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War: All Us Scoundrels - Chapter 2

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Eric Mac, Feb 8, 2015.

  1. Eric Mac

    Eric Mac IncGamers Member

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    ©Eric Mac 2015
    (Author's note: find more of my writing at: http://www.wattpad.com/user/eric_mac)

    Chapter 2

    We made it out of the caves with a good haul. Warren looked a little silly, in my opinion. I told him so, of course.

    We came out to find night had fallen. The stars were bright points that almost hurt my eyes looking at them. I suppose any light after the dark of Sanctuary’s intestines would hurt the eyes. Firelight was different with its flickering gold and orange, the eyes grew kind in that warmth. The light from Warren’s armor never seemed to have any effect on the pupils.

    But that starlight…it hurt.

    “I often wonder,” Warren said, walking slightly ahead of me. “What kind of soul such creatures have. It would seem I wasted effort sending their bodies somewhere without taking a soul as well.”

    Warren the philosopher. I had to stop from rolling my eyes as he engaged in his after-battle drivel. It wasn’t that I was disinterested, I simply had no desire to ponder what I couldn’t touch.

    Oh, yes, by the way, Warren had brains. They weren’t in the class of my cleverness—I outshone him and most others in that—but they were sharp enough to be…disconcerting. Imagine him, a hulking behemoth, able to dissect you mentally with his keen mind to either know precisely where to sever soft parts of your body in the most efficient manner, or to do it in such a way that terrifies you into wanting death by any other hand.

    I have had nightmares with images of Warren bearing down on me, sloppy grin on his face, eyes sharp as his sword, lust in his heart for my blood.

    I shuddered at the thought.

    Did I mention I was his friend?

    “Taking their souls?” I said. “Their smelly, wretched lives weren’t enough for you?”

    And they had been smelly. I went through pile after pile of their bodies picking at the gold I could find: I…we…came away with over one thousand pieces. I scrubbed as many of them as I could in the sand to polish them, not wanting to use our precious water for that task. But in the end, I grew bored and just started putting the pieces in our leather sacks. I do admit to putting the smelliest of them in Warren’s, but only because he never seemed bothered by such things.

    At least that’s what I keep telling myself. And until I hear otherwise from him…oh heck, even if he complains, I’m going to make him carry the rotten stuff. I mean, really, who would ever complain to him that he stinks?

    And yes, I can justify anything that makes me smell prettier than my mountainous friend.

    Did I mention that he was celibate?

    Yes. No women, or men for that matter. He was bound to a higher purpose.

    Personally, I think it’s the reason he’s so damn bloodthirsty and good at killing—I know I’d be a more hungry killer if I didn’t partake in the feminine pleasures in life.

    And that’s why I smell better than he.

    Any woman that wanted his smell…well, I just don’t like to think of such things.

    “I think it’s important,” Warren said. “I know when I die, when I rise into the next life…I would be restless if I didn’t have the souls of my dead to battle.”

    I turned to look at him, my eyebrows raised and, I must say, slight worry on my face.

    “You know, I could do quite well without that image in my head, thank you,” I said, meaning every word. “I plan on having my choice of women, wine and worlds to travel when I die. And I will be entirely pissed if I see the souls of your dead waiting there for me. If anything, I will politely point out your location for them.”

    Warren slowed his walk, looked at me appreciably, and then patted me on the shoulder, a…did I actually see it?…a humble smile on his face.

    “Thank you, my friend,” Warren said.

    I just couldn’t roll my eyes at that. It would have been rude. My mouth, however, did curl up on one side. I hated it when he got sentimental. “Yeah, well….just see that you do your best to keep them off my back. I can’t attract any good woman with a hoard of angry, beat up souls loitering around.”

    Warren nodded, solemnly. We continued walking at our regular pace.

    We were walking mostly by the light of the stars. I had Warren reduce the glow on his armor so that we could travel mostly unmolested—this was a difficult task, as it fluctuated with his thoughts. He was disciplined of mind, but when he got to pondering some thought, or engaged in battle, he tended to forget his person and the light would grow brighter until I poked him in the ribs. During battle I had to accept the light, as there was no way I was going to poke a blood lusting barbarian in the ribs at a time like that.

    Another good haul from the cave of stinking creatures was the scythe Warren carried. He kept his sword. Yes, from now on he was going to swing two weapons when he fought. He did it in the cave, briefly. I knew he could do such a thing, but I was always surprised to see it in action—and with a scythe no less! Now that was impressive.

    A scythe, a sword, and a satisfied smile: nothing any minimally thinking person would wish to taunt. I was always surprised at how many unthinking people and creatures there were in the world.

    So Warren walked, his new scythe in his left hand, his sword strapped to his back and ready to be pulled within a second’s notice.

    “I think we should…,” I started to say and then stopped. Warren stopped with me.

    The sand had given way to rockier ground over the last several hundred steps or so—not altogether, mind you, the damned sand just wouldn’t give up its hold on the land for nothing, it seemed. Ahead, sharp boulders jutted skyward, breaking the line of the starry horizon. That wasn’t as interesting as the faint, flickering from a deeply red fire behind some stony structures, buildings of some sort.

    I took a moment to think about this, dread starting to set in my stomach. Fire didn’t look quite that red. And that only meant—

    “Demons!” Warren said. He started forward, pulling his sword from his back, his armor lighting the night sand for a radius of twenty feet.

    “Damn,” I said, pulling my bow from my back. I started after him. “Damn.”
     
    Last edited: Feb 22, 2015

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