Trent Boehm
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Chapter 111 - The End of Book 2
🕑 Added 2023-07-02 08:49:11 +0000 UTCChapter 111 - The End of Book 2
Harpoons launched from the trees, imbued with blinding white light of holy origins that slammed into the two being held down. Riven’s body was easily pierced completely through, rupturing internal organs and sending his innards out the other side. Azmoth’s own huge frame took even more of the harpoons, with over a dozen of them cratering into his solid body and five of them bouncing off. Over half of them sank in deep though, either tearing off pieces of his armor or finding weak spots where the brutalisk was more vulnerable.
The huge demon screamed in rage, billowing into a cloud of flames and tearing apart the vines - only to have a sea of lightning-imbued arrows crash into him from where the elves stood on the perimeter with their bows drawn.
Riven’s body lay mangled in the thicket of vines, unmoving, while Azmoth broke free and charged the line.
Out of the forest roared a series of battle cries, and dozens of men charged forwards from hiding places in the trees. Some carried large axes, others carried swords, some even had machine guns, and all of them had their weapons imbued with holy white light.
*RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT*
A gattling gun drilled holes through Azmoth’s body, ripping pieces of his flesh and bone apart to soften him up right before the first of the melee fighters closed in.
Azmoth ripped the man apart, stumbling slightly due to the green runes still producing vines that caught fire as they wrapped around his body’s inferno. Snarling and crunching down onto yet another man wielding a sword, machine gun fire and then a large metal club to the knee caused Azmoth to trip.
The demon's extra sets of maws, like armored worms of death, ripped out of his back and started eating people alive while he swiped and roared in anger. He tried to get up, only to have yet another volley of arrows from the elves plaster him and knock him back with another wave of lightning magic.
*RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT*
The gatling gun honed in on him again, giving some of the holy warriors time to back up and regain their bearings.
Meanwhile Riven continued to stay still in his bindings, grunting in pain whenever an arrow or bullet lodged itself in his mangled body.
A clap of thunder overhead saw a gigantic white bolt of lightning fall from the heavens, crashing into Azmoth and making the demon howl in pain until finally - the brutalisk fell dead to the ground as a smoking cinderblock of the creature he’d once been.
[Your minion Azmoth has died. He will be returned to you 24 hours after you pay the blood price for your minion. To resurrect your level 31 infant hellscape brutalisk demon, you will be required to pay Elysium directly with a sum of 31,000 Elysium coins. Simply will this transaction to happen and make sure you have the required payment to further this agenda.]
A semblance of silence overcame the clearing, with only the sounds of the wounded groaning or the smoldering corpse of the demon crackling.
Elder Bren had sweat dripping down his face, and he had to calm his breathing before steadying himself and walking forward to inspect the rune formation.
“Is he still alive?” One of the holy warriors called out, a human in Earth-made body armor that SWAT teams used to wear. Only he didn’t have a gun, rather he carried a broadsword.
“The demon is dead, the vampire still lives.” A husky voice called out from the woods, and the dozens of holy warriors that’d rushed forward to surround the captured target all got on one knee.
From beside a bush where the gatling gun had been hidden stepped a handsome man who was easily 7 feet tall. He had a thick, muscular build and a well trimmed brown beard. His eyes were bright blue, and the top of his head was combed back with a thick gel. He wore plain brown robes, like those you’d see monks from medieval eras wear, and he carried nothing but a glowing white book.
“Prophet…” Elder Bren muttered before bowing in respect. “I-I didn’t realize you’d come personally.”
Prophet shot the old man a wary glance, then smirked. “Where else would we go? These monsters have driven us from our homes, just like they would do to you. I am glad you contacted us when you did, who knows what kinds of horrors they’d set upon you in time. Though we come from other worlds, I am glad we are of like minds on these unholy abominations.”
Elder Bren eagerly nodded, enthusiastically even. “The gods shun those who allow themselves to be corrupted by the dark. We would have dealt with it ourselves, but when we saw his might… we knew we couldn’t do it alone. Thankfully we were able to use him against another mutual enemy of ours, as the orcs should be spooked into leaving these lands shortly.”
Prophet raised an eyebrow, then grinned. “Oh? How’d you end up doing that?”
“Manipulating this man’s heart with a pretty face.” Elder Bren gestured to Ethel who stood staring in the background, and Prophet loudly laughed.
Approaching the spot Riven was tied down and still barely breathing, Prophet came to a smug stop and glared down at the bound man. Thorny vines still wriggled around the vampire, and his eyes were beginning to dull as blood poured out on the ground from numerous arrows or harpoons. “Ah… the brother of the infamous bitch who ruined my life.”
Prophet raised up his holy book, and brought it back to smack Riven violently across the face. The clap of noise caused Ethel and many of the other elves to wince, yet none of them attempted to stop him.
The big man brought his hand back yet again, gesturing to the two elf elders. The old men both stepped forward to join Prophet at Riven’s side, with Elder Preen cackling maliciously before he came to a stop.
“What an idiot. To think that you could take one of our own as a thrall? To think you could take my future WIFE as your thrall!” With a snarl, the lanky old elder brought his staff up and started viciously beating Riven across his face. The sound of beating flesh and cracking bone could be heard over and over again, with Elder Preen’s bloodshot, wide eyes glaring down amidst huffs and puffs of exertion.
*WHACK-SMACK-BAM*
Elder Bren eventually held up a hand, motioning for Elder Preen to stop. “That is enough. He is nearly dead, and I would have words with him before Prophet takes his head as a trophy to send back to this ‘Allie’ girl.”
Prophet grunted with folded arms. “Meh. I think I was enjoying that as Preen was.”
Elder Bren ignored the other two laughing men, and sighed when he looked upon the beaten, bloodied features of the man who’d saved their village. Bren stepped forward, lifting up Riven’s hood to reveal a fractured skull and dimming eyes. “My boy. I am sorry we had to do this.”
Riven did not reply. He could not reply. He merely gave out ragged gasps for air.
Guilt surged in Bren’s chest, and the old man gripped his cane more forcefully. He shot a glare at the other two leaders for their unnecessary cruelty, and then to the people around them. Both elves and humans alike had mixed emotions on the matter, but the vast majority of it was obvious - they were stares of approval. They approved of Riven’s death, many of them even enjoyed the show, and Elder Bren couldn’t necessarily blame them.
The old man rubbed his temple and turned his attention back to the vampire. He cleared his throat, and began to say his final words to the dying man bound to the earth. “You may be wondering why your regeneration isn’t working, or why your mana isn’t coming to your beck and call.”
Riven only glared.
“It is because the runes of binding we have you tied down with sap your energy, my boy.” Elder Bren tapped Riven’s head, right next to the open fracture of his skull. “Again, I am sorry we had to do this. But you must understand, though you may be a good man yourself - any that you turn would likely not be. To even acquire the unholy pillar is a feat in itself that speaks to a person’s misgivings. It warps people, changes them for the worse. That aside, as a vampire you are truly a monster. Whether or not you want to believe it, whether or not you see it that way, you survive on the blood of our people.”
Bren turned around, calling out to Ethel. She, her father Farrod, and her best fried Senna all approached from the crowd to gather around the dying vampire with looks of distaste and disgust.
The old man glanced down again with a fatherly smile. “Turning Ethel into a thrall would essentially kill her, Riven. You were willing to do that, to take her free will, to create a mind slave out of her to sooth your need to feed. A hunger that is justifiably needed to be subdued, lest you go insane and kill everything around you. You and your entire species is an abomination, creation’s mistake, and thus we could not simply allow you to leave. You are dangerous, like a cancer festering inside someone’s body, and you must be surgically removed to mitigate any damage you could cause in the future. Do you understand?”
The gasps from Riven had turned into incredibly shallow breaths, and his eyes barely stayed open any longer. The man was on the very brink of deatth, and Elder Bren shook his head before drawing out a long dagger made of silver. He handed it to Ethel, who was then urged forward by her father.
“This monster wanted to feed on you, to bed you, to make you his slave.” Farrod stated coldly, pointing towards the bound man on his knees in front of them. “Kill him. It is your right.”
“Do it.” Senna agreed with an excited nod of her head. “Just imagine the stories about you! Vampire slayer, doesn’t that sound neat! You’re literally killing one of the most feared monsters of our childhood!”
“Let’s get this over with, I have a carnivorous bitch to send his head to.” Prophet stated with an annoyed growl. “Come on.”
Ethel glared daggers back at the incredibly tall man, then grasped the silver blade in her hand. Resolve was set in her gaze and she stepped forward, her stump arm pressing Riven’s tilting head back in line so she could see eye to eye with him.
Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and she managed to get out her words through clenched teeth. “I will never be anyone’s slave. Especially not when it is a blood-sucking monster like you. Did you actually think that I’d want to be seduced by something so gross? The mere thought of having you feed on me or use me in whatever other perverted ways you had in that gullible brain of yours is utterly revolting. You may be wondering about all those conversations you overheard when I thought I was all alone with my family or friends? All those looks of admiration? It was just a farce to get you to do what I needed you to do for my village. Thanks, by the way, for getting rid of those greenskin bastards. I can safely say I hate them a little more than vampires, but after one of your kind killed my grandmother so long ago - it’s hard for me to compare accurately. See you in hell, creature.”
The stunning young woman contorted her features with rage, and she plunged her dagger into Riven’s neck. Yanking his head up by the hair, she began to saw and cut - removing soft tissue bit by bit in a bloody mess until she finally removed his entire head.
The body fell limp to the ground, and Ethel brought the head up over her head for the entire village to see. She smiled a perfect, white smile on beautiful features that any man would grow weak in the knees for. She waved the head around to the cheers of elf and human alike, until all of a sudden - an audible gasp was heard.
“FATHER!” Senna screamed in horror, and she dropped to her knees while staring in disbelief at the head in Ethel’s hands. “REN!!!!”
Ethel dropped the head and immediately screamed in horror when she realized that the head she was holding wasn’t Riven’s at all, but rather her friend’s father. The head rolled to astop, and its red eyes opened wide with a sad and resigned smile on its lips.
Then it began to talk, and the voice coming out of Ren’s head was Riven’s own.
“I had thought better of you, Ethel. The same goes for all of you here in Greenstalk really.” Riven’s breath shuddered one last time through a mere figment of Fay’s magic still left in Ren’s severed head, before Riven’s words grew as cold as ice. The red eyes flickered to focus on Elder Bren last. “Old man… When I asked you not to do this, I was not begging for my life. I was begging for all of yours.”
With those last words spoken through Fay’s remnant hallucinations, Riven snapped his fingers - and the barrels nearby detonated in explosions of red shrapnel. Though he did not perish, he would forever remember this as the day his innocence died in his stead. It would forever mark him as the day that his life changed irrevocably, when ruthlessness overtook him. It was the day that he lost trust in others, and was the day he was born anew.
*KABOOOM*
***
On a hillside nearby that overlooked Greenstalk Village, silent tears streamed down Riven’s emotionless face. A cloud made from earth, stone, and body parts flew skywards when the barrels he’d packed halfway with bloody razors erupted. He’d injected insane amounts of mana into each of the razors, as much as he could muster without causing them to become unstable, and the result had been four massive shrapnel bombs that melted Prophet, the village elders, and anyone else in the explosion radius instantaneously.
He’d just killed over a hundred people within less than a second.
People that included those he’d thought were friends. Ethel and Senna were dead, as were the village elders.
Perhaps Riven truly was the monster they all made him out to be.
“You’ll be ok.” Fay said solemnly under her small black horns, grimacing at the sight below them. “You did what you had to do. My curse of the dreamwalker is ending now, the hallucinations will soon fail, so any survivors will probably be able to see us when that happens. There are still enough people down there to put up a solid fight.”
Riven didn’t look away. He merely watched. “I’m already ok, but thank you for your concern. They had it coming and this is just a learning experience. A hard-won learning experience. Allie, send them in.”
His sister nodded and raised a hand to ready the signal, and a series of feral roars echoed out around the village from multiple directions. “Find the book, kill the crusaders, enslave the elves. It’s finally time to end this war. Oh, and bring me Prophet’s head. I’m going to mount it on my wall.”
Mara nodded and shot a beam of light into the air, signaling the attack. The thunderous charge of Allie’s undead army burst forward through the trees towards the village, with people down below in the village starting to scream and panic. The clash of battle was soon heard, and Allie turned to look at her brother with concern in her eyes.
“You are too good for this world, Riven. I’m sorry it ended like this… I told you that they wouldn’t accept us but you just wouldn’t listen.” Allie reached out to grip his hand, but he jerked it away and turned on her with a menacing glare.
“You lied to me.” Riven said with venom in his words, glowering over her before spitting on the ground beside his own feet. “I thought you were better than that. I saw the things you did in Brightsville. You’d better hope that you keep your end of the promise this time, keep the kids safe, family units for the elves stay intact if at all possible. That isn’t a request. Do what you want with the humans, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass.”
Whirling in a rage, Riven turned heel on his sister and did not look back. He passed the orc chieftain Gurth’Rok and a small band of elite greenskin warriors, passed Athela and Dr. Brass, only to disappear into a rift in space he created with a swipe of his staff. The black portal blinked out with a clap of power, and Allie was left behind to blink tears away while clutching at her sides.
“He blames me, yet he was the one who figured this all out and decided on the plan.
And I still don't even know how he did it!” Allie sniffed, taking off her skull mask to wipe off more tears. “Fucking stupid-head brother of mine.”
Athela opened her mouth to make a rebuttal, but decided better of it. If Allie couldn’t see why lying to Riven about her actions in Brightsville was something that would piss him off, she doubted that she’d get through to the girl anyways. Instead, Athela motioned for the orcs to head in alongside the wave of undead. “Well!? What are you waiting for boys! If you’re Riven’s subordinates now, you’ve got to act the part. Stop being lazy and get down there!”
Chieftain Gurth’Rok abruptly nodded and one of his soldiers blew a warhorn. From up the mountain a series of repeating horns sounded in kind, and the remaining fighting force of the Yellow Skull Tribe rushed towards their age-old enemies with glee.
“I hope you drilled into their heads that subduing the elves is a priority. No killing the elves unless it’s absolutely needed.” Athela warned with a waggling finger. “We’re going to re-educate their brats and use the adults in other ways. They’re Riven’s cattle now, and you should know what happens when a vampire gets pissed off because his cattle are butchered prematurely.”
Gurth’Rok chuckled with a nod and planted his cobra-staff into the ground, kneeling before Athela in subordination. “Of course, my lady. They may rough the elves up a bit for fun, but there won’t be any needless killing just as Riven instructed. Your master will not regret taking us under your wing, and we look forward to serving a conqueror such as him. For the Thane Coven!”
Mara shot a look over at the orcs with a sideways grin. “For the Thane Necropolis.”
Comments
Nomjy
Poor Azmoth
Kyriakos Stefanakos
Riven should make the orc chief a thrall... Give him more power. I am also interested in what kind of thrall he makes with his bloodline.
