[img]http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/170/c/4/sdj___town_in_the_valley_by_mirojohannes-d5437ng.jpg[/img] [u][b]Soraro Valley, North Dominion[/b][/u] [b]Present Day[/b] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The water dripped slowly from the stone ceiling and set the pace of Jacuns steps. He moved further into the darkness and the stale air, knowing that what he, and the beast within, needed was only paces further inside. A small candle light illuminated the grey walls and spiked ceiling and as he finally entered the caves chamber, nothing caught his eye. It was all gone. The ancient possessions of the Divine King had been kept in this pathetically small cave set into the side of an unnamed mountain, he knew that for fact. It was as distant from proper civilization as you could be, even more it had been protected by the magic of the ancients so that its contents could never see light again. Regardless, someone had found it and whoever they were they had broken the magic. Then they had taken all of it. The voice commented almost smugly, “not all of it, and that is something they will regret.” To Jucans surprise his eyes moved of their own accord, focusing on a tiny point no human should have been able to see, it was a miniscule twinkle from the candle's light set in the caves muddy floor. After he dug it out he saw what it was, a tiny jewel likely fallen from one of the ancient weapons that once rested here. He questioned skeptically, “how does this help us?” “My crafts are not so simply stolen,” the voice was blunt, “no matter how much, even the smallest fragment, if I have that I can locate the whole. Whoever has laid hands on my possessions will suffer for it.” Jucan pocketed the gem carefully, “Even so, we lack the power you said we would need.” “There exists other ways to gain that power, at least for a time.” The voice was clear on its meaning. Jucan knew the spirits power, he knew what fuelled it. He also knew how the artifacts had been forged, how so many had suffered such unending hell to make them. He responded coldly, “There is no other way then,” reassuring himself he muttered, “no matter the cost.” Surprisingly, the Spirit didn't care to comment on that. Grimly he donned a dark hood and exited the cave into the light of day. Far below the mountain and down the valley thin wisps of smoke rose and a village marked on precious few maps awaited him. The Spirit was full of anticipation, and Jucan could feel the bloodlust infecting his veins. Two thousand years without a soul to consume, he would not be allowed to spare one, but he had known that was the price. Snow crunched under his feet and eventually transitioned into muddy trail. Each step brought him closer and soon he didn't know whether the hunger he felt was the spirit's or his own, perhaps that was not a distinction so easily made. As the village came into view he found himself smiling, wearing a face that was not his. The figures out among the buildings were going about their business and a few guards leaned lazily upon a small stone tower, the voice spoke coldly, “Them first.” Jacun felt it then, his muscles tensing and his legs moving in an unnatural gallop more akin to a predator than a man as he bounded forward. He moved faster and faster and as he entered the village they were all staring at him, the guards had only begun to stand. They were all so [i]slow[/i], before the first guard even knew it a dagger Jacun didn't remember drawing was buried into his neck. The second wasn't so easy, even with inhuman speed pitted against them they managed to parry the first lunge, side stepping Jacun was behind them before they knew it. The slash was swift and the remaining guard tumbled to the ground. Jacun had known killing but this... It was too easy, it was too terrible. It was too fun. The villagers were all frozen in shock, not one ran. He didn't care. The first of them fell only moments before the last, before he knew it Jacun was dripping with blood, but he- no the spirit, it wanted more. Those who had been within their houses had only begun to look out, some barricaded the doors and others ran. The runners came first. Each step of his seemed to match ten of theirs, at first he just killed them, but by the time three had fallen it had become too easy. The next one he tripped, he let them scramble and dig their nails into the dirt only to end it with a step and a sickening crunch as their head collapsed in. The others all met similar ends, tripped, knocked over, he let them scramble first. No that... The spirit didn't care how they died did it? Yes, that was [i]him.[/i] He only walked back, every family huddled in their homes and watched him approach, helpless to stop him. He felt it then, the power that had been missing. He moved to the town smith, only to find it empty. That didn't matter, reaching into the still burning coals Jucan grabbed a handful without feeling. In his hands they burned brighter and brighter as he moved back to the town centre. When the light became near white from each coal he threw them, one by one, onto every thatch roof. The families inside screamed, pleaded for their own lives, their children's lives. It was no use, their desperate attempts to stave off death, the barricades, had doomed them. The fires grew and he felt them burn as he walked away. Jacun was wearing another smile now and he feared it was his own. With a burning town fading in the distance the voice asked amused, “Do you really think you just did this for your cause?” Jacun didn't have an answer for that and he kept walking, it wasn't the first time he had killed and he remembered how horrible it was. Why didn't he feel any of that now? Had he even felt it then?