Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

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Finally, Cylus came to an end. One could almost hear the vile and wicked wail out as the eternal night would be no more, and their lamentations would be heard as the flowers began blooming in the form of flowers. Torches would no longer be a necessity, but another commodity, and the farm life of the Etzori plains would once again return in full blossom. Perhaps the cold breeze would still haunt the days, yet it wouldn’t carry strange whispers with it, nor would force one to look over their shoulder in fright. Life would return both in the world and in its people, who will show no long faces nor listen to sad bard songs in the evening.

Paplo didn’t think much of this change. It would be appreciated, certainly, yet it wasn’t a major change in his routine and perceptions. Instead of hearing beds rocking in the night, he’d hear the overly-enthusiastic moans of women echo in the distance. All life in this world seemed to be based around the notion of someone being inside someone else. Weren’t there better ways to spend one’s time, like learning or eating?

The teacher yawned politely as the last tenants came down the Second-Story Inn’s stairs, all carrying their warmest coats, their pockets full of goods like tobacco, keys, or the occasional flask of liquor to keep them even warmer in the night watch. The individuals themselves differed greatly one from the other; some were young while others were not, some were human and other were not, and some looked intimidating while other did not. The one quality they shared is that they wanted a free dinner for the night from Toom, as no one truly cared to keep the Outer Perimeter safe. Guards existed for that task, after all.
“Is everyone ready?” spoke the leader of the improvised militia, who called himself Garret but everyone called ‘Fungus’ for whatever reason.
The reply from the dozen men and women gathered around the counter was not very enthusiastic. However, they were ready.
“I believe we’re missing one,” communicated Paplo. “He should be here soon, I think.”
“That was a rhetorical question; we’re going out, Toom.” So much for courtesy.

The male split everyone in teams of three, two of those teams heading west and the other two heading east. Some genius had figured out that, since these watches they did often meant sitting outside the tavern, it would be better to just keep walking and circle the Outer Perimeter one time. As such, what Paplo had once considered a free meal had now turned into honest work. Furthermore, the possibility of just jumping one of the militia-men or women in an alley was not a viable option, for Paplo believed it to be too risky once the questions started flying.

Matched with the two individuals he’d spend part of his night with, an old man and some sleazy short fellow, they were quickly handed a short sword each, a torch, and a water skin before being sent off. House after house, they walked forth, looking left and right as the limited but active night activity developed before the passing eyes of the trio. A stray dog that’d soon be hunted by an opportunist, frozen mice in the depths of an alley, men exchanging whispers in corners, and the occasional female giggle that rumbled through the wooden houses without its source ever being found. Tonight, thought Paplo, he would waste his time.
“What’s your name, my good friend?” Paplo asked the old man.
“What!?” yelled said old men, who apparently had hearing problems. His eyes were confused. Paplo was smart enough to look away and never look back. It would be a long night.

Now, as his stomach grumbled, he recalled the broken promise of Lodred, Mastermark in the Etzori Army, a tall and muscular male with greasy pale flesh. The mere mental image made him salivate. It had been a while since Kovic had properly fed; his diet in the eyes of the Etzori was sufficiently big, for he skipped no meals nor saved coin in his purchases. Those meals, however, were insufficient. He could feel his clothing getting looser, his body becoming quicker, his ears listening attentively to the beating hearts of those around him. That was Lodred’s role; to feed him, not to teach dumb orphans how to swing a sword. The Mastermark had promised he’d come, yet he didn’t show up.

Paplo showed no sign of what thoughts crossed his mind. Just like his partners in crime, or justice in this case, he merely walked forth, looked out and about, and nodded to the occasional night wanderer they came across. Sometimes, he’d glance towards his comrades and wonder how much they weight, how well they feed, or how likely he was to get away with their murder.

It took only a few more of Paplo’s stomach growls to call the attention of the one audibly-competent male in the patrol. Those red and tired eyes of his settled upon the teacher, his expression being a mixture of disdain and superiority alike, as if watching a plebian from the height of a throne. In turn, Paplo merely offered a coy smile lit by the torch in his hand.
“Hungry, are you?” asked the male.
Paplo nodded. “I shouldn’t have skipped lunch.”
The unnamed male scoffed unenthusiastically, his eyes still fixed on Paplo. Perhaps his nature as a rascal kicked in, for now he faked a wistful sigh. “I still remember today’s lunch. It was marvelous, let me tell you.”
“Really?” replied Paplo, politely. He was too good an actor to show discomfort over the incoming topic.
“Oh, yes indeed. There is this man I know, who happens to know a butcher- He’s a cook, one of the good ones. Today I went by his house and he cooked the most delicious meal I’ve had in a long time.” The man patted his stomach, trying to hold back the smirk slowly creeping on his features.
“I’m happy for you. Should we turn here---“
“Cow heart. Have you ever had it?” Before Paplo could even answer, the male continued his storytelling. “Of course not. Not this type of heart, anyway. Big as the head of a man, stuffed with mushrooms and spinach, roasted for several breaks, sprinkled with some pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg... It was delicious just in sight, so imagine just how well it tasted.”

The Mortalborn’s vivid imagination came to play now, as he imagined the moist heart served on a plate, the sound of the flesh as it was pressed by the knife, the consistency of the meat once it was carved. The sensation in the mouth, its taste, its smell… Even if his face remained straight and controlled, Paplo felt his body slowly falling into temptation. The last remnants of Cylus’ cold were now futile as the male began sweating, his heart racing even faster than usual, the saliva becoming almost impossible to keep swallowing. All this because of this fool who had nothing else to do but annoy an upstanding citizen such as Paplo.

Something was following them, Paplo detected. It was a brief noise, a growl of some sort, and one he identified as an unending hunger of another creature like him. Looking over his shoulder, he found nothing, but he remained confident in what he heard. That is, of course, until he realized his mind could be playing tricks on him. Every inch of his body would attempt to trick him into just jumping, into biting his maws onto whoever was nearest. In the past, he would’ve obeyed. Now, he had to be more responsible, at least while others were around him.

Paplo wasn’t even looking where he was going. He knew something bad was coming for him, and so he quickly turned on the first street he saw, leaving the militia behind. Being in company of meat was not recommended. One of his soft hands slid under his shirt, palping his stomach, feeling exactly how much he was burning up. Whoever touched him could easily declare a fever and an imminent death, or even pull their hand away in fright due to the amount of heat released. That same hand now ran through his hairs, and to his horror, he witnessed just how many hairs had been tangled on his fingers; his hair was falling off. No genius was required to know what was happening.

Again, his thoughts went to the Mastermark, and on his false promise. Paplo now felt outrage, offence and fury when he recalled the man. As if intoxicated, Paplo stumbled down the streets without destination, hugging walls and checking his body every few bits. His hand shook, and his breathing was out of control. He couldn’t let it happen, not this close to home. Street after street, he found nobody alone, no longer scouting the night. Instead, he began looking at the wooden houses and their windows, hoping to find an open one even if it was cold, open for someone like him to climb through in silence.

Street after street he found no success, and like every other monster, Paplo began heading for the dark woods in the distance. He tripped with the nothingness several times, falling and picking himself back up as fast as he could. His stomach was on fire, as if the digestive liquids inside were already carving their way out of the tissue, leaking into his intestines and corroding everything they touched. Soon enough, the wooden buildings of the Outer Perimeter were left behind, and instead the deforested plains greeted the famished male. Like a vision in the desert, Paplo’s eyes caught a light moving in the distance. Someone was carrying a torch. Without option, he followed.

The figure hadn’t spotted him yet, even if Paplo carried his own torch. A brighter mind would’ve tossed to blend with the shadows, yet his hand was so firmly wrapped around the wooden shaft it seemed a part of it. The figure grew closer, unaware of Paplo still, its features hidden in a dark cloak. It was then when the figure reached out onto the ground, and loft something up; a door of some sort. It climbed down into the soil, and that lid closed right after, swallowing both the figure and the light he carried. It wasn’t until the teacher reached the spot that he noticed the wooden lid himself, wondering just where it could lead. He wouldn’t have to wonder much longer, for he lifted it, and his eyes saw a dark passage like that of a mine. The ladder inside invited him to enter, and Paplo, without a choice, accepted.

The feeling of being followed was absolute, or so believed the teacher. He wasn’t prone to paranoia, despite often bordering on such obsessive behaviors. His patterns of sleep, feeding, and socializing were constantly analyzed by him, hiding any trace of suspicion or incoherence that could be possibly found in them. His alert was maximal always, and his guard was always prepared no matter how relaxed he played to be. It could seem as if he enjoyed where he was or what he was doing, but deep down he felt just how lonesome the life of the prodigal son was. That presence that chased after him and yet never revealed itself gave him a strange sort of comfort in that matter. It made him feel part of something, strangely. Were it his hunger or not, he had no time to focus on the abstract.

A strange noise was present in the dug down passage he was traversing. It was far away, but it was loud; that same loudness combined with the closed atmosphere of this hole in the ground converted the sounds to vacuumed noise. At the very least, he knew there was activity, even the man with the torch was nowhere to be seen. The possibility of having walked into some sort of trap did cross his mind; it seemed too fortuitous a find to stumble upon a figure when he at his hungriest. None save Vuda had any sort of knowledge about him, and if the Chief Advisor wanted something done, he would’ve done it in a less theatrical way – or at least in a quicker way. The sound of metal banging against metal reached him, and Paplo stopped in his tracks. Something was slid open, and that noise was immediately decongested; the sound of men loudly yelling in joy reached his ears.
“Who goes there?” asked a voice, louder than that of the boisterous background.
“Bun Bunny,” replied another voice. Moments later, that something slid closed and opened again. A loud bang concluded the ending of the clarity in sound.

Paplo waited just a pair of bits before resuming his advance forth. The sweat had taken over his clothing, and his eyes were already struggling to remain open. As such, he accelerated his pace until he too reached the reinforced metal door heard before. It possessed a small vision panel, which was closed. There wasn’t must time for ceremony as his fist banged against the metal.
The panel was opened, and two angry eyes looked towards Paplo. Nothing but a stone wall was seen behind those eyes.
“Who goes there?” asked the voice.
“Bun Bunny,” replied Paplo.
The man stared for a bit before the panel was closed, and the door was open.

Past two corners was one of the most secretive clubs in the Outer Perimeter, which called itself ‘The Pit’. As expected from creatures such as men, the locale was based around the unique entertainment found in violence and gore; be it cock fights, dog fights, or the ocassional slave fight, the theme was always around blood. It was a place to bet and compete, to drink and to eat, without being bound to obey the laws of the Etzori. As such, the establishment did not function around coin or gold, which were somewhat rare currencies found in there. Instead, it worked with some sort of wooden tokens that could always be cashed out in favors. As such, three tokens from your fellow men could buy you their hand in labor for a day, or twenty of those tokens could buy you the head of someone. It was the solution for those cheap and miserable men that, despite their low income, still craved for a taste in power and top-notch entertainment.

As Paplo removed his cloak and hung it, he finally approached the caged pit – whose depth was just about at neck-height – and saw what the men cheered for; two stray dogs fought to the death. The sight of blood reminded Paplo of his immediate need, and he quickly turned to scan the crowd. It wasn’t one of his precise and somewhat characteristic analysis what he performed; instead, it was closer to just picking an individual at random. That individual was a slender male sitting by the counter, which was a mixture of a bar and a butchery at the same time. Without hesitation, Paplo planted himself before him.
“Hello,” he greeted. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“You can,” replied the male, without paying much attention to Paplo.
“You’re funny!” said Paplo. “And very handsome.”
The fellow laid eyes on Paplo, aware of just how strange it all was. As such, he had no answer.
“How about you and I go someplace quiet, hmm?”
“What’s wrong with you? Piss off.”
“Come on, you know I can do amazing things to you,” replied Paplo. He was trying to speed up the process of seduction, considering he was interacting with a man. Men were easier to seduce, for they had the unique quality of constantly being in the search for something to penetrate. However, he wasn’t aware of how ill he was looking, sweating profusely and with shaky hands.
It was not a surprise when the male tried to shove him off. “Get back, fool, before I break your neck!”
It was at this moment that Paplo reached out for the male’s pants and yanked. “Just pull down your pants so I can suck you!” he cried, desperately.

Something hit him in the head, and Paplo was sent straight to Emea for an unexpected nap.