Lugubrious — Roleplayer Guild

Whereas most cities had a town hall or even a palace for the local ruler, Monolith had only the Sestet. Rather than a building, it was akin to an open-air temple. It was situated on a promontory that overlooked the entire Pearl District, and on its other side was a cliff of brick that extended upward. The Sestet was a series of concentric circles, each one higher and slightly smaller than the one before it, like a circular staircase. Spaced evenly on the fourth layer were six pedestal chairs that allowed whomever was seated in them to be at eye level with a person standing on the Sestet's innermost, highest dias. When Emily arrived, there were only two golems there, but these were unlike any that she had previously seen. Seven feet tall with proportions more like a human, the Travelers wore colored armor, and each had a tool. The first one, more slender and feminine with ivory-white armor over a body made of obsidian, had an elaborate crossbow strung across her shoulders. The other, also armored in white but with a form of clay, leaned on a pickaxe. At the outsider's approach, the two Travelers ceased their chat and turned to regard her with orange and icy-blue eyes. “Hello, foreigner, and welcome to Monolith,” the slender one greeted. “I am Elvilika, and this is Udo Koro Kai. We are two of the Journeymen. I expect you have come to the Sestet to converse with us all?” -=-=- Though the Snatcher had a head start, it left a rather obvious trail, and the angry mob made good time. When the raiding party from the village crested the edge of the excavation hit, they were nearly floored like the smell. Death, rot, disease—it was all there, mashed up into a hideous pong that threatened to sear their nosehairs. A mere stench was nothing compared to the horror of seeing the Heart, however. Most were struck dumb at the mere sight of the abomination of flesh. The two that weren't (a scythe-wielder and a pitchfork-bearer) began to flee, immediately convinced that they were in over their heads. The majority of the party, however, remained, staring at the Heart and the repulsive, fetid corpses that littered the pit, wondering how best to kill the monstrous thing until a hulking shape lumbered out from beneath it. The Progenitor glared upward with baleful white eyes and sclera the purple hue of dead veins. So unnerved were the villagers that those armed with bows opened fire, shooting shaft after shaft at both the Progenitor and the Heart. While by no means military-grade archers, the men managed to lodge the majority of their arrows in either one of the atrocities, but while they both rippled and flinched in response to the pain, they did not fall. Slowly, the Progenitor knelt, placing its hand on the Flesh upon which it stood. A chemical current radiated outward through the plague's veins, reaching the still forms of the Snatchers posing as carcasses around the pit. As one, the four of them lurched to their feet and spat their fleshhooks, only one of which actually managed to spear a villager. Two of them missed and one was deflected by the father's sword, but despite their heroism and hatred the remaining villagers could not help but falter as one of their number was dragged, screaming, into the pit. The father's eyes started to water as he realized that his chance at revenge would have to wait. “Run, run! We'll mark this spot and return later! Go!” As he fled, the father reached down and chopped off the hook of one of the Snatchers, which was retracting past him on the ground. A guttural grunt of pain from down in the pit gave him a hint of satisfaction, and he ran. More grim than usual was the Progenitor's twisted face. Sooner than it would have liked, the Flesh That Hates was under assault.

The unmistakable sound of a creature of Grimm growling jolted Abel from his stupor. Immediately, fear flooded through his veins. He struggled in a mad panic, but no matter how hard he wriggled, he could not escape his binds. Not only were the ropes that encircled him wound around the tree he was pressed against, but he could also glimpse out of the corner of his eye a faint glint among the coarse fibers, signifying that the ropes were nailed to the bark as well. Abel's restraints did not concern him, however, as much as the beast whose snarls were reaching him through the early morning dusk. His eyes shifted this way and that, peering into the hostile darkness beyond the glow of the campfire several meters ahead, but he could see nothing. Even if he did, he was helpless against what was coming. A dark shape snaked down the trunk of a nearby tree, almost obscuring the entire thing beneath its girth. As it slunk toward him, its shape was revealed by the fire, and Abel groaned. It was a deep, guttural sound of despair, for the creature facing him was a full-grown Wendigo. Not a Wendigo, in fact; the Wendigo. The same one he had electrocuted with a lightning bolt back during Vorosky's Survival Expeditions. He had been on the verge of killing it, but it had escaped, and had hounded him ever since. But it couldn't have tied him up. How had he allowed someone to take him like this and leave him at the mercy of this monster? The Wendigo approached slowly, flicking its scythelike tail and savoring the fear. It was well within mutilation distance when it suddenly tensed, as if unsure of its dominance over the situation. Abel's breath was ragged when it came at all, his heart was pounding, and his skin was slick with cold sweat. He stared at the monster, and it stared at him, before its body sagged, slumped over, and began to dissolve. It wasn't until the Grimm had completely melted into ash that Abel saw the shaft. A single arrow, with a black-stained tip, right where the Wendigo's spinal cord had been. Abel blinked, uncomprehending—he hadn't even heard the thing hit. His heart began to slow, letting off its assault against its owner's ribcage, and his breathing almost returned to normal. Overwhelmed with relief, not even sparing a thought to the archer, he pressed his stinging eyes shut and muttered his thanks. “The wild can be scary, huh?” The guardian's eyes shot open. Sitting on the other side of the fire was a man, easily Abel's size or a couple centimeters bigger, garbed in brown and dark green. His face was hidden beneath a strange red , whose features were curved into a snarl, but brilliant blue eyes shown through its holes. At last, Abel's fevered mind began to put together the pieces, though his mouth didn't work quite so quickly. “Uh.” “I'll get to the point, spare you some dumbass questions. I'm the one who brought you here, tied you up, let that beast come, and then saved your life. Why? 'Cause the wild's scary.” The man's voice was rough, thick, and poorly articulated, as if he hadn't spoken in years. Still, Abel could hear the sneer in it. His captor pulled off a backpack, from which he detached a pair of long, rectangular boxed that were open at one end: quivers. The firelight illuminated over a dozen deadly points in each. Abel was suddenly aware of a bow that had appeared on the ground beside the fire. “What?” “Scary for you, anyway. Scary for everyone. Everyone's so terrified of the wild. The unknown. The Grimm. That's why they have you Hunters.” Suddenly, the man was back on his feet, the bow in his hand. An arrow slid from the quiver onto his bow, and the weapon was leveled at Abel. Gripped in the man's firing hand were the feathered ends of two more arrows. “Especially you.” He moved his hands, and the arrows flew. One after another he notched with a lightning-fast, experienced hand, and each one plunged itself through the ropes that bound Abel, cutting them. Abel found himself unbound. The surprise must have shown on his captor's face. “Ah, hah!” He cackled. “Not going to shoot you. Wouldn't be setting you a very good example. Do you know who I am?” Abel hadn't the faintest idea. He remained seated, not wanting to risk his captor's ire, but his thoughts were turning to escape. The Ampere...he needed his weapon. “No,” he replied awkwardly. “Yeah, you do.” With very little ceremony, the man reached up and flipped off his mask. Abel examined his enemy's face as best the firelight would allow, trying to push away the unsettling feeling that he had seen it somewhere before. His eyes briefly flickered to his surroundings. Even in only a few minutes, the murky sky had grown brighter. Dawn was coming. “I blame you for not remembering. I really do,” the man suddenly snarled, causing Abel to jump. “It hurts. I know it was dark that night, but really. Didn't they have a picture at my funeral or something?” The man crossed his arms, holding his bow off to the side, and waited for it to sink in. Abel's befuddlement gave way to disbelief. He did not give voice to his full suspicions, however. “You...were at Pallisade? The night of the mass attack?” “Yeah.” The captor's voice had grown even more hostile, a feat that Abel hadn't though possible. It contained hatred, scorn, and something else...was it jealousy? “Yeah, I was. Did you bury a lot of guardians that day? I know you buried at least one empty box. You never found my body, Abel. I'd be surprised if you, Evelyn, Adomov, or anyone even looked, you were so scared of getting down off that wall.” Abel nodded grimly. Even with the approaching day, he had never felt more solemn. This isn't possible. This has got to be some sort of prank. “Kane.” A mocking wave, all in the fingers. “Hey, little brother! No, don't bother apologizing. Do you know how hard it is to survive in the wild? It sucks. It really blows. It really, really, totally makes me want to...well, bottom line is, I survived. Ran around, full of your fear, with a gaping wound in my side. My aura helped heal the wound, but I've still got the scar. I ran and ran until I couldn't run anymore, and then I fought and fought until I couldn't stand. And after that, when I woke up, I wasn't afraid anymore.” Kane crossed his arms, clearly holding in his anger. “So that's why I'm here. That's why I wanted to make sure you were still scared. Because despite all your heroism and bravado, you -all of you!- are screwed. Every man, woman, and child, even your precious hunters, are going to die. You all hide behind your walls and your weapons and your bloody civilization, and it's only going to make a bigger slaughter when the Grimm finally do get in. The only way to survive, the only real defense, is to embrace the wild.” Abel looked at the man as if he were a lunatic, and pushed himself to his feet. “I still don't think I know you. Sounds like my big brother died a long time ago.” It seemed that the guardian's surprises had yet to run out, for Kane broke out in his wheezy laugh once more. “I thought you might say something like that. Take a look around you.” Though wary, Abel did as requested. He peered around the area, and in the faint rays of the rising sun, saw that they were on the edge of a clearing. Strung between each tree were lengths of yellow and black police tape, insisting that the squirrels and birds and beetles 'keep out'. More importantly, nestled among the roots of a tree on the clearing's other side was the Ampere. When Abel looked back, he found that Kane had donned his mask once more, along with all four quivers. The bow was strung about his neck, and he made no motion except to sedately walk past Abel and stand between him and his weapon. “Come on, little brother.” Abel flicked his wrist, and threads of electricity arced from his fingers to the Ampere. The weapon shot past Kane to land in the guardian's outstretched hand, but the wild one's focus was elsewhere. He went through both of his quivers, poking around their insides, until he pressed a button that caused each of them to scrape. Out of nowhere, the entire contents of the quivers emptied straight into the air. Abel replied by letting go of his weapon, spinning it above his head as a Vortex Shield to keep the rain of arrows from dousing him. When the hail ceased, the clearing was littered with them, and Kane didn't have a single one. “Ready?” Seeing vulnerability, Abel dashed forward. He didn't want to fight his own brother, but the man who stood before him wasn't the same eleven-year-old kid wanting nothing more than to join his parents and defend the kingdom. As if reading his thoughts, Kane darted to the right, snatching four arrows from the ground, and faster than a rattlesnake's lunge he loosed them. Abel felt two pangs on his torso, and looked down to see where his aura had barely kept the projectiles from penetrating him. The protective energy flickered, becoming visible for a moment—a brilliant azure. Abel glanced at Kane, whose expression was indeterminate behind that mask. He still had two arrows in his hand. The guardian shouted and created another vortex shield. Kane started to run in a sideways strafe, loosing the two remaining arrows as he did so. Both entangled in Abel's spinning barrier, and he advanced. Without a word, Kane plucked another arrow from the grass, nocked it, and let fly. A sharp vibration reverberated through Abel's body, and when he looked at his should he was shocked to see that his armor was dented. The arrow had passed straight through the barrier. Now convinced that his brother would accept nothing less than his blood, Abel grabbed the Ampere, which changed to staff mode in his hands. A blast of lightning cannoned toward Kane, but the archer was already moving, and was more than happy to let the tree behind him take the voltage instead. Instantly the seared trunk exploded into firewood. Abel jumped just in time to avoid another arrow aimed at his knee, which instead glanced off the aura that enveloped his calf. “That better work,” he remarked, and briefly considered his situation as he landed, Ampere at the ready. His aura was already very low because of those direct shots, his enemy could shoot faster than Abel could normally move and had what passed for infinite ammo, and Abel didn't think he could stab his own sibling even if it were a Monday. And Kane had already restocked with a whole fistful of arrows. Abel dashed for a tree, but he wasn't quick enough. Two arrows zipped his way. One of them actually missed, the guardian was pleasantly surprised to see, but the other nicked his ear on its way. The ensuing damp trickle down his earlobe informed him that there was no more protection to be had. He was positive, though, that Kane couldn't have seen that his aura was low enough for him to take actual damage yet. As he raced to figure out a way to work with this, Kane interrupted him from the other side of the tree. “You can't let the fear control you, little brother! Stop hiding and confront what the wild has in store!” A fresh surge of anger seized Abel. He spun on his heel with the full torque of his arms bearing down on the Ampere, and ripped through the tree trunk. It was hardly a clean cut, so the mass of the tree collapsed in the same direction as the guardian's stroke, but nevertheless it fell. A swarm of splinters stung him, and as Abel smashed the butt of the Ampere against the loose wood, he could feel blood running down his face. When his weapon made contact a second time, a fusillade of splinters were thrown at Kane, who had been startled by the sudden destruction of the brother-separating pillar. Shielding his eyes even though he was wearing a mask, Kane stumbled backward, and Abel leaped onto the wreckage of the tree before springing into the air. He threw the Ampere downward and watched as its point connected with Kane's torso. Unfortunately, the older brother's aura rippled and deflected the weapon, and an unarmed Abel fell back to earth. Despite the guardian's best attempt to land on his foe, Kane slipped out of the way, and Abel fell into a length of police tape instead. Within seconds he was tangled, suspended upside-down a few inches above the forest floor, and in his haste to free himself, he did not at first register the force of an arrow lodged in his shoulder. When his body went into shock, however, the nerves pulsing and muscles twitching, Abel felt it. He couldn't stop himself from crying out in pain, but even as he did so he felt the blood rushing to his head. Through the clouded vision, though, he could still see Kane. “And the wild wins. It would be a good life lesson if yours wasn't about to end. Sorry, brother; you're not suited for the world that's coming. You'd be hunted down, alone and afraid, killed, and eaten. I'm doing my brotherly duty by watching out for you and giving you an easy death.” Abel's mind was hazy. He couldn't fight, couldn't protest, couldn't breath...maybe his brother was right. Dying at the hands of a noble adversary...well, it sounded a whole lot better than getting torn limb from limb and devoured. Unable to feel anything expect for the wetness on his face, the guardian closed his eyes. There came a whistling sound, and the world went white. With great difficulty, like a sloth rousing itself to move after a long sleep, Abel opened his eyes. His brother was on the ground, and in the center of the clearing was a smoking crater. When he looked beyond the crater, however, Abel's spirit soared. Standing across from him were three figures in white, green, and black. A voice his barely-conscious mind couldn't really identify met his ears; maybe it was one of the three, or perhaps all three together. “Afraid? Maybe. But never alone.” Faster than arrows, the assassin in black darted forward. She circled around the clearing, flippantly ignoring the six shafts that sought to pierce her heart. Kane gave a fearful yelp and turned his attention on the warrior in white, who sprang away and allowed the green-clad one to take the arrows, whose points failed to penetrate his armor. Finally grasping his situation, Kane turned to run, charging through the keep-out tape in a decidedly ironic panic. As he left with Shiro in pursuit, Abel was cut free from the entangling tape and tumbled to the ground. His chest heaved, and his shoulder hurt like hell, but he was still alive. “Hey, hey. We're here. If you let someone else kill you, I'm gonna be pissed.” Under less agonizing circumstances, Abel would have rolled his eyes at Sapphire. “Big damn heroes,” he breathed.

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