Bloodlust

As the evening passed, the dawn arrived, and eventually brought noon, Arnold Chieftain was seated at his desk with a rifle sitting on it. Drumming his fingers on the table rhythmically, anyone would be able to see that he was deep in thought. Arnold was no stranger to battle; rarely anybody was in those times, and he knew that the next move they made against Mordecai could well be the determining fact in who won the war they were engaged in. As things stood, they weren't holding up the best, but hopefully project F.A would do the trick and bring a glimmer of hope back to the hearts of those that remained in the human district.​

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Although that wasn't the only problem, and he knew this all too well. Despite him giving strict orders for everyone to remain in the district and within their walls, several people had left. If it were one of their regular hunting exploits, or maybe even some scouting mission, then they should have been back well before dawn had arrived. He could only assume the worst, that they had been either captured or killed. What was more worrying about it though was the fact they had been able to get out. Either the men guarding the district entrance were getting sloppy, a bad thing indeed, or there was a passage in and out of the district that he was unaware of; a much more frightening thought. With a great sigh, Arnold pushed his chair back quickly and stood up, grabbing the rifle in his right hand. Stepping forward until he was in front of the door to his home, he pushed open the door to see the mass of people that were there; the people that had come after he had called for them.​

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If he had thought simply calling them there would do the trick, then he was sorely mistaken. Tension was high, with the siege from Orpheus still taking place, and many people were arguing amongst themselves. Screaming, yelling, and insults could be heard. Closing his eyes for a moment, Arnold revealed a very serious expression. This was the perfect chance to showcase their handiwork. Holding the rifle up and pointing it into the air, he quickly pulled the trigger. A loud sound came with the firing of a single bullet, causing people to cease their bickering and arguing and turn to see what it was.

"Hold your tongues and listen up. Our enemy isn't within these walls, they aren't the people next to you. They're the people out there," he said, pointing with the rifle around at the walls, "and if we don't work together we're as good as dead. We shouldn't be arguing, there should be celebration, for today begins the end of this cursed war. Too long have we been standing by, bending down and kissing mordecai's ass while we pray for the gods to save us. The gods have done **** all for us so far, so we got to work on a little project of our own. As you know, for months we've been hard at work on project F.A, but what is it?" he spoke, deliberately ending his words with a question, before he stood still for a moment to let them wonder. The more it built up in their minds, the better the outcome would be.​

After a good minute, he decided to continue. "What I hold in my hand has been named a rifle. It fires small projectiles that travel faster than the eye can see. Mordecai and his followers might be tough, but how do you think they'll cope when they are so weighed down with lead that they can't move? There may be an entire horde of undead around these walls, but how well will their puppeteer command them when he draws his last breath? This is what we've been waiting for, this is what we've held out all this time for, and this is what will lead us to victory!" he shouted, causing an eruption of cheering and yelling from the crowd before him.​

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Turning to look directly at Nickel now, he quickly walked over to him and stopped just in front of him. "Nickel, the others should have been back by now. I've narrowed them leaving the district down to either a hidden passage, or perhaps even a traitor in our midst. I can only assume it's the worst, so I would like you to keep an eye on the prisoner for the moment, at least while I get the other people here up to speed with how to work the firearms" he stated. He then turned to face the crowd of people, who still very much looked happy, and pointed at his home. "Everyone! Come to my home and get a firearm each. Every man and woman who is able to fight, I expect you to fight. This isn't just our home or our lives we are fighting for, but our very survival! Take up arms, and I'll teach you how to kill Orpheus, Mordecai, and all the others that would attempt to wipe us off the face of this planet!" he shouted, before running to his home and beginning to hand out rifles to those that came for one.​

 

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Orpheus sat on a stone near the encampment they had set up for the night. It was rather difficult to ambush a squad of soldiers that never needed to rest, eat, or sleep. Their master, however, had already done so and awoken. He sat with the bound prisoners all in front of him, most of them looking at him with hatred and disdain. Sitting on the ground next to him was Cierra. She had refused to leave his side all night and day, so he simply allowed her to be near him if it pleased her so. He stroked her solid white hair as he looked at the soldiers.

"Sex slave. You're really not helping that case, what with the whole at the master's side having your hair stroked with a collar and chain on. Like, seriously."
"I realize they're scoundrels, but you truly are simply digging yourself into a deeper hole."
"Also, would you mind putting Shakespeare over here in another prison spot? He's giving me a headache with his fancy talking."
"I simply speak as a savior would. It befits one such as I."
"And i thought i was into role-playing."
"What do you-?"
"Enough." Interrupted Orpheus. Those two were giving HIM a headache.

"What exactly do you plan on doing with us, Necromancer? If you have spared our lives thus far, then you must have some intentions for keeping us alive. What say you to this?"
"First, i gave you my word i would not harm you. The way behind it may not be ethical, but i have kept my word. Second, I suspected this as soon as you arrived without him, but a subordinate of mine has yet to return from the human district. I suspect he may have been captured. If he still breathes, i intend to release you in exchange for his safety."
"All eight of us for just one man? How important must he be?" The savior said, obvious fairly surprised at this idea of his enemy.
"Don't be presumptuous. The humans will end with the better deal, but you will not all walk free. I leave it to you, decide among yourselves three who will go free. Once you have done so, speak with one of the guards and we will depart." As the pale general finished his order to the prisoners, he rose to his feet and walked away, ordering the men and his undead to ready for departure. One in particular caught his attention. "Gawain Griffin. Come to me, and kneel." The way he general said it didn't sound as though he were angry or simply demanded respect out of him. He said it as though he were inviting him.


Meanwhile, Beuce and Jedediah remained with the other prisoners. They had to choose who went free and who remained here in captivity. The white haired lustor let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against a rock, seemingly trying to get comfortable. "Well, i'm staying out of this. We all know it's not gonna be me going free. My money is on Hunter, Gwen, and Jed. Maybe swap one out for Emi." After all, why would they choose him to go free over one of their comrades? He barely knew any of these people, and the ones he did weren't exactly fond of him. Then again...Even if he did know them better, he had a feeling that he still wouldn't go free. He had never been the top gun in anyone's books. "Welp, get debating."


Nickel jumped slightly at the massive bang of the rifle's shot. He didn't even need to see it hit a target, he knew it was a powerful weapon and would do a heavy amount of damage if you managed to connect the projectile to the enemy. Now that was a weapon...After a bit of explaining about the rifle, chief ordered him to go keep an eye on the prisoner he'd captured while he went and trained the people how to use these new weapons. The black bolt nodded and raced off to the jailing area. He'd been meaning to talk to this prisoner anyway.

Upon arriving, he waved off the guards, indicating he'd take their place. Afterwards, he made extra sure that no one was around, and entered the room with the restrained lustor. [COLOR=#b35900]"What the hell are you doing here?! You goddamn near blew my cover with that stunt! Do you know how hard i worked to get these people to trust me?! Then some piss pot punk with a anger boner walks in and just about wrecks it all by goin' on a killing spree. So tell me, who are you? and why're you here?" [/COLOR]


Panting. Desperate, frantic panting. That was all that could be heard aside from the shrill scrape of the chains the drug the ground. Next thing they knew, there was a crunch and a splat. Red painted the once solid grey floor nearly in its entirety. One more victim to add to the list. That list was indeed growing rather long. The servants that once served in castle Mordecai would no longer be of much service to their lord. Instead, their only remaining purpose was to deliver a message for their murderer. A crying woman, about seventeen lay back against a table, battered and beaten. She whimpered in fear of the warden, knowing her end was coming. She tried to use her powers to harden her skin and protect herself, but it was for naught. The coated figure's massive hand plunged straight through her brest and grabbed. His hand shook momentarily as he put forth a bit of effort, but it didn't last long as a sharp snap was heard. The woman's backbone had just been crushed completely in half. She let out a last word before perishing. "Why?"

Pulling out his hand, it was now entirely coated red from her blood, he looked to the dead girl."Your lord crossed the wrong man. Your death won't be the last on account of it, either." The angry jailor walked forward up to the wall and began writing. He was leaving a message. A message to be discovered by whoever found this horrid scene. They were names. If your name was on this list, as far as just about anyone was concerned, you may as well just go into the next room and hang yourself to save him the trouble.​

"Cierra Escravo, Orpheus Graveson, Sven Arch, Gawain Griffin, The chains will find you."

The was what the message read. Beneath it, he dug the broken hook Gawain had torn from the chain in their fight into the wall beneath it. If there was any doubt about who it was from, it was gone now. The warden had sent his message.

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Hunter, still pinned under the mass of undead, was still squirming to get up. He was making no progress whatsoever, if anything he was only encouraging more undead to get on and weigh him down a bit more. He tried to respond to Gwen's comment with every single curse word that could possibly come to mind, but unfortunately for him the undead were sitting on his face, and all that could be heard from him was a huge mess of muffled anger. The unthinkable had happened; a censor had been created and used on Hunter. At this realization, Hunter began squirming all the more, fists flying in every direction and the amount of swearing only intensifying, but once again the undead prevented him from doing...well, anything.


Gawain Griffin had awoken from unconsciousness a short time before, just shortly after they had acquired captives. Each of them were intriguing, and Gawain did not like the idea of having captives one bit. It was dishonourable, not a pretty way to win a war, but he could overlook it. He could worry about honour later, he had to ensure he still had a life to live first. One captive in particular stood out to him, the one that was making some kind of muffled sound underneath a pile of undead. There was something familiar about that one, something that reminded Gawain of something, but he wasn't sure what it was.

He turned his head to look at Orpheus as he was called over to him. Still more than a little annoyed with Orpheus, he contemplated refusing the request. However, his respect for him as a soldier won over, and Gawain found himself walking over, before kneeling in front of Orpheus with his head down. "I must warn you, General, I don't swing that way" he said, unable to resist taking a jab at Orpheus.


Sven was barely listening to Nickel. He had his hands tied, not that it mattered when he could just extend a bone and slice through it, and he was simply sitting with his back against the wall that he was chained to, head hanging down in shame. If Nickel looked close, he would see not anger, not hatred on Sven's face, but a look of extreme sorrow. Sven was entirely convinced that Cierra was dead, and he was blaming himself for it. The scenario replaying constantly in his head, making him wonder what he could have done differently to prevent the injury. Maybe he could have been faster, he should have been faster, but he hadn't been. However, one part of what Nickel said did go through.

"If your cover is blown because a few humans die, then clearly whoever sent you here should have picked a better man to send" he spat out, his dislike towards his captor showing blatantly. After a few moments of waiting for his words to sink in, Sven decided to give Nickel an answer. After all, what did he have to lose? He was a captive in the single most hated place he could be in, and Cierra was dead. Orpheus was probably alive, but from what he had heard of the speech the Chief had given, that wouldn't last long. "My name is Sven Arch, friend of Orpheus Graveson. I didn't come here to murder the humans, that was just an added bonus, I came here to save a friend. There's someone here I needed. A lustor with the power to heal. She could have saved her, but not now..now she's already dead" Sven said, a hint of sadness in his voice at the end.


A mass of humans and the occasional lustor neared where Orpheus and co. were, led by Arnold Chieftain himself on a black horse with white spots, specifically chosen as to not be racist, because back in those times people worried about those things all the time. It had taken them longer to get there than the Chief had originally thought, half an hour longer to be exact. He had expected there to be undead outside his walls, they had all known that would be the case, but he hadn't expected so many of them. They had lost a few humans on the way there, but overall they were unscathed, due to the firearms each of them now possessed. As he got a little closer, his eyes fell upon a sight that he had hoped he would not see.

From where they stood, it was easier to identify the captives than the Chief would have thought. He could see each of the group that had gone missing, all in a position that they wouldn't be able to move in. This made things much, much more difficult and dangerous. He could try to rush in with the other humans and attempt a rescue at the same time as an attack, but to do so would risk the lives of the captives. That made a full assault a last resort. There was only one solution.

Climbing off the horse, the Chief kept his rifle held rather close and, repeating the same thing he had done to get the attention of the humans, he raised it into the air and fired one shot in an attempt to get Orpheus' attention. "General Orpheus, I have come to you with a proposition. Last night, our district was visited by who I am presuming was one of your men. He took the lives of several soldiers, some good men that died protecting the home they have grown up in, and he was soonafter captured. He is not here with us currently, but all it takes is a single person to go and fetch him, and he could easily be released. What I am holding right here is a little toy we cooked up recently, a tool that fires small objects at you so fast you don't even have time to move. If one of these objects were to hit you in an important area, you won't even have time to pray to whatever gods you lustors worship before the life leaves you. Why I'm telling you this is because, from where I'm standing, several of my fellow soldiers beside me could take you out at my command" the Chief said, stating the threat as bluntly as was needed.

He was not done, however, indicated as he opened his mouth and continued speaking. "Now, listen closely, here's my proposition to you. I'm not an unreasonable man, but I've been driven to a point that my patience is wearing thin with you and your undead. If you release each and every one of those captives that you have there, I'm willing to return our captive to you alive, well, and unharmed. Hell, we'll even send him back with a jug of our finest mead. We'll also let you keep something very important to you; your lives" the Chief yelled, voice booming through the area as he delivered his terms.​

 

The general of the lustors ignored the comment made by Gawain about "not swinging that way." It was obvious that was not his intention, but Gawain felt the need to take a jab at him. Still, he had followed his orders and kneeled before him. He drew his sword, Styx. "Gawain Griffin. Because of your heritage you have been discriminated against and denied advancement in the ranks, as well as looked down upon by your fellow soldiers." He began, speaking to the half-lustor in front of him. "However, your bravery and and the instrumental role you played in the fight against The Warden has proven your worth more than enough. I reward the deserving and give credit where credit is due." Resting the blade of his sword on Gawain's shoulder, he moved it to the other. "I name you Sir Gawain, Knight of Mordecai. You may rise to your feet." Obviously, this surprised some of the other Lustor soldiers around the area. Gawain had never been anything more than a grunt soldier, someone expendable. No one ever expected he would be anything more, being half human and all.

Orpheus' attention was quickly jerked away from Gawain as what sounded like a wave of thunder coming from the ground rang out. He looked over to where the sound had originated from. There, he saw an unexpected sight. The chieftan of the humans. He'd managed to escape the district through the blockade. Orpheus had felt that some of the undead were dying, but he hadn't thought much of it. No doubt they were able to carve their way through due to these new weapons they possessed. Even as the chief spoke and gave his terms, the group of undead that constantly followed him for protection began forming a protective circle around their master instinctively. Now, if they tried to fire at Orpheus, the undead would take the hit. Naturally if there was a large amount of shots, they wouldn't be able to defend him, but the protection was better than nothing. He didn't know how many shots could be fired before one needed to reload, but he just had to go with the assumption that they were the same as bows and could only fire a single shot.

"My, this is quite the coincidence. I was just about to offer you a deal rather similar. If you return our prisoner to us, i will release three of yours. You're not in much of a position to refuse. After all, i do have seven more prisoners than you, and as we speak, an undead has a bolt from a crossbow aimed at your head. Remember, human, my soldiers are expendable. Are yours? And if you take this deal, you can even keep that mead." Orpheus proposed to the chief, attempting to make it clear he was in charge of the situation.


Nickel could tell that the man before him was a broken one. He'd lost all hope, and failed to save someone he cared about. Nickel had never really had anyone like that, so he couldn't exactly sympathize with the other lustor. "You're Orpheus' lapdog huh? You said you were here to find a healer? That must be Emi. Last i heard she'd been captured. God knows how that happened, but that's what i know. It's a matter of when it happened, but if Orpheus was the one who got her, your friend might be alive. Don't get your hopes up though. If the prisoner exchange goes sour, i'll do what i can to get you out of here, but for now i gotta keep up my cover. Don't do anything stupid while i'm gone if you wanna stay alive." Nickel said before leaving the room. ​

 

Sven looked up from where he was slumped. "I'm no lapdog. I make my own decisions, I just respect his too" he growled back at Nickel's comment. He was feeling steadily more and more annoyed by this guy as despair sank deeper and deeper into him. He listened to what Nickel said, hanging for some word of Cierra, and when he heard of the captured healer hope flared up inside of him. However, as his captor continued on, that hope slowly turned into gut-wrenching pain. When Nickel left, the tension inside of Sven's bones reached breaking point. He was a captive of humans, surrounded by humans, and why had he come there? Humans. It always boiled down to them, didn't it? From the day his brother had died, to that very moment in the prison cell. Worse still, he knew Cierra and Orpheus were probably alive because of the healer's capture, but Sven himself knew that the humans were about to attack. Not only that, but he was a prisoner of those *******s, trapped and unable to lift even a finger to protect the only two people in the world he cared about.

Only moments after the lustor had left the room, a bone expanded from Sven's wrists, cutting the ropes that bound him, as he rushed forward and up to the bars. He had to get out, he had to escape and warn Cierra and Orpheus before it was too late. If he didn't get out, they were dead. Raising his fist, he slammed it on the bars as though it would achieve something. "Hey! Get back here and let me out!" the bloodbone yelled, as loudly as he possibly could in the hopes Nickel would return. He began pounding furiously on the bars, each hit getting harder and harder, more desperate by the second, all the while screaming for the lustor to come back and release him.

Emotions were playing a huge part in his assault on the bars. Part of him knew he wouldn't be able to break the bars, part of him didn't care. He had to do something, he couldn't simply sit there and wait. After a few more minutes of pounding, his fist was now bloody and bruised, and he simply leaned against it, defeated, and began to sob quietly. Tears were going down his face; the tears of a broken man. Kept in the worst place possible for Sven, surrounded by his enemies, and his friends condemned to death, the warrior had finally broken.

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