Sword of Sacrifice 2 : The Swords of Our Sons

Four thousand years since the Great Forging...

Six hundred and eighty eight years since the Ragnarok...

One hundred and eighty nine years since our first adventure...

Once more, with feeling.


SWORD OF SACRIFICE 2
Chapter One - He Who Rips The Earth


"Come, young warriors! Gather your brethren, and stand as one with your fists raised in defiance! Though you shall die, at least you shall not die alone."
------------------------------------------------------------------ - Xephryaltes

"It's him! It's the deserter!"
"Stone him!"
"Oathbreaker!"
"Coward!"
"Stone him!!"


"What's going on?!" Cassandre demanded of no one in particular. Like anyone with elfin blood, angry mobs had a way of unsettling his stomach. "Looks like someone's about to be murdered. Let’s go watch.” Jegd insisted, craning his long neck for a better view. “You find murder amusing?” scoffed Oksfort, “How about I murder you?” To this, Jegd only laughed, and slapped Wayne upside the back of the head. “Why’d you do that, dickhole?!” Wayne snapped, rubbing his injured scalp. Jegd feigned a look of innocence as Rickhoff sniggered. “Why does Jegd do anything?” Sandy asked in a manner that lent credit to the obviousness of his answer, “because blondes are dumb as hell.” Jegd’s face turned sour, and Wayne laughed at the insult.


“Wait! Listen to me!”
“Quiet, you!”
“Somebody string him up!”
“Get the stones!”


“I don’t like the sound of that mob.” Oks grumbled. “Why is it that only bad things happen in town squares?” Wayne asked, joining Oks in his grumbling. “Because,” Jegd answered, always full of information, “You have a tiny shaft.” Rickhoff sniggered again. That seemed to be all he ever did. In response, Wayne took a swing at Jegd, but missed like always. Jegd was pushing seven feet tall, while Wayne barely broke five-eleven. “I’m gonna laugh when he finally gets you.” Sandy said with an amused smirk. Jegd was indignant, “You can’t catch lightning.” Wayne spat, “How about I jam a piece of lightning up your-” SMASH!!!


“Let go of me!”
“Hit him again!”
CRUNCH!
“You know not of what you do!”

Suddenly, a much deeper voice boomed, “STOP!!! Stop this right now!“ When the crowd failed to do so, people began falling over and screaming. For a second, Sandy feared a rather large brawl was about to take place right next to him… It certainly wouldn’t be the first one he’d randomly been dragged into a fight...

Then, unexpectedly, a gap formed in the crowd. “Ooh, looky!” Jegd gasped, pointing at what appeared to be a beaten and bludgeoned knight being held up by the burly mayor of Wessenridge. “Lucky for that dude… The Chief made it here right in the knick of time.” Oksfort mused as the mayor began to speak.

“What’s your name, son? For what reason do my people attack you so?” Shouts rang out. “Traitor!” “Coward!” “Give him the noose!”

“Silence!!” Demanded their gruff old leader, “I’ll hear him speak before I see him hanged!”

Silence did indeed pervade.

“Now tell me, son. what’s your name?”

The knight was quiet for several moments, then spat out a tooth and answered, “Jets Rivers.”

The mayor hiked an eyebrow at the name. He’d obviously heard it before. “A Royal Knight? Tell me son, how is it that you survived the storming of Vahellon? I’d heard there wasn’t a knight left alive in the entire capital.”

The knight was silent again, as if he dreaded his answer. Then he spoke, “I ran.”

Angry murmurs and shouts burst from the crowd, but they quickly faded away.

“Is that what this is about?” The mayor demanded, raising his head to the crowd. “Not a one of you has ever been in a real battle, methinks. Do not think to a judge a man for his shortcomings when you yourselves have never stood to be measured.”

More angry murmurs, “But Jabadon!” someone shouted, “the penalty for desertion is death!” The mayor simply waved the person away, “There’s nothing left for this young man to desert. I’ll expect you all to extend your full hospitality to him while he stays with us.”

A few more murmurs, and then the crowd dispersed slowly. Sandy and the gang remained.

“Tell me,” The mayor began, once most of the rabble had cleared, “are you thirsty, Jets?” To this, the knight tilted his head in affirmative.

“You there!” shouted the old man, looking straight at Sandy, who shot him back a confused expression, “Take this lad to the alehouse!”

Raziel sat in the corner of the Phallus's Tavern with two brothers from his order trying to appear inconspicuous.

"What shall we do Devron, with the fall of the castle we don't have the money we need to return to the order." He asked his brother in the white over coat.

"Let me think, we could try to wait for them to send a search party, might take years though being we are the only brothers on this land mass, or we could try to take another job, maybe fight the invaders, or for them, which ever pays more."

"We can not align our order to either side without the Arch-Hunters consent" this was the third brother, Shiron in a black vest

"Besides, we have always fought with this country as friends, I doubt we would arrive with a 'Welcome Home' Banner draped over the gates if we attacked.

"We will cross that bridge when we get there, but for now we need to secure some money, we have barely enough to cover our food budget, we need t..." Devron stopped talking as a commotion erupted out side and then quieted down.

"Wonder what that was" Raziel said sipping his mead.

Danbtr sat in the corner of the bar, idly nursing his glass of ale. Anyone who looked at him could tell he had been traveling for a long while. Dust coated his plate boots, his dark green cloak. He had a weary look in his eyes, and a tired overall appearence. Sighing, Danbtr quickly downed his ale.

Getting up, the weary traveler walked toward the bar, with the intintion of ordering what meager food this establishment could scrape off the ground. On his way, though, he noticed a drunken man glaring at him from the bar, hate strong in his eyes. Removing himself from the battered stool, the man slurred, "You Forestfucker... Get the hell outta this town, you mangy bastard. Elve's aint welcome here, you fuckin son of a wh-"

At this point, Danbtr had drawn his leaf-stamped dagger from his boot, grabbed the man, and held the dagger against his throat.

"Good Sir," Danbtr started, his voice dripping with mock politness. "All I wanted to do here was to wetten my throat with a glass of ale. You have caused this to be more complecated than it has to be. Now, I am going to let you down. If you wish to live, get the hell out of my sight, you boy-fucking curr."

With that note, Danbtr threw the man out of the door, sat down at the bar, and ordered a bottle of whiskey.

"So the castle fell,
Its lands plunged into hell,
But the virtuous fight,
Extended into the night,
Many brave men died that day,
Their killers would surely pay,
For the havoc that ensued,
The trouble that has brewed,
Cannot be…"

Poliloko struggled to find something else to rhyme, but it wasn't like anyone was paying attention to him anyway. He was a peasant in their eyes. He washed off the marks and lines that distinguished him as a Royal servant, and he wore tatters instead of his uniform.

He didn't like alcohol, so he had a glass of water instead. It looked like whiskey, tasted like whiskey, but was water. Illusion was fun.

"What was the battle like?!" Wayne demanded as their small group filed into the bar. As they passed inside, Sandy noticed that the sky was beginning to darken. He could smell rain in the
air. "Let the man wet his throat first." Oksfort chastised, "He looks like he's had a hard ride.

"Hard run." Corrected the forlorn soldier, "My horse died near Lakegard." Wayne let out a whistle, "That's a long way to go on foot. You sure you aren't some sort of witch?" Jets laughed dryly, "Being hardy's just part of the job." From behind, Jegd smiled that strange smile of his.

The smoke was choking. Sandy always hated this about bars. "Do you think Chris and the others will be able to find us in here?" Rickhoff asked all of a sudden. Ach! Somehow, Sandy had forgotten all about the other half of the group. Some brother he was. "Yeah, I'm sure they'll find us. Christy's sure to get thirsty eventually."

Dropping down at a table, Jegd pounded it with his fist and shouted, "Ale-slut! Mead all around! Hop to it!"

And it was so.

"Ale-slut! Mead all around! Hop to it!", a man shouted.

Poliloko looked up from his table and walked over to the man.

"Sir, I must say no more,
to your abuse of this whore.
You should know this is wrong,
Without me telling you in song.
I do not mean to pester…”

With this, Poliloko ripped off his cloak, revealing his Jester uniform. He slammed his hand on the table, causing dust to jump. In that second, Poliloko’s face turned white with paint.

“But you see I am a Jester,
And I feel it is my duty to do so.
Quit abusing this hoe,
And there will be no fight,
They solve nothing and are never right,
Quit abusing this lass,
Or I will happily kick your ass.”

Poliloko finished reciting, waving a spoon in a threatening manner.

Danbtr glanced over at the Jester, his mouth full of booze. Swallowing, he walked over to the jester, patted him on the back, and said,

"My Friend! That verse was one of the most hilarious I have ever heard!"

Jegd was taken aback, "O-ho! Brave little midget, aren'tcha?" He leaned forward on the table, resting his long chin in his left palm. "A fool! I never thought I'd see one in such a dinky little town. Then again, most smallfolk seem to be fools in their own way. Their daughters are usually ever so horny, though. That they are. It brings a smile to my face."

"You're rambling again." Wayne growled, nudging Jegd with an elbow. The taller boy began laughing. From out of nowhere, the serving wench appeared with their drinks. Thus, they all set about the task of slaking their thirsts. Jets downed his in a single gulp. The odd man with the funny words was forgotten about.

"I will whip you for your insolence!”, Poliloko shouted, pulling out his whip. He cracked it loudly, and the bar quieted a bit. “I am no fool, I am a civic entertainer for the royal family.”

Raziel stood up and walked over to where the crack off a wipe had orientated from to where a jester was standing over some seated bar goers. Not wanting a bar brawl to ensue he tried to calm them down.

"Friends, you don't want to do this, it could get..."

He was then beaned in the back of the head with a loaf of stale bread.

"Shut up, we didn't get to kill the coward and now I'm board, I wanna watch a fight." a burly man yelled up from the crowd

"Sit back down, I am trying to avoid a fight, I know your tense with what happened but..." Raziel responded his brothers rising in the back of the room and starting to make there way forward.

"Or what, what will a son of a whore like you do if I don't sit down"

The man then leaped forward and tried to swing at, only to be met with a punch to the face that knocked loose a few teeth, broke the noise and other wise turned an ugly face uglier

"Why you bastard, I am going to stab you to fucking death then shit in the holes."

He then drew a dagger and lunged at him, only to be cut down by an arrow right through his heart.

The man looked down a look of shock and fear on his face as he hit the ground.

"Mother fuckers, you killed me, boys kill em back"

The bar then erupted into a full on slaughter.

Raziel jumped behind the counter as the barkeep was cut down and emptied the register into his pockets.

He whispered sorry as he closed the dead mans eyes and jumped back into the fray.

Jegd looked as if we were about to burst from laughter. "Out of my way!" Wayne growled, shoving the taller boy out of the booth. Cassandre and Rickhoff simply went over the table, while Oks went out his own side. Jets drew his dagger and stood up in his seat.

"Great. Another bar brawl." Cassandre cursed under his breath. Suddenly, his world went white as a stool crashed into his face. "Half-elf, cunt!" Someone shouted. Cassandre wondered where people found time to randomly hate him while a deadly fight involving OTHER people was taking place... "That's just my luck." Nonetheless, he hopped back to his feet just in time to see Wayne plunge a knife into someone's nostril. "Yeah! Now it's a party!" Jegd shouted, grabbing a very frightened serving wench. He pushed her up against the wall and began having his way with her. Fucking Jegd...

"Back off!" Cassandre shouted, slugging a knife-wielding man in the face. The man fell on his ass while his knife went sliding under the bar. Meanwhile, Oksfort took a thrown boot to the face, only to stove a guy's nose in half an instant later with a powerful backhand. Rickhoff tripped over a wounded barfighter, and almost ended up getting his head cracked open with an axe. The axe-wielder was quickly dispatched by Wayne and his dagger. Throwing his fist into another man's soft, pink face, Sandy almost failed to notice the door of the bar being tossed open. In rushed several more peasants, and the sobbing ale-slut that had snitched on them. Sandy could plainly tell from the villagers's soaked frames that it was raining quite hard outside. That explained the dull roar in the background.

The miniature stampede nearly trampled Rickhoff as he bludgeoned some grizzled woodman with a mailed fist. Instead of breaking up the fight, the newcomers joined in on the fray as well, shouting something about cunts and fuckers

"This is getting out of hand..."

Annette saw little, but the shouts gave it all away. Not wanting to be injured by a race riot...again...she ran towards the door as she heard the first punch thrown.

"Elf Cunt!", she heard someone shout as they grabbed her arm. "You aren't getting out of here!"

He pulled her close and pulled a knife.

Poliloko didn't understand much of what was happening. Life in the sheltered keep of the castle didn't allow him much time outside.

People were being skewered, stabbed, shot, and beaten to a pulp all around. An elven woman bolted for the door as soon as he shouted at the man at the table.

Determined to protect, and bound by oath, Poliloko cracked his whip once more. He threw it back as far as it could go, and then swung it forward. The five barbs on the whip wrapped around the man’s throat like fingers and Poliloko reeled him in like a fish.

During all of this, Poliloko gained some attention. A swift punch to the face sent him sprawling on the floor, then someone jumped on him and started repeatedly striking him

“Push!”, Poliloko shouted between punches, and the man who jumped him was pushed off about a foot or so. “Haste!”

And Poliloko moved a little faster, able to jump up and draw his sword.

Istolil Caborel slowly woke back up to the world around him as his table was knocked violently over. His half-emptied glass spilled cheap alcohol all over the floor and the front of his trousers.

He looked dully at his soaking wet crotch for a moment before looking up to look for the table overturner. He spotted him quickly, an unconscious man no doubt thrown at his table in the midst of the bar brawl that was going on.

Istolil rose slowly from his stool, mindful of the cheap alcohol running down his pant legs and leaking into his boots. He turned and gave the unconscious man a good swift kick to the gut for landing where he did, and than turned to leave the bar before someone caught it on fire or something equally stupid happened. He was annoyed at the fact that this was the third tavern he had been in in which a fight had erupted in the last week alone. What was the world coming to when you couldn't even sit contently in a tavern anymore?

He almost got to the door before a large bearded man with a cheap-looking knife made a wild swing at him and made a small slice in his shoulder. Istolil caught the man's hand on his attempted second swing. He twisted it hard and than brought his other arm down where it met the elbow.

--- Meanwhile ---

The Shoustegahl growled - a disturbing rumbling noise that turned hellish in his abundant headgear. "My lord?" asked his adjutant, "Is something amiss?"

The Shoustegahl growled again, "They didn't even put up a fight." In that slow jerking manner of his, he turned to his adjutant and asked, "Tell me Percival, when was the last time I killed a man?"

The man named Percival gulped. "Just this morning, sir." This response drew a third growl from his agitated master.

"Too long. I do hope this next piss-village at least raises a hand against me."

Percival gritted his teeth in the same nervous fashion he always did when his master got that killing feeling... Which was always.

"Tell me something else, Percival... What is the name of this... Hovel... We're to subjugate?"

"Wessenridge, sir."

Annette gasped as she fell to the ground, her attacker pulled off her in a violent manner.

Now that she was free, she ran out the door and into the rain and mud. Safer out here than inside.

She ran towards the nearest building, only to find a sign. 'Gone to bar'.

'Nice.', Anne thought. 'The only person that might be able to help isn't here.'

Lightning crackled overhead, but it sounded different than normal lightning.

“CAN I NOT GET ONE SECOND OF GOD DAMN PEACE!?!” screamed Cimeries buckling his pants and walking out of a back room of the bar.

He was surprised that no one had noticed his introduction and stood for a few seconds in staring at the giant bar fight. The elven lass he had been with game walking out after him and he stopped her.

“You may want to go back to the room,” said Cimeries with a blaze in his red eyes showing he was about to join the fight.

The elven lass nodded and went back to the back of the bar.

Cimeries quickly mumbled a few unknown words and a giant scythe covered in a purple flame arched out from his right hand. He clasped it and smiled as it caught the attention of a few nearby men.

“May your deaths be as painful as they are swift,” said Cimeries charging the first one.

With a giant circular swing the scythe decapitated the target and spilled the organs of a nearby foe and the same swipe.

A man then charged him with a sword “Blind!” he screamed and the man’s eyes turned into black flames and he screamed in pain and dropped his sword.

Cimeries was stunned by the site of yet another red eyed red haired person within the bar that he had took notice of after the man had fallen to the floor.

“You fuck!” Screamed the man rolling on the floor, “Fight like a man! Unblind me dammit!”

“Eat shit,” said Cimeries raising his heal and plowing it into the man’s face several times.

Two other men where about to charge Cimeries when suddenly he turned into a cloud of smoke only to reappear in the room behind what could possibly be one of his brothers.

“And who might you be?” said Cimeries conjuring back his scythe and continuing his slaughter.

Cassandre raised an eyebrow as he ducked under a flying whiskey bottle. Turning to punch a random drunkard in the nostril, he responded, "The youngest. Cassandre is my name."

Barely managing to leap out of the way of an enraged Oksfort as he tackled a guy, Sandy continued, "And you are?"

Suddenly, a loud slamming noise.

"WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING?!!" Shouted a new voice, "There's ogres on the horizon!!"

Silence followed, interrupted only by the falling rain, and distant thunder.

Raziel stopped punching the man who he held off the ground and dropped them.

"Ogres, how many, do they fly a standard, and how far off are they"

As frenzied bargoers frantically shoved and pushed their way into the slippery streets, the man who had interrupted their brawl came into view. By the look of him, he as a middle-aged member of the town guard. His belly nearly protruded beyond the limits of his rusted hauberk, and he was two raindrops away from being soaked to the marrow.

"Eight at the least. A dozen at most, and they'll be here in minutes." Replied the soggy guard, as rain dripped through his beard. "We saw no standard, but the culprit should be obvious enough, should it not?"

Then, without waiting for a reply, the portly man hefted his sword from its scabbard, and ran back out into the cold, wet night. Once again, the thunder spoke of danger.

Turning on his heels, Sandy found that the other members of his party were standing by, though some were bloodier others. Jegd spoke first. His lady friend was nowhere to be seen, and his face bore a rare hint of seriousness, "Rick. Oks. Wayne. Go find Cormak and the others, and get to Southgard as fast as you can. Inform the Masters that the enemy has reached the south."

The lightning danced to the music of the thunder.

Wayne tried to protest, but Oks and Rickhoff silently dragged him along into the rain. Both wore solemn looks on their faces as they went. Casting a wary look at his scythe-bearing brother, Sandy let out an apprehensive breath. "It's just you and me now, Jegd" The older boy smiled grimly, "Alas... I had so wanted to find a nice lady-friend before they got here..."

Jet said nothing. He merely sat there, gritting his teeth.

And the thunder rolled.

"So it's agreed, we stand and fight to gauge the strength of the enemy, and to see if they are a threat to the order, then if we have to we haul ass out of there, and try to take a boat to the order." Devron said the water was just starting to seep through his treated cowl

"Raz, go see who else is sticking around, see if any of them are worth fighting next to" Shiron pointed him in the direction of what appeared to be some monks

Raziel nodded and walked over to them.

"Hello, my name is Raziel, I saw you fighting in the brawl, and you seem to be able to handle yourself, are you by any chance sticking around for the fight?"

This time, Sandy was faster on the answer, "I am called Cassandre, and my companion is called Jegd. We will fight if need be... But our mission is one of peace."

Suddenly, Jet rose to his feet, "No, you must not fight him..." He declared, with a hollow expression that spoke of a fear that had been crushed by an even larger fear.

"Who's 'him'?" Asked Jegd, his voice playful as always.

Jet snorted and spat before answering, "He Who Rips the Earth."

Jegd chuckled lightly to himself, already comprehending the situation. However, Sandy's mastery of the eastern languages wasn't quite as sharp as the older boy's. It took him a few seconds to understand.

"Shoustegahl."

The thunder cracked again, as if in answer. It sounded much closer this time.

"I have no worry's, I so you defend yourself when attacked, so your mission may be peace, but they bring war, so you will fight"

Raz than turned around and shouted back.

"Hows that for sounding wise"

"I give you a C+, and next time more ominous."

"I know of this threat too.", Poliloko said, stepping forward and speaking mainly to Jet. . "I was there when the servants were simple slaughtered in the halls, their dying breaths spoke the words 'Why?'."