DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Hall of Fame - Latest Top 10 completed games HHE: The Haunted Helm HHE5: Interlude

Somewhere south-east of Axis...

The crescent moon stood out against the night like a luminous sickle with dark blue patterning.

In the clearing below, iridescent energy rose from the ground, wavering and curling, uncurling, like soft fronds in an undersea current. Its light was at once purplish-blue, shifting into scintillating white as it moved.

Raw magic energy, rising around a circle of fallen, rough-hewn stone megaliths, overgrown with verdure. A power node, a ruin from a far earlier age where ley lines intersected.

The Iron Skull stood in the centre of the circle, the magic energy snaking up its armoured legs, slipping into the joints and coursing through its body.

Around the clearing loafed its orcs. They were brutish looking creatures, tall humanoids with ape-like faces, similar to Heilbutt's. But whereas the half-orc's skin was smooth and his hair soft and tawny, these orcs had wrinkled, leathery faces, red raw and peeling from sunburn, and thick, coarse black hair, growing in manes around their heads and shoulders. They were a filthy, dishevelled bunch, most wearing loin clothes and overlapping, leather armoured sleeves on their dominant arms.

They grunted, bellowed and yammered at each other in a crude pidgin language. Some argued and wrestled, some swigged from skins or tore at handfuls of dried food. Some squatted and relieved themselves, one throwing his own turd at a comrade, starting a scuffle that rapidly spread with howls of either rage or delight. Yet it was curbed violence, no eyes gouged, genitals bitten off or heads smashed in, and no shivving.

Orcs came in many earthy colours, with many different features. Some people believed the mark of an orc's misdeeds was written on its face, and so varied were the crimes of orcs that no two looked alike. It was said that orcs could sprout from the ground in places of terrible calamity. But it was also said that settlements of humans and elves, descended into depravity, had mutated into orcs in past times.

All could be true, for two things were certain. All orcs were ugly as sin, and all of them were wicked.

Walking by, the wickedest of the Iron Skull's orcs kicked one of the wrestlers in the arse, sending him sprawling back into the fray.

None of the other orcs would challenge their wickedest. He had a large fleshy sac around his throat, that inflated when he bawled, and bristling grey side whiskers. His yellowy teeth were chipped, some glinting with gold. Like the rest of his ilk, his eyes were whiteless but not as dark, being an amber hue light enough to see the pupils. What distinguished him the most though was the crossed twin axes, scarred deep into his face, from forehead to cheekbones. The Axes of Impurity, the sign of the Orc Lord's favour, one of his chieftains.

Although he was fearsome enough to impose himself over the orcs, the chieftain still hesitated before entering the stone circle, bearing his teeth in frustration at his own fear.

"Your orcs grow restless, O Hunter-Killer." He growled, "Have you scried our quarry? What do the streams of magic tell?"

"She lives," said the Iron Skull, its voice hollow and metallic, "saved by a passing ship. Yes. The Fey cloud the magic here with their madness, but it is clear she lives..."

Punching one of the nearby stones, the chieftain rumbled in excitement, his throat sac ballooning.

The Iron Skull continued, "She made new friends on the ship and chose to stay with them. The ship is bound... for Santa Cora."

The orc chieftain gasped, "Then she is lost!!"

The forgeborn turned its eyeless, skeletal face to the chieftain. How did it see when it had no eyes, no eye sockets? It looked upon the chieftain either way, and the orc lowered his gaze.

"I said 'she lives'. She is not lost. I will lead this band westward to the road and from there south to Horizon. If her ship does not call in that city, we will find a ship of our own.

"You Lermoriach, will take a scouting party, scour the coast. If Seyja jumps ship, you will track her down and report back to me."

Lermoriach nodded, bearing his teeth again. "And slaughter any that stand in our way."

In the worst neighbourhood in Shadow Port...

The narrow alley was dripping with filth. The walls leaned in precariously and the crumbling brickwork glistened with a slimy film from the ground up.

It was night, but though the stars were out somewhere overhead, they could not be seen and instead a feeble, ruddy light came from an oil lamp out in the street.

It stank of dead fish and indeed the gutters were littered with the things, some rotting but still fishy looking, others so far gone they were but a few spiny bones and a puddle of putrescence.

The black cat sat atop a pile of discarded brick ends and did its best to clean itself. Being rather rotund, it lacked the grace of most cats and even poked itself in the eye with its back foot. Its feline grumblings were ignored by the vagrant sneaking up on it from behind.

The man was old, all skin and bone and tattoos, with a set of false teeth carved (ineptly) out of wood.

"That's it, moggie, gots ta git under them thar toenails." He soothed, lifting a rusty shiv as he took another step closer.

"Ooh, you is a porker! All this dead fish, hey? Good eating---" The vagrant sucked on his teeth hungrily, freezing when the cat made a sudden move, its head diving between its legs. It had rediscovered its testicles and was entirely distracted by them.

"Well," said the old man, poising to strike, "I prefers fresh meat."

"Huh, fancy that!" Said the cat, looking up, "So do I!"

The vagrant's scream was short-lived, dying abruptly.

***

The aasimar trod carefully, picking through the gloom of the alley towards the sickeningly wet, rending and choking sounds.

She was petite, being no more than fourteen years of age, finely built with porcelain skin and golden hair that seemed to glint and shine like the polished metal.

She held her nose with one hand, whilst scouring the darkness with brilliant, light blue eyes. She wore a simple habit of rough brown cloth, tied at the waist with a rope. She could have been a novice at some church, if there were any in Shadow Port, or just another waif, albeit a waif with a vaunted ancestor.

The planetouched girl froze when she saw the cat, if that's what it was. There were dripping sprays of blood along one wall, spiralling around to the next, and the black cat sat in the midst of it all.

The cat smiled, and it was the wide, blood-stained smile of a man. In a cat's face. With wooden teeth.

"Like the new gnashers?" He asked.

"Do you ever stop eating?" Asked the girl in reply, grimacing.

"Only to lick me balls." The demon cat answered, looking down. His fur was slick with blood. "Bleeding hell! Gone spilled it all down us, ain't I."

The aasimar rolled her eyes, muttering, "I think I liked you more in your demonic form."

"Shouldna hexed us into this one then, should you." Retorted the demon cat, adding, "That's a bad habit you got there."

The golden-haired girl tilted her head. "Actually, you're one mistake I've never repeated. And I do enjoy repeating mistakes! Like wobbling a loose tooth."

Spitting out the false teeth, the demon cat grinned again, now snaggle-toothed and ivory. "I was talking about what you're wearing. Terrible!"

"Oh yes, a satin ball gown would have been far more appropriate. For this meeting. Which brings us back to the reason for this meeting."

Aasimar girl and demon cat stared at each other.

"Fine." Grumbled the cat, "Latest goss is that the two Shadow's shards have met but ain't merged. By the sounds of it, they're a bit leery of each other..."

"And the Heir of the Brass Throne?" Asked the girl.

"Yeah, them mugs in the Order of Averness sent him along, just like you said they would."

"Hmm, good, very good. So we're just waiting for D and the gypsy to 'get it on', then Zoltan will be right there on the spot!"

The demon cat cringed, "There is a complication, Mistress."

"I should hope so. What is it?" She replied blithely.

"Well, for one, turns out there's more to this Titan's Elbow thing than we thought. There's kind of a deadline, so they're all clearing off today to murk the Beast. Will be a while before there's any jiggery-pokery back at the castle."

The mistress screwed up her nose, boring, but waved for her minion to continue.

"For another, some high elf geezer's shown up, saying he's Aurenaur e Du..."

"F*** off!" Blurted the girl in unveiled surprise.

"Yeah. Funny ain't it!"

"Indeed, in all ways. Double trouble. Oh my, this just got so much more interesting!" She said excitedly, turning on her heels to go.

The demon cat licked awkwardly at his chest, but between licks said, "What now then?"

The aasimar paused and considered, lips pursed. "Assuming they don't all kill each other? Well, if they return from the Titan's Elbow, we push on and hope the Aurenaur e Du don't cock everything up by trying to destroy the world again!"

She looked over her shoulder at the demon cat, and winked with her blue angelic eyes.

"Either way, cat, don't make any dinner plans." She smirked.

At the Titan's Elbow.

It stirred, its lidded eye sliding open; luminous in the dark like fire behind thick glass.

It groaned, a sound that echoed through the mountain and out along the river gorge.

"Something comes this way, my dear. Dead yet alive, made endlessly from the endingless..."

The Beast inhaled deeply, the sound as though air rushing into a yawning crevasse. Its eye blinked slowly.

"A ring." It breathed.

[Go to HHE6: Your Best Foot Forward]