Forgotten (short story.)
Before I start we need some explaning.
This story is based on Warhammer. If you don't know what it is, it's a popular tabletop minatures game. The main character of this story is a Dwarf, one of the many races that inhabit the "Warhammer world". He is also a Slayer. A Slayer is a Dwarf, whom, having been shamed or dishonored (ie: unable to fufill an oath, suffered a grevious personal loss), and simply cannot bear the weight of the happening, they take the oath of a Slayer. They shave their hair into a mowhawk, dye it a bloody red-orange, and leave home to find their glorious doom against some horrible monster to make up for their sin. Heres a pic of a Slayer: http://www.trollslayer.net/images/snorri.jpg Also, note that a rememberer is someone who goes along with a Slayer to record their doom, lest they be forgotten. That's everything. Enjoy. ------------------------------------ The snow bit deep into my eyes as I walked. The noise of the wind was unbelievably loud. It didn’t matter, and I didn’t know why. I couldn’t feel it, nor did I care. I looked down. My feet were turning blue in the snow, but I felt no physical pain. Why should I? It didn’t matter anymore. There was no reason to. There was only my doom to look forward to. The prints in the snow were long gone, but I could smell it still. That sick smell, the one that made you cringe. Blood. It was maddening. The rage grew. I fought through the snow drifts, oblivious. I looked down at my warhammer. It wasn’t as heavy as when I first hefted it. It must have been something mental, I thought, a primal strength, hidden in the back of one’s mind. Something only a Slayer could dig down and unlock. There was something unreal about it, the Slayer mind. Long ago, when I first learned of the Slayers, my mother told me they were just madmen, broken one’s without a cause. She said they were just crazy, and should be left to find their glories and dooms. It didn’t not seem so crazy now... The snow whipped harder then ever. I ran my fingers across my mowhawk. It was still short, of course. Barely even a crest. A little bit of the blood red dye came off onto my hands. It made me start to remember... First there was the flames...then the screams.... I brushed the dye off my hands in the snow, and tried to clear my head. The stench of blood was in the air. Surely I wasn’t that close? After a few more minutes of walking, I came upon a small clearing. The stench was strong in the air. I looked around... My gaze fell upon a large dead tree, and I fought back the urge to vomit. A dwarf, now unrecognizable, had been impaled on one of the lower branches of the tree. It was hideously mangled and reeked. The rage grew. I slammed my hammer into a nearby tree, taking a large chuck out of the wood. I remembered... The barricades on the main door rumbled. More flaming arrows came over the wall. The door rumbled one more time.... I fought down the memories, and took a deep breath of air. There was another trail, another path of the stench. I surged forward, the rage growing with every step. The ground was sloping upward. I was at the base of a mountain. Most likely the third peak of Gurnblag. The trees were growing sparser, as the ground turned gradually more rockier. The snow whipped around me, a wailing wall of sound, obscuring my vision and making the trek much slower. It was like the wind taunted me, the very earth was set against me. Perhaps just the Ancestral Gods, driving me forward, urging me towards the doom. Such are the ways of the Gods, to use us as they see fit. Why! What right do they have! For a second, the rage almost broke. The gates shattered inward. Fall back, they cried. It did not avail us. The way was open, and in they came.... ‘Why, da-mn you!” I yelled at the sky. “You killed them all and left me! Why not I!? You leave me to this fate! You forsake me!” I slumped to the ground, the outburst draining me of my will. No. They will be avenged. Or I shall join them. The rocky slope was quickly turning into a climb. The mountain stretched up towards the sky, blocked out by the blizzard. The trees had disappeared, replaced by sparse coniferous bushes. The smell was becoming clearer as I climbed. It drove me forward, the scent fueling a unquenchable bloodlust. I was close...so very close. I was begging to see signs. Pieces of armor in the snow. Weapons. Bodies. I gripped the shaft of my hammer until my knuckles turned white. They came in, pouring through the gate like a tide. Trogg’s. We fought against them as hard as we could, but they pushed us back. They began to climb over the walls of the outpost, seeking to surround us. We fought like dogs, back to back, never stopping for breath. We fought our way to the main hall, and barricaded ourselves inside. We waited.... I marched onward. The horn of doom was sounding. I could hear it. It beckoned me, driving me forward. All else did not matter. I had gotten there without even noticing. I stood at the mouth of a cave. It looked as though it were the mouth of some strange beast, ready to devour some hapless victim. Blood covered the ground in front of it. I remembered again... The battering ram sounded. It chilled us to the bone. Boom. The children cried out with fear. Boom. We hefted our weapons. Metal scraped metal. Rifles were loaded. BOOM. And then they came. It was not battle anymore. It was bloody, mindless, swirling madness. I could barely recall it. it was a tumult of sound and violence. And then it happened. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was destiny. Maybe it was just some cruel trick. The ceiling caved in on me. Darkness surrounded me. I was left in the shadow, to listen to the sounds of battle that seemed to last an eternity... I hefted my warhammer. Doom beckoned. Daring me onward to meet it. Waiting within the cave, taunting me. I walked in, ready to face it. ------------------------------ It was here even stronger than before. The stench of death. It permeated every inch of this place, saturating it with it’s vile taint. I could smell them now. That disgusting smell of Trogg. Some claimed that they were once dwarves, hideously mutated in some long forgotten catastrophe. Others said they were a mindless primal force, only seeking to further their own existence. It did not matter. I would slaughter them regardless. As I moved deeper into the cave, I began to see haunting signs. Bones. Armor. Blood. I remembered... It had seemed to taken forever to pull myself out from under the rubble. The sight I saw when I was free almost broke my sanity. Then again, maybe it did... I pressed on, the Slayer beast within my mind roared for battle. I could hear noises now. Grunts and squeals of Troggs. My blood boiled as the noise grew louder. And then I saw it. I had reached a small chamber. In the center, a fire burned, over it roasted dwarf bodies. Trogg’s surrounded the fire, cackling with a sadistic glee. “On their honor, you shall all die!” The Troggs looked upon me with suprise, but quickly grasped the situation and charged. I brought my hammer down on the first, reducing it’s skull to jelly. A wide swing crushed the next two, crumpling them against the force of impact. Another leapt into the air towards me, and I sent him flying into the wall. The few that remained exchanged looks of fear and anger, and ran out of the chamber through an adjacent tunnel. I gave chase, the Slayer beast mad with bloodlust, and I remembered.... In front of the ruined temple of Grungnir, I swore into the oath of a Slayer. I hastily shaved and died my hair, and charged out into the unknown, following the trail that the Trogg warband had left behind. Vengeance and doom reverberated in my mind. The sound of the Troggs was reaching a roar now. I was close. I turned another corner. I could see torchlight. I turned again, and halted. A cavern it was, larger than the first and lit by torchlight. It was littered with bodies and blood, and it reeked of death. A large band of Troggs stood at it’s center, apparently awaiting my arrival. At the rear was the largest Trogg I had ever seen, it appeared as though it was mutated, although that may have not been the case. The Slayer beast unsheathed it claws and charged. They sought to surround me. I would not let them. I raged and killed, every swing brought down another, carving a path of red ruin through their numbers. They began to break and flee, I cut them down as they went, not intent to let them get away. One remained. The giant of a Trogg, baring it’s fangs and daring me to charge it. The Slayer beast screamed out, and I charged. The enormous Trogg stomped forward, grinning with delight as it brought down it’s enormous club. I wasn’t there when it hit. I slammed my hammer into the beast’s ankle, and was met with the satisfying crunch of shattering bone. The Trogg roared and brought it’s club down in another swing, but I ducked underneath and brought my hammer into the beasts stomach, producing a rather sickening squelching sound. I dashed off to the side, and the Trogg followed, mad with pain. I grabbed a torch off the wall, and hurled it at the beast. The torch struck the beast in the eye, and it doubled over, clutching at it’s scorched eye. Now was my chance. I dashed behind the creature, and quickly climbed a small rock pillar to about the creature’s head level. The Slayer beast roared, louder than ever before. I jumped. Time seemed to slow. The Trogg turned around and looked up. I brought my hammer down, and it collided with the skull of the monster. Time sped back up, and I leapt off the Trogg, now fountaining blood from a gaping hole in it’s head. It was mortally wounded. I dashed forward once again, convinced the next strike would destroy it. I dashed to the side, hoping to get in underneath the beast’s swing. Through it’s mad bloodlust, the Trogg made one last desperate swing, and it struck. It felt like I had been hit by an avalanche. I sailed through the air, slammed into a pillar, and came to rest at it’s base. My body was broken. I couldn’t move. The pain was excruciating. The Trogg lumbered over to where I lay, and with one last gurgle, it brought down it’s club. In that final moment, as my doom came falling towards me, and the Ancestral Halls beckoned; the only thing I had to regret was that there was no rememberer... The End. |