Recent posts by TheFili on Kongregate

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

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The figure moved silently in the night. It was not creeping, it just didn’t make any sound on its way through the darkness.

Nevertheless, someone had spotted it. And someone put a blade to its back.

“Don’t make any quick movements. Who are you?”

Two seconds later, the blade dropped to the ground and the arm that had held it made ominous cracking noises.

“_Ngol? Ngol!_”

“_Juju! Ra mwelri nko!_”

Tafari gave up his cover and approached the Shaman. “She’s with us,” he said in the villager’s tongue.

“Well,” Juju said as he reluctantly let go of Vanessa’s arm, “tell her that I don’t take kindly to swords in my back.”

“Yeah, well, who does,” Vanessa growled when she heard the translation.

“Told you not to, but you rushed off,” Tafari reminded her.

“Sorry for friend, he easy angry.” The slightly bent shape of Ubuntu joined them. His sudden appearance startled Vanessa – Tafari doubted whether even an owl could have spotted Ubuntu.

“Elder!” he said, more than just a little surprised to see and hear the old man. “You speak their language!”

Ubuntu smiled. “Little. Since… long time.”

“I take it you know them quite well,” Vanessa said wryly.

“Yes, they are the most powerful men at home.”

“We’ll take them to the camp, then.” Once more, Tafari translated, to receive a nod from Ubuntu and a stony gaze from Juju.

“So, powerful,” Vanessa said out of the corner of her mouth, “then it’s good they’re here, right?”

Tafari’s face was kept neutral with great effort. “I don’t know.”

—-

Popo’s feet hardly touched the ground when he flew towards Ubuntu. “Grandpa!” he shouted in the local language. Ubuntu caught him with surprising strength and hugged him.

“When the two had quietened down, Tafari asked the question that had been on his mind the whole time. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought that was obvious,” Juju snarled. “Hunting after a wayward child you didn’t take back.”

“And hwo exactly would they have moved that rockslide that took the Village days to clear?” Ubuntu asked, slightly mollified by the fact that Popo was alive and well.

“Still, we have left the Village while everything is turned upside down. The situation has grown worse over the last weeks. The forest doesn’t yield anything, the crops die. We had to dig three new wells since you left. People use their bundles as pillows so they can move at a moment’s notice. Some of those who cleared the rockslide didn’t even return home, but are waiting for our call right now.”

“We left Ambor in charge,” Ubuntu added, “since Juju was not willing to let me go alone.” There was the slightest hint of amusement in his voice, and Juju had obviously noticed. Tafari could tell by the way the Shaman stiffened slightly. “I suppose,” Ubuntu continues, “Ambor is capable of keeping things together until we get back. But,” and now there was nothing amused in his tone, “we must do something. Every day robs us of a bit of our power.”

“But how did you find us?” Popo asked.

“There are ways, young man, and you’d do well to remember that,” Ubuntu said in that stern voice used by parents and educators everywhere.

Meanwhile Juju looked around the camp. What he saw obviously didn’t please him. Some rags lay on the ground, roofed by more rages and leaves on sticks. The meagre fire looked on the verge of dying.

“And what have you been doing all this time?” he asked Tafari. He sounded a lot like Ubuntu just had.

It took a while to tell them all they needed to know and translate Vanessa’s constant interjections.

“And then we… that is… Vanessa…” Tafari suddenly resembled a child tiptoeing over a frozen lake. “The plan was to… put a spy inside the mansion, to help us come up with a way of attacking them. So Zina let herself be taken prisoner, and she was supposed to gain their trust. But now… she hasn’t reported since.”

“How could she have? Prisoners are usually… restricted. The face was impassive, but Juju’s emotions always found tiny tell-tale signs to make themselves noticed.

“Vanessa had this… gem, you might say, a big blue one. She said she’d notice if Zina tried to reach her through it. We attached it to her pet’s collar, to make it look like a mere ornament.”

“I see…”

“And now that you’re here. The vampires don’t stand a chance!” Popo shouted – a stupid lapse in silence, because now Ubuntu bore down on him. “You should be very quiet, sendang. What were you thinking, sneaking off…”

Juju looked at Tafari and jerked his head towards the surrounding forest. They got up and walked away from the camp.

“A spy? You honestly thought that was a good idea?” There were poisonous snakes that less venom than these questions.

“Just… didn’t know what else to do. They control the village. They’re strong. We had to find some…”

“You had to come back and report,” Juju hissed. “Instead, you let yourselves be dragged into a battle that’s not ours. She has been using you, all of you.” He paused. “When you reach Zina, tell her to escape and go back. We’ll do the same and seal the caves.”

“And leave these people?” “Yes, exactly, to save our own. Be sensible. Do you really think our trappers can defeat these predators?” He spoke more calmly as he continued: “Three men are already waiting for your spirit, Tafari. Don’t add hundreds more. This is about survival.”

For a moment, Taari saw their faces again, disfigured by the attack, killed by the prey and his mistakes.

“What’ll the Village do?” he asked very quietly.

“We will manage somehow,” Juju answered. This time, the signs under the self-assured manner betrayed uncertainty.

“You said they’re waiting. In the mountains even. That bad?”

“We will go back. We will find another way.”

“Didn’t think you’d be one to flee.”

The shaman tensed and his next words were barely more than the whispers in the wind. “I know when an enemy is too powerful. A lesson you never learned.”

They stood silently among the nighttime noises of the forest. “You are right,” Tafari finally said. “They’re deadly, clever and merciless And they…” His voice trailed off and terror widened his eyes. “… they know where we came from.”

—-

They had run as fast as stealth and forest would permit. Now they hid among the last outskirts of the trees, from there they had good view over the village of Krifting and the mountain. And the figures climbing over it.

Even Tafari’s sharp eyes weren’t enough to identify from the distance. But he could see that they were erecting wooden structures, entering the mouth of the cave, guarding it. All the way down the rudimentary path, torches had been placed that tore the hiding darkness to shreds.

After some time, new villagers came up the path and others left their work. They picked up where the others left off, holding spears or entering the cave with boxes, wood and cans.

Juju nodded and they crept back towards the camp.

“They’re putting on beams to support the cave,” the Shaman said when they were far away from Krifting again. “And I suppose these boxes were full of chalk or some other colouring stuff. They are marking the way.”

“They’ll go after the others, and the guards are supposed to keep us here. What can we do?”

Juju gave him a look of contempt. “We’ll fight them. Happy now?”

Just then, a clang sounded through the forest, steel meeting steel with merciless force. Juju and Tafari sprinted forward, staff and spear at the ready.

The campfire gave them a shadowy impression before they could really see anything. A titanic figure swung a curved blade at a smaller one who dodged and parried with its own sword. When the giant trod, the ground shook. When his opponent moved, the eye was hard pressed to keep up with the silhouette.

They arrive, and their gaze first found Ubuntu lying on the ground. Popo was sitting in a tree, ineffectually shooting his slingshot at the…

It really was a giant, who looked almost like he was made of metal. A fearsome mask, grinning like a demonic jester, covered his features above the steel clad shoulders. The sword, a deadly silver crescent, moved with a swiftness that belied his stature.

Vanessa was parrying his blows, looking for a crack in his defense while the blows hailed down on her. She was losing.

Tafari and Juju had given up an advantage by out from among the trees. The ghastly metallic face flicked nto their direction, registered them and turned back to Vanessa. A fearsome blow shattered her defence, knocked the sword clean out of her hand and cut into her chest. She stumbled and fell down.

That was enough for her attacker to take a step towards Tafari, who was coming at him with the spear. The giant lunged with a cry, forced Tafari into a parry and when he recognised the feign, it was too late. The sword bit into his arm and left a trail of blood in its path through his flesh.

The trapper staggered back; at that moment, his opponent turned and knocked a flying sword out of the air. It took Tafari a moment to understand that Vanessa had thrown her recovered weapon, and was now lying on the ground unarmed while the giant advanced on her, blade raised.

It was then that Juju darted forward, and touched the colossus’ neck. The man turned, the appropriate expression of hate and disdain already engraved on his metal face. “The Master falls before the Servant,” he said to the retreating Juju.

Tafari took a step forward, trying to keep a grip on his spear, but it hardly took his opponent any strength at all to knock it out of his hand before turning on Vanessa again.

All of a sudden, he became motionless, stood there like a frozen tree. He fell to his knees, then dropped onto all fours, before he keeled over, onto his side.

Juju advanced, staff raised, but the man didn’t move.

“You kill him?” Tafari asked.

Juju answered: “That depends on how strong he is.” Under his prying fingers, the mask came loose to reveal a broad, scarred face. The eyes were closed, but even now he wore an expression of belligerence, as if ready to attack even his own dreams.

“No,” said Juju. “He’s alive. So is he,” he added after a brief examination of Ubuntu.

“You know him?” Tafari asked Vanessa, who was laboriously getting on her feet again. She shook her head. “He just came crashing out of the forest and attacked me. Probably a mercenary in the others’ pay.”

“You’ll kill him?” Juju, at whom the question had been directed, shook his head.

“Not before I know who he is. Maybe then.”

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Chapter 4 – „Double.“ „Redouble.“

The fire did not soften the face it illuminated. Yoshiro was glad that Rumiko hadn’t just suggested to kill him on sight.

“Some might say that’s a bit harsh,” he ventured.

“’A life in honour is the only life’, remember?” was her flat answer. “If he accepts justice, he can at least regain some of it.”

“Yes, it’s very likely that this argument will succeed with him. What with him being so reasonable.”

Rumiko said nothing and stared ahead. He knew that look on her. She might listen to whatever he said, but in the end, she would do as she pleased.

He got up and walked away from her – though not necessarily into less bloodthirsty company. He seemed to be about the only one not eager to get to Onimaru’s inner self with a blade.

The Amazons were sitting closer to the second fire. Sleeping, talking, staring into space. He gave Ashi a smile for some reason and helped himself to another piece of leftover boar.

A life in honour is the only life… Had Higashi meant for them to kill Onimaru? Very probably. The honest answer would have been: “I don’t like that order”. But what response would that be for a warrior to give?

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” said Helene’s voice beside his ear.

He managed not to jump. “Go ahead,” he said, “I have no other plans tonight.”

“Not here, maybe. It would look…”

“What do you think it would look like if we crept off into the forest together? This way we can pretend to have a nice little chat about dinner,” he said, stressing the last word just enough to be audible.

“Do you really think that will work?”

“No.” A smile took a quick tour of his face and departed. “But why not try anyway? So, let’s get down to the meat of this conversation.”

“What will happen when we find him?”

“I think half of our little group will try to kill him on sight. Rumiko because she thinks that our rules demand it, Anex because she has sworn too , and the rest of you, I just don’t know, maybe just to be in on it. Why, what are your plans for that particular evening?”

She stared at him. “Aren’t you worried?”

“Right now? No. I’ll worry when we find him. Until then, I’m trying to feel confident and sort out the others’ plans. I’d like to know who will be at my when I try to actually talk to to a guy who’s always like a raging boar…. hey, I’m getting good at this.”

“I’m not planning to assassinate him.”

“That’s a load off my mind. Any reason, or do you just like to strive against the stream?”

The gaze of her blue eyes became hard, her voice quiet and icy. “I don’t think you realise that the man we are talking about killed my husband. So I’d appreciate it if you could be serious for a moment.”

She continued: “We don’t really believe in death penalties. Our enemies die on the battlefield, in a duel, or in hiding, if they are cowards. Don’t think that I’m worried about him – it’s the Qu… Princess. If she kills him from hiding, or without a real fight, she will be ruined in our eyes. And someday she will realise this, and it will kill her.”

“So basically, it’s all right if she warns him first? You really love your rules, don’t you?”

Helene put her head to one side. “You’re one to talk, Circle-man. Your companion gives him the choice of being assassinated and committing suicide. Yes, I eavesdropped, sorry. The point is: Anex will not forgive either of you if you kill him, and she will be after you then.”

Yoshiro took a deep breath. “So, let me summarise: We have t keep Anex and perhaps one or two of the othr Amazons from killing him without a proper fight, we have to prevent Rumiko from assassinating him, and all the while we have to be careful to defend ourselves against an insane samurai with a big sharp sword and impenetrable armour.” He shook his head. “Very well done now I am worried.”

“We’re not alone, though.” Her voice became softer. “I think we can count on Phoebe, and probably Ashi, too.”

“Ashi? Always scowling, doesn’t talk, carries a big, big axe? Oh yes, she will definitely help to calm the situation down.”

After some silence, he finally said: “I’ll have to think about it. But don’t worry, we’ll all eat tomorrow.” His grin was a little strained as he strode away from her into the forest.

His head turning and in dire need of some clearing. Onimaru, Higashi, Rumiko and the Amazons were turning in front of his inner eye while he tried to think of a way to prevent them from killing each other.

He didn’t know how far off he had wandered, and he didn’t notice the tall figure until he almost ran into it.

“Oh no, not you as well.”

The man that could only be Amaya (the mask was a giveaway) stood just there, arms folded. “I’m sorry, is this an inconvenient time?”

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it. But, since you are here, anyway…”

The punch was to quick for Amaya to react. A short jab on the chest took away his balance, and gave Yoshiro the opportunity to hit him under the chin. The force of the blow lifted the masked man off the ground, and just before he fell, Yoshiro sent a kick after the punches.

Finally Amaya lay slumped against a tree, a couple of leaves sailing down on him. “A perfect Rising Dragon – claw, breath and tail. Interesting to see Higashi still teaches the old methods.” His voice was strange, not only muffled, but somehow distorted.

“Would you rather fight some other time?” Yoshiro asked with mock concern. “Don’t feel obliged on my account.” He edged closer to his fallen opponent, then lunged when the man was on his feet again. His strike connected just below the battered mask. It was all Amaya could do to keep on his feet. “Why do you follow us?” Yoshiro demanded, using the pause to catch his breath.

“Why do you go ahead?” All of a sudden, Amaya was full of vigour again. He dropped a small ball in front of Yoshiro; light and smoke filled his vision and choked him. The next thing he knew was that he saw Amaya’s silhouette farther away in the night, going through the motions of preparing a Chi Blast.

He raised his hands, looking forward to the moment when the energies would rebound onto…

Instead of light, absolute darkness swept towards him like a thundercloud, tore his defenses to shreds and knocked the life out of him. He was down on all fours, gasping in the cold forest air while he felt little volcanoes of pain disgorge their lava all over his skin.

He tried to muster the strength for a Chi Blast of his own, but it was weak, a mere fizzle. What little energy there was went astray, tore some branches of an impartial tree and shocked some birds into flight. He heard Amaya utter a word in a strange tongue, and when the last syllable reached his brain, the world started to blur.

Amaya came forward, cautiously and holding another ball in his hand.

“I’ll tell you why you go on,” he said with that strange warbling voice. “Because you were told to by Higashi. And he’s the Master, right?” He effortlessly dodged Yoshiro’s punch and continued: “Probably you really think he’s the greatest thing since the dawn of time, and he has so much to teach. So you learn from him, profess your allegiance, follow his every order. You did all that and up to now, it was easy.” The mask came closer, a distorted grimace of metal. Yoshiro tried to hit it, but couldn’t lift his arm.

“It’s different outside the walls. Don’t you have that feeling? Not a bit?”

“You’ve already met Rumiko,” Yoshiro said uncertainly. “She has pretty much taken the lead, so it’s no use trying to convince me.”

“I don’t want to talk to the hand, I want to talk to the ear. You have doubts, don’t you? That’s good, shows intelligence, shows you’re thinking.”

“It’s not intelligence you’re talking about. ‘Power lies in the centre of the Circle…’”

Amaya’s hand was at his throat and pressed him against a tree. “’…not outside of it.’ That is what I am talking about. Don’t you dare imply that I…” He glanced down at his own armoured hand and let go of Yoshiro. Then he took a step back, arms outspread. “I just want you to ask yourself: do you obey the letter or the spirit?”

Yoshiro’s hand, that had shot forward for another Rising Dragon, stopped just short of the metal chest at hearing his most secret thoughts from Amaya’s mouth.

“Higashi is all about the letter. And Rumiko… why am I telling you?”

“What do you want?” whispered Yoshiro.

“Much better question, much better asking. First: I don’t want Onimaru killed, if it can be prevented. Second: I want you and Rumiko to return home safely. Don’t look so surprised, we’re fellow warriors after all. Third: I want to go with you and dethrone Higashi.”

Yoshiro lifted his fist. Amaya pointed to the ball. “Again? Good. Now, I don’t expect you to be enthusiastic about the idea. Just take a little time and judge Higashi by his own standards. Is it your Circle he represents?”

He turned to go. “I will follow you and the others. Tell Rumiko or don’t. If you do, please apologise in my name for the little trick I played on her. Just remember: I am not your enemy, if you don’t want me to be. I’ll be seeing you.”

When Amaya had gone a few steps, Yoshiro said: “You studied under him, right? Is he the reason for your fashionable outfit?”

The figure froze on the edge of darkness. A hand clenched. Opened again. The boots took a few hesitant steps towards Yoshiro. “Fair’s fair, I guess.” The voice was strained, as far as you could make that out. “I’ve seen your soul, why shouldn’t you see mine?”

One glove was raised behind the head and fumbled with the mask. A bit like Onimaru’s, Yoshiro thought briefly. The other hand came to the first’s aid and finally the metal barrier came loose and was lowered.

It was not easy to stifle an outcry. “Did you really think only dark magic could backfire?” the shifting ans strangled voice asked.

After another moment, the mask was between them again.

He trained me, pushed me harder, a little harder every minute. We both knew I had potential, but he was obsessive, said I could be… ‘him again’. Now the armour’s dark magic is all that keeps me alive and in one piece, literally. I should be grateful that he let me have it before he Exiled me. But I find that pretty hard. So, is that your Circle, Yoshiro?”

The young man said nothing but stretched his hand. A moment passed before Amaya took it.

“Kongai, Amaya.”

The mask hid any reaction from view, but the hard breathing offered a clue.

—-

When he came back to the camp, Yoshiro hardly heard the others, didn’t see them, and told Rumiko some half-baked story about where he had been so long and what the distant noise had been. She might have noticed that he didn’t joke around for once, but was probably just grateful.

Higashi’s voice was in his head. “That’s it, Yoshiro. Train the Blast tomorrow, too. But your mastery is outstanding, and one day, you might be me again.” That strange phrase he hadn’t understood but had taken for high praise.

And above it hovered Amaya’s… face? Faces? The contours never seemed to be solid, a visage of fog and liquid stone, illuminated by the cold silver light of the stars. For a moment it looked male, then it was a woman’s face, then it became something else entirely. And always, the eyes kept their tortured expression.

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Scroll 4

The woman relied too much on her quickness. Hitting her wouldn't be easy, but it could be done, if necessary. She didn't seem one for melee combat, so the really hard part would be getting close enough.

The man was a different matter. His gait told everyone to come and get him, if they dared. His strength lay in his mind and that of his opponents. On the other hand, he could hardly parry her axe with his bare hands, could he?

For now, however, Ashi was just watching them, measuring, while the others either marched in silence or listened to the foreigners' tale.

“... and that's pretty much it. Before we ran into you, of course,” Yoshiro finished.

“This Onimaru... he sound unpleasant,” Helene remarked, to receive a snort from him. “You don't say. When they're sure he's out of earshot, the students call him “the bull”. He's got the intelligence and the long temper of one, but he's just as devastating. Years back, when I started training, I saw what he did to a whole....”

“Yoshiro.”

He turned to his companion – Rumiko, Ashi remembered – with a hurt look. “Do you want to tell the story?” But her sharp tone had discouraged him, and he fell silent.

The thought 'At least they don't fit in too well either' crossed Ashi's mind. Before her vow, she hadn't made a lot of friends with her brutally honest way. None of her marriages had lasted the full term, and how she had made Confident was still beyond her. She just spent time around the others because they at least pretended they liked to have her.

Not too far ahead, they could now see light between the trees, and a bit later, they walked the streets of home again.

But home had changed. The streets were packed with people, Amazons and pakraes alike.

“Nice little town you have here,” Yoshiro remarked, oblivious to their alarm. “Love that palisade thingy. Say, Rumiko, don't you think... oh where are they going now?”

All the Amazons were following Anex, who had dashed forward into the crowd. At first she had to pus and shove, but soon people recognised her and made way.

Ashi could hear snatches of conversation and shouts, some if it directed at them. “Terrible”, “he was...”, “failed”. “Murder.” Always that one, following them like a shadow.

Then Anex and her company reached the central plaza of the pakraes village and the ancient stone pedestal in its centre, where the body lay.

Euphilos had been cleaned and attired Ashi noticed before Helene bent over him obscured her view.

“What has happened here?” Anex asked in horror.

“I imagine you wouldn't know,” a voice emerged from the crowd, followed by its owner – Aphara. “If you had been on your guard, none of this would have happened.” She turned around and made a grand gesture towards Helene and her husband. “A stranger escaped your vigilance, if any such existed. He abused our hospitality and killed one of your people.” With a swift motion she faced Anex again, despair and anger in her face for all the world to see, but just a bit too obvious to be real.

Ashi saw the small fire of glee hiding behind the blinds of these emotions. “Your Confident's family has suffered from your negligence – what hope is there for us then?”

“What is this?” Ashi heard the foreigner whisper to his companion. “Was she supposed to watch the whole forest with five women? That's ridiculous!” The last words coincided with a pause in the general noise, so that half the crowd heard them and Aphara felt spurred on. “And you add insult to injury by bringing more of them into our land. How can this family's grief...”

“Don't you dare use me against the Queen, you loathsome hag,” Helene interrupted, straightening up as she spoke. You could see the waves of grief and anger in her face, but the Swordstress herself was the rock on which they broke. Ashi couldnÄt help but think of the old Queen Lysartha.

“I have been wronged; it is my choice to seek righting or stand down. And now: where is Cassiopeia?” The crowd parted under her gaze and there was the girl. He face was sad but calm, spent was the word that sprang to Ashi's mind. She was clothed in the brown mourning dress she had just worn in honour of the Queen. Helene calmly went to the girl and embraced her, like she was shielding her from hail.

Aphara found her speech again. “You are in error. The _Princess_ has wronged her people, and in this case, no standing down is possible. It was the way she pronounced the title that made Ashi realise the whole scope of things.

“That is the reason these two foreigners are still alive. After all, we have no Queen to guard the land or judge them,” the old woman said and enjoyed every word.

“Stop that nonsense, Aphara,” Anex thundered, unaware of the mood around her. But Ashi watched the others in the crowd. They were scared. Angry. And willing to listen to any accusation.

“I am the Princess and the perform the duties of the Queen.”

“A fine Princess you are. No, _Anex_, you lost your claim to the Queenship as soon as the first stranger descrated our land.” The crowd was completely silent. Into that calm, Aphara dropped her words, smiling as she did so. “You will never be Queen.”

All eyes were on Anex now, but Ashi imagined that she was the only one who really saw. Everyone else was too busy thinking of what to say.

But she saw how the tower of Anex' whole being started to tremble, showed the first cracks in the masonry, and, when the words unfurled their whole impact, collapsed.

In a matter of seconds, the whole woman was transformed into a jagged ruin of her former self, hopeless little fires flickering amidst the rubble, finally dying.

Then the shouting started, the actual words incomprehensible. The only thing Ashi clearly heard was Yoshiro asking Phoebe: “Can't anyone do anything?”

“It's the law,” she answered. Her face was pale as she repeated, more desolately: “It's the law.”

“Yeah, sure, but there's got to be some way around it. Even our rules...” He stopped in mid-sentence and took a moment to watch the crowd in uproar, and Anex, motionless in its centre where the noise washed over her. “Oh. Nobody wanted her to be Queen n the first place, right?” Phoebe answered by silence.

“Strangers,” Aphara said above the racket and slowly, the people fell silent. She approached Yoshiro and Rumiko. “I can not tell you that you are welcome, but neither are you in danger. The ban on our land extinguished when it was defiled. When our Princess failed us,” she twisted the knife.

As she walked back, past Anex, Ashi heard her whisper: “You shamed your mother in her grave.” And with that, she walked on.

Rage slowly filled Anex' form, tautened it and gave it new life. She drew her chakkra and ran after Aphara, screaming inarticulately. Her Confidents started forward, but they were too far away. Already Anex drew back her arm to bury the glistening chakkra in Aphara's back...The clash was deafening. At first, Ashi could only make out a white mass crashing into Anex' side and knocking her over. It took her several moments to recognise the sprawling heap on the ground as Helene, burying Anex und her shield. The overthrown one screamed, hammered against the metal and her friend.

“Why did she do that?” Rumiko asked Andromeda. Ashi turned around. The archer was pale and stared at the struggling wreck of her friend. “Helene saved her life,” she answered in a hoarse, hollow voice. “Killing another Amazon is punishable by death.”

Rumiko looked blank: “So?”

“What do you mean: 'So?'” Andromeda snapped. “At least she will live.” Her gaze wandered back to the raging form under the shield. “I think.”

“But she is dishonoured now, lost her face. Why would she...” Rumiko began, before Yoshiro put a hand on her shoulder and motioned her to silence.

Finally, Anex stopped striking the shield that held her. Ignoring Helene's outstretched hand, she got up. After a few deep breaths, she began to speak.

“I had intended to wear this mourning vest to the day I succeeded my mother,” she said, weakly pulling at the brown leather. “Now I know that this day will never come. So hear my new vow, Amazons and pakraes, to be known and obeyed. I shall wear this mournful colour to the day I have found the stranger Onimaru and delivered justice for his crime, committed by the blade, righted by the blade. This vows...” She faltered, struggled for composure, then finished the formula. “This vows Anex, daughter of Lysartha, the... Warrior Princess.”

Embarrassed silence filled the plaza. Andromeda went to Anex and put her arm around her. Aphara looked about to speak, but didn't. The two foreigners were whispering to each other. But the person Ashi was really watching was Helene.

She too had an arm around Anex and the Princess held onto her friend. But the Swordstress was looking at her daughter. A glance at Anex, then a long good look at Cassiopeia again, before she left the sad embrace and walked to the child.

Ashi didn't need to hear what she said, she had read the decision in Helene's face. And the words were always the same. “Honour” and “duty” were frequently used in these farewells. And Cassiopeia would understand. Amazons' daughters were taught to understand. But that didn't mean she wouldn't miss her mother every day and in her dreams.

The moment Helene made her decision, it was settled that Phoebe would go with Anex too.

And Ashi? What choice did she have, really? Nobody worth staying for, nothing more than could be carried in a backpack. So when Anex gave her a questioning look, she nodded. At least they were willing to take her with them. Maybe not eager, but willing. She would settle for that.

---

They went to their homes, ignoring the comments and questions from the people they no longer belonged to. After a brief preparation, they meat at the Eastern side of the town. Ashi was the last to arrive, even Yoshiro and Rumikp were there. She raised her eyebrows to Andromeda nodded towards the two. Her companion nodded.

Without a word, without send-off, they left home, not knowing whether they would ever return.

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Hey people, appreciate the feedback.
I’ll keep the comments about the forest in mind, should I ever find the time to re-edit this stuff. I’ll either have to explain it better or emphasize that Ambrosia herself hardly knows what’s going on in the real world.

@jaggerman: Not teleporting, but walking. But the “sense where she is” part is right. Someone suggested that I had made too little of the whole “Blood Worshipper” thing, so Ambrosia received a slight upgrade ;) And the murderer was the Marquis, but that’s only a detail, Cornelius wouldn’t lose any sleep over a few humans either.

Work on the Amazon scroll is continuing, it will probably be online next week.

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Hi people. Today's our national holiday, so I thought this might be a good opportunity to get some writing done. Please find the result attached ;).

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Scroll 3

There was music, a faint cloud of it. She listened intently to its harmonies beyond the obvious world. But try as she might, it was impossible to make out its exact location or focus on the actual melody.

Ambrosia gave a cry of frustration and broke her trance. She was back with her body, which she had ignored like a shedded coat. Her joints protested as she slowly and painfully unknotted from her meditative position in the centre of the chalk marks. An old commode was chosen to let her vent her anger. A boot, driven by incredible force, shattered its thick old wood and sent splinters flying around he dark room, accompanied by a curse.

Better go and report now, while Cornelius and the Marquis were still busy. Maybe, with a lot of luck, they'd stick to their current occupation.

But they all had known from the start that the chances for finding the foreigners by way of her magic were slim. Blood worshipping was a fickle, unreliable art, just like its subject. A single flare of temper on the practitioner's part could destroy weeks of carefully prepared rituals. Also, it might yield incredible power. That was why she had focused on Zina, whom she took the most susceptible of the three. Once enraged, her blood would shine like a wildfire.

The pickaxe fall of her steps moved towards the Marquis' chamber, past the remaining accumulated art. Sooner or later, they'd have to sell the paintings and gobelins to keep up their supply of bribe money.

From the distance came the same 'thwock – thwock' that she had left hours ago. The two of them certainly knew how to draw things out.

She opened the door in time to hear Cornelius say: “My word, I really could do this all night.”

Ambrosia remembered the Marquis' words: “He _played_ instead of doing his duty? All right, then let him play.” Cain's feet were tied and the rope was attached to the chandelier's bracing. He swung around and whenever he approached Cornelius, the latter hit him with a tennis racket he had brought home from exile. The unfortunate pendulum had sprayed the floor with spirally pattern of blood. The corpses of the poor couple still lay crumpled in the corner, where their murderer had flung them in a fit of rage. Now he sat on his throne and watched Cain's punishment.

Cornelius turned around and let Cain swing past him. “Ambrosia, what news? Pray, be quick about it, I believe I am winning.”

“I couldn't find them,” she admitted, looking at the floor for guidance. “Whenever I thought I had gotten close, their... they became fuzzy.”

“Damn,” Cornelius shouted and enforced the word with a whack of the racket. “And here I was thinking blood called to blood. Then what can we do? What * thwock* can * thwock* we * thwock* do?”

“They would be easier to find,” Ambrosia ventured, “if they were very excited, or angry, or... something.”

“Then let's kill some villagers That'll get their attention,” the Marquis said from his dais.

“Splendid idea, o ancient one,” Cornelius said.”Has a certain antiquated charm to it. But allow me to remind you that much of our currently comfortable situation is owed to our good standing with the villagers. Killing them for effect might compromise our relationship a bit.”

“Are you contradicting me?”

“Merely pointing out the disadvantages of this particular strategy, my lord, cathartic as it doubtlessly is.”

“And you think you have a better idea?”

Cornelius' smile would have made a shark look benevolent by comparison. “I might, o ancient one.”

---

The first attempt closer to town was a failure. They stirred up nothing, so they moved to the next spot: the place what the new village would have been constructed.

As before, Cornelius started with a lie. “We know you're here,” he shouted. Beside him, just out of sight under the cover of plants, Ambrosia tried to gather enough concentration for a light trance. It wasn't easy, what with Cornelius' shouting, the faint echoes of woodland animals' fear and the mumbling of the crowd.

“We know that you are afraid. Yes, we are vampires, and we should have been frank with you from the start. But please don't throw our friendship away because of our mistake. You can ask all these people here. They were afraid, too, weren't you?” Reminiscent mumbling. “But haven't we done everything n our power to earn your trust, since we first came to Krifting?” Assenting mumbling.

“Don't let your prejudices guide you Don't listen to the lies this murderer feeds you.” Enraged mumbling and a shout: “She killed my husband!”

Uncertainty drifted from the forest to Ambrosia like a faint scent. But it was far too weak to make out exactly under the oppressive feelings of the crowd. Their unanimous moods swung hither and thither, so that she was deaf inside the emotional noise.

“Ask yourselves: whose actions speak the nobler language. She has come to destroy what we have already built. Grateful mumbling. “And we are still willing to build for you – give your people a new home.”

Across the translucent blue firmament of the people's sympathy for Cornelius, there flashed a hot red lightning of anger, jagged and fleeting, yet unmistakable.

She followed her memory towards its point of origin, probing for the feeling of enraged blood she perceived with all senses and none of them. Rage was good, it was strong and made your prey foolish. Cornelius rambled on behind her. She came close enough to taste it now, her eyes unused in the nighttime forest.

A scream rang out from the crowd, became a general outcry, interwoven with the bloodthirsty jubilations of a predator.

For a moment Ambrosia's trance slipped, and she stood in the forest – alone, disoriented, scratched by the undergrowth. When she concentrated again, the screaming red fury was all around her.

“He so likes to play,” Zina purred before she leaped towards Ambrosia from the thicket and toppled the vampire over. She felt two hard blows and then her opponent was gone again.

“Cornelius should be chewed up by now,” Zina's cheerful voice filled the night. “Not much of a fighter, is he?”

Ambrosia got up, tried to estimate where the voice was coming from. “Didn't have to be. He was still clever enough to fool you.”

A howling shape shot towards her, but this time she was prepared and brought her boot around in a ferocious kick that knocked the wind out of Zina. The Beast Mistress staggered back and crouched down on all fours. Ambrosia had to blink to shake the illusion that she was facing the pet instead of the woman.

Again Zina attacked, far too quickly for Ambrosia to defend herself. It was all she could do to land a counterblow that drew blood, before her attacker disappeared again. But that had been enough.

While Zina flung insults from hiding, the vampire concentrated on the small amount of blood she had robbed, that still clung to her nails. She felt its bond to Zina, to the rest of her blood; she spoke to it, persuaded it to leak, made it decay with words unknown to any language. Her hidden foe felt it and screamed in surprise and horror.

But when Ambrosia was about to advance on the cries, she realised that the constant background choir of the fighting villagers had fallen silent.

Just after this realisation, the pet hit her, landing squarely on her back, claws biting into her flesh. She tried to shake it, struggled under it, until she finally managed to concentrate and used her magic to close the animal's windpipe. It choked and she made her escape, at the expense of what felt like half her back.

For a second, she just stood swaying on her feet. She dimly noted the blood on the tigers claws and teeth, knew and felt without a doubt that not all of it was hers.

Zina stepped into view and knelt down beside her recovering pet. “You're all right, aren't you? Good boy. Now finish her, and have fun,” she said softly. The tiger leaped, but Ambrosia ducked at just the right instant and jumped towards Zina, hands extended. She saw surprise and shock in the other woman's eyes when she touched her and started draining her life.

She began to feel stronger at the same rate that Zina's resistance waned. The pet whimpered and Ambrosia heard it fall, just before its mistress hit the ground herself, exhausted by a fight she had paid for twice.

Ambrosia started to laboriously drag the two bodies towards the clearing, a puzzled look on her face. For just after Zina's rage had followed her consciousness into darkness, she had perceived another nearby emotion, that had been to short to place or identify.

---

“Now, really, there is no call for this,” Cornelius said. His voice had settled somewhere between exasperation and fatigue. Zina on the other hand was all anger, straining against the chains that held her arms and legs.

“Shut up. Just wait until I have my hands free. We'll see...”

“Yes, I am sure you can think of a wide variety of unpleasant things to do to me,” he interrupted. “Yet I fail to see what upsets you so.”

Ambrosia had her own theory on that, but Zina cleared the matter for her. “You're monsters. You lied to us.”

“But only to protect ourselves from exactly this hostile attitude. You of all people should understand.”

Zina opened her mouth, but Ambrosia was quicker. Playing the part Cornelius had given her, she snarled: “What would you have done in the marketplace, if you had known what we were? You and your savage friends would have run amuck, until either you or we were dead, and as for the townspeople who would have died... well, none of your business, rught? I've seen how carefully you choose your targets.”

“Yes, I do believe Mrs... I beg your pardon, the widow Lidemat would like to ask you why your pet killed her husband tonight.”

The woman quickly regained her self-confidence; nevertheless, for just a second there... “He was helping you. Coller..., kowler... colla-bo-rating.”

Cornelius put his head to one side as though listening for something. “Oh, do I hear the sweet rhetoric of one Ms. Voss? Yes, I think I do. Don't you find it strange that she hides behind words you can hardly understand?”

“Like that's difficult.”

“Ambrosia!” The whip of his voice punished her for the snide comment, and though it was all staged, she felt genuinely scolded for a moment.

“It's true, Lidemat helped us. But have you asked him why? Did anyone tell you they were being held here? He cooperated with us – the whole town does. Because they want to. Now tell me, what right do you and Ms. Voss have to... er, liberate these people against their will?”

“You're monsters”, Zina repeated. But her voice held no real fire. The answer had come as quickly as Ambrosia had seen shipwrecked sailors grasping for driftwood – just before she had stepped on their fingers.

“Ah, yes, the monster argument. There is something about that I'd like to discuss with you.” He produced a key and nodded to Ambrosia. She crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. “Ambrosia, please.” Reluctantly she stepped forward and took out the second key to Zina's chains. “Zina,” Cornelius began. “I promise you something, right here and now. If you will hear me out on what I have to say, and if that still is your wish then, we will let you go.”

For one moment, Zina's and Ambrosia's astonished expression were exactly alike. Then the only living person in the room said: “How do I know you'll keep your word?”

“We could leave you in this uncomfortable position, if you prefer that, but I really don't see that you have much to lose.” With this the first wrist-shackle clicked open.

Zina's punch was quick, but just before it should have connected with Cornelius' jaw, it swung around and hit her own temple. “I said after you heard me out,” he reproached her mildly, “but I'll just put this down to excitement.”

Ambrosia opened the other shackles while Zina glared at her. “The scratches fit you,” she told the vampire. “Next time, they'll really bring out your eyes.”

“Now, please, my dear ladies, let us keep this civil.” Cornelius opened the door and held it open for them. In the corridor, he took to walking beside Zina while Ambrosia brought up the rear. But she didn't let that time go to waste.

“Tell me, Zina, do you really think we asked for this?”

The question seemed to bewilder her, and when she said nothing he went on: “We are exiled from the day, from real interaction with all but our own kind. People hate us for the things we do – the things we despise ourselves for. And they fear us for the power, for the abilities they can never hope to understand.” He paused and gave her a sidelong glance. “Please, feel free to stop me at any time if that sounds familiar.”

Ambrosia only saw Zina's mane, not her face, but somehow the woman's posture had changed – less defiant, more... careful, like she was walking over a frozen lake.

“One of the few advantages of our existence,” Cornelius continued, “is that it allows us to see a lot of things. Often we are amazed by the similarities between people living miles and decades apart.”

They had reached the library and entered the city of parchment and paper towers. “When you first arrived, I talked to the Marquis in private, especially about you. He is much older than me, far more experienced. And he remembers a village where people lived with a gift similar to your own.” He motioned them to a halt. Then he himself went to one of the shelves and started rummaging around. “About, oh, on in four, maybe five had that gift. It's quite rare in your village, isn't it?”

“Yes... yes, I'm the first one for generation,” Zina cautiously consented.

“Hm.” Cornelius answered a bit absentmindedly, still digging through the books. “Yes, that would be the situation in that village, too, I imagine.” He turned away from the shelf and strode across the room to another one. “You see, the 'normal' people didn't really trust their Beast Masters either. So they killed them. And their families, in some cases.” Silence.

“You're lying,” Zina's voice sounded through the library.

“Who, me? How could I? I'm just telling you what the Marquis told me.” He had found the book he had been looking for and came back to them.

“But can _you_ honestly say that your people trust you, without limitation? And can you trust them? All it needs is one mistake on your part, one innocent misunderstanding. They may forgive you, or...” He opened the book and gave it to Zina.

Ambrosia recognised it as one of the numerous artefacts Cornelius had brought from the dimension where they had taken refuge for a few years. The picture was centuries old, but its terror had survived the ages. A woman stood at the top of a heap of wood, tied to a pole. Around the heap, several people stood. A few of them were laughing, others still held the torches they had used to light the heap on fire.

“As I said,” Cornelius commented in a low voice, “people are always the same, no matter when or where they live.”

It took Zina some time to find the right words. “Where... where's my pet?”

“We have locked it up in another room. Cain is guarding it.” Because you like to punish that poor idiot so much, Ambrosia added to herself.

“I'd like to see him, please.”

Cornelius spread his arms. “Of course. I told you you were free to go.”

“No. Not yet. I just want to see him, for now.”

“You are still welcome here, like you were before. Go to your former rooms, then down the corridor. Tell Cain that the word is “nightingale”, and he will let you pass.”

Zina nodded and left without another word.

“Good work, my dear.”

“Thank you. I was surprised – that was a risky offer.”

“It would have been, had it been genuine. Spur of the moment idea, really, but it added such a nice tone to the whole thing, don't you think? How is she feeling right now?”

Ambrosia slipped into her light trance. “Still like the last time I looked in the corridor. Above all, she's confused. Hard to make out anything el...”

She stopped in midsentence. A flare of sound had just gone of in her mind, an unknown presence that shouldered its way through her consciousness, brimming with dark power.

“Someone's coming,” she whispered.

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Thanks again folks, its nice to know you’re enjoying it. I just completed my internship, so now I’m free to work at it again. The next scroll should be up sometime this week.

By the way, WaChowChow, they have their official stories, as I recently saw in the “My Cards” section (yep, I can be a bit slow to discover things ;) ). But as I said, this is just my take (or some parallel Kongai universe, who knows…)

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Hey everyone, sorry, this one took a while. I’m currently busy with an internship that takes up a bit of my energy.

@Merrow: Yes, I’ve seen the thread, but at a time when Popo was firmly thought to be a boy. So I chose to believe that, and by now I don’t think there’s much I can do. And my every fibre is opposed to writing narrative texts with “he/she” in it. ;)

Enjoy.

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Chapter 2

The smile on the Marquis’ face broadened, got wider still and finally hatched into a laugh.

“Yes, I can see that,” he said. “Oh, I can just imagine it.” His handsome middle-aged face turned to Zina again. “And then what did you do?”

“What could I do?” she said, obviously enjoying the attention. “I stayed up there and bombarded the wolf with acorns until it went away. After that, I decided I wasn’t cut out for a trapper, at least not without my little darling here,” she added and scratched behind the tiger’s ears.

“Could we return to the map?” Tafari asked. Ever since Cornelius had magically given them the knowledge of the local language, Zina had certainly made a lot of use of it.

The Marquis stroked his moustache and nodded “Yes, yes, of course, I beg your pardon. It seems we got sidetracked once more.” They bowed over the two parchments on the big oak table again; Zina and Tafari on one side, the Marquis and Cornelius on the other. The had occupied the mansions large library (an entirely new concept for the guests) where all the documents were kept and shelves were filled with countless intimidating books bound in leather. The first map was an artful representation of Krifting and its surrounding lands. The writing consisted of some fairly complex calligraphy while the little town’s coat of arms adorned the upper right corner. On it lay several small wooden blocks, used to represent future houses where currently only forest and grassland existed. “So, do you think this area will be adequate for your people?” Cornelius asked Tafari.

“Guess so,” he answered. “May be a bit crowded, but I’m sure it’ll…”

“In that case,” the Marquis interrupted and moved some of the blocks to encompass a larger area, “we’ll just increase the size of the site. It’s only going to waste now, anyway. And there will still be plenty of forest left for your trappers.”

“I’m not sure we can accept this generosity,” Zina said slowly. “You have already given us,,,”

“Nonsense, my dear lady,” the nobleman answered. “I’m happy to be in a position to help your people – we all are. Nothing like a bit of fresh blood in town.”

The two villagers exchanged a glance. When Tafari saw Zina’s small nod, he said: “Very well. Thank you.”

“Not at all,” the Marquis waved his gratitude asidde. “But there is stil the bigger problem.” He indicated the second parchment, a crude sketch of the route from their home to Krifting, drawn from Zina’s and Tafari’s memory. “We will need workers to secure the passage, mark the right way in the caves, clear the mountain paths of stones and animals… not to mention the effort of actually moving your people.” He looked at them, his face very grave. “It will probably take months. Can your people hold out that long?”

The trapper shrugged. “They’ll have to.” He rose to his feet and said: “If you allow it, I’d like to take a look at the area.”

“At night?” the Marquis asked. “Please, my friend, it is bad enough that our family’s disease forces us to live exclusively by night. Pray, do not feel hindered by our burden.”

“No, it’s all right,” Tafari said. “It’ll help me keep my feeling for the night.”

“If that is your wish… Take Solomon with you to show you around.” Tafari nodded and left the room. Outside, he took a deep breath, glad to be out of the stuffy room with its paper towers and dusty air. With wide strides he marched towards the mansion’s gate, towards an open sky and stars. This place really was incredibly big, it surrounded its inhabitants and cut them off from the world like a stone cocoon.

From one of the crossing corridors, Popo appeared, followed by Solomon. “Tafari,” the boy shouted and ran towards him. “I’ve had a great night,” he blabbed, “there’s so much to see here! Ambrosia took me to one of the rooms and there were paintings of people on the wall, some were even creepier than old Juju’s masks. And then we were on the roof, and …”

Tafari stopped listening for a while and looked at Solomon. The young man shrugged and gave him a lopsided grin. Tafari knew what he meant.

“… and now Solomon wants to show me some new game that’s called futtbohl.”

“Nice,” he answered, “I’ll just go out and catch a bit of fresh air.” Taking Solomon would mean taking Popo, and he could do without the nagging of a boy intent on going home and playing.

He left the two to their game and went out the front door, down the hill and towards the collection of lights that was Krifting. Halfway down, he met Ambrosia coming the other way, a couple in tow. “Evening,” she smiled. “Going out?”

“Just for a quick walk. Can’t stand the indoors too long.”

“Always moving, always restless,” she mocked. “Well, just keep to the village. You know we have a bandit problem and we don’t want anything to happen to you. I’ll just take these two up now.” She indicated the couple. They seemed a bit intimidated. He was a big man with broad shoulders and blonde hair, while his wife was a thin creature with dark hair and a delicate face. They made for quite an interesting combination. “It’s their second anniversary and we usually celebrate this kind of thing at the mansion with them.”

Tafari said “Congratulations” and nodded to the young people. After treating Ambrosia to the same gesture he walked on.

His stride through the village was not hindered. Everybody knew him as the aristocrats’ guest by now and showed him respect; some people even seemed a little… afraid? It looked like that; they ducked into doorways or started to stare at the street when he walked by. Probably the muwongu, he mused.

At the outskirts of the city he paused to stare into the night until he could make out some trees in the dark forest. Thus accustomed, he went on to the area marked on the map for the villagers. Only one road connected Krifting with the outside world. Consequently the rest, including this place, was just forest fields and hills.

The village’s new home looked like a small valley, being surrounded by hills on either side. He climbed one of the far ones, where the surrounding forest began. The landscape reminded him of a soup bowl. And for the first time, he really thought that his people might make it.

The village’s trappers were adept at noting movements, no matter how small or slow – after all their survival depended on it. And so Tafari’s attention was drawn to the dark figure moving through the night like a leaf carried by the wind. Nobody was supposed to be out here (not him, either).

He faded into the forest until he was sure that the shadows of trees and the dark leaves had embraced him. It was impossible for the world outside his armour of plants and darkness to find him.

All of his senses were beckoned to silence so his hearing could work perfectly undisturbed. Only the sounds woodland animals . Rustling leaves. The wind in his own hair.

And then the footsteps came closer, swift, long strides, almost deafening him in the silence. His opponent was not used to stealth – so much the better. A quick strike from invisibility would decide this confrontation. And then he would have some questions.

Tafari’s vision elbowed his hearing aside as his whole world became light. It battered his pupils like hail striking down crops, and even seared through his eyelids, setting his brain aflame.

He faltered and took a few steps to regain his balance. The flat side of a sword came down onto his back and he fell.

“There you were,” a hoarse female voice snarled.

This was all he needed. His hand grabbed a poison dart and let fly into the direction of the voice. He heard the sound of metal being struck followed by a grunt, but he was already stumbling into the opposite direction where the blurry outlines of trees became clearer in front of his tortured eyes.

“Come back,” she called, “I don’t want to hurt you.” Judging by her voice, she actually wanted to but would grudgingly refrain from it.

Tafari trusted the trees above her self-control and hid from view again. He dropped a small object and moved on, careful to touch one or two branches for his pursuer’s benefit. When he heard her approach, he released another dart and smiled at the satisfying sound of her reaction. The smile charred on his face as another light, smaller but brighter than the first one beat his vision into submission.

He stepped out of is hiding place, a trifle more helplessly than he actually was, but arms raised for a fight.

A sword hissed through the air towards him, but before he felt its touch, a small click told him that his trap had sprung. Spikes, so far concealed by the fallen leaves bit into his opponent’s legs like the teeth of a steel badger.

Her reaction surprised him: without bothering to check the damage, she rushed him, the irregular assortment of metal still clinging to her leg. Tafari was too bewildered to do anything, so the sword’s flat side caught him at the temple and finally he felt his legs give in for good.

The woman’s blurry shape was with him almost immediately and put her sword to his throat.

“Idiot,” she said. “I’m here to warn you.”

He said nothing, just tried to see her better. His night eyes had left him long ago, so now he could only see a silhouette threaten him.

“Do you have any idea,” she continued, “under whose roof you are staying? I hope not. If you did, I’d have to kill you.”

“Like that poor bloke at the market.”

“Yes. He was guilty of consorting with vampires.”

Tafari gave a dry laugh. His view became clearer and he saw black shiny surfaces where the woman’s eyes should have been. “Right. And of dancing with the fairies, I expect.”

The black shine vanished as her face shot towards him. Her eyes reflected like those of Zina’s pet, only these had a red tint to them. Moonlight glinted off teeth longer than any human’s should be.

“Look at me, and then call me a fairy. You better believe what you heard as a child. But this time it’s no cosy fireside story, savage. Your legends are real, and they can kill you.” She paused, then said calmly: “Take that blade away, or I swear to whatever being still listens to me I’ll split your chest open.”

He withdrew the hunter’s knife he had moved against her stomach. She straightened up and after a few gestures, her eyes were black gems again.

“They haven’t made their move yet, because they want to study you first. Learn how you work, how you react to things. And then they either use you or kill you. Of course, one follows the other, most of the time.”

He got up while in his head some things took on a new colour. The “guests”, the “family disease”… and most of all their eagerness to help his people resettle. If they succeeded, it would be his fault all over again.

Tafari focused his gaze on the woman. “What’s your part in this? You’re…” He stopped when he noticed her tense at the sentence’s beginning. “You’re trying to help us,” he avoided the actual topic.

“My business,” she snapped. “But believe me, I don’t want to see you in their hands.”

“So you’ll hide us?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Her tone suggested that other actions were available, too.

---

He met Popo and Solomon on the front lawn of the mansion. He was carrying some parcels, and Popo, with a child’s unerring instinct, ran towards him.

“Tafari, did you bring me something?”

“Of course I did,” he answered smiling. He wouldn’t be a trapper if he didn’t know a thing or two about bait. “And Zina, too. Go get her.”

The villager and the vampire watched the boy run into the house. “Thought I’d take him off your hands for a while. Give you some time off.” The monster looked relieved.

“Thanks. You always have to watch, or he runs off.”

“Yes, noticed that.”

“Actually, there is something I’d have to do,” Solomon said. “Will you be all right on your own for a while?”

“I’m sure of that.”

“All right then.” The thing turned and went into the mansion; Zina and Popo passed him on their way out, along with the tiger.

“What is it?” Popo shouted.

Tafari kept an eye on Solomon to see when he was out of earshot. Meanwhile, he gave one of the parcels to Popo and one to Zina. “The merchants were very generous,” he said clearly.

Popo had liberated some stuffed animal from its coarse cloth wrapping, and Zina was examining a nice bracelet of semiprecious stones.

“Continue to look at the things,” he ordered without changing his expression. Theirs became puzzled while he continued: “We’ll have to leave. Now. I’ll explain everything later.”

They looked as though they were going to argue, until his eyes told them that he was very serious about it.

With the practise of life in the wilderness, they melted away from the mansion and into the night.

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

You’re right, Merrow, but I’m trying to improve on that account. Also, I’ve neglected the work a little. But the rest of the chapter’s plot is pretty much fleshed out, I’ll just have to write it.

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Here we go, next chapter.

---

Chapter 3- The First Tricks

Scroll 1

It wasn’t quite what he had expected. The settlement… the city stretching out in front of him wasn’t on the simple map the messenger had drawn. But Onimaru had left the forest, and there it was: houses of wood and stone with elegant arched roofs, people in the streets and further out the golden movement of fields.

In the fading light, he checked his map again. No mention of anything between the Circle and Krifting. Still, he decided to enter and find a place for the night. But he had hardly walked ten steps towards the street when the first people started to shout and point at him. A few moments later, he was surrounded by a crowd of men and children.

“Kongai,” he greeted, only to stare into puzzled faces. “I am Onimaru, samurai of the Circle. Where can I find shelter for the night?”

He got no answer, but a murmur started up. “Do you understand me?” he asked.

“Excuse me, sorry,” he heard a faint voice that came closer until a broad-shouldered man with a black beard stood in front of the warrior. The skin of his face and the leather of his clothing were hardly distinguishable. And although he was tall, he still had to look up. “Greetings, Onimaru. I am Euphilos. Forgive my question, but what brings you here?”

“I am on an important mission for the Circle, to a place called Krifting, and I cahnced upon your city.” This produced more rumblings from the crowd; Euphilos even looked alarmed. “You came through the forest?”

“That is right.”

“And you weren’t stopped by anyone?”

“No. Why should I have been?”

Euphilos didn’t answer at once. He paused, then bowed down to a small boy and told him: “Go find Aphara.” The child nodded and then pushed away through the crowd.

“Onimaru,” Euphilos addressed the samurai again, “you come at a bad time. Our Queen has recently died, and our laws forbid strangers in our land at this time.” He looked decidedly uncomfortable. “It is not in our power to settle the matter now. The gates to the kratopolis are already closed and the only woman among us tonight is Aphara.”

Onimaru waited for an explanation of these words, but when Euphilos didn’t go on, he said: “So? What does that have to do with it?”

“Well, she is the only one who has authority,” Euphilos said, like he was explaining something obvious, “until we reach some of the other women.”

The voice in his head began to laugh. Women in power. So that’s what the Circle means when it says: ‘Serve those weaker than you.’

“I am afraid we cannot offer you a place in our guest house. But if you would accept my invitation to stay in my home for the night… I am sure we will find a way to deal with your… unexpected presence.”

Onimaru bowed. “I shall be honoured by your hospitality.”

---

Euphilos’ home turned out to be a large farm by the city’s outskirts. One big house stood in the centre, surrounded by fields and, at a good distance, by small cottages not nearly as elegant as the larger construction. The farmer’s house was at least 30 steps and made of the assortment of stone and wood that Onimaru had seen all over the city. The wooden frames both in- and outside the house had been decorated by engravings, mostly hunting or battle scenes.

A fire in the large living room provided enough warmth for the inhabitants. Right now, though, the atmosphere was chilly as Onimaru, Euphilos, his daughter Cassiopeia, and the woman called Aphara.

“Shameful”, she said. “How could she leave us this unguarded? Look at him! Even he could slip past her.” Her conversation was directed at Euphilos alone, Onimaru was merely talked about. “And armed, too. The law is very clear about…”

“He is a traveller,” Euphilos interrupted heatedly, “and the law also says…”

“Oh, what do you know about the law? Just because your wife…”

“She has nothing…”

“You will let me finish, pakras!” the old woman thundered; her words struck the farmer silent.

“We will judge the matter in the morning,” she said with a look at Onimaru’s impassive face. “I leave him with you.”

Euphilos hung his head. “Yes, Aphara.” The old woman got up, a disdainful look on her face. Onimaru couldn’t quite catch her parting words, but they sounded like “What she sees in you…”

Her steps were heard as she went to the front door; its falling shut made silence take over the room.

“Well, Euphilos finally said, “apparently I have permission to have you as my guest for the night. He managed a wan smile.

Don’t trust him.

“Your hospitality is commendable,” Onimaru answered.

Candles were lit, and Euphilos began to prepare dinner along with his daughter. There were bread, meat and cheese, also some vegetables and wine. Onimaru however stuck to water, and after thanking his host, ate in silence. As was his custom, he wore almost his full armour; only the traditional battle mask remained in the backpack.

He’s watching you. He’s wondering what you’re planning.

“So,” Euphilos said after half a plate had passed in silence, “that place you mentioned… Krifting, right? What brings you there?”

“Why? O you know the town?”

“Me? Oh, no, I was merely asking.”

Remember the look on his face when you said you were going to Krifting? He’s lying, he knows it.

“My master sent me on a mission,” Onimaru tried to drown out the voice with spoken words. Throw him a bone. See how he reacts, if you don’t believe me. So the samurai added: “Concerning vampires.”

There was a loud clatter as the knife fell from Euphilos’ hand. Now it was Onimaru’s turn to watch his opponent closely.

“Cassiopeia, go upstairs,” he muttered and the child left, bewilderment on her face. At the foot of the stairs, she turned and gave a small bow. “I see you in battle,” she said to Onimaru. Then she disappeared, leaving Onimaru with Euphilos’ slightly embarrassed smile. “Don’t mind her, it’s a traditional farewell here.” He took a deep draught of his wine. See how nervous he is? Any moment now, he is going to open his mouth and he is going to lie in your face.

“I thought vampires were only legends, tales for the fireside.”

Liar.

“There are legends that the Amazons once battled the undead, but I never believed it. They are real, you say?”

He’s in league with them, he’ll murder you in your sleep. Vampires and the likes of them have no honour.

Before he know what he had done, Onimaru was on his feet. It was time to leave, either to be away from the farmer or to have silence in his head again.

“I thank you for your kindness and this meal. But my errand is… more pressing than I thought, so I have to leave now.”

With two big stepts, the farmer was at his side. “Can’t you stay for the night?”

“I’m sorry, but it is impossible.” He picked up his pack and made for the door, but Euphilos got there first.

“Please.” A strong arm barred the doorway, and the look on the other man’s face said that he would not shrink before the tall armoured warrior. There was certainly courage in him. Yes, but no honour. A breach of hospitality means forsaking honour. 2nd Circle, 12th Rule. He’s holding you captive so you can’t harm his masters. There is only one way to settle this.

Onimaru took a step back. “Euphilos, I give you my word of honour not to run away. Will you come outside with me for a moment?” He received a puzzled look, but finally, Euphilos nodded and gave way, saying: “On your honour then; I take you for a man who sets great store by it.”

“Yes, I do,” the samurai answered as they went out of the house. There was a small gravel path, framed by patches of grass that were in turn surrounded by the fields, waving in the darkness like a black ocean.

“You will notice, “ Onimaru began and dropped his backpack to the ground, “that I am no longer in your house, no longer your guest. Thus I do not commit the same offence you did.” And with this he drew his sword.

Euphilos eyes went wide. “What are you doing?”

“I am going away now, one way or the other. Not running – but going, unhindered.”

“Please come back inside again. Wait until the morning. It is important that you stay, not just for me, but for…” Onimaru didn’t hear the words. Liar! Turncoat! See how he is begging – his masters do not tolerate failure. He turned and began to walk away, but almost immedeately, Euphilos was in front of him. “I can’t allow you to go.”

The samurai knew that he couldn’t strike an unarmed man, as much as the voice demanded it. “The Warrior striking an unarmed man is a murderer. 3rd Circle, 1st Rule,” he recited, drew his second sword from its sheath and threw it onto the ground in front of the farmer.

“Pick it up.” Euphilos did not move, just continued to stare at him.

Again Onimaru shouted: “Pick – it – up,” but this time, he wasn’t the only one saying it. The power in his voice finally made his opponent react. He took the sword from the ground, and the moment his fingers touched the hilt, Onimaru attacked. A desperate parade saved the farmer’s life; he took a step back, but Onimaru came after him and forced him to bring the blade up again. The counter attack was powerful but unrefined. It was no trouble to block it in such a way that its power and momentum went to nothing.

“Surrender.” Onimaru’s voice was cold and controlled, a contrast to the already breathless response: “I can’t.”

One of the warrior’s slashes hit the raised blade, as it was supposed to, but the quick second strike got past Euphilo’s defenses and cut deep into his chest. The big man screamed and fell on his back. He still held the sword in his hand and gripped it tighter as he saw the towering samurai approach. From his point of view, the shape blocked out the sky and all its light.

Kill him. Now.

He is down.

Mercy against the undeserving is cruelty against the innocent.

The blade plunged ahead, and heedless of the feeble defence, buried itself in Euphilos’ chest. He gave a soft sigh, then died.

“3rd Circle, 16th Rule,” Onimaru muttered, the blood running down his sword.

He took the backup weapon from the body’s limp hand and got up. His gaze fell on the house again. And on the girl’s face in one of the windows on the second floor. She stared at him; not at her dead father but at him. Shock, fear and something else, something steely made up her expression. Only when he was halfway to the forest did he hear the sound of a door bursting open.

The images whirled, faded, reassembled themselves. Certainties unraveled, while his body ran through the forest, heading towards his mission. Finally he fell to his knees and screamed.

“You betrayed me,” he bellowed, and shocked several flocks of birds into flight. “You betrayed me! You tricked me!”

Of course I did. And you were too stupid to do anything about it.

“Why?” The roar had already died down to what sounded like a sob.

Because your enemies will do the same thing. And maybe – just maybe – you will remember this lesson.

“I killed him. I killed an innocent man.”

Yes, you did. This is what happens when you let those smarter than you twist words and confuse you. Remember that and pay better attention next time. You ought to know what is right and what the Circle demands. You alone. But right now, you are nothing but a disgrace to our ancestry. A disgrace.

The word echoed in the samurai’s head as he trod on eastward through the nighttime forest.

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Thanks people, and again: thanks Pustulio. Damn, I thought I had already cut back on the internal stuff. Oh, well, get the machetes, people, we’re going to do a little more cutting.

As for the action: if the next scroll turns out the way I intend it to, you’ll get some of that (though I can’t promise you that one will be able to get by without thoughts description, but I’ll try to keep them down to minimum).

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

So, the second Amazon scroll, and I hope it turned out better than the first one. Enjoy, and again thanks for your comments and your criticisms. By the way, the next chapter will be bloodier, promise. ;)

Scroll 4

She knew the forest, so the quarry had no hope of escaping her. Andromeda traced the tracks with ease, even in the weak half-moon’s light. Every corner seemed alive with other nocturnal hunters – rustling in the undergrowth and wings’ flapping accompanied her; they also, in a strange way, made her happy.

Here it was. The vegetation became sparser and opened into a clearing. And there, by the little pond, her quarry sat motionless.

“Nice night for brooding, I’m sure,” she addressed Anex’ back. “No, really. Who could resist the sound of the wailing frogs?”

She got no reaction, not even when she came closer and finally sat down in the grass. Anex continued to stare at the small silvery ripples on the water’s surface.

“What was that? Pray, speak up, my Queen, I couldn’t hear you.”

She wasn’t sure whether it was a twitch or a shudder that took Anex and broke her impersonation of a statue. The other woman then drew a deep breath and asked: “What about the others?”

“Oh, don’t worry about them, they are happy as they are. Phoebe is talking Ashi’s ear off and Helene’s putting in a few extra rituals. You’d think half a day of meditation and introspection would be enough for anyone to feel cleansed, wouldn’t you?”

“She’s conscientious.”

There was an undertone in Anex’ voice that made Andromeda take a closer look at her friend. Her face was still unmoving, the gaze directed firmly at the water lilies and the couple of sea-mice sleeping on the water in front of them. Somehow Anex looked like she was taking stock.

“Well,” Andromeda began like tiptoeing over thin ice, “she does know how to think on her feet, I’ll give her that.”

“You mean like at the funeral?”

“She was there when I needed her, but you would have done the…”

“No!” The shout echoed around the clearing; several of the sea-mice awoke from their unconscious drifting, and within seconds their sleek furry forms dived under the surface.

“Don’t you see?” Anex continued. “_I_ put you into that position in the first place. I could have given you another test, claimed exception, anything.

“But I wanted all my Confidents at the sarcophagus, just for the look of the thin. I made a mistake, and without Helene, you – you of all people – wouldn’t be here-”

“Anex, forget it. That was one…”

“Do you know what I heard Aphara say the other day?” her friend interrupted. “Two days before mother died? ‘Pity Lysartha doesn’t have a son instead of a daughter. I think we all know whom we would choose as Queen.’”

“Now, come on! Who ever listened to Aphara? That bitter old crone is only mean for the fun of it, and the sooner she rests at the foot of the Wall the better.”

“But she is right, if only this once. I know I would choose Helene; she’s always been like a big sister to me, and now she has to bow and obey my every word.”

Andromeda took a few seconds to form her next question. “Do you think she is… resentful because of that?”

Anex got up and said helplessly: “No, that’s the point! She doesn’t even think about it! It all comes naturally to her, just as she’s instinctively taking control of any crisis, and I can just stand and look on.”

Silence fell over the lake and engulfed them for some time. When the small noises they had scared away returned, Andromeda offered: “I think we should go back to the cam.”

Anex looked at her and finally smiled. “Yes, let’s go. And thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. My Queen.”

—-

The next morning dawned and illuminated the fog that had crept among the five Amazons during the night. Everything they touched was clammy and the temperature reminded Andromeda why people had at some point decided to live in houses.

Waking up Phoebe was the hardest task. From the depths of her blanket, her voice threatened to use her whip to redecorate the face of anyone who tried to get her up. When they were finally ready to leave their first camping site, the morning turned out to be a fine one. The clear air and the sunshine made their spirits rise as they walked on to their next rituals.

Anex led the way, followed by Ashi and Phoebe, the latter still trying to make the Axe Battler lose her temper and accidentally break her vow of silence. Andromeda and Helene brought up the rear; they had perfect seats in the Theatre of Phoebe.

“So,” Helene said when Phoebe paused to think of a new strategy in the battle against Ashi’s willpower, “what have you been up to yesterday night?”

“Oh, you know, hunting a bit.”

“Without your bow?”

“Just tracking and observing. That’s the trickiest part anyway.”

Helene nodded. “How’s Anex, do you think? I saw you two come back together.”

“She’s all right. Why shouldn’t she be?”

There was the briefest pause, before the Swordstress answered: “No reason.”

It was early afternoon when they arrived at the cracked stone circle in the middle of the woods. Although the weeds and the other plants had done their best to swallow it, the markings were still visible. Anex stood in the centre, and the others took up their positions around her. This wasn’t an exclusive ritual, but the Vow of the Mourning Guards, taken in six other places today. Together, they formed a ring around the Amazon’s home.

“We stand here guarding our home,” Anex intoned, and the others (except Ashi) repeated after her. “Our Queen has passed, our protector has died. We vow to shield her grave, to guard her rest. No foe shall pass us, not an acre shall be undefended. This is our vow, and you may hold us by it.” They were finished, and Ashi made the gesture of the Mute Vow.

“So, that’s out of the way, too,” Phoebe said. “Now, can we get back to the other highly exciting and important ritual stuff?”

Helene gave her a look that made her throw up her hands. “All right, forget I said anything. Just because we’re in mourning, we don’t have to lose our sense of humour, do we?”

They walked on, and Andromeda heard Phoebe grumble behind her: “One day, we’ll have rituals for the privy, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The sun filtered through the canopy and painted spots on the ground. Andromeda watched them and tried to remember what was next on their agenda. Phoebe had a point – the number of rules and rituals the succession required was ridiculous, and it was easy to put a foot wrong. For a short, treacherous moment, she was glad that she wasn’t the one in charge.

And then she saw it jumping at her from the ground, a sight that made her freeze no the spot and flooded horror into every corner of her body: the print of a big boot, definitely pointing towards their home.

Helene appeared beside her, followed her gaze, and went white. “Stop,” she called. The others turned around in puzzlement. “There are prints here,” Andromeda said;she had found the rest that made up the trail crossing their own path.

The rest of their group gathered round to see fro themselves while Andromeda took a closer look. “About one day old,” she estimated. “And judging by the size, the owner is at least 6’4” tall.”
Phoebe cursed softly. “We have to go after him,” Anex muttered, staring at the ground.

A cracking in the bushes behind them made the Amazons whirl around as one, weapons at the ready.

The man stepping into view appeared to be unarmed; he was tall and clad in a foreign light suit and bandana. His hands were held up. “Kong… er, Greetings, “ he said with a strange accent. “May I ask by whom I have the honour to be threatened?”

“I am Anex, Queen of the Amazons, and you are trespassing on my territory, stranger.”

“That’s Yoshiro, if you don’t mind, your majest,” he answered, apparently unimpressed by the deadly collection of metal and wood aimed at him. “I didn’t mean to trespass, it’s just that I’m looking for a… friend of mine, and have reason to believe that he passed through here.” He gestured towards one of the big prints. “Subtle clues, you know.”

“That just means he is as guilty as you are. We shall catch and punish him.”

For the first time Yoshiro looked worried. “Ah… there might be a slight problem. He doesn’t take kindly to being punished, and he might object to being caught, too.”

He coughed nervously. “Anyway, we don’t really have any business with you and your people, your majesty. It might be best for everyone if you just ignored us and we continued on our way. I can promise you we won’t make the same mistake on our way back.”

Anex looked about to say something, but Helene was quicker. “You arrive at a sorrowful time,” she explained. “We are mourning our previous Queen, and no stranger is allowed to enter our lands on pain of death.”

The young man’s brow’s shot up and he whistled softly. “Oh. Yes, I can see that’s a problem.” He glanced at Andromeda. “Er, if I promise not to run, would you mind putting down those weapons? Look, my point is I don’t want any trouble with you, but I can’t let you kill my friend either. But if we spent a lot more time on this nice little stand-off, he will escape you. So tell you what: why don’t we try to catch up with him and settle this when we have everybody in one place?”

Helene looked at Anex and motioned her aside. While the others kept the stranger at bay, they discussed something, very heatedly by the looks of it.

Finally they returned and Anex announced: “We agree to your proposal, under on condition: You must agree to submit to us and come as a captive. Only then are you permitted to enter our home.”

He weighed his head. “Can’t say I like it, but it sounds like the best idea I have heard so far. You’re not going to search me for weapons, are you?”

Around him, bow, axe and whip were lowered. “Not if you agree to come quietly.”

“Just my luck,” he sighed. “Well, now that we have this whole ‘pain of death’ thing out of the way for the moment… you can come out, Rumiko.”

“You didn’t have to give me away, you idiot,” a voice snapped from the trees behind Yoshiro. A moment later, shadows left the trunks and what had looked like a bit of empty forest before was now occupied by a woman in a iridescent skintight suit and with long brown hair.

“I’d rather play fair,” he answered her, but looking at Anex while he said it.

“Is there someone else you would like to tell us about?” Andromeda asked with a wry smile.

“Weeell…” Yoshiro mused, “there is this other guy who’s following us around. But we haven’t really figured him out, so if you’d like to shoot him, that’s all right with us.”

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Thanks for the comments, and especially for Pustulio’s detailed assessment. Of course I take it in good humour, what other humour is there? ;)

As for your advice on thoughts and visuals: I’ll certainly keep it in mind. So far it’s all been very internal, I admit, mostly because the real action hasn’t started yet.

Concerning Anex and the Marquis: There are plans for them. Not nice ones, but plans. :D

Zina’s childishness is another aspect – you wouldn’t happen to have a cat, would you? There is this saying that pets and their owners get more alike over time. I wanted Zina to take on some traits of a cat, specifically “easily bored” (hence the internal stuff and the Neverending Sentence) and “self-centered”.

Thanks again, you have given me something to think about – as by the way did FinalSlayer.

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

The worst scroll, BY FAR, was number 4

i loved every single one except the one with the amazons

Okay, I guess I owe the Amazons a pretty good second scroll. But I hope to get some character work done in that, we’ll see how it goes.

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Ah, found it. Thanks for the heads-up, I’ll keep it in mind.

If Popo had turned out to be female, now that would have been a problem (especially since Popo means “butt” in German – I’m having trouble enough with this character as it is ;) ).

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Really? Hm, okay, not too late for anything.

But, if I may ask, how do you know? I couldn’t see anything in the card text and frankly I find it hard to tell under all that armour…

Topic: Games / Kongai Fan Fiction

Scroll 3

All his thoughts circled around death. His own or the others’ Both would have been an improvement. But as it were, Cain wasn’t just outnumbered, but the others surpassed him by power, too. Every time he had tried to strike Cornelius, he had ended up hitting his own face. And as for the withered figure in the pompous robes in front of him… laying into him meant getting closer, and that ranked pretty high on Cain’s “Don’t Do” list.

“So, have you learned your last lesson well?” Marquis Le Morte asked.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then tell me: Sunlight doesn’t kill you, but…?”

“Makes you sluggish and tired as anything. Bad dreams, too.” When Solomon had shown himself to be a reluctant learner, the Marquis had just left him outside for the day. That had rubbed it in.

“Good. Our next topic then. Catch.”

The old footbal reflexes kicked in and the young vampire caught the thing that a second later set his hands on fire. A small bracelet clattered to the floor.

“Enchanted,” the Marquis explained as Cain writhed on his knees and tried to decide which of the hands to hold with which. “Light magic threatens our existence – about the only thing that really does.” He sat down in his favourite chair again, the one they had put on a makeshift pedestal to give him the grandeur he had demanded. “Our own magic doesn’t hurt us as much. Observe.” A second later, every corner of his body was lit in a glaring hue of pain. Subtle movements under his skin added to the horror of the thing – but strangely it wasn’t as bad as the burn on his hand.

“As for blades, clubs, arrows,” his teacher continued, “you will survive them.”

Solomon felt anger pushing pain aside when he heard the relish with which the Marquis pronounced the word. He had said it before, back when the three creatures had appeared before him…

“Join us, and she will survive...” The exact same tone. He could see the burning house again, and how the ugly flower wallpaper curled off the wall; he heard the flames roar and and the scream of the neighbours’ cat, streaking away with its tail on fire…

“Remember what I told you,” the undead voice entered his mind again. “We may do anything, because we can do everything.” Not a night passed without the Marquis flinging this bullshit at him; and he really seemed to believe it, too.

“We are bound by nothing but our own limits,” he droned on. Cain wondered how many hours he had already been forced to listen to him. The Marquis seemed to think that you just couldn’t do without this crap.

He would have left, had he just known where to go. This wasn’t his world and the three monstrosities were the only thing he knew; the only other things like him for all he knew. At times, he thought he recognised things that were like home, but these moments quickly passed. That was one reason he stayed at the mansion. The vampires spoke English with him, but when he went to the village and talked to the people, they just stared at him blankly. And their own language was just as incomprehensible to him.

“…as we see fit.” The other undead had apparently just rambled on, enthralled by the sound of his own croaking.

“Yeah, right.”

“What did you say?”

“Well…” Now that the damage was done, he might as well go on. “I’ve never heard of vampires playing house with humans, is all.”

“We do that because we choose to. We could crush this miserable hamlet and enslave its people any time.” Judging by the sudden increase in volume, Solomon had hit a nerve there, and he couldn’t stop himself from twisting the knife. “Right, if Cornelius lets you.” The familiar pain returned and settled in his body again, but this once he didn’t care. He had finally found a weak spot. “I rule the vampires uncontested,” the Marquis hissed, “and you’d do well to remember that.”

What ruling? Cain almost asked. All you do is sitting here, feeding and being talked into things by Cornelius and Ambrosia. But as much as he hated his current existence, he wasn’t quite that suicidal yet.

Steps approached the door, and after a short loud knock, Cornelius entered. He saw Solomon lying on the ground and cracked a smile. Then he turned to the Marquis. “My lord, something requires your attention.”

The fire in Solomon’s veins subsided as Le Morte turned to Cornelius. “Speak, my servant.” Cain saw brief puzzlement on Cornelius’ face to be addressed this way, but it didn’t last long.

“A villager reports that someone has been killed, very… publicly.”

The Marquis pretended to think about this, but Cain would have bet good money on what his orders would ultimately amount to. And really: “See to it Cornelius. And take the others with you. It it’s her, you will need their assistance.”

“Yes, my lord. Come, my young friend.”

Cain left the throne room, where the ancient Marquis sat on the makeshift pedestal of furniture and white sheets, in the middle of his web. But every night the young vampire wondered a bit more whether his teacher was the spider or the fly.

“How nice. I finally get to take you for walkies again.”

“Shut up, man.”

---

The village in uproar was an even more confusing place for Cain. As soon as the people saw the vampires, they rushed them, gripped at their clothes and gesticulated. Some even started talking at him, but all he could do was push them aside to keep up with Cornelius and Ambrosia.

Then they reached the marketplace, and it became apparent what all the fuss was about. The shape of a man hung from a tree by the neck; at least the general shape where no parts were missing or gushing out from the inside. What remained was horribly burned, as were some of the wooden house fronts surrounding the place. The grieving widow’s sobs lent a morbid orchestration to the scene; tow of the men were supporting her.

“Poor Coris,” Cornelius mumbled loud enough for the bystanders to hear.

The silence that had been there for a few seconds collapsed and the torrent of shouts, curses and questions swelled again. Cain saw his two companions exchange a glance and he heard one whisper to the other “Voss.” Cornelius nodded, and then climbed onto the stage again.

“My friends,” he cried, and after the third repetition had everybody’s attention. “I – we stand with you on this tragic night. One of your best was cruelly taken from you by a coward. A coward who is afraid to face us, but also to face you. And after tonight, I feel she is right to do so. For her crime is so base, so cruel, that she can not expect any mercy from any of you.

“My good Mrs. Coris. We share your grief. You may even blame us… no, don’t shake your head. We have failed to protect you, against an enemy whose furtiveness has even surprised…”

“Is he making all this bullshit up as he goes along?” Cain muttered to Ambrosia.

She gave him a smile only he could see. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“…asking you to be on your guard. We know her, and within a few nights, we will have posters up, describing her in detail. Mrs. Coris, I know that no mere money can replace your husband. But to keep you well supported for some time to come, allow us a gift of grief – a thousand gold pieces should help you through a few rough spots. And twice this sum goes to the citizen who captures the beast responsible for this crime.”

Cain didn’t hear the last words. There was a commotion at the back of the crowd that drew his attention. Voices rose again. “What are they shouting?” he asked Ambrosia as they fought their way to the centre of the disturbance.

“’Here she is’ and ‘We’ve got her’”, she answered with a puzzled look.

By now, Cornelius had noticed it too. “Clear the way,” he bellowed, and as always the crowd obeyed his command.

What Cain saw was extraordinary. Three villagers were lying on the ground, unconscious or rubbing their heads. Above them stood four figures, only three on two legs – a man, a woman and a boy in weird clothes, ragged and dirty. A tiger was by the woman’s side apparently choosing which person to bite once it got permission. The combination of moon- and torchlight made them horrible to look at.

Cornelius descended from the stage and walked towards them, arms outstretched. “Welcome to Krifting,” he said amiably, and in open disregard of the hostile faces around him. “I am Cornelius Constantine, Acting People’s Tribune. And who ar