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NBB3 - chapter 23: What are you again?
🕑 Added 2021-11-20 13:15:04 +0000 UTCTirella couldn't hold back a sigh as she swallowed another piece of the hot and tender wyrm flesh.
"Didn't you want to go to the Patternhall?" Gregor asked at the other side of the table as he chewed loudly. Small bits of flesh spat across the table and the now empty plate.
"Yes, but can we get one more plate?" Tirella asked as she looked at the empty plate with regret.
"No. I have no more mana-orbs," Gregor said.
Tirella sighed sadly, then looked around. The room was filled with undead, some eating, while others watched enviously over empty their empty plates. If only she had her own body, she could just hunt a wyrm and learn how to prepare the flesh. Then, she could eat as much as she wanted.
She was about to get up and leave when the door swung open, and a Goliarn walked inside. Another followed, then another, and slowly the room fell quiet as a dozen Goliarn cluttered the entry.
"This is trouble," Gregor whispered.
One of the Goliarn, bald with ruddy skin and a long thin scar running all around one of her arms, stepped forward, drawing all attention as she scanned the room. Behind her, another one closed the door before stepping in front of the door. The others spread out through the front of the room.
"We have heard that there are troublemakers in here," the ruddy-skinned Goliarn said with a gruff voice. "We are going to be bringing those away. Don't resist, or we will be forced to knock you unconscious."
How did they find us? Tirella thought.
She felt her good mood evaporate and took a quick look at Greggor. The zombie was looking around in slight panic but luckily didn't say or do anything to draw attention.
A sudden commotion came from the left side of the room as one Goliarn grabbed two oddly evolved undead by their neck and lifted them out of their seats. Each had mottled green skin, with black shells covering parts of their arms and chest.
"What did we do?" one of them howled as he clasped behind his neck at the wrist.
The Goliarn just shook him twice, silencing him, then moved back to the entrance.
"No resisting," the lead Goliarn hissed again, glaring at the two green undead.
Two tables from Tirella, another of the Goliarn grabbed a heavy-set undead with hands far too large for his arms. He reminded Tirella of Tatjie before Solus had changed her evolution. The undead snarled and grabbed the Goliarn's wrist. His metallic grey eyes began glowing dimly. A snap came, and the Goliarn grunted as he yanked his hand back, which now sat at an odd angle on the wrist.
"Don't think you can just come here and do what you want," the large-handed undead said as he got up. His voice was a deep rumble, coming from a chest that, just like his hands, was too large for the rest of his body.
Two other Goliarn moved towards him as the leader just looked in silent annoyance.
"What… all of you together now?" the undead scoffed as he backed up a step before looking around. "What is wrong with you? Are you all just going to silently stand here as they grab us one at a time? You've heard the rumors! The ones they take never come back!"
The undead around him looked at each other, some frowning.
Tirella looked at Greggor. The undead was right. If they all resisted, they should be able to stop these Goliarn! Greggor shook his head minutely, keeping his eyes on the lead Goliarn. Tirella frowned.
"Don't resist."
A soft, threatening voice sounded throughout the room as the lead Goliarn stepped forward. The muscles all across her body bulged and twitched as if they had wyrms inside. A dangerous threat emanated from her.
"Weaklings," the large-handed undead hissed when the other undead quickly looked away. He turned and ran towards one of the doors beside the bar.
"Grab him!"
Three of the Goliarn ran after him, but the undead was surprisingly fast, reaching the door and barging through. The Goliarn followed him inside the room, and for a moment, it was quiet. Then shouting and roaring echoed out.
All of the undead stood frozen in place, silently watching the door opening. A few moments passed, then the sounds stopped abruptly. Another moment passed, then the Goliarn exited the room, one dragging the large-handed undead by an ankle. His face was crushed, and only a slowly increasing bubble of mucus on his nose and a twitching of his hands showed he might still be alive.
The Goliarn dropped him with the others and continued scouring the room.
Perhaps they aren't here for us, Tirella thought after a while.
Goliarn had walked past them a few times but hadn't shown any interest. She had barely finished the thought when two Goliarn moved towards their table and reached for her.
"She's a friend of Drys," Greggor hissed.
The Goliarn's hands froze, and the soft whispering in the room quieted as the Goliarn looked at Tirella before turning to their leader. The female Goliarn gazed at Tirella for a moment, then snorted.
"Everyone can say that. That doesn't make it true. I've never heard of an undead like her, and I know all Drys' friends," she said as she glared at the other Goliarn. "Grab her!"
Tirella pondered, dodging and resisting, but Greggor shook his head again. A massive hand wrapped around her neck, then a hiss of pain came as the Goliar yanked his hand back. He glared at her, inspecting his hand then her skin. In the end he pointed at the door.
"Move!" he said with a growl.
Tirella looked at the dark-grey ichor welling up from the Goliarns hand and grinned. If there had been only one, she would have loved to resist. Not now, though. She got up and moved towards the exit. She heard Greggor get up and follow her.
"Not you," the Goliarn snarled.
"You may not believe she is Drys' friend, but she is," Greggor said. "If I leave her alone, Dryss will tear me apart."
The Goliarn looked at the leader, who turned towards the exit. "Let him come," she said as she pushed the door open. "Bring them!"
Tirella walked after the Goliarn, who were dragging the undead along. They had twelve with them, and Tirella saw they were all odd and unfamiliar evolutions.
She took a sideways glance at Greggor. The burly zombie was looking around, scanning the surroundings as if looking for a way out.
I don't think you'll find a way, Tirella said as she followed the Goliarn out of the building and through the narrow hallway.
There weren't any undead waiting at the entrance now, and as they exited the passage, she saw a blockade ahead. Six Goliarn stood in a semi-circle around the only access to the inn. Undead stood before them, whispering amongst themselves, but none seemed inclined to ask them to move.
The Goliarn stepped out of the way as they arrived and fell into line behind the rest. Tirella saw a few stayed to the sides, blocking any escape. Why hadn't she just left before? She had wasted her chance by indulging in the wyrm flesh.
Great… let's see where they bring us, she thought.
The Goliarn led them deeper into the city, through empty or quiet streets and even through a few buildings. Eventually, they exited a narrow street that led onto a wide-open square. Knee-high ruins of buildings stood everywhere, and a large wall sat in the middle. Guards walked atop, almost as if it was an outpost in the wasteland instead of a building inside a city.
The Goliarn led them up to a gate that led into a courtyard. Most of the Goliarn stayed outside, but the leader grabbed the still unconscious undead, dragging him forward as she led them inside. When they were all in the courtyard, she glared at them.
"Wait here," she said. When there was no reply, she nodded and dragged the large-handed undead inside and towards the building.
The remaining undead stood, huddled together, and Greggor and Tirella went to the side.
"Do you know what's going on?" Tirella asked. She didn't expect an answer, but Greggor nodded.
"I've heard rumors. The Goliarn show up and snatch undead that have rare or never before seen patterns. Everyone thought they would be brought to Drys, but…" Greggor looked around. "That rumor at least seems wrong."
A door slammed open, and another Goliarn excited. He took one look at the group of undead, snorted in disdain, and pointed at the door.
"In!"
The undead hesitated, and two Goliarn moved from beside the gate and began shoving them forward. Tirella just walked forward, wondering why something about what was going on seemed familiar. They were all ushered into a large, empty room with a few corridors leading away. A deep hole in the middle had a sloped path along the side that led down. The Goliarn stood beside it and pointed.
"Move!'
Tirella gritted her teeth. She hated being ordered around. Still, she followed the flow of undead as they moved onto the dusty path. Little bits of gravel and rocks lay across it, rolling down and over the edge into the depths below. Down they went, and soon the bit of light that had been in the building disappeared.
"Put your hands on the wall, so you don't fall," the Goliarn said from behind.
Tirella did as he said and continued walking.
The descent seemed to last forever, but eventually, they reached the bottom, a small open area with corridors leading in all directions. Green glowing lanterns sat in the walls.
Satri, Tirella thought with a surprised hiss. The last time she had seen those was in Tendraal. Did that mean they were going to where Scathia was? All of her curiosity vanished as she thought of Scathia. She grit her teeth as she recalled the last time she had spoken with the leader of Tendraal, which resulted in her ending Scathia. Why hadn't that just been the end of it?
I'll have to remedy that, she thought as she stepped forward with angry purpose, following the row of undead as they were led deeper into the earth.
They passed closed doors until they reached a crossroads, took a left, and reached an open door. The Goliarn stood beside it and pointed inside.
"In."
Commanding wyrm puss, Tirella thought angrily as she followed the other undead. The room they entered was large and stuffy. Undead hung limply from manacles, staring at the ground without seeing anything.
As soon as the last of the undead was inside, the Goliarn blocked the door.
"Don't touch the Lethargic ones, and be quiet. Someone will be with you soon!"
Then he slammed the door shut, and they heard his footsteps as he walked away.
Tirella looked around, noting the long scratches and gauges in the walls around where the lethargic ones were chained up.
"I've seen this before," she muttered before turning to Greggor. "We need to get out of here!"
Greggor's lips pursed as he looked around. "Yeah, but how?"
The other undead were quietly staring at them, and Tirella saw curiosity in some of their eyes as they looked at them. Finally, one of them, probably the smallest fleshy undead she had ever seen, stepped forward. Bald and wrinkly, with slits for eyes and long fingers with long sharp nails.
"Where did you see this before?" he said, his voice a rough screech.
Tirella didn't answer as she walked towards the nearest of the Lethargic ones and examined it. It was a simple zombie with long nails, some of which had snapped. Its chest was sliced open, revealing ribs and greenish flesh.
This is like-
The door behind them slammed open, and Tirella spun around just in time to see an undead with a crablike lower body squeeze into the room.
Gulder!
"All of you, lineup so I can see you," Gulder bellowed, his voice booming from the walls.
The undead just gazed at him in stunned silence, and Gulder's eyes narrowed.
"Do as I say," he repeated, his voice a low and dangerous growl.
The undead looked around; some worried, others confused on what to do.
A quick tapping sounded before any could respond as Gulder moved forward and grabbed one of the undead in his oversized, taloned hands. He raised the undead, his hand squeezing shot, and then he dropped the fleshy to the ground. The undead lay in a crumpled heap. Its face squeezed beyond recognition.
"In-a-line," Gulder growled as he pointed at the ground before him.
This time the undead didn't need any more motivation but jumped forward, pushing and shoving to do as he said. As soon as they were lined up, Gulder began inspecting them.
"Longer limbs, stronger and more flexible," Gulder muttered as he prodded a brown-skinned, long-limbed undead. "Good for climbing and scouting that gorge."
As he moved through the line, he commented on most of the undead, until he got to Gregor.
"What's this? You are just a normal zombie!" Gulder reached out, ready to grab Greggor, but Tirella stepped in between. She had more than enough of the nasty crab.
Gulder didn't stop but just grabbed her around the shoulder, his long fingers reaching along her back before his hand jerked back.
"Ow! Very strong and tough hairs… like spikes," he reached out with a nail and pulled one of Tirella's hairs down. When it jumped back with a twang, his eyes widened.
"Good close combat skill, great for the caverns... mixed with scales it would make for an almost perfect defense."
Gulder reached out and sliced at Tirella with his nails before she could dodge. Thin strips of flesh were gauged out from between the hairs, and pain blossomed from her chest.
"Weak skin," Gulder said with a sad sigh.
He looked back at Gregor and, in a single fluid motion, stabbed his hand forward, talons outstretched. Tirella slapped at his arm, but the talons dug into Gregor's chest, and the zombie let out a strangled shout before slumping down, his head flat on the ground. Gulder hissed and swatted Tirella aside and against her neighbor, who screamed as the flesh on his shoulder was ripped clean off.
"I don't know why you are here," Gulder said, his attention on Gregor. "But I guess more mana-orbs are good too. I'll have to find out which of those brainless fools brought you."
Tirella lay on the ground, her chest and shoulder awash with pain, and as she grabbed her shoulder, she felt bones poke out. Gregor lay beside her, his eyes still open but swirling in their sockets. He gurgled as he tried to speak, a green goo dribbling across his lip.
Hold on, she mouthed, and Gregor closed his mouth. A pool of green goo was forming below his body.
Gulder continued inspecting the last of the undead then moved back to the door.
"Nothing special this time," he muttered as he exited the room. "Those hairs might be useful," he muttered as he slammed the door slammed shut.
As soon as the door was closed, Tirella struggled up and crawled towards the unmoving undead with the squashed head. One look showed it was ended, and she backhanded his head, the hairs on it ripping open the flesh and exposing the crumbled and cracked skull. She jabbed her hand in and, after a bit of rummaging, removed the small mana-orb. Then she turned to Gregor and placed it in his hand.
"Absorb it!"
Greggor's eyes were closed, and he didn't respond, but the mana-orb started glowing, and Tirella nodded as she pushed herself upright and looked around. The other undead were staring at the door in dismay, the one whose shoulder she had inadvertently destroyed gripping the gaping wound with his other hand.
We need to get out of here, fast, she thought.
But for that, they would need a way to open that door. She looked at the burly zombie on the ground, then turned to the unmoving Lethargic ones, and slowly a plan began forming.
--
Greggor woke up feeling different. His body felt… slow but powerful. He drew in a breath, feeling his chest expand. The wound that the massive thing had delivered no longer hurt. Nothing hurt, for that matter. Inspecting himself, he realized he was lying on his chest in something sticky and wet, and he pushed himself up, looking around. The odd undead that had evolved herself -Rella?- stood beside him, glaring at the rest of the undead.
Why are they all staring at me, he thought as he put his hands on the ground to push himself up. His hands were thick and yellow, with small white plates covering the knuckles.
Cords of muscles rippled across the sides of his hands and wrists, nothing like his pudgy shape. He stood before he realized, his eyes widening as he felt a moment of vertigo. Then he looked down on everyone in the room, wondering when they had become smaller. The other undead stepped back, and he saw fear and hunger.
A premonition of what was going on grew, and he inspected himself. More thick white plates covered his body, and between it, he saw thick cords of muscles. His belly was still round and thick, but now it was covered in muscle, not flab.
"Feel better?" Rella asked, and he looked at her.
"What-" he began before falling quiet. His voice sounded nothing like it had before. It sounded hollow as if it came from a deep pit. He rasped and tried again.
"Did you evolve me?"
Rella looked at him and raised an eyebrow, the pointy metal points glittering softly in the dim green light.
"Yes, of course," Greggor rumbled quickly. "What did you…?"
"You are something called a Barsimin Burrower," Rella replied.
"Evolve us too! There are much more of those orbs," one of the other undead shouted as he stepped forward.
"No," Rella said. "Now stop pestering me before I hug you!" she was about to continue when her face turned slack, and she looked up. Her eyes focused on a spot then seemed to follow something.
Greggor tried to find what she was looking at, but there was nothing around.
A soft roar came from behind them. It carried quickly throughout the room, and as Gregor turned around, to find the Lethargic ones fidgeting and moving. Their heads were lolling around, then as one, they all looked up and let a large, startling howl.
Before Gregor could wonder about what was happening, the Lethargic ones looked at him and the others and began biting and snapping. Roaring, they ripped at their chains, dust, and pieces of stone flying around as they strained in their bonds.
The undead backed up against the wall with the door until only Rella and he were standing there and all of the crazed Lethargic ones focused on them.
"We need to get out of here," Greggor said as he looked down at Rella. What was he supposed to be able to do now? He felt powerful. Perhaps he could break open the door? It would make sense that Rella had evolved him into something that could help.
Greggor turned to the massive stone door and placed his hands on it, pushing.
"You can't open it like that," Rella snapped as she backed up until she stood beside him.
"Fine! What then?" he asked, looking at her.
"You should be able to dig through!"
Dig? Greggor thought as he looked at his fingers.
As he spread his fingers, the cords of muscles rippled as if agitated, and he realized he knew what he could do. It was as if he had known all of his short life, but he knew it was new. With a slight flex, the white scales across his knuckles and hands slid sideways and across the insides of his fingers while at the same time curving. Sharp, serrated edged appeared, and he stroked the inside of the stone. A grating, unpleasant sound came, and chips of the stone fell to the ground.
Intrigued, Greggor slid his hand across the stone faster and automatically lowered his stance. His hands moved faster and faster, and moments later, a cloud of dust billowed from the door as an indent formed. The sensation was fantastic, and Greggor wished he could continue on and one when his hand broke through the last thin layer of stone.
"Good job," Rella shouted over the constant screaming of the Lethargic ones.
She pushed him aside, and her hairs bent slightly as they touched his plates and scales. He watched as she struck the center of the door, quickly widening the hole until it was large enough for them to exit.
"Let's get out of here. We need to find Drys!"
Greggor nodded as he followed her, and as soon as he was out, the other undead followed. The Lethargic ones seemed even more riled up, their screams increasing in tone. More muted screaming surrounded him in the narrow hall. It had seemed wide before, but now it was just large enough for him to stand in.
"How are we going to get out through the building above us," he asked.
Rella looked through the hallway at the staircase that would bring them above ground, then to the doors and back.
"You should be able to dig us a way up," she said before turning to him with a nasty smile. "But first, we are going to make things difficult for Gulder."
"What do you-" Greggor stopped when Rella moved to the nearest door and tapped on it. "Open this too."
O bile, Greggor thought.
