Battleforged
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Chapter 227 - Rest & Restoration
🕑 Added 2022-12-12 04:00:01 +0000 UTCCongratulations! You Undead Legion continues to grow as ever more foes fall before your banner!
Current troops under your command include:
2350 infantry centurai
47 cavalry tuskers
Critical Success! You’ve managed to summon one additional Abomination (Undefined) happy to serve!
The half dozen bruised and too-thin girls continued staring at Eric as he continued to share his own experiences, observations, and more than a few encouraging smiles. He noticed that the more he smiled sheepishly and played the shy goofball, the more their painfully tight expressions eased as an increasing number of girls began slipping free of their dens of pain and headed his way.
He would have congratulated himself, if the most brilliant part of his act was that it wasn’t an act. The fierce badass killer of half an hour ago now felt more like a dream of himself than who he really was, now that all reds were most definitely dead or fled, by Blue Faction edict and obliterating cannons both. The wolf was now most definitely gone, leaving a shy cub in its place that had almost no idea how to deal, comfort or heal so many damaged girls as those he saw before him. He only knew that his heart ached and he was grateful for every tentative smile they flashed his way.
Even if so many eyes flinched with tightly held terror, whenever he so much as glanced their way.
And how the hell could he blame them? He was now the puppetmaster of an entire legion of the dead.
He continued patting his abomination, feeling too awkward to stop. The quivering mass of flesh, oodles of eyes, and way too many tentacle-like tongues whipping out of its mouth, quivered with happiness under his attention.
He decided to call it Slurpy.
Eric glared at his pet abomination. “I don’t care if you’re just playing. Spit them out, Slurpy. Now.”
The slimy tentacled horror sighed and belched forth another half a dozen half digested revenants, all of them immediately snapping to attention and assuming their place in muster, with a couple cold glares thrown at their undisciplined brethren...those whose eyes hadn’t already been digested, anyway.
Eric scowled. “Bad Slurpy.”
The shambling horror immediately wilted.
Eric sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t do it again, unless I give the orders. Kay?”
The creature shivered, dozens of eyeballs bobbing amongst the slithering rope-like bundles of its flesh.
Eric would take that as a yes.
“Um… Eric?”
Eric gazed at the freckle-faced girl with her Romanesque nose, strong cheeks, and piercing grey eyes. A girl who a year ago would have pierced his heart, just his type, had her nose not been broken multiple times. Had she not been missing so many of her teeth. A defect his exquisite Perception noted was suffered by all the girls who dared to approach him.
“Yes?”
“Did you really just name that thing ‘Slurpy?’”
Eric closed his eyes, the sting in from traces of cannon smoke still in the air causing unexpected tears.
He was all too painfully aware of what had happened. How badly these girls had been broken.
He was terrified of saying anything that would rub further salt in their agonizing wounds.
So he said the first thing he could think of. A fresh start to a brand new life, a brand new day.
“So, who’s up for spam?”
Eric bit his lip at the looks this earned, especially after the depot square rang with the sounds of dozens of cans smacking against the pavement. “And um...” Feeling increasingly awkward, Eric summoned a wagon.
Which immediately plummeted when Eric instinctively summoned it level to his feet… which would have been fine, as it always was, if he weren’t currently two stories above the ground on his mount. Not surprisingly, the wagon exploded with a crash, earning more than a couple startled screams from the girls as thousands upon thousands of spuds burst from their burlap sacks to roll between the legs of ramrod-straight revenants.
Eric winced. “Spam and boiled potatoes? Maybe? Anyone?”
Slurpy happily slurped up a burlap sack full of potatoes and began to purr.
The girls exchanged a look. “I feel so sorry for his sister,” one whispered.
Eric pretended he hadn’t heard that, but he feared that his ever reddening cheeks, thanks to the Scandinavian heritage that had turned out to be a bit more Sylvan than he had originally thought, was giving it away.
The freckle-faced girl gave him a thoughtful look. “When was the last time you ate, hero?”
Eric blinked, rubbing his head, surprised at how his thoughts, blazing with furious unstoppable intensity just seconds ago, were now dragging like molasses. “Um… not sure? Stopped eating pork for obvious reasons,” he said, patting his mount, who gave a pleased snort.
“Or slept?” A petite girl with delicate porcelain features, beautiful almond eyes, and a shattered jaw that had never healed properly asked him. “I mean, you’re cute as a dream, but with those bags under your eyes, you look tired as fuck.”
And how shamed Eric felt to see such concern in the face of a girl who had clearly suffered far more than he could fathom.
Eric gazed down at his tusker, tilting his massive snout to gaze back up at Eric.
“It’s been awhile. Hasn’t it, boy?”
The girls gasped, the air filling with their whispers when the giant pig gave a solemn nod.
Then almost before he knew it, Eric found himself sitting in a grand Viking style eating hall covered in furs, with hardwood chairs so hefty he couldn’t have budged them in his previous life and a massive slab of petrified oak for a table, surprised to find himself being all but spoon fed by a gaggle of girls now wearing silks and finery and any number of jewels from the massive war chests that had once been the chieftain's.
“Eat, Eric. I swear you don’t have an ounce of fat on you. Sure, you’re just bulging with absurdly defined muscles, but it’s not good to be that lean. My brother used to lift,” Marcia quickly explained, flushing prettily. “And you only want to look that cut before a show. Your kidneys will suffer and your endurance will crash if your body fat percentage is less than 1%… I mean, if you don’t get some padding for that muscle. And Eric? you look pretty damn hungry.”
Eric couldn’t help but grin in agreement, happily devouring the delicious potato and chicken stew some of the girls who had dared approach his army had whipped together, soon joined by a number of older girls, though none over thirty, the reason painfully obvious with the scars of abuse so many survivors had suffered. Only the fittest could have survived that nightmare of torture and abuse for so many weeks or months. And nothing made Eric happier than seeing limps and bitter grimaces lighten with smiles and laughter, bright white teeth buds showing where there had only been the broken remnants of endless shame, just hours before.
He flinched, reflexively, then made himself relax when Sing, the girl who had cried out with such agony and relief when her warped jaw had reset itself with an awful grinding that had made them all wince, gave him a surprise hug from behind. A flushing Eric winced when he realized that he had been so exhausted he had almost reacted in ways he dare not think about, as the young woman whispered in his ear. “Thank you.”
Eric smiled and nodded, saying nothing further as he continued devouring his stew as the girl squeezed shoulders that had been covered in armor too long, a fragrant Eric still needing a bath, but it was nice to relax in a thin cotton shirt for at least the length of a meal, shared with whichever girls and young women were brave enough to eat with him.
One of the older girls, perhaps in her mid twenties, though exhaustion, abuse, and neglect had left their marks already, gave Eric a furtive glance as she eyed the table covered with an embarrassment of riches; golden vessels, casks of ruby red wine, bejeweled bowls of figs and dates, and delicate porcelain crocks of delicious stew being shared by everyone.
“Is it true?” the woman asked, earning a quick nod from Marcia.
“All you need is a sip, and all the wounds, all the lingering aches outside and inside… all of them will fade away within minutes.”
Eric flushed with Marcia’s softly spoken words, knowing they certainly weren’t meant for his ears, but 112 Perception meant very little escaped his notice, save for petite asian girls sneaking hugs from behind who clearly had some ‘leet stealth skills.
He smiled fondly, making a mental list of all the girls he definitely wanted to try his Tier 2 ascension pods, his gut making it clear that at least a few would have the chance to dare a path through life that would leave them glowing with Vitality, Strength, and power beyond their wildest dreams. If they dared it.
Nothing said they had to adventure more than a couple times, after all.
A few early levels was all it would take to absolutely transform their lives. Or they could embrace the delver’s life to the fullest, savoring wealth, peril, and wildest adventure as they dared the deepest, most exhilarating depths of living dream.
One day.
With well-met friends and beloved companions fighting by their side.
And he would do his part to give them that chance. The chance to live healthy and happy lives, with wonderful prospects and a satisfying career at their fingertips with the stat boosts and confidence of just a few levels under their belt.
Or they could shoot for the stars.
He was eager to help them make either possibility a reality, to make this grizzly chapter of their lives just the beginning, not the end, of what would ultimately be a wonderful tale of triumph and redemption.
Once the storm of his own life had eased just a bit, and he could spare the time.
The anxious woman bit her lip. “And he’s giving away those red potions for free? He doesn’t need any… service in return?”
Marcia shook her head. “They were part of Chief Asshole’s stash.”
The girl shuddered. “Please don’t tempt fate.”
Marcia sighed. “You saw that ungodly 15 foot high behemoth with a taste for potatoes?”
The woman blanched, trembling at the very mention of it. “Of course. We all did. What it does with those tongues...”
“Yeah. That’s Chief Asshole and a bunch of others that thought Eric here was no more real than the special effects behind the movie he starred in. He proved them wrong. Dead wrong. As far as he’s concerned, that bastard’s stash, his gold, silver, and all his healing potions? They’re ours to keep, sell, or use. And thank god that paladins like him actually exist.”
The woman gazed at a ravenous Eric for long moments. “I saw the look on his face when he killed the orc… the one that was hurting me. I owe that boy my life. I know that. But… I saw his eyes.”
She shuddered.
Marcia did as well. “So did I. He scares the shit out of me. And I want to hold him tight, and never let him out of my sight.” Her eyes widened, as if scarce able to believe her own confession.
The older girl squeezed Marcia’s shoulder. “Be careful, Marcia. We’ve all… just be careful.”
Marcia snorted. “Yeah, I know. But no matter how messed up our heads are going to be for the next ten or twenty years, at least we can reclaim our bodies.”
She solemnly handed the now teary-eyed woman a vial sparkling like rubies in the night. “To second chances. Take a sip, see how you feel. If you’re healed… give the rest to one of the girls still too terrified to even leave their slave quarters.”
“To second chances,” the woman sobbed, rubbing her eyes and dashing out of the eating hall as fast as her limp would allow.
Eric blinked away the hot sting in his eyes, gently putting down his shiny silver spoon, tinkling against the gold-lined rim of his china bowl, suddenly so full he thought he’d puke.
“Are you okay?”
Eric swallowed, shaking his head. “I… yeah. I am. Thank you, Marcia.”
The girl nodded before grabbing his arm, a bemused Eric allowing her to lead him along burnished hardwood corridors with vaulted roofs soaring high overhead, etched with bass relief carvings of imagined victories complete with stylized orcs presenting their gem-studded king with shafts of wheat, heads of cattle, and countless scores of slaves.
Eric smirked at the barbaric splendor he had seen in this, the former chieftain's inner sanctum, shaking his head. He wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that considerable resources and territory boons had been invested in what was, honestly, a surprisingly well-stocked and luxurious palatial retreat in the middle of town. Even if it was fully invested in the barbarian overlord side of the wealth tree.
Wealth that was now his own. Whatever spoils he chose to claim, or give to the girls who had endured so much. Of course, the remaining property, territory, and supplies he left behind would be managed by the Blue Faction, masters of the mercantile game, his 20% cut absolutely hassle free.
Eric flashed a cold smile, eyes dancing over the bass reliefs telling a tall tale of savage glory. “No final panel, I see. I’ll bet Slurpy would love an appearance.” Eric grinned when Marcia chuckled, her twinkling eyes making it clear she most definitely got it.
“A fitting end to a false king,” she whispered before gently opened the door to perhaps the grandest, most secure room in the entire town, gesturing to the magnificent bed covered in furs and silk with three wide-eyed girls perched on the bed dressed in silks and strikingly seductive poses. A blond, brunette, and redhead remarkably free of bruises, their pearly white teeth still intact, all of them dolled up with ruby lips, rosy blush, and eye shadow emphasizing clear bright eyes that sparkled like jewels in the candlelight, tinged with just a hint of fear.
Eric swallowed, turning to Marcia. “I don’t understand.”
Marcia winced. “Fuck. I totally forgot. They hid in the room next door, I think.” Hard eyes glared at the three girls for long moments before softening to pity. “They were the chieftain's… pets. The only girls not battered and bruised to within an inch of their lives.”
She shook her head. “The chieftain was trying to, well, breed them. I think you can imagine how much bitterness and hate this generated with the other girls. They’re now terrified of being hurt by everyone else. I think they want to make a good impression on you, hoping you’ll keep them safe.”
Eric swallowed, heart filling with a painful mixture of pity, lust he ruthlessly squashed down, and shame, at the desperate looks in their eyes. And he was sure as hell that not one of them was over 18. He turned to Marcia. “And you saw past the bitter resentment, seeing the girls’ desperation underneath the pretty clothing. You actually empathize with them, even if they suffered less than you.”
Eric gave her heartfelt smile. “Thank you, Marcia. The world needs more people like you.”
Marcia flushed, lowering her gaze. “Not really, Eric. My heart burned with envy whenever I was spitting out blood and… whatever. While they got to dress in warm clothes, wear perfume, and sleep their soreness away after taking care of only a single monster’s needs, without any taskmaster demanding more… favors, the next morning. But after you saved us… gave the chieftain’s own stash of gold and healing potions to a bunch of damaged girls you don’t even know… gave us hope when we had none...”
Eric was surprised to find his fingers gently wiping Marcia’s tears away.
She shuddered, and Eric froze, suddenly ashamed.
She squeezed his hand tightly, then stepped back.
“The least I can do is open my heart to other girls who were hurt. Hurt and made to feel ashamed that they didn’t suffer even more than they already had.”
Eric swallowed the lump in his throat. He met the three girls’ eyes, pleading with his own. Noting the way lacquered fingernails slowly began revealing that which wasn’t his business to see.
“Please, you don’t have to do any of that. You owe me nothing. I won’t make you do anything. You’re all free to go.”
All three girls paled.
“Please don’t reject us!” Sobbed the redhead.
The blond haired girl nodded, kohl-lined blue eyes widening with terror. “Please! Please, give us a chance. We can make you very happy.” She flashed a desperate smile. “And besides, you’re cute. Really, really cute.” Her cheeks flushed a bright pink with her confession, but she refused to lower her intent blue gaze. “I mean it, master. I wouldn’t mind, well, doing anything with you. Whatever you wanted me to. To me, you look like dream come true.”
The raven-haired girl smiled, boldly strutting forward, lacquered fingernails caressing his cheek. “And he’s human. And I’ll bet he’s normal down there. Maybe he’ll actually be gentle with us. Take his time with us. And wait for us to be ready.” She bit her own lip, flashing him a teasing smile. “And we’d make it more than worth his while.”
Eric blinked, not quite sure what to say to that.
The redhead flushed prettily. “Shelly’s right. You’re so handsome, I bet making out with you would be nicer and so much sweeter than kissing all the boy bands I used to crush so hard on.” Her cheeks flushed prettily, but she too refused to drop her gaze, green eyes peering so intently into his own. “I think it would feel good, being with you.” She bit her lip. “Really, really good. And we could forget everything from before, while we’re in your arms.”
Eric froze when she lunged forward, soft lips tasting like strawberries caressing his own before she dipped back, blushing so prettily at him.
“You taste like a dream,” the redhead shyly whispered.
“Please? Claim our collars?” The bond girl swallowed, letting her silks drop to the snow leopard rugs, creamy white skin revealing goosebumps in the cool draft blowing against her flesh. “Being with you, having you protect us, really would be a dream come true.”
Eric turned to Marcia, a helpless look on his face.
Marcia squeezed his arm. “I know I’m probably not much older than you. And I just went through hell. I have no right to pay therapist. But… my mom was a survivor. And a counselor. If you let me, I’ll take care of it. I’ll talk to the other girls. I think, with time, they’ll understand.”
She flashed a bitter smile, new teeth already growing in. “I think its time for Greystone Valley’s first survivor’s meeting. Because at the end of the day, all we have is each other.” She bit her lip. “And you, I guess. Thank you, Eric. For everything.”
Much to Eric’s surprise and relief, the three girls left with their fears somewhat eased, actually flashing hopeful, if anxious smiles, after being soothed by Eric and coaxed by Marcia. All of them left sans makeup, their hair now done up in tight buns, wearing bluejeans and long-sleeved, collard shirts. Looking neutral, almost professional, without any of the gold or jewelry that the other girls had claimed with a fierce sort of pride, and so the trio were hopefully at minimal risk of drawing ire from any of the other survivors.
Or so he and Marcia both hoped.
She squeezed his hand, giving him a parting smile. “Don’t worry, Eric. And don’t let any shouting wake you. There’s going to be some tension, some tears, but I think this is a wound we all need to lance, and we’ll be better for it, as a community, once we’ve aired everything out.” She swallowed. “Once we’ve begun to heal. All of us. Together.”
She playfully punched his arm. “And… yeah. You might get some knocks on your door tonight. Because you are handsome as hell. And you did save our lives.” Beautiful grey eyes locked with his own. “And even if it’s best if we avoid… everything. For awhile, at least. Maybe even a couple of years… You did give us those potions. All the physical pain, at least, has already gone away. The keloids on our backs from the whips, the broken bones from the beatings...” She swallowed. “The constant pain. All those awful reminders. Gone.”
She broke down in sobs.
“A bloody miracle,” she whispered.
Eric rubbed her back and soothed her, just as he would Elonia on the really bad days. The three girls standing demurely behind Marcia gazed at Eric with far too knowing eyes. Their looks, however, were approving. Shelly actually smiled and gave him a thumbs up.
Marcia flinched, but squeezed him tight, before a wincing Eric could step back. “And at least some of us… maybe most of us, would rather spend the night being held by someone warm, safe, who could help us forget.” She trembled. “And we could believe that someone might still want us, after all we’ve been through. Someone who would never hurt us… never make us do anything more than what we wanted to do. Being held by the hero we always dreamed would come and rescue us. Far, far better that, than have nothing but nightmares and the memory of monsters to keep us company.”
“She’s right about that,” the redhead whispered behind her.
Marcia swallowed, shaking her head. “I say that, and half the girls still in the barracks won’t even leave their chambers, screaming at the thought of ever having to see another… man again.”
All three girls behind Marcia paled and lowered their gazes. Perhaps humbled by the fact that, as bad as it had been for all of them, some had suffered so much worse than they.
Eric gently squeezed her hand, giving her a gentle smile. “Everyone processes trauma differently. I won’t take advantage of anyone. I promise.” He said for the benefit of Marcia and the three girls behind her, their gazes on his form painfully intense as they shared whispers and teasing grins.
Marcia swallowed, eyes locked so intently at his own for painfully long moments, before jerking a nod. “You’re a good man, Eric. I mean that. From the bottom of my heart.” She shook her head and sighed. “Now, if only we could start over somewhere where we won’t be judged. Or scorned. Or looked down upon. Where we could be there to support each other. To heal and inspire one another.” She sighed and shook her head. “A community we could our own.”
Eric grinned at that. “I like that. You know what? This should be your community.”
His smile widened at Marcia’s puzzled look. “Blue Corp owns it, which, hopefully, means that various asshole reds will back the fuck off. But Blue also assured me that they would give you and the other girls...and any other survivors on the territory, first dibs with any employment opportunities that will hopefully soon come your way. Next time I reach out to them I’ll make sure that you’re all welcome indefinitely. Even if working, or adventuring, hint hint… is something you’ll all need some time before you’re ready to consider. And I’ll do my best to make sure comfortable low-stress jobs that you might actually like, maybe apprenticing under gentle masters, is an option.” He shrugged. “Can’t promise, but I can try.”
Marcia gave a thoughtful nod. “Thank you, Eric. That… well, that means a lot. Even if we’re going to need a fuck ton of renovation. Sure as hell, we’re tearing some of those dormitories down for kindling. Burning them all to ashes. But this palace? It fits a hell of a lot more than fifty or so survivors, and I think we could all get used to eating off gold-rimmed china.”
Eric grinned his approval. “That’s the spirit.”
Marcia flashed him an almost motherly smile, punching his shoulder. “Enough talking. The girls and I need a heart to heart, and then it’s putting our best foot forward with the rest of our little community. This is definitely a girl’s only event. So get some sleep, hero. You look tired as hell.”
Eric smirked. “Okay mom,” he said to the woman who definitely wasn’t any older than him before quickly shutting the door, snickering at her expression, though now that he was warm, fed, and arguably safe, at least for the moment, he was surprised at just how much his body was screaming for that which he had felt perfectly fine limiting to a single hour, the night before.
He cracked a massive yawn. But he refused to play the undisciplined fool. Even downtime could be efficiently spent, and he knew damn well he didn’t want his mind ruminating over all he’d seen… and done… these last few days.
So after giving some quick orders to his troops and locking the stout oak door so he’d hear knocking in an emergency more than for any other reason, Eric assumed the lotus position, deciding that it was indeed high time he got in an hour’s solid cultivation, at least rejuvenating his Qi Pool and recharging his mind, even if he didn’t dare sleep.
Before frowning, surprised to find himself sinking into luxuriously soft pillows, soon drifting off on fluffy cotton clouds to savor the first good night's sleep he had gotten in far too long, comforted by the fact that however dark a path he now walked, at least he was able to help a few people along the way.
Comments
cittran genericlastname
Trauma is traumatic.
mr. redd
I still don’t understand why everyone is scared of him because of the way his eyes are when he kills their tormentors………. Who raped, beat, and even enslaved them…………yeah naw man I don’t get it……………….
mr. redd
First……
