• Mature • The Dying of The Light (Graded)

[Kasoria]

15th Trial, Cylus, 706a
South-West outskirts of Middlecleft
16th Bell

Continued from here





This was every mother's nightmare, and Sandra knew there was no waking from it.

She all but kicked the bedroom door open and sent a couple of eavesdropping miniatures of her husband flying back into the room. Adult and children looked at each other, knowing how things should have gone. She would scold them for being up and out of bed; they would look contrite and try to make excuses. But this was not the usual. This was not their home. It was a strange house that smelled of farm animals and fresh air; far, far removed from the cobbles where they were raised. There was no peace there, no security.

They were children, but they knew when mortal danger had invaded their world. Then Elsie woke up crying, and the spell of silence was broken.

"Boys, come on!" She didn't explain or argue or convince. She knew her tone, her fear, would be all that they needed. And she didn't much care if it wasn't. Right now, they would obey here, damnit. The world would turn as Sandra willed it, for she was not losing her children. "Zila, come here, shh-shh, come here."

She flew across the room, and gathered up her daughter, shushing her at the same time. The doorway darkened and her free hand went to the knife she'd shoved down the back of her skirt, held there by the string over her apron. She'd grabbed it when she left the kitchen, a primal instinct to seek protection, even if it was just a short, sharp knife for cutting vegetables. She felt better with it, and knew she'd need it.

You'll have to kill tonight.

Sandra was amazed at how little that prospect frightened her. Then she felt her daughter's tears soaking into her shoulder, and understood why.

"W-We need to go," Fields ground out, trying and failing to pull the crossbow bolt out of his shoulder. "Come-Come on, backdoor!"

"My husband-"

"Told you to go!" Fields was clearly in no mood to argue, either. Pain probably had a lot to do with that, though. He gave up on the bolt, leaving it slick with his own blood, one whole sleeve dyed red. "He's holding them back, but not forever. Come on, I'm d-done arguing this!"

Then he was gone, trusting her to follow. She did, shooing the boys ahead of her. The clutch of civilians hurried out into the hallway and Fields waited until he saw them all before drawing his sword with one hand and opening the door with his other.

"A'right, stay close t'me, we're gonna-"

"Eve'nin', wanker!"

Sandra didn't even have time to scream a warning. Fields barely had time to hear the words directed at him before the sword crashed down like a silver bolt from the heavens and caught him at the neck. They'd been waiting out there, cutting off their escape, biding their time. Waiting for the door to open and their prey to come rushing into the trap-

-leaving Fields spluttering and falling to his knees, trying to raise his sword even with another cleaving his shoulder in two. The scarred man in a slouch hat grinned and yanked the weapon free. Blood didn't just flow; it exploded. A fountain of sticky, sickening internal ichor, painting the walls and floor and ceiling. The other man, round cheeks and dimples and a cheery smile pushed Fields backwards with a quick slap to the forehead, then saw the woman-

-and the child-

-oh, especially the darling little girl-

And he smiled. So cheerfully. So merrily. So much so that the shred-faced man to his side was not the primary terror to Sandra in that moment. Simple, barbaric brutality was one thing. But this merry figure reeked of something beyond hideous; beyond the pale of simple violence. He stank of... violation.

"Hello, there," Merry said, smiling warmly at the little girl crying in her mother's arms. "What's your name, little one?"

"G... Go..." Fields tried to speak, even as he drowned on his own blood. The two killers ignored him, stepping into the house and the blood-covered hallway. "Go... NOW!"

Enough breath for one final bellow. Enough strength to reach over with his arm that wasn't cleaved in half-

-grab the crossbow bolt now loosened-

-pull it out and jam it into Venger's foot.

The mercenary howled and hopped and fell back on his arse, surprise doing almost as much damage as the metal. Merry neatly sidestepped the falling man and rolled his eyes. Oh, such a chore, it was. All this fighting business. He reached behind him and pulled a short, spiked mace from where it was hanging off his belt. One tug and it was free, and with an easy swing-

"One moment, ladies."

CRUNCH

-Fields' head was just... gone. Everything north of his jaw vanished with a bone-crunching, skull-splitting sound that made everyone watching flinch. Even the man with a bolt through his fucking foot. Sandra shoved her daughter into Samson's arms before she even knew what was happening. It was all instinct and avenues, now. Pathways that could not be avoided, just walked and suffered. She pulled the knife and shuddered as Merry smiled and made an "ooooooh!" of feminine awe as he twirled his brain-clogged mace.

"Take your brother and sister and go!"

"Go where-"

"Just do it!" She planted herself in the hallway. Holding the knife like she'd seen her husband a sword, and knowing she would likely be dead before she got a chance to do any good with it. "NOW!"

She shrieked the word. She filled it with as much authority as terror could manage, even with tears flowing down her face and into her mouth. Samson started to back away. Zila was reaching out for her, and Sandra forced herself not to look. The thing in front of her wanted her children. Wanted them in ways she would not allow herself to imagine. Not now, when she still had so much more to do.

"Go."

She croaked out the word, as Merry and his leering, hungry lips came closer.

"Mummy loves you. Don't ever forget that."

The mace stopped swinging. The smile stayed, but the eyes went... so cold. Like he'd died right in front of them, and they saw but a shell that still moved. Samson took another step, then grabbed his brother by the collar and bolted back into the bedroom.

"Brave lad," Merry said, and something came back to his face that was not light. Not even close. "So brave."

Sandra screamed and flung herself to her death without hesitation.

[Kasoria]

He hated it when his older brother told him what to do, but right now, Aurus wasn't about to argue. This wasn't like the books and the plays. There the heroes always knew what to do, and even when confronted with evil pure and raging, they just frowned deeper, fought harder, and they prevailed.

They never mentioned pissing yourself at the sight of a man decapitated with a club. They never mentioned seeing your mother go screaming down a hallway to a man you knew would kill her. They never mentioned feeling so helpless, so useless, as if the Fates were holding you down and making you watch it al.

They never mentioned children, forced to be men, for the last few moments of their lives. Because that was what his brother was trying so hard to be. Samson with fifteen arcs old, never even kissed a girl (properly) and only just got his first job as an apprentice... but he had to be a man now. He knew his father and mother were... were...

Gone. They're gone. So it has to be you. Samson fought back the terror and slammed the bedroom door shut behind him. Don't fuck this up. Make them proud.

Aye. That was all he needed. Aurus saw fresh resolve on that sweaty, terrified young face, and he handed their screaming, struggling sister to Aurus and heaved the dresser by the doorway in front of the door. There was a scream behind it. A woman. A laugh followed, belonging to a man.

Crying. Begging. Pleading. Cursing.

Singing.

"As I went down to the river today... studyin' about that good ol' way..."

For some reason, that frightened Aurus more than anything else. That the man who'd just killed his mother, beat her down and ignored her sobbing words as if she were an insect, was now serandaing them. Like he liked them, and wanted them to like him. Samson shook him from his shock, talking over the high, happy vocal music.

"Ari?! Ari, get the window open!"

"And who shall wear, a golden crown? Oh lords, show me the way!"

"Ari, do it now!" Samson went back to the door, facing it... barehanded. He snapped one more time as he looked about for a weapon. "F-Fuck off!"

"Oh! My-my, what a mouth!" A childish giggle oozed through the wood, and then the door opened about as much as it could when blocked. Bright, chipper eyes and a gleaming white smile were pressed against it for a moment. "Huzzah! They showed me the way!"

"G-Go away!"

Samson threw himself at the door and held it closed as best he could. He was a growing lad, and his weight helped. He pushed hard enough to close the gap, gripped the handle and stopped them turning it. More curses and growls behind the door. Aurus could hear heavy footsteps, with a savage curse that would get him beaten spat forth with every step.

Low... soft... crying. His mother was alive. Barely.

"O, brothers, let's go down, let's go down, come on down!"

He set down his sister and unlatched the window. Cold air blasted him in the face as they swung open, freezing the tears resting on them. Samson was still crying and cursing and holding the door closed. Zila wailed and screamed for her mother, not understanding any of this, just wanting to be held.

Come on, be strong for them. Get your sister away.

"Come on brothers, let's go down, down in the river to pray!"

"Fuck you! FUCK YOU!" Samson was crying through the tears and the rage, letting the latter power his shaking body as best it could. "Fuck you, you fucking Morty-lov-"

CRACK

Wood splinted and something Aurus couldn't identify cracked along with it. He'd almost got Zila up in is arms when he whirled around at the sound. Just in time to see the short sword that had been rammed clean through the wood-

-straight into his brother's throat-

-through his spine-

-and out the back of his neck.

Aurus would remember what followed. That handful of thrills where he doomed his sister. Watching his brother freeze for a moment, then slump down and back with his eyes wide, strings to the rest of his body cut the moment that blade cracked his backbone. He was dead before he hit the ground, that single wound ending him in an instant. Aurus watched him fall. Clutching his sister, urine trickling down his legs, back to the window-

The window!

Go!

He turned as two bodies slammed into the door like a single battering ram. The door, the handle, the dresser, all of it was smashed away like kindling. Venger cursed as he fell right back down, sword still stuck through the door, and only using the one foot for now. Merry stayed in the doorway. He smiled with grotesque humor at the boy and girl, tossing the little girl a jaunty, bloody salute with his mace as she stared at him over his shoulder.

"Hello, wee one!" He called out to her, taking his time as the boy tried vainly to clamber up to the window with his arms full. Good, solid crack to the leg would put him down, which would take care of both. Then he could have his fun. "Oh, there's no need to cry. No-no-no, we'll be the best of-"

"Oh, fuck this!"

"Wh-NO!"

Merry knew what Venger was about to do. The scarred man was never one to let his anger simmer down before acting on it. Being wounded and angry just made him a forest fire with plenty of acreage left to burn, and now he could see two saplings in desperate need of ashing. Merry reached out with his free hand and cursed himself later for not just braining the ugly idiot. But that didn't ocur to him back then. All he could do was cry out as Venger surged up and forward with one foot under him, long, double-edged dagger pulled from its sheath as-

-Aurus turned around, hoping to beg and plead with his sister held close to his chest-

SHUCK

He felt the blade in him. The brief, burning whiteness of it. The way it seemed to destroy every other feeling. But it didn't make sense. The pain was in... yes, high in his chest. But that couldn't be. Because his sister was there, wasn't she? Yes. She was there. Pressed tight but now rearing back and-

She coughed something up on his shoulder. It was sticky and stank. She tried to say his name but couldn't. Aurus blinked, and looked down.

At the dagger in his back. Through his sister and right into him. Then up, unable to process, to understand, accept, believe, that this... this thing had done this. All he got from Venger was a sneer and a gob of spit to the face.

"Fuckin' liddle cunt."

He yanked his dagger out and brother and sister dropped together, blood mingling with blood and hair with hair. Aurus lay there, gasping with a hole through his chest. His sister was looking up at him, in pain beyond the understanding of one barely four arcs in the world. She was stabbed through the back and the heart. She didn't even know what those things were. She knew she wanted her mother. Mother made it all better. But Mummy wasn't here, just Brother, and Brother was on the floor with her.

"You fucking idiot! She was mine!"

"She's the fuckin' target, you sick little cunt. They all fuckin' are."

The monsters were talking, but Aurus couldn't hear anything. Just a constant, tidal pounding in his ears that blocked out everything else. She mouthed something to him. Her chubby, cheerful face looking too old for a toddler to wear. She knew pain, now. She knew agony. She knew the void that was closing over both of them. She reached out to him, and Aurus held her hand.

He tried to tell her he loved her. That he was sorry. That soon it wouldn't hurt.

"Oh my... she isn't dead."

"Well, fuckin' finish her off an' let's go."

Aurus couldn't see, now, His eyes were open but they wouldn't work. He could feel himself blinking, but it was all darkness on top of darkness. The monsters, the room, his brother, his sister... it was all gone. But he could just barely hear things. Feel them. Like the sensation of his twitching sister being dragged away from him. Lifted up and away and-

A sigh.

A tinkle of metal. Aurus didn't recognize it until the man spoke again, voice so put-upon and annoyed he sounded almost like a maid ill-used by her naughty children.

"Well. That'll have to do, I guess."

It was a belt buckle being undone, and the soft rustle of a tiny body being laid on a bed.

Aurus waited to die, and decided it couldn't come fast enough.

[Kasoria]

Kasoria hadn't seen the like before. Part of him knew he wouldn't again. Miyam had been a freak, by Blackjack standards. Unwavering and uncompromising, yet he still commanded far more respect than scorn. He was a believer, an idealist, yet not arrogant or zealous. He believed in The Law (capitals, if you please), that it could be a force for good, not just control. Even Cadet Kasoria had heard of him, just rumors, here and there. Spoken of in tones either hushed or scornful, as if one man couldn't have done all the things the tales told.

Then Kasoria saw him that night. Down on one knee, with a toothed dagger in his guts. His allies dead or fled. His family gone. Looking up into Carrow's flat-out aroused eyes and paling by the moment.

"Hurts, dunnit?" The sellsword twisted the blade again and Miyam didn't have the strength left to scream. He just shuddered and gasped. "Yeah. But Vorund's boy got it quicker, eh? Well, you ain't. You an' yer family, yer all gonna-"

That's when it happened. That's when Miyam heard the magic words. Before Kasoria's eyes, in the time it took for him to hear those words, the dying light was renewed. His head snapped up and a look of pure steel pinned Carrow in place. His free hand reached up and gripped the arm holding the knife inside him. Carrow's jaw dropped. So did Kasoria's. Even more so, when that sword rose again, along with the man, who got up to his feet and roared like a lion as the sword came down between them like an executioner-

-and now Carrow shrieked as it cut through his arm below the elbow-

-leaving his hand grasping the dagger, still buried in Miyam's chest.

The mercenary fell back, clutching his spurting stump, face collapsing like a wall hit by siege equipment. The man just wouldn't die. He was on his feet again, lurching towards him, sword not hanging loose but gripped tight! The dagger and his lost hand waggled with every step, but he kept moving, raising it again-

-as something small and dark and fast darted towards him from behind-

-but even now, when all that mattered to him was this death, this last act of vengeance, Miyam wasn't falling for the same trick twice. He heard those fast footsteps across the ground, and whirled around, backhanded swing of his sword looking to take Kasoria's head off-

But his neck was not there to oblige. Kasoria wasn't one for repeated the mistakes of others, either.

The man himself dropped down even as he charged, sliding along the ground on both knees and likely ruining his breeches. Not very far, since this wasn't ice and he wasn't a fucking skater, but under the blow that shoulder have killed him. And unlike a roll, he didn't have to wait precious seconds to right himself and face his target again. His upper body was already upright and facing and his sword was ready-

-slashing horizontally and biting through Miyam's thigh, dropping his down again, but already the Black Guard was coming in again, forward slash aimed at Kasoria's legs as he got back to his feet-

-leaping straight up with barely a moment to spare, sword sweeping through the air where his shins had been, and then back again-

Fate's Blood, won't this fucker die?

Kasoria's fist snapped out and hammered into the bloody mass of blood and cloth where the dagger and its hand (and fucked if he'd ever forget the sight of that) were still growing out of Miyam's chest. The Blackjack howled and gargled blood at the same time, agony of a fresh wound battered without mercy almost overriding him, stilling his blade-

Now's your chance. Get the fuck away. Fast!

Kasoria threw himself back and knew he couldn't maintain his balance. So he let himself fall back, gladius held out, other hand supporting his head when his feet tucked up and he rolled. World going crazy and whirling for a moment as his feet and legs went over his head, before smacking back into the ground-

-and Miyam glared at the little man as he heaved himself upright. Saw Kasoria squatting low with his gladius held ready, one hand still on the ground, knees bent. A quick and cunning bastard, this one, just as he'd heard. A traitor. An oathbreaker. A murderer of innocent men, of women and men of The Law. A monster who forsook his duties to the City, and cast in his lot with the maggots gnawing at her guts.

Officer Miyam spat blood and Kasoria wondered just how much of the stuff he had left in him. Enough to fill his legs, evidently, because he started walking towards him. Sword raising-

Stop letting him dictate the fight!

-now Kasoria took the fight to him, lunging as he charged, looking to skewer him through the chest, and Miyam's bastard sword swept in front of himself to block-

-a blade that never arrived. Kasoria had feinted, drawn the sword to the side, leaving his left open. Miyam moved, but his guts, his shin, the blood he'd already lost... they slowed him. Even the desperation and duty and love that filled his veins could not compensate for what his body had lost. He lashed out with a backhanded fist as Kasoria slid by him, smaller man ducking under it with ease-

-gladius carving open his side as he went, making him cry out, twisting around to bring his sword to bear-

CLANG

-only for the gladius to block it above both their heads, and before Miyam could do what Kasoria knew he was trained to do (namely, either a headbutt or a knee in the balls), his free hand shot out and grabbed severed hand and dagger and all-

Fuck me, I'll never do this again.

-and he ripped the evil weapon further up Officer Miyam's body.

Snapping rib bones. Piercing organs. Doing to him almost what he'd done to Cobbles, only Miyam would not die quite so easily. That, and his bones were a lot tougher. The dagger stopped moving at just below his breastbone, and Kasoria ripped it out as he stepped back quickly, disengaging their bind and backing away from a sword that was still bloody lethal.

He needn't have worried. Miyam collapsed to his knees. His sword hung limp at his side, held but not grasped. His other hand pawed at his stomach, where steaming snakes were trying to come out as he held them back. And then, with a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a sob... he used his sword as a crutch... and started to-

"N-No you, fuck-fucking don't-!"

-until Carrow's boot swung up from the side and broke half his face. The officer went back into the dirt, and Kasoria watched the one-handed mercenary deliver another half-dozen kicks to his head and torso. But he held himself back. Even relieved of the end of a limb, raging, furious, all smooth sophistican ripped away from his usually cpomposed features, Carrow remembered his job.

No, Kasoria corrected himself, cleaning off his blade and tossing away the absurd hand/dagger combination he was holding. He knows what'll hurt him more. He wants him alive for that.

"K-Kas?" Carrow managed to blurt out. "G-Get this cunts k-kids. Get his WIFE!" The mercenary staggered towards the still-burning brazier. He knew what he had to do, just as Kasoria did. "Bring them here! L... Let him SEE!"

Concluded here

[Mads]

Kasoria, the Raggedy Man

Knowledge.........

Acrobatics: Sliding Forwards on Knees
Acrobatics: Backwards Roll
Blades (Gladius): Feint
Discipline: Learning From the Mistakes of Others
Tactics: Cutting Off Likely Escape Routes
Unarmed Combat (Ki'Enaq): Targeting an Enemy's Wounds for Maximum Pain

NPC Carrow: Over-Confident and Mono-Handed Thanks to That
NPC Miyam: The Strength of a Man Fighting For Love

Loot....................

None

Consequence......

None

Renown..............

None

Experience...........

10

Holey Moley. I mean, as always, you never fail to maintain that incredible rising tension in your writing. There were like two spelling errors in this, which really made me trip up becase the flow of the story was so intense, but those aside? I've known what was coming since you mentioned Merry in the first (second?) thread, but dang, Kas. It was disgusting and awful and gritty all without anything ever being said. You put in exactly what you needed to and left everything else out. The contrast of the playful calm with that overwelming panic of duty was also so good. I was chattering away at my computer screen the whole time ahha. "Oh, man, that's Merry isn't it?" "Oh man, she's not dead." "Oh man, that daddy fights way too well." "Oh man oh man oh man." Once again, excellent stuff. I'm not excited for the ending, but I'll be readining it anyway. I have my ideas on what's going to happen, but even if it's what I think it is gonna happen, I need the closure. Hooked and sunk, Kas, hooked and sunk.

Please edit your grade request.

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