There will be time to murder and create...
They crept into the ruins of Oking by way of its many side entrances, and came stalking up beneath the great rusty pillars of the long silent train station. The air itself was thick with grime, which bit and gnawed at Duela’s papery flesh.
“Keep alert,” she instructed the group in her rough, gravelly voice “Everyone upped and vanished, and we’ve no idea why. Maybe they just wanted a change of scenery, but I’m not ruling out the possibility that some of the big ones came down here and carted them off for dinner.”
The road beneath their feet was riddled with cracks, and had withered away to a few dirt brown slabs of stone over the past two centuries. Squat and ugly concrete blocks of building spurted up all around them, and a fat silver smear stained the filthy sky above them.
Once upon a time it had killed Duela to see her beloved country reduced to a pile of rubble, but she’d grown used to it over the years. She had lived longer than she’d ever thought possible, at the price of watching everything she loved rot and die around her.
Cold steel katana fastened to her back, Duela slowly made her way further into Oking, gesturing for the group to follow. The roads were eerily quiet, and it wasn’t until they were drawing close to the husk of the World War 1 Monument which lorded over a bleak stone courtyard, that they began to hear voices.
“Oh, well you’re just the greatest person to ever -FUCKING- live, aren’t ya’?!” A gruff voice boomed through the courtyard “A real model citizen amongst you and all your wanker friends!”
“Careful, Nathan…”
“Don’t talk down to me, prick-muncher! You can crawl back to that lard arse and tell her that we’re not budging until-”
“Watch yourself, Nathan.”
“Don’t fucking interrupt me, cuntface!” You pricks ain’t gettin’ jack-shit until I get my boy back! Until then you can go do one, you enormous cumstain!”
Making sure to soften her footfalls, Duela slank into the bombed-out ruins of an old coffee shop, that's shattered glass windows gave her a good view of the courtyard. Delicately moving a broken chair out of the way, the ghoulette ducked down beneath an overturned table, poking her head up over it so she could keep tabs on what was going on.
A great big giant of a man, with a scraggly mess of a beard and a knotty mane of brown hair, was bellowing down at three smaller men, who seemed to be clutching an assortment of baseball bats and machetes.
“Danette’s being awfully generous here, Nathan,” the middle of the three smaller men said with a fierce scowl “she dosen’t extend this kind of offer to most.”
“I don’t care if she’d offering to come down here and lick my arsehole clean!” Nathan barked “I want my fucking son back!”
“Last chance, Nathan.” One of the three goons snapped.
“Go fuck your mother, your sickly fucking afterbirth.”
One of the three men unsheathed his machete, but Nathan was quicker. He grabbed the assailant firmly by the wrist, before forcing it down with all his bestial might, and jamming his arm behind his back. The thug let out a yelp of surprise, before the larger man gave him a fierce shove into his buddies, sending him sprawling out across the floor in the process.
“You’re all alone out here, Nathan!” The leader of the trio snarled, as he caressed his baseball bat “And you’re gonna die alone! Maybe we’ll have some fun with your boy once we’ve taken care of you. That little bitch will be begging for the knife once we’re done with hi-.”
The thug stopped mid-speech, as an arrow whizzed into his neck, ripping right through his jugular, and spitting out a cloud thick red blood mist. He coughed and spluttered, as blood bubbled in his mouth, before crashing down onto the stoney cobbles.
TWANG!Another arrow shot through the air, bursting through the eye of the second thug left standing, and exploding out the back of his head.
Before the man from earlier could rise to his feet, Nathan was standing over him, his powerful hands gripping hold of his neck.
CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRACK! His lifeless corpse clattered to the ground, as a feral looking woman, clutching a mechanical longbow, slipped out of the shadows.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” She asked in a calm, soothing voice, as she made her way over to Nathan.
“They have our son, Harriet…” He grumbled, fighting back tears.
She slung the bow over one shoulder, pulling the larger man into a tight embrace.
It was then that Duela clambered out from behind the table, raising her arms high above her head.
“We’re friendly!” She shouted, taking slow, calculated steps towards them “We’ve come from Silvershaw! Can you tell us what happened here?!”
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