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Another eventful year with the Abyss, Mr Karl certainly knew how to put on an excellent show to satiate even the most bloodthirsty of watchers and combatants, even if the assassins year did end prematurely due to a punk ninja and his magic sword of static stupidity. Still, he had gotten to snap that sweet young things neck before dumping her into the lava to burn, and that was intimidating enough of a scene to earn the respect of any Nippurian peasant.
The assassin sighed as he faced the portal, soon he would be back in the glorious city of gold and sand, where the people respected him and he could literally get away with murder if it so pleased him. He could even pay a visit to one of the many fine ladies in the town, or perhaps find some way to mess with that stuffy guard captain. He was a busy man as the Lord of Diplomacy for the Kingdom of New Babylon. Deals to make projects to organise, laws to write, and perhaps the occasional rebel to mutilate. The Abyss had been a welcome distraction but once again the nobleman found himself longing to feel the sand beneath his feet, and Gabriella on his lips.
As he stepped through the portal he braced himself for the burning air of the dunes, only to be met by a wind that chilled him to the bone. He knew that he had asked Erik to maybe work on some kind of air conditioning, but this seemed excessive even for his brilliant mind. As the eyes of the assassin scanned the horizon looking for any landmarks he had a distinct impression that this wasn't the Dunes. The Frozen Fields perhaps? Wondering if he had gotten on the wrong teleporter he looked around for a hint of where the gate would be, with his speed it would not be too hard to jog to it.
As he stepped forward, everything felt sluggish, like even if he where to run, it would feel no more than a brisk walk. Channelling his thoughts like he had so many times, aiming to burst forward, nothing, it would seem like the powers he had invested into had been once again taken from him. As he wondered about what sort of childish god had plucked him out of his comfy position as a third in command of a future empire the blond scanned the horizon, noticing caves and hollow crags that seemed to lead into an unsettling dark.
The biting cold was harsh, even with his assassins robes designed to help resist the more extreme weathers, it seemed that they were not enough. Feeling his fingers begin to lose feeling he knew if he did not find a source of heat soon, he would be losing more than just a few powers, and without proof of a healing factor, he could not risk the loss of his rather talented fingers.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the glow of flame, so inviting, a natural ridge of rock creating an overhang that protected from the biting winds of this winter hellscape. It almost seemed to good to be true that on such an alien environment, there would be the familiar smell of meat cooking in the air. But there it was, a lone figure, clouded by the snow, stirring a pot over an open fire. It was no palace but to the assassin, it may as well have been.
Stalking towards the stranger, a primal hunger filling his eyes, his need for the heat of the flame the only thing driving him forward the assassin forgot to test out his stealth belt. The stranger's eyes lighting up, the inviting gaze relaxing whilst also unnerving the sociopath.
"Why have a seat stranger, nice to see a friendly, fit face around here, Don't get too many these days." The older gentleman had a long grey beard, miners overalls, a pickaxe against the wall, and red stains on his clothing. Victor assumed it was probably rust and that this man most likely mined iron for a living, perhaps the many crags allowed for a lot of underground mines, protected from the cold of the surface.
The warm embrace from the fire returned feeling to Victors numb extremities, and the smell of stewed pork bringing a growl to his stomach, noticing his hungry gaze at the pot, the old miner reached for a stone bowl, filling it with the stew, meat dripping off a section of elongated bone. It looked suspiciously familiar but the assassin didn't care, almost forgetting to chew as he wolfed it down.
The sweet flavour of the soft pork warmed the assassin to the core, sitting on a rather rust covered rock as he let out a satisfied yawn.
"Not from around these parts are ya stranger?" The old man chimed as he examined the lightly dressed assassin, a strangely friendly gaze on his face as he focused on Victor's arms, and chest for a little longer than he was comfortable with.
"That seems to be the case, my good sir, stepped through a portal, and I arrived here, must have been quite the trip as I don't feel anywhere near as powerful as I used to be, quite the hassle, could you tell me about this place? Who knows maybe there will be a way I can return the favour of a good meal" Wolfe chimed back as he relaxed. The old man pondered for a moment,
"Of course, always have to be the good Samaritan and help off-worlders, as for the favour, could you keep a close eye on what's left of the stew whilst I get this place organised? I wasn't expecting visitors" The old man gave a yellow-toothed grin, causing the assassin to smirk that he was getting off so easy. Scooting forward he grasped at the large ladle, stirring the meat and bones in the bubbling liquid.
"Well, this planet is known as Inverxe, lucky you found me, lots a dangerous critters around these parts. Although a lot of them tend to stick more to the caves, good loot down there if you are willing to risk it though. A soft boy like yourself though, you are probably best stickin to the warmth of this here fire." The old man explained, the last comment offended Vic a lot, but he was eating the man's food in this barren wasteland of ice and death so he felt that biting his tongue was for the best.
"So where you one of the people brave enough to go into the caravans? Looking for metals to mine old man?" Victor questioned as he heard the pensioner shuffling around behind him, the sound of metal being moved.
"A long time ago, when I was a younger man, though we had struck gold, a huge vein of valuable metals. But as soon as we struck it, the entrance collapsed behind us, we tried to dig out but nothing seemed to work, the owner of the mine wanted us to keep digging, saying we would be rescued in a few days so may as well get his gold out. We ran out of food" The older gentleman let out a sigh, clearly, this was not a happy story. Still, it was one that Victor knew all too well especially around the coal mines required for the industrialisation of his native empire. Many miners revolts had to be crushed at his own hand after all.
"Then the whispering started, slowly creeping into the dreams in our short sleep shifts. Then it started in the day until it turned to talk, demands that we do something, they told us that the owner was going to work us to death then escape with all the gold to not pay us, that he had food stashed away, and that we needed to survive. Eventually, it got too much and one of us aimed a pick into the back of his head. There was no food, but the voices died down, and we could rest and play cards, we thought it was just loss of sleep and with more rest, they would stop."
Victor listened to the story of the desperate miner it sounded like there may have been some gas leak in the mine from their work, or maybe just hallucinations from exhaustion, understandable, but he could tell the story was not finished yet, this intrigued the assassin as he heard more shuffling.
"Then we grew hungry, arguments began to break out, but we remained hopeful that rescue would come. Then the voices returned. They told us that we had to dispose of the evidence and that the owner was stashing away food, in his plump body. We didn't want to hear the voices screaming again, that unholy evil, so we listened, the owner lasted us a few days, and his flesh gave us sweet life. The lord raised an eyebrow, Cannibalism was taboo in most societies but given the situation it seemed like something that they had to resort to, he did wonder where this story was going and was eager to hear more of these peoples fall from grace.
"The voices kept coming back louder and louder, the next time it told us that the next that needed to die and give the rest of us life was Jimmy, the man who swung the pick and ate the first bite of the owner, the voices told all of us excluding Jimmy that he was a murderer, and would probably do the same again. We had to get him first, so when he was drinking from an underground spring, we knocked him out. We wanted to kill him but the voices told us he would taste better alive. We boiled him using the coal as fuel, like a lobster." The old man was almost sobbing now. He continued the story, each death becoming more graphics, and ritualistic. The madness of the rock seeping into their souls until by the end of the story the old fellow was the last man alive.
"So how did you get out of the mine?" The Diplomats interest was peaked
"Oh some people from a nearby town picked me up, and took me to their village, it was the craziest thing, you see they say the entrance to the cave was never sealed when they arrived, and all they found where some flesh stripped skeletons, and me, as well as some mined fools gold. They tried to help me and things where good" This caused Victor to chuckle.
"Well that is as good an ending, what are you doing out here then? Looking for some metals for the village?" he wondered if he could also get in good with these helpful idiots, they may even be willing to help get him set up for the challenges of this planet.
"well you see it did go well for a while, but I couldn't let it go, the voices followed me, and one day when I was left alone to guard the infants, one of them... fell into the boiling pot. They wanted to execute me so I fled,"The assassin's eyes widened, he suddenly recognised the shapes of the bones in the soup, a femur here, vertebrae there. This wasn't pork. And the red that coated Victor's makeshift seat and the miner's garb was not from an iron mine.
Rolling just at the right moment the assassin heard a clash as the stone he was sitting on crashed with the head of the pickaxe. The miner now had a crazed and frustrated look in his eyes as tears welled up in them, he lunged forward with another inaccurate swing.
"Please, sir! Don't struggle, the voices! The voices! They demand your blood, please let them stop!" He sobbed as he continued to swing. The assassin was pretty certain that with his reduced powers a hit from the sharp metal tip of the pickaxe would likely finish him in this cold.
But he knew he had to do something, remembering his training he waited for his opponent to perform a side swing, the heavy pickaxe dragged his arms in a wider arc than he would have liked allowing the assassin the opening he needed. He planned on getting in on the bigger swings and cutting lightly to bleed the miner out. His first light swing connected with his abdomen. And suddenly the wild swinging, the pleading, even the tears seemed to stop.
A red line formed across the old man's entire abdomen, as the top half of his body fell backwards, the legs staying before landing on top of the rest. Victor looked stunned at his blades, apparently, what he had lost in some areas, this world had more than provided in others, very carefully he returned them to their sheaths, fear that they would cut right through and slice his legs off a humorous but very real concern.
The assassin sighed as he faced the portal, soon he would be back in the glorious city of gold and sand, where the people respected him and he could literally get away with murder if it so pleased him. He could even pay a visit to one of the many fine ladies in the town, or perhaps find some way to mess with that stuffy guard captain. He was a busy man as the Lord of Diplomacy for the Kingdom of New Babylon. Deals to make projects to organise, laws to write, and perhaps the occasional rebel to mutilate. The Abyss had been a welcome distraction but once again the nobleman found himself longing to feel the sand beneath his feet, and Gabriella on his lips.
As he stepped through the portal he braced himself for the burning air of the dunes, only to be met by a wind that chilled him to the bone. He knew that he had asked Erik to maybe work on some kind of air conditioning, but this seemed excessive even for his brilliant mind. As the eyes of the assassin scanned the horizon looking for any landmarks he had a distinct impression that this wasn't the Dunes. The Frozen Fields perhaps? Wondering if he had gotten on the wrong teleporter he looked around for a hint of where the gate would be, with his speed it would not be too hard to jog to it.
As he stepped forward, everything felt sluggish, like even if he where to run, it would feel no more than a brisk walk. Channelling his thoughts like he had so many times, aiming to burst forward, nothing, it would seem like the powers he had invested into had been once again taken from him. As he wondered about what sort of childish god had plucked him out of his comfy position as a third in command of a future empire the blond scanned the horizon, noticing caves and hollow crags that seemed to lead into an unsettling dark.
The biting cold was harsh, even with his assassins robes designed to help resist the more extreme weathers, it seemed that they were not enough. Feeling his fingers begin to lose feeling he knew if he did not find a source of heat soon, he would be losing more than just a few powers, and without proof of a healing factor, he could not risk the loss of his rather talented fingers.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the glow of flame, so inviting, a natural ridge of rock creating an overhang that protected from the biting winds of this winter hellscape. It almost seemed to good to be true that on such an alien environment, there would be the familiar smell of meat cooking in the air. But there it was, a lone figure, clouded by the snow, stirring a pot over an open fire. It was no palace but to the assassin, it may as well have been.
Stalking towards the stranger, a primal hunger filling his eyes, his need for the heat of the flame the only thing driving him forward the assassin forgot to test out his stealth belt. The stranger's eyes lighting up, the inviting gaze relaxing whilst also unnerving the sociopath.
"Why have a seat stranger, nice to see a friendly, fit face around here, Don't get too many these days." The older gentleman had a long grey beard, miners overalls, a pickaxe against the wall, and red stains on his clothing. Victor assumed it was probably rust and that this man most likely mined iron for a living, perhaps the many crags allowed for a lot of underground mines, protected from the cold of the surface.
The warm embrace from the fire returned feeling to Victors numb extremities, and the smell of stewed pork bringing a growl to his stomach, noticing his hungry gaze at the pot, the old miner reached for a stone bowl, filling it with the stew, meat dripping off a section of elongated bone. It looked suspiciously familiar but the assassin didn't care, almost forgetting to chew as he wolfed it down.
The sweet flavour of the soft pork warmed the assassin to the core, sitting on a rather rust covered rock as he let out a satisfied yawn.
"Not from around these parts are ya stranger?" The old man chimed as he examined the lightly dressed assassin, a strangely friendly gaze on his face as he focused on Victor's arms, and chest for a little longer than he was comfortable with.
"That seems to be the case, my good sir, stepped through a portal, and I arrived here, must have been quite the trip as I don't feel anywhere near as powerful as I used to be, quite the hassle, could you tell me about this place? Who knows maybe there will be a way I can return the favour of a good meal" Wolfe chimed back as he relaxed. The old man pondered for a moment,
"Of course, always have to be the good Samaritan and help off-worlders, as for the favour, could you keep a close eye on what's left of the stew whilst I get this place organised? I wasn't expecting visitors" The old man gave a yellow-toothed grin, causing the assassin to smirk that he was getting off so easy. Scooting forward he grasped at the large ladle, stirring the meat and bones in the bubbling liquid.
"Well, this planet is known as Inverxe, lucky you found me, lots a dangerous critters around these parts. Although a lot of them tend to stick more to the caves, good loot down there if you are willing to risk it though. A soft boy like yourself though, you are probably best stickin to the warmth of this here fire." The old man explained, the last comment offended Vic a lot, but he was eating the man's food in this barren wasteland of ice and death so he felt that biting his tongue was for the best.
"So where you one of the people brave enough to go into the caravans? Looking for metals to mine old man?" Victor questioned as he heard the pensioner shuffling around behind him, the sound of metal being moved.
"A long time ago, when I was a younger man, though we had struck gold, a huge vein of valuable metals. But as soon as we struck it, the entrance collapsed behind us, we tried to dig out but nothing seemed to work, the owner of the mine wanted us to keep digging, saying we would be rescued in a few days so may as well get his gold out. We ran out of food" The older gentleman let out a sigh, clearly, this was not a happy story. Still, it was one that Victor knew all too well especially around the coal mines required for the industrialisation of his native empire. Many miners revolts had to be crushed at his own hand after all.
"Then the whispering started, slowly creeping into the dreams in our short sleep shifts. Then it started in the day until it turned to talk, demands that we do something, they told us that the owner was going to work us to death then escape with all the gold to not pay us, that he had food stashed away, and that we needed to survive. Eventually, it got too much and one of us aimed a pick into the back of his head. There was no food, but the voices died down, and we could rest and play cards, we thought it was just loss of sleep and with more rest, they would stop."
Victor listened to the story of the desperate miner it sounded like there may have been some gas leak in the mine from their work, or maybe just hallucinations from exhaustion, understandable, but he could tell the story was not finished yet, this intrigued the assassin as he heard more shuffling.
"Then we grew hungry, arguments began to break out, but we remained hopeful that rescue would come. Then the voices returned. They told us that we had to dispose of the evidence and that the owner was stashing away food, in his plump body. We didn't want to hear the voices screaming again, that unholy evil, so we listened, the owner lasted us a few days, and his flesh gave us sweet life. The lord raised an eyebrow, Cannibalism was taboo in most societies but given the situation it seemed like something that they had to resort to, he did wonder where this story was going and was eager to hear more of these peoples fall from grace.
"The voices kept coming back louder and louder, the next time it told us that the next that needed to die and give the rest of us life was Jimmy, the man who swung the pick and ate the first bite of the owner, the voices told all of us excluding Jimmy that he was a murderer, and would probably do the same again. We had to get him first, so when he was drinking from an underground spring, we knocked him out. We wanted to kill him but the voices told us he would taste better alive. We boiled him using the coal as fuel, like a lobster." The old man was almost sobbing now. He continued the story, each death becoming more graphics, and ritualistic. The madness of the rock seeping into their souls until by the end of the story the old fellow was the last man alive.
"So how did you get out of the mine?" The Diplomats interest was peaked
"Oh some people from a nearby town picked me up, and took me to their village, it was the craziest thing, you see they say the entrance to the cave was never sealed when they arrived, and all they found where some flesh stripped skeletons, and me, as well as some mined fools gold. They tried to help me and things where good" This caused Victor to chuckle.
"Well that is as good an ending, what are you doing out here then? Looking for some metals for the village?" he wondered if he could also get in good with these helpful idiots, they may even be willing to help get him set up for the challenges of this planet.
"well you see it did go well for a while, but I couldn't let it go, the voices followed me, and one day when I was left alone to guard the infants, one of them... fell into the boiling pot. They wanted to execute me so I fled,"The assassin's eyes widened, he suddenly recognised the shapes of the bones in the soup, a femur here, vertebrae there. This wasn't pork. And the red that coated Victor's makeshift seat and the miner's garb was not from an iron mine.
Rolling just at the right moment the assassin heard a clash as the stone he was sitting on crashed with the head of the pickaxe. The miner now had a crazed and frustrated look in his eyes as tears welled up in them, he lunged forward with another inaccurate swing.
"Please, sir! Don't struggle, the voices! The voices! They demand your blood, please let them stop!" He sobbed as he continued to swing. The assassin was pretty certain that with his reduced powers a hit from the sharp metal tip of the pickaxe would likely finish him in this cold.
But he knew he had to do something, remembering his training he waited for his opponent to perform a side swing, the heavy pickaxe dragged his arms in a wider arc than he would have liked allowing the assassin the opening he needed. He planned on getting in on the bigger swings and cutting lightly to bleed the miner out. His first light swing connected with his abdomen. And suddenly the wild swinging, the pleading, even the tears seemed to stop.
A red line formed across the old man's entire abdomen, as the top half of his body fell backwards, the legs staying before landing on top of the rest. Victor looked stunned at his blades, apparently, what he had lost in some areas, this world had more than provided in others, very carefully he returned them to their sheaths, fear that they would cut right through and slice his legs off a humorous but very real concern.