#their wrath is immeasurably terrifying and their love knows no limits

[if-you-like-pina-colada-s]

Mumbling to myself about how the nations are some sub-species of primordial gods of the earth who encompass the abstract and vague idea of a civilization or society as I walk across my dimly lit room which is covered in a mess of papers of all sorts, connecting dots with a shitty red yarn string all while running on 5 cups of coffee and 8 minutes of sleep.

[robotshibbins]

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

        The sound of heavy boots, on which stood a large, vengeful knight, echoed through the claustrophobic caves. This moment was one the knight sought for years, one he was not particularly proud of, however he felt it was his duty to end this man’s life. Somewhere within the twisting maze of tunnel, past the scrounging of the Undead and the quiet patter of falling debris against the stone floor, was the stumbling run of a man terrified for his life, and this was the knight’s prey.

        “You’re a fool, Marlow!” cried the man, a preacher named Strauss, the pitiful whine echoed through the cave system, “First you sully your body with the taint of a witch, then you hunt a holy man!”

        These words did not calm the knight down. He increased his pace, the sound of his sand covered boots getting louder and quicker.

        Stomp stomp stomp.

        Marlow’s gear clattered against his jacketed body. The empty sheath of his sword, his revolver, clasped safely in a boar-leather holster, a half dozen fire-bombs, and his damascus-steel knife all jangled, rattled, and gently knocked about on his belt. On his back, a worn but not ill-maintained intermediate rifle, and the dagger of his long-dead spouse. The blade was a thin, enchanted one, forged from a vein of magic infused ore by magical means. Marlow was not keen on using it, though when it came to dealing with foes who had some degree of mystic powers coursing through their veins, it was quite handy. Presently, it was encased in its blue sheath.

        “Was laying with her that enticing? Was that wench-?

        The knight tuned Strauss’s bait out, merely hearing the mumbling of a man on his last legs. He was getting closer to his target, letting the aging madman waste his already limited breath on threats would be wise.

        Stomp stomp stomp.

       Eventually, Marlow came across the corpse of one of Strauss’s followers, a humanoid mutant known as an Oculi, a tumorous, multi eyed creature whose glowing yellow eyes cut through the darkness. As typical for a corpse in the post-Armageddon wastes of America, three Undead surrounded it, they ripped off bloody chunks of the sickly flesh with their teeth and nails. They had a similar amount of eyes as the Oculi, though they were pale, the eyes of a corpse. The knight’s ancient flashlight illuminated their pale, malnourished bodies, the tattered remains of their former lives’ clothing tightly wrapped around their bodies. One undead looked up from its meal, with saliva covered meat hanging out of its mouth, and right into the knight’s green eyes. Its head was still roughly human shaped, though with its six eyes, lipless mouth full of pointed teeth, and lack of a nose, it was clearly far from a human. The creature slurped up the strip of flesh, then roared at the knight, which alerted the two other Undead. The knight readied his sword, and an Undead charged at him, raspily panting. He swiftly dodged, and slashed at the beast’s back, which staggered it. Marlow was then knocked onto his stomach, tackled by another Undead. It clumsily attacked his head, using its fists as clubs. Despite his worn, green helmet protecting him from any major damage, it still hurt the lone knight quite a bit. With a grunt of pain, Marlow elbowed the the Undead in its abdomen, which sent it recoiling off him. He then stood up, grabbed the cursed creature’s head with his two hands, and savagely bashed its head into the stone wall over and over again, sending blood, flesh, and bone all over the tunnel. The knight threw the limp body aside, and drew his knife, anticipating another attack from the two remaining undead.

      The as of then unwounded Undead clawed at Marlow, which he narrowly dodged. He followed this with a well aimed jab at the creature’s neck, lodging the blade in its trachea. With a wheezing gurgle, it swiped at Marlow with a fist, hitting him in his right shoulder and sending him spinning into the opposite wall of the tunnel. He hit it with a grunt, but he quickly recovered, landing a few heavy heymakers on the Undead’s large head. It staggered back, and Marlow took the opportunity to retrieve his knife, yanking it out of its throat. He held the blade in a reverse grip, then punched the Undead square in one of the largest eyes on its head, causing to stagger again. Marlow followed this with a few stabs in its eye, removing it once more from this mortal coil. As he withdrew the knife, the last Undead grabbed him from behind, and attempted to bite at this bare neck. The knight attempted to launch the cursed one over his shoulder, however this only ruined its attempt to bite him. He slammed it into the tunnel wall, trying to dislodge it.

      A groan from the undead, followed by it throwing both itself and Marlow to the floor with a slam, the two landing on their sides. Marlow attempted to elbow the emaciated creature in its gut, missing quite a bit, though the few he did land was enough to make the undead scamper away. He stood back up, and slashed his knife at the Undead, though it forcefully smacked the blade out of his hand, which sent it clattering across the stone floor. Marlow, in response, kicked the Undead in its stomach, sending it down to the floor with force. The creature clumsily stood to its knees, and was greeted by a thin dagger to its throat. The enchanted steel reacted with the Undead’s cursed blood, and the beast combusted, sending it recoiling, flailing, and screeching down the tunnel. Marlow wiped the blood off his lover’s dagger, sheathed it, then put his cheap respirator on, to block the smell of burning flesh. He retrieved his knife and sword off the floor, sliding the knife back in its sheath and holding the steel sword firmly in his right hand. Marlow walked past the immolated undead, and it was back to the hunt.

The knight’s pace hastened, a jog to finally track down the man who caused him, along with thousands of magic users and their families, an immeasurable amount of pain and loss. Even if that wasn’t damning enough, in recent years he and his Oculi warband have been razing villages and communities for even the slightest tie to magic users. If it weren’t for the mostly mutant composition, they would’ve likely been inducted into the dreaded House Mercer, a staunchly anti-mutant and anti-magic knight order. He continued for some time, before eventually seeing Strauss in the distance, crouched over and catching his breath. The knight stopped, removed his respirator with his right hand, and drew his revolver, holding it steadily in his left hand. He aimed for the preacher’s chest, and pulled the hammer back. Strauss looked up as he heard the cylinder click into place.

      “Fuck!” The preacher cried.

      The .44 magnum revolver fired with a smoky, reverberating bang, which sent a round through Strauss’s abdomen, and he fell to the floor with a pained yell. Marlow placed the revolver back its holster, and he stomped towards the downed Strauss, preparing to cut him down. However, an Oculi rushed at the knight from behind the wounded preacher, wielding a chunk of wood with some nails in it. Marlow stepped back, dodging the attack, and stabbed at the Oculi in retaliation, only nicking it. The Oculi roared, then swiped at the knight again, which missed him by a wide margin, and opened it up to attack by Marlow. He stabbed it under the ribs, bringing it up and eviscerating a few vital organs. The knight yanked the blade out, and kicked the dying Oculi to the floor. He stabbed it again in the neck, which sliced through its spinal cord with ease, though it bit in a little too well. As Marlow attempted to withdraw the blade, he was tackled to the floor by the wounded Strauss, rather forcefully for just being shot in the stomach. They crashed to floor with a thud, and the preacher punched the knight square in the jaw a few times with his right fist, with rather surprising strength.

        “Even six years after she burned like the witch she wa-”

The silent wanderer spoke up, “QUIET!”

Marlow delivered a swift sock to Strauss’s throat, followed by the knight sending his right knee into his groin. The preacher stood up, before falling right back to the stone floor, a pained groan left his bearded face. The knight shot up, and knelt over Strauss. He began ruthlessly beating him, which sent blood riddled spit all over the tunnel. With every punch, Marlow spoke.

        “You raze villages! You slaughter innocent people! You burn children! You killed hundreds! You killed my fucking wife!”

Strauss was barely moving by that point. His face was covered in his own blood, his nose and cheekbones were decimated. Marlow, once he realized the mad preacher did little more than wheezed through his damaged airways, stopped his assault. His hands hurt, it was likely his knuckles were beaten worse than Strauss, though he couldn’t tell if the blood on his gloves was his own or Strauss’s. He looked down on the man, fury raging in his eyes. Strauss coughed, which spat blood over the surrounding area.

        “...yoou…” the preacher spoke weakly, “god’s wrath will come upon you, you damned fool. She never loved you, you wer-”

        Strauss words were replaced by a gurgling rattle. Marlow had stabbed him directly in the throat with his wife’s dagger, the slender blade driven deep into his neck. He twisted the blade even deeper, an action which severed Strauss’s spine. Red blood seeped out of the wound, pooling onto the dirty, dust covered floor of the tunnel. His grip tightened, and Marlow pulled the blade out of the mad preacher’s neck, a gory fountain blossomed out of the wound. Strauss spasmed a bit, then with a wheezing rattle, he stopped. The knight stood, wiped the dagger off with immense care on his own jacket, and returned it to its sheath. He stared at the old man for a moment, he didn’t know if he was truly dead, or living his last moments. He knew that he wouldn’t return as an Undead, as without the spine in his neck, the curse which afflicted all of the people in the Wastes wouldn’t truly take hold of his corpse. Marlow spat on it, then turned around, and returned his focus to removing his sword from the Oculi’s neck. After some struggling, he pulled it free, some arterial blood spraying from the wound.

His mission was done. He stopped Strauss, cutting the head off the snake that was one of deadliest Oculi warbands in Utah. It would eventually collapse, either from infighting or it lacking true unity from a strong figurehead. He still didn’t forgive himself for the rampage he went on when he saw his wife Alicia's burning corpse in that small village. However, he felt no guilt over killing the man that misled so many to fuel his hateful campaign, who killed so many with his own hand. Marlow walked out of the tunnels, his steps lighter than before, a heavy, but almost peaceful thud against the stone.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.