Battleforged
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Chapter 2 - Forged In Fire
🕑 Added 2022-05-09 03:47:22 +0000 UTCEric felt like a man walking to his own execution, but it didn’t stop him from putting one foot in front of the other, the awful sense of nauseating dread threatening to overwhelm him compelling his walk to a jog then a loping stride. Until the air was suddenly rich with the odors of fried pork, putrid ash, and char-grilled vegetables coming from the direction of the touristy tree-lined cobblestone boulevard leading to the city park on his left, his ears now ringing with the desperate shouts and cries of the damned.
Ignoring the cold twist of dread knotting his stomach, he forced himself down that street, ignoring the rustling branches overhead, his eyes helplessly locked by a scene right out of a horror movie.
In the center of Gilton’s once lush and beautiful tree-lined city park, the children’s rides and flower beds had been replaced with a massive pit filled with red-hot coals from which shrieks could even now be heard, giving a hellish backlight to countless hundreds of men, women, and children huddling together in terrified clusters throughout the cordoned-off square, shivering in the cold night air. Herded and manhandled by massive humanoid abominations that looked like grizzly bears crossbred with pigs and the ugliest bastards Eric had ever had the displeasure of seeing in a mugger line-up, no sighting of an orc would complete without tusks, strangely mobile snouts, and beady red eyes glittering with a feral intelligence as they glared with unmistakable malice at the terrified humans they towered over.
And it didn’t matter how much they looked like oversized linebackers if you didn’t see their faces, with squat legs kitted up in rawhide pants and boots with massive shirts of chain mail covering their bristly furred torsos and four-fingered arms, most of them holding bayoneted muskets as long as any decent sized spear. Those purple and green-skinned monstrosities were the farthest thing from human, and they showed their desperately pleading victims no more mercy than lions savaging their prey.
Eric did his best to ignore the surprisingly visceral urge to turn tail and run away just as far and fast as he could. It was everything he could do to just put one foot in front of the other, soon close enough that he could actually make out the panicked voices of the gathered crowd.
“They’re forcing those people into the pod! And those who don’t… oh god, they’re throwing everyone else into that fire pit!”
He winced as he caught sight of so many pairs of wide, frightened eyes, forced to take in the same horrors he was.
Only they were already cordoned off and bound by rope, whereas Eric was still free.
He grit his teeth and kept his focus straight ahead, forced to witness orcs towering a good three feet above everyone else deliberately pruning the huddling ranks of humanity, coldly plucking what Eric could tell were the oldest members of any group, utterly ignoring their desperate pleas for mercy before tossing their frantically struggling victims through the air and into the macabre pit of red hot coals as casually as Eric would toss his dirty laundry into the washer. And the way they rumbled with unmistakable laughter at the piteous shrieks and wails coming from the fire pit made it all too clear that these abominations were enjoying their victims suffering one of the most hideous deaths imaginable.
It was a scene of living nightmare Eric felt searing itself forevermore in a brain so stunned by the enormity of the horror he approached that his faced was a frozen mask, even as a tiny corner of his psyche shrieked with outrage, finally coming face to face with not just indifference or callousness, but actual unmitigated evil.
Then he caught sight of true horror, just past the fire pit. A sight he had tried so desperately hard to avoid looking at.
A massive, giant pod of pulsating vegetative flesh the color of rotting corpses surrounded by dozens of thick leafy appendages. Twisting limbs that whipped through the air like massive skittering spider legs covered in thorns and leaves, twisting and writhing in ways that chilled Eric to the bone. Nothing at all like the calmly glowing cluster of massive roots in the storm tunnels below the park, radiating a soothing aura he and his sister had come so close to embracing, just the day before.
Eric’s blood ran cold as the central trunk-like portion of the bulbous pod effortlessly absorbed the frantically struggling captives the chortling orcs so casually stuffed within its leafy orifice, the panicked captives kicking and biting and bucking with the desperate vigor of men and women knowing that their lives were coming to a horrific end as they were shoved into the vegetative abomination, their flailing limbs spasming all the more once their heads were jammed inside, before going ramrod stiff as they were slurped the rest of the way in.
Eric knew right then and there that he would never, ever be tempted to gaze upon those softly glowing half-buried roots calling out to him in the storm drains while he was foolishly dreaming about classes, glory, or real-life leveling-up, ever again.
Then, after what felt like endless minutes of breathless silence, that was just long enough for Eric to close the gap between himself and the park proper, the pod spat out a fresh batch of cocooned bodies that immediately began writhing and twisting like nothing human ever should.
Eric already knew what it meant.
Everyone did.
Four Dog and Black Cat and every other midnight radio jockey daring the waves on the only form of technologically advanced communication that actually worked, AM frequencies that crystal sets could still pick up, had made it all too clear what it meant when the pods rejected potential candidates.
Everyone did. Even in cities far, far away from Gilton, where humans weren’t being corralled right into the vegetative horrors by invading orcs, the pods had a minuscule survival rate at best, and of those, only a fraction gained an actual adventuring class that could power up. The rest were just grateful to survive with what would hopefully be a useful Profession or crafting class.
For everyone else, it was death. Though what happened after that, depended on the pod.
Some pods seemed to absorb the supplicant completely. Digesting them utterly.
Others spat out abominations worthy of a science fiction flick about the dangers of clone vats, revealing bags of flesh filled with mismatched organs, way too many disjointed arms whipping about like tentacles, and dozens of oversized eyes. Eyes blinking with hideous sentience before the warped creature that was human no longer finally expired.
And then there were the abominations left by pods like the ones in Gilton City.
Cocoons that within moments would burst open to reveal shambling horrors covered in whipping vines, giving off high-pitched moans from faces that now sprouted dozens of tiny tendrils caressing the air, slowly making their way to the nearest pack of screaming humans.
Wild-eyed men and women who would have run for all they were worth, were not the majority of them roped and collared, before being sprayed with foul smelling vegetative rot Eric caught a whiff of from where he now stood, right behind a pair of slavers with bands on his arm a match for his own, helpless prey corralled between them. Even the pair of blustering fleshpeddlers ahead of Eric flinched when a massive orc closer to nine feet tall than eight effortlessly decapitated not one but two of the shambling horrors with a single swing of his wicked-looking poleaxe.
Before a smaller orc chortling with laughter bent down and grabbed the pair of now motionless vine-covered horrors and raced away to toss them into the fire pit, the air awash with the sickly sweet stench of human flesh and char-grilled veggies.
Eric, frozen in a state beyond horror, could no longer deny that the haunches he saw a few orcs ravenously devouring while glaring at huddled pockets of humanity were the remains of those unfortunate souls who had failed to survive the pods, or had just been tossed in, pod issues aside, because the towering pig-faced monstrosities had simply craved some extra freshly charred man-meat.
A true barbecue from hell.
Of course, that was the moment a surprisingly intelligent-looking orc smaller than its kin caught sight of Eric and the slavers ahead of him and glared.
Eric immediately smacked the red band on his shoulder, as did the pair of blustering flesh-peddlers holding their emaciated elderly captive with bleary confused eyes pleading that he was out of medication and needed to be taken to a doctor.
“Why you bring me old and withered? We need young and strong, fresh meat for the pods!” The 7-foot tall orc roared, before leathery lips stretched into a vicious smile. A runt for his kind, but still a giant among men. “You wish freedom from the quota? You wish to serve us in other ways and earn pretty silver? Then you must bring fresh meat, not old!”
The closest leather jacketed slaver flinched, before forcing a smile. “Sure, boss. We’ll get you young and fresh, next time. That’s a promise! But this old sack of meat and bones would be pretty tasty on a spit, right? Meat’s had a chance to mature and get some real flavor.”
Much to Eric’s horror, the orc actually bent down to sniff the human with its oddly flexible proboscis, earning a terrified cry from the elder gentleman, mortal terror bringing clarity to beffudled thoughts at last. Unfortunately, all the elder received for his sudden alertness was terror when the orc gave a disgruntled nod. “One silver, no more.”
The slavers quickly nodded. “Sure, boss, one silver it is. And we’ll get you some fresh meat right away!”
Coin was exchanged for the panicked elder sobbing for help who was casually tossed amongst the milling slaves like a sack of meat. Then the orc turned to glare Eric’s way, judging him for long moments.
Eric’s felt the blood drain out of his face, stomach doing horrified flip-flops as he gazed upon the most pitiless of judges he feared was about to order his execution.
Begrudgingly, the monster spoke.
“Why you come without fresh prey?”
Eric blinked, freezing for only a second, when the last several years of drama class and practicing countless scenes that had done wonders for curing him of the envy he had once felt for his sister, thawed out his tongue just enough for him to speak before the orc could roar for his head.
Only in that moment did he truly appreciate how unlikely his plan was to succeed. How mad it had been for him even to approach. That in all likelihood, he would never see his sister again.
“Another band of harvesters grabbed my partner,” he declared as calmly as he could, slowly pulling out his second band. “I came to get her.”
He forced a smile when the orc before him chuckled. “Your loss, human!”
Eric pulled out the silver-filled pouch he had claimed, pleased at the wide-eyed look this earned from the monster before him. “I promise you this. Me and my partner will bring back six fresh slaves. And if we fail to make good on our promise, these twenty silvers are yours.” he didn’t hesitate to place the bag in the massive four fingered hand that snatched it up with surprising alacrity. “I’ll even let you hold on to the silver. Because if that old man was worth one, surely a good hunter who will bring you back plenty of fresh slaves is worthy of twenty?”
The orc snorted, lips curling in a strangely human smile. “Clever human, yes you are. And I bet you’re not even a hunter at all.”
It chortled when Eric froze, before snorting and turning around. “Sure. Grab whatever meat sack you like. But then you both hunt for me!”
Eric nodded and boldly entered what felt like Dante’s inferno, the hairs in the back of his neck prickling as he braced himself for the inevitable blow he feared the orc would deliver to the back of his neck. But he knew the worst thing he could do was flinch, show fear, and mark himself as no different from the hundreds of roped or collard slaves glaring at Eric with looks of such hate, despair, and bitter fury, so many pairs of accusing eyes that stripped him bare, for all that he hadn’t harmed a single one of them, that it was no wonder why the other pair of slavers hadn’t stuck around for a second longer than they had to.
Fortunately, his bravado paid off. The orc only snorted when he strode forward as if without a care in the world, coolly ignoring the few glaring captives who spat his way, Eric somehow sensing the odd approval his boldness earned from the orc administrator clearly tasked with dealing with would-be sellouts and slavers like he was pretending to be.
“You sold us out, your own kind! If I wasn’t roped, I’d tear out your throat!” Roared one man, his voice a mixture of fury and despair.
“Why, why are you doing this to us?” Sobbed a middle-aged woman, gazing Eric’s way with pleading eyes he couldn’t bear to meet.
“Please, you don’t have to do this. Together, we could beat them!” Pled a young man, desperate hope in his eyes it tore Eric’s heart to see.
So many doomed souls, bombarding him with an awful mix of accusations and desperate pleas that he almost welcomed the spittle sent his way by bitter captives who knew their lives could be measured in hours, their futures stolen by inhuman monsters and their own kind as well.
Eric’s heart was pounding, feeling an increasing sense of panicked urgency as he gazed through the crowd, desperate to catch sight of one particular pair of fey green eyes in a sea of anxious faces, praying he could find his sister in time.
Time seemed to freeze the instant he caught sight of her panicked features lifted above countless other broken souls.
Yet what he felt wasn’t elation, but terror.
As his desperate plan of rescue, which by some twisted miracle had seemed so close to actually succeeding, instantly crumbled to ash and despair.
Because his shrieking, sobbing sister was even now in the hands of a giant chortling orc carrying his prize not to the pods, but to the fire pit.
Against all odds, Eric caught his sister’s panicked gaze, just as she was about to be thrown in.
“Run, Eric. Run!”
Letting out a desperate cry, he did just that.
Of course he knew that his efforts would prove utterly futile. That he was just one struggling teenager in a world that had already fallen, overrun by monsters and inhuman tribes of orcs, goblins, ogres, and every twisted abomination ever to flood his favorite bookstores or the cities of humanity. But hell if he wouldn’t finally fight back!
Because no matter how bad the odds were, he’d be damned before he abandoned his sister to the flames.
All he needed to do was have the courage, the madness, to seize the Vor. To claim the initiative when others were frozen with disbelief, dismay, or too focused on chortling at the screams of the panicked girl in their arms to sense death racing from behind.
As for actually making it to his target, the pounding of his feet was easily muffled by the shouts and cries and desperate pleas of a hundred slaves that didn’t dare shuffle in the way of the wild-eyed madman with the bloody spear. And the backside of a massive orc who so enjoyed taunting the screaming, begging girl in his arms was a fuck ton easier target to hit than a foot-long rat sniffing the air, thirty feet away.
Yet it was a target that, paradoxically all too many people would miss.
Eric had studied enough psychology with his homeschooling to know that most people, when push came to shove, didn’t have it in them to take another person's life, no matter how gritty and violent TV specials had tried to paint various cities, populations, and demographics.
Most people were decent folk just trying to live their lives in peace, and take care of their families.
It was people like Eric, who had proved his willingness to cut down people in hot blood twice over, that were the violent, worrisome exceptions to the rule.
Which meant that when he charged for the back of the nine-foot tall piece of porcine filth taking such delight in taunting his sister with her imminent death, Eric didn’t shy away from a lethal blow. His razor sharp spearhead mounted on a sturdy ash wood staff managed to slip just under the lip of the orc’s chain mail shirt as he rammed his killing tool in the base of that monster’s spine with the full force of his charge, filled with a white-hot wrath that had him striking his target with a killing fury he never would have dreamed possible, just a few short weeks ago.
Despite the jarring jolt of steel meeting bone, his spear cleaved right through his foe’s spine, before bursting through leathery hide an eyeblink later in a spray of ruptured intestines and blood as the creature immediately crumpled with a startled squeal.
But that didn’t change physics.
Or the fact that the massive pig was just spiteful enough to toss Eric’s screaming sister right into the giant roasting pit even as it collapsed in an eviscerated heap.
“Eric!”
A shriek of terror echoed through the air and Eric’s soul. For just a heartbeat, his sister’s desperate eyes locked with his own as she fell right into that pit of red hot coals, and there was nothing he could do.
Not unless he was willing to be forged in fire.
