled and fell, skidding in the snow on her face. Siegell whipped his blade in a vertical circle in front of himself, severing her spine, then he tossed it upward and grabbed the very end of the shaft before letting the blade fall over his shoulder, where the axeman coming at him from behind impaled his own neck on the blade.
Siegell pulled his weapon forward, out of the man's flesh, and swept it out to the side as he bowed to the piper, standing among the corpses of what had previously been the piper's guards.
"I am Siegell Mersetag," he said as he stood, and with a deft and fluid motion he pulled the hand axe from the tree it had lodged itself in and threw it. It struck the pipe out of the piper's hand and carried it into the snow several yards away.
Siegell reached up and at last removed his blasted earplugs. "Sorry, I couldn't hear a thing. What were you saying?"
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 7:43 pm
Well, that wasn't good. No, it certainly wasn't. Things weren't supposed to turn out this way, no- his beloved children were not supposed to have their skulls crunched open like clam shells or hear their bones give way like a nut before a hammer. Stunned momentarily by the acrid stench of blood and the sight of his loved ones having to clutch their intestines in their hands to prevent them from hitting the cold ground, it took him a minute to rush into action. Despite seeing them fall, the loss was oddly numbing, and the Piper lifted his hands and spread his fingers, feeling the presence of each of his children as he moved forward, his left hand moving quickly while his right held the pipe to his lips and let out the first whistling trills.
The little ones moved forward with the ferocity of wildcats, with his beloved warriors moving forward to swing their blades towards their new guest. Well, if he didn't want to come to him whole and intact, he'd simply have his beloved children... break him in. Get him used to the rough treatment. After all, if he couldn't get used to having a few hard objects rammed into his body, then he wasn't going to be sturdy enough to be a guard, to begin with.
After all, all of his guards had fairly high defensive capabilities to let them take a blow from an axe or two. But this was overkill- even they couldn't take it when the warrior in white moved forward, thrusting with deadly force and impaling them without warning. There was no finesse, there- Siegell knew what he wanted to do, and set about doing so in the shortest amount of time. No consideration for the other party at all- to the wyvern lord, it was all about self gratification, and little else.
Though he twisted his wrist and flexed his fingers, he could not get his beauties to do what he truly wanted- to see this man on the ground, writhing with no sense of self-control as he, the Piper, asserted himself as lord and master. He would see the other man beg, plead for mercy from his strength! It was inconceivable that the rider would instead be flaying all of his warriors alive as if they were nothing but stupid, squealing game. He watched one of his women be slain, her corpse lightly steaming and twitching as her body convulsed and stained the snow beneath her. The steel was still in her body- still cold, and unrelenting- before Siegell had taken his blade and smashed it through his last axeman's neck.
"What are--? Hm. You're strong- and a fit, fine specimen. Why not join my ranks as one of my...?"
But upon hearing the man's introduction, he let out a harsh cry as his wrist snapped back unnaturally, displaced as the speeding axe caught his pipes and tossed them away, leaving him exposed. Stepping back, he tried to catch his breath and form words as he saw the other man's hands move up, cupping his head before removing two objects. It took him a moment to realize what had happened.
"...Earplugs?! ...Well, it's little wonder my music didn't tame you, then. Why not... why not help me? All that I've adorned myself with are gifts from my dear children. Why not wallow in the riches with me, adorn every inch of your body with silver and gold?" His voice shook, but he still made an attempt to move back, twitching his fingers just enough to illicit a very mild reaction from his children. The smallest of them moved, but not nearly close enough to provide him with shelter.
"I can promise you riches. Pleasure. Anything you desire!"
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 8:51 pm
Siegell stood, tapping his chin thoughtfully. There was simply no way this odd little man was going to send the children at him after seeing him slaughter all the bandits so easily. He whipped his blade back and forth over his shoulder, too wary to move in just yet. As far as he knew, this disgusting little man could still have some tricks up his sleeve.
"It's tempting... I'm certain what you have here is certainly more than I'm getting paid to kill you.." His eyes slid upward to the stony-faced children, flitting from one to the next, and he smirked a little.
Brainwashed children were the best kind.
Except maybe dead ones.
Slowly, Siegell paced around, running his finger up his mask as he slowly made his way closer, oh so slowly, pacing in a circle around the ugly little man. He nonchalantly stepped over the steaming corpse of an axeman, slowly turning his weapon in his hand as he walked through the snow. He saw some fingers twitching on one of the bandits who hadn't finished dying; he promptly sliced them off. That would be the end of that.
"It certainly is tempting... but at the same time..." Siegell flashed the piper a smile that, while it was neither wicked nor insidious, was nonetheless extremely disturbing. "At the same time, you're an ugly, misshapen little man who can't seem to distinguish a mercenary from a petty bandit. I only work for pretty people." His eyes narrowed to slits as his grin widened.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2008 4:35 pm
"Of course, sir, but of course! Gold, silver, and jewels, family heirlooms, crests, you name it. I dare say, I never would have suspected you're being... paid, of all things!" Despite himself, the Piper's eyes kept turning to his beloved panpipes, and wishing he could only grab them without this particularly malicious individual reaching him and gutting him like a squirming fish. He could feel a bead of perspiration dripping down his face, leaving a chilled path in its wake as his eyes struggled to stay on Siegell's.
At least he kept looking towards the children. It gave the piper a brief reprieve from those predatory eyes. However, he did not dare move from his spot, tempting though it was to reach out for his magical flute, as the rider paced around him a terrifying beast. He resisted crying out when he reached those trembling stalks of flesh in the snow and cut them loose, the appendages still trembling and shaking while the bodies moaned weakly. They would trouble Siegell no more, it seemed, nor could they protect him.
But when those words fell from the grin of the hostile man, the Piper backed away quickly, away from the wicked, cursed grin of a Cheshire Cat and stuttering as he flailed to get away. Though he felt back against the ground, it wasn't until he ran into the leg of one of the children that he finally allowed himself a shaky, nervous laugh and a smile.
Without a word, his hand reached up, as if asking for assistance in standing... before a gush of flame emerged from his palm, scorching his gloves and making his gold bracelets obscenely hot as he sent the projectile towards his target's masked features. Rolling back, aided by his hunched figure, he rolled between the child's legs and behind her, laughing all the while.
"Ha... hahaha! It appears we all have our vices, then! So be it!" Standing up and pushing the child in the back towards Siegell, the hunched over man ran back towards another- all towards his beloved pipes. Perhaps this man had enough kindness or charity in him to want to spare the so-called beloved children! They were nothing but soulless vessels beneath his spell, but were still sleeping children when the enchantments wore off. Surely this man would not kill them without some sort of weight on his conscience, or at least a moment of hesitation!
And still, he sent another spell of flame towards him. In a land of ice, surely a spout of flame to one's face would surely show the contrast between hot and cold.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2008 6:09 pm
Siegell raised a brow, his grin widening as the horrible little man scrambled away from him. He'd learned a lot of things in his travels, and some of them were downright freaky. Slowly he reached up, and removed his mask, then dropped it to the snowy ground. He stepped over it, and his smile became all that more horrifying. It was normal on his right, but on the left it slanted just a tiny bit down, then up again a bit too sharply, like someone was holding it with a hook. Such a wide grin made the tight-pulled skin on the left side of his face pull at the corners of his left eye, and the absence of the left half of his nose only added to the terror.
"At a loss for words, dear sir?" He stepped closer, turning a bit, regripping his glaive, ready to swing it--
Siegell dove aside suddenly to avoid the unexpected burst of flame that shot from the Maestro's hand. He tucked his body in and rolled, sweeping his glaive out to the side as he continued to roll to his knees, and he slapped the pipes away, off behind himself where the Maestro wouldn't be able to make a grab for them. He quickly moved to his feet, bringing his shield up again, and dashed toward the Maestro with his eyes narrowed.
And then the Maestro pushed one of the children toward him. There was no hesitation, he just kept running. He'd already figured all this out; he might lose a bit of his commission if some kids died, but he could just blame the Maestro, after all... Not as though these children could serve as witnesses. The girl caught (or rather failed to catch) his shield with her face and she went down like a wet sack of cement. Siegell continued straight over her toward the Maestro, and he dove to the side as another burst of flame shot toward him. "Son of a b***h!" Siegell yelled, swinging his lance out and bashing a young boy in the side of the head with the shaft-- the Maestro had pushed him in between himself and Siegell for more protection, but underestimated the mercenary's ruthlessness.
Siegell laughed as he got up, moving toward Maestro and dodging another blast of flame. "Hahaha... Keep that up, and you're going to burn my nice clothes... and then I'm going to have to kill you slowly..."
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 19, 2008 5:04 pm
There was something unnatural about that smile. And far more than its deformed appearance let on, to be sure. No, there was a depravity in that grin that he couldn't place. Surely such a man would not throw away the lives of innocents! A paid man would at least get his pay docked immensely for destroying the investments of their parents, and if pay was all he worked for, then he'd never kill them!
...But as the first girl fell like a sack of potatoes, a small, animalistic cry tore itself from his throat. He'd seen Siegell swat his flute away from him, and knew that there was no way he'd get them back without disposing of the warrior first. Which, as he'd seen, would be far easier said than done. There would be no way he would be able to kill him if he wanted to be able to use him as a doll, and yet there seemed to be no other option.
And yet, those fireballs had been dodged all too easily.
He began to sweat profusely, his skin chilled like marble as he sent out two more tongues of flame- more out of desperation than actual attacks- and aimed a blade of wind to slice at his coat.
"Begone, demon! I've done nothing wrong to you! What do you want from me?!"
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 19, 2008 5:43 pm
Siegell swung his glaive through one fireball, dispersing it as the other harmlessly sailed by. It was the wind that caught him off-guard, and suddenly a light pain stabbed at his side and more importantly, he heard a tearing noise. A hole had been ripped in his coat by the blade of wind, and had barely scratched his skin. He blinked, then looked up and dashed forward. A child staggered into his path to try and stop him and Siegell swung his glaive in fury.
The child's head, left shoulder, and left arm hit the ground well before Siegell ran past his body, which was falling in the other direction. He leapt right over another wind blade and brought his foot down on the hunchback's chest, pinning him to the ground as he brought the razor-sharp blade of his bloodied glaive to the piper's neck.
"I want your flute," he hissed, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Killing you was just part of the contract until you ripped my coat." Slowly, agonizingly slowly, with one foot on his casting hand and the other on his chest, Siegell began to saw his blade back and forth, determined to behead this man slowly.
The piper's screams of agony went on for nearly half an hour before Siegell at last got deep enough to cut the trachea, and it turned into a gurgle, and then silence.
The children remained frozen while Siegell affixed his mask back to his face and cleaned his glaive in the snow. He picked up the pipes and stowed them away inside his coat, then carefully made his way around with a sack, taking the possessions the children had stolen from their parents. He felt he'd earned them today, in addition to the commission he'd receive for bringing the kids back.
He glanced back at the body of the boy in two pieces on the ground. Most of the kids.
After he had stashed the sack of loot in a safe hiding spot and called for Shastah, Siegell was left with the problem of awakening the children. He certainly didn't know how to play the pipes, so he had to wake them up to lead them home.
When the girl he'd knocked out earlier stirred and began to ask where she was, Siegell sighed and went through the camp, rapping each kid on the head sharply enough to rouse them. "Figures it'd be this simple, huh? But he probably has to be dead. Kids, you can help out if you want, I don't feel like waking you all up myself."
As kids always are, they were more than happy to run around punching each other in the heads.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|