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The roars of the dying,
cut through the acrid laden air with the fury of a screaming banshee! My battle
ax cut down mine enemies like so many oak trees in a tornado. The ripping screech
of my voice drove them into a frenzied fear. So much so that they stumbled and
fell onto their own swords, trying to escape my righteous RAGE!?! My arms flexed
to the point of every vein nearly bursting from the flowing blood, as I gripped
my battle ax ever harder, making my way toward the center of the death storm.
Arms and decapitated heads flew across my view in the hopes of swaying me from
my revenge?! I THINK NOT!!! At the point of the bloody tidal wave of bodies
and steel, lay the cause of my vengeance lust. The demon lord of the Low Lands..............TRO’ISHGAR!
A lesser demon of a backwater mud ball that rested over the mountains of Chict'Gra.
This is where I lost my will to live. Many a day does not pass that I do not think about my lady Lanora. She and I were to be wed on the day of Mthcia ( the holiest of my clan’s holidays that celebrates the first coming of the god of War! ) She was always an adventurous and free spirit. That’s what I loved the most about her. She kept at bay the berserker rage of my warrior side. While bringing forth a side of me that I didn’t know even existed, a loving and gentle side. We relished in our happiness. I still remember how she looked on that day.
Walking by the river's edge
she glistened, along with the blue-green waters that slowly slapped against
the riverbank. I lay there upon a bed of bear's fur, feeling the sun's ever
increasing embrace. As I dosed off to slumber, the last vision of her I held
was her beautiful ebony-dark hair nestled around her golden brown neck as she
relaxed within the river's cool waters. This was the last I saw of her alive.
Suddenly, I was raped! from mid-sleep by the echoing screams of my lady Lanora.
Quickly, I gained my footing and LAUNCHED myself toward the direction
of her screams with WindHammer ( my battle axe) tightly clenched within fist
(with teeth locked together as to almost SHATTER!). Passing through
the small forested valley between the Chict'Gra mountains, I carved a path of
destruction through the innocent shrubbery until I came to an opening on the
other side. THIS IS WHERE ALL HOPE WENT TO HELL!
The sky turned dark and muggy. It took on the putrid colors of a bloody red corpse, and rotted dead meat green! My eyes stung from the decaying odor to the point of tears falling. Wiping the tears, seeing through a slight haze, I saw the one thing that changed my vision from normal to SEEING BLOOD RED!?!?!?!?!?! There, in the middle of this hell, stood my beautiful Lanora. Raped and bloodied. Missing her waist and everything that came with them. Her abdomen gutted from her dangling spine to the bottom of her chest cavity. Fluids spilled from the depth of her now slit throat. Her eyes lay bare to the Gods of pain. She sat there, in two pieces, spiked into the ground. My rage went numb. My battle ax fell to the ground, and met me there as the tears engulfed my colorless face. Lying on the ground, grasping at any threads of the happiness I once new. It seemed like an eternity, as I just lay there, near fetal position. The wind blew steady over my shivering, sweat-drench body, until it happened. The dark doors flew open within my mind, and the berserker rage was born yet again! The demonic red eyes pierced my veil of hysteria and brought me to my feet. The rain started to fall. The cool fresh water fell in blades of sharp razors that cut into my completely numb skin. The doors of light were closed forever. I raised hands (with ax in my right hand) to the heavens and yelled with the ferocity of a cornered lion, "IF HELL NEEDS A NEW SERVANT, THEN I SHALL BE ITS NEW WARLORD!?!?!?!?!?!? Let the CARNAGE...BEGIN!!!!
Which brings me to where I am right now. Fighting my way through the demonic legion hordes of the demon lord of the Low Lands..... TRO’ISHGAR! All the blood and death. The closing of my heart, and loss of my sweet Lanora, brought me to this HELL! that I Iive in now, and it's almost over. My ax Windhammer, drinks heavily the grotesque, almost acidic blood of these demons as I swing through demon after demon. They ALL! fall to my ever darkening rage. By the dawn of the next day, there is none left. Dredging through the decaying mountain of bodies, I rest my weary form upon Windhammer and survey the destruction that I had wrought. Buzzing flies crawl on newly died putrid-green corpses. The maggots nestle in their dry blood-filled skulls, feeding on rotting brain stems. Dripping fluid flows in red-black waves from now empty bone marrow. I look up from my all encompassing quest, eyes filled with revenge, my own blood, and rage, to see the CREATOR!, ORCHESTRA!?, MY MAKER!!?!?!! and the only question I could ask him, after all this is.....why.......why.....WHY...WHY!!!!!
With a smile on his face that would warm the devil's heart, he said( in a voice that cuts into my skin like a prison guard's whip) ,
"You never knew
did you. You ignorant piece of flesh. Hehehahah! but of course, she must have
never told you. What an honest relationship.
(And his grin grew even wider, showing every brown and cracked tooth within
his blood-covered jaw, as he rested, arms folded, against a dying redwood tree.
Missing all it's limbs except one withered, decrepit branch.) Before
you try to take off my head ( which I know it is customary among you grief stricken
humans) you should hear the reason I PERSONALLY took your mate's life."
The wind shifted. Decaying body odor begins to lift into the sky to be carried off like a buzzard soaring high with fresh kill locked in its' sharp claws. The coppery taste of blood mixes with the incoming storm that builds strength in the distance. The sky's color shifts from a light orange-yellow hue to dark red and stagnate. Kroman's ragged breathing is all that's heard by him as he listens to this foul creature mutter away, because he knows that these words are the last it will ever speak."She never told you that she was my sister you Fool!" His face goes blank. His jaw drops. Rage gives way to unbridled shock. Disbelief sets in on a tidal wave of nausea. Kroman violently vomits whatever is left in his stomach to the point of convulsions, barely able to yell in horror,
"YOU LIE!!! Lanora could NEVER be related to such a DEMON SCUM like you! She was born into my clan to Nokcon & Semma. I knew her when we were just beginning. Tell me HOW ( before I gut you slowly ) she is your sister." The storm is coming closer. Tro'ishgar continues.
"I will satisfy your curiosity before I return you the ground whence you sorry overly evolved MONKEYS! came from. In our year of mating, my father and my mother met during the ritual blood letting of our human slaves nineteen cycles ago. During that time, between the human/ demon wars, my father gained prominence and wealth and eventually became Warriorlord of the CRE’ISHTAR. After his indoctrinate into office, His mate gave birth to three children. The oldest Tro’ishgar (myself), RIE’ISHLAR( my younger brother) and one other. My sister, who through some defect, was born looking like a human. Her name was LAN'ISHORA. My younger sister. Your mate."
Quivering and shaking severely, Kroman still cannot believe the story being played out for him by this demon. He cannot understand why he stands there and is listening to it. Thunder shakes the sky. Black clouds hover over dying land promising relief from the burden of the dead. Tro’ishgar continues his tale.
" During the 8th human/demon conflict, when my brother was old enough to stand by my father and I in combat, my brother ( who fought you two-legged upright walking chimps!) with incredible courage, died on the field of battle. That crushed father and nearly killed mother. The decision was made. To prevent the same thing from ever happening to LAN'ISHORA, father took her ( in the middle of the night) to the nearest human settlement away from Chict'Gra and made a deal with the two humans whose house he had come upon. He promised to them that, if they took great care of his daughter ( who was by that time, by our standards at age nine) that no harm would ever come to anyone within their bloodline from his people. Along with a metal amulet that sealed the pact, those who you call Nokcon and Semma, were told that, if he never came back personally to retrieve his daughter, that someone of his clan will.”
“The wars continued. Years went by like the flipping of book pages. At the peak of the 15th human/demon war, my father was killed by human sword. On his deathbed, my father and mother ( by the tradition of his people, when your mate is slain in battle, the female must take her life also, so in the beyond, they will be together forever) told me of the pact they made with the humans, and what I had to do to get LAN'ISHORA back. After their passing, I became the new Warriorlord of the CRE’ISHTAR."
Rain begins to fall. Lightening strikes the blood-covered field, burning to a cinder some of the rotting remains of the demon hordes. The spoken word of TRO'ISHGAR sinks deeply into the weary consciousness of Kroman. Blood and demon bile flows steadily off of Kroman's cold, clammy chest down through his fingers over the edge of his gleaming battle ax. With his eyes bloodshot, Kroman's patience is almost at and end. His voice crackles and hisses at a whisper, as he tries to get the words out.
" you... yo....u lie...why should i believe you? if....you......were....her brother.... why......w-would y-you..... KILL YOUR OWN SISTER?!?!?!?!" Gripping his battle ax Windhammer with both hands, Kroman stands on the brink of attacking, when Tro'ishgar responds." When I approached her in your village's meadow she was fearful at first, but at the same moment she remembered who I was and who she was. It was great to see her. We sat and talked for a long time. I told her everything about father and mother, and the death of Rei'ishlar, and about the pact. I told her it was time to come home. To be apart of the family again, and take her place as Princess of our people, but she refused?! I tried to explain to her that she was sorely needed by our people. The war was going poorly and we needed all the encouragement we could muster. Her presents would be of great importance, but she would not hear of it. She was happy being human and wouldn't return. I knew what came next, but I tried to let her live her life so I returned to Chict'Gra without her. The war was growing even worse. Troop moral was low, I was forced to come and get her again. Down by the riverbank where you and she resided. This time I was not alone. I tried to reason with her on our way back home but she resisted, and spoke against her own people. If it were just me this time I would have let her go, but it wasn't. She knew that, if anyone in our clan where to betray us that they died horribly. I had no choice!" His voice drops to a screaming whisper, " I had NO choice! i had no choice! I......." Clutching his sword from behind his back with his right hand, Tro'ishgar is ready for what is about to come. Suddenly, Kroman cracks, his unstable calm is broken. The darkness takes over once again. The wind whips in a fiery state, as to proclaim its' allegiance. Thunder smacks the ground like a lover found cheating. Simultaneously, they attack one another. Kroman lunges with battle ax held high over his head, berserker rage now in his eyes, crossing the wide gap as he howls, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Tro'ishgar propels himself from under the tree, his massive sword Zict'Chi swings from right to left, and holding , blade slanted on his left side as he screeches," I HAD NO CHOICE!?!?!"
Lightening, thunder, wind, and rain, slam together all at once. The sky rumbles and shivers, bleeding its' tears in heavy torrential showers. Red, black, the sky looses control over its mood. The ground quakes. Armageddon is upon us!
Then it stops.
Everything is still.
Not a buzz from flies, nor the grumblings of the earth. Now stand two. Kroman, clenching Windhammer, his back facing towards Tro'ishgar. Tro'ishgar, gripping Zict'Chi, his back facing towards Kroman. The last word said between the two is spoken now. First Tro'ishgar, said in a regretful and sullen tone, "i had no choice." Then Kroman, voice speaking in a whispered tone, "no" and slumping over, holding his stomach, blood escaping in wave after wave. Tro'ishgar's sword covered with blood, sliding off the razor-sharp blade dripping over and onto the ground.................drip!
The sky now is a bright blue. The birds chirp, singing their songs of life, while flying over a field of death and tragedy. Trudging his way through his now dead army, Tro'ishgar stands over the newly dead corpse of Kroman.
" I had no choice. You must have loved her as much as I did.(pause) I shall honor that love and bury you two side by side so you may be together in the great beyond." After gathering both Kroman and Lan'ishora's bodies and burying the two together, Tro'ishgar stands over both graves and says his parting words. "I hope you two find peace in the great beyond. No more war and pain for either of you. I hope when you meet mother and father they can explain why I did what I did,(pause) and you forgive me. I found you, just to loose you. Give my love to Rei'ishlar. Tell him( choke) that I miss him. May you all be happy, for in death, you find happiness. While we who live.............. must drudge on in despair." Turning away from their graves, Tro'ishgar turns to the rising sun, and walks away.
THERE WAS A PLAN FOR 12 SHORTS LIKE THIS,
ALL STARRING CHARACTERS THAT WERE APART OF KROMAN. TWO ARE
DONE SO FAR. I MAY GO BACK THE WORLD OF KROMAN, BUT FOR NOW, THERE'S THIS ONE.
LOOK OUT FOR THE NEXT ONE IN THE NEAR FUTURE.
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