Brothers Part 3
This is a continuation of the Brothers' series or the Dead series. No real name yet. Comments and feedback is something I adore, any kind.
if ya got any ideas let me know. Once again i know this is not really the story that's suited to Yiffstar yet I hope ya'll have a gander and enjoy it. Here goes.
He knew the house. He knew it like it was his mother, the emotions, the moods, the changes even the actions. Unpredictable it was, but treated in a certain manner it would react in a certain manner and that's where the knowing came to play. He knew how to treat the house, give it a nudge to make it feel good and it would comply like a mother; with a smile. It would forego its own piece of pie so that her child could enjoy the scrumptiousness. It loved him in as much as it could love, he loved her back. Her swelling pride nurtured him and her frowns reflected his wrong-doings.
He cringed as he felt that frown now, felt her sorrowful disapproval, yet he had no choice; he would not abandon the child now, could not and he needed help to hide the child. One of the rooms would be perfect, mother... house would help protect her from any prying eyes, spies or just curious denizens smelling fresh blood.
Incredibly fatigued he stumbled through a door revealing the kitchen. Furnished with pots, pans, cupboards, a table and an unused stove resting melancholy in the corner of the kitchen was empty as it always was, just serving as another room in the labyrinthine palace known as house. It had no practical value whatsoever. Like so many places here it was fully furnished and spotless. No thing questioned this as it was generally accepted that it was originally built by rich landowners who needed a comfortable nest from which to govern the outlying villages.
"Hurr?" moaned something up from what would have been a wine cellar.
Wufy, startled, turned towards the sound, recognizing what it was. Keeping the child hidden in his cloak he ignored the creature and headed to where a staircase usually appeared after changes. It was there, as was expected and as luck had it he sensed that the stairs led straight towards the third floor where rooms, suitable for human occupation, were located.
Slow heavy footsteps sounded behind him. "Huurrrr!" It moaned. The corpse had come out of the cellar and was shuffling through the perfectly neat and clean kitchen. Wufy sighed turning back to face the shambling corpse. It smelled blood, he guessed. As the corpse shambled closer menacingly Wufy cradled the girl in one arm holding the other, half extended. It lunged at him but he simply grabbed one arm wrenching it away from him savagely. There was a crack as old brittle bone snapped. He stepped past the wounded corpse dragging it off of its feet towards the door of the cellar. "Huurrrr!" it moaned in protest as it was tossed negligently down the wooden steps breaking several other limbs in the process.
Wufy turned back to continue on his mission, he had no time for mindless things. He was too tired to worry. Some of the dead retained a level of intellect, like the ones used in the house departments, while others just didn't lose their souls and kept going. He had no sympathy for those instinct driven shells. Why they were even allowed in the house was a mystery as all they ever did was assault the thinking useful denizens.
The girl moaned softly in his arms. He cradled her in the crook of one fur covered arm, holding her protectively close to his chest, gently, as if she were a crystalline figurine, about to break at the slightest disturbance. He stumbled back to the stairs making his way up all the while hoping and pleading in his thoughts that a room would be held aside for the protection of his precious cargo.
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Wufy's maw split into a huge grin. The girl child was a delight and it she never failed to lift his spirits. She looked up, smiling, from the paper she was writing on with charcoal that he got from distribution. She jumped up abruptly wiping her tiny charcoal blackened hands off on his maw. He rumbled with mirth then took a corner of his cloak and gently wiped each tiny hand with it.
He had taken to spending any free moment within this room in the depths of the house. He was eternally grateful that the house didn't deem it necessary to change the location of the room. He'd still be able to navigate to it but it would have made locating it a task which he was thankful for being spared. Jarel was also helpful by being discreet and providing some of his time, together with paper, to entertain the girl. He had no idea what to do with her or what the future held. Did Bucher know?
Blood red eyes regarded him. The room's furnishings matched her appearance for after his magic had crept into her eyes it had also manifested itself as a crimson sheen on her blond hair.
"Hmm?" he questioned the girl. She called herself Servi and in Wufy's opinion it was a serviceable name. "I want to show you something." she cocked her head to side displaying a smile that made Wufy uncomfortable, it stirred something in him that was confusing. "And what is it you wish to show me?" She tore a square out of the paper then grabbed a stick of charcoal. She began folding the one around the other clumsily. The charcoal slipped and fell to the floor. Servi pouted, stooped to pick it up and began the process over. After watching for a few moments in interest he felt something approaching from the hallway.
The door swung open and Jarel appeared in the doorway "Milord, there's trouble out in the plane. "What is it Jarel?" Jarel neglected to answer, in his hurry he had already disappeared halfway down the hall again. Glancing at Servi he said "Stay here girl, I'll be back as soon as I can." with a rushing of air the 'lord' rushed out of the room, his huge cloak fluttering after much as a mongrel pet would. The door closed and resoundingly with a click as it locked itself.
Servi frowned at the bundle in her hands, having barely noticed the departure of her keeper. She let her concentration wane then opened them to reveal a small piece of wood sprouting leaves and little branches. She held it out to Wufy but discovered she was alone. With a shrug she went about finishing one of her pictures.
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Captain De Lar reined in and put up his hand, signaling the rest of his contingent to do the same.
"Sergeant!" he called. "Sir?" came the answer immediately. "Have everyone at the ready we're about to cross the border "As you say captain."
De Lar peered at the sky as a feeling of dread rose in him, the sky above was blue but just a short distance ahead it darkened over the blasted landscape of the undead realm, the darkness seemed to stretch forever in all directions.
He sighed inwardly and stifled his apprehension at having to move into the utterly dead region.. As a boy he had grubbed in the dirt streets of one small village or the next. Having never had parents and no sense belonging he had roved and attached himself to traveling wagons or companies of tradesmen, stealing what little food he could get to keep hunger at bay. One morning on the edge of starvation he dared steal a loaf of bread but was caught sneaking around as he tried to nab a small hot pastry to fill his diet. At the age of 11 he had the choice of hard labor till he was of age, usually at 17, or to join the town's garrison and serve indefinitely. It hadn't been a hard choice and his wits as a young thief served well and he rose quickly in the ranks of the newly formed army and was now captain to a small group of men.
They rode over a small hillock, being greeted by the vast expanse of wasted land. The border started abruptly as the forest seemed to end suddenly as if it were a creature teetering on the edge of a cliff and oblivion. A long sorrowful howl seemed to echo off of nothing like something from the pits of the sixth circle. Some of the men cursed loudly and made protective signs over their chests, except the drivers of he 'dead wagon' few men came close to this part of the forest if not in large groups. The horses snorted protest their nostrils flaring wide obviously uncomfortable at the smell drifting on the dry breeze, the smell was nothing short of rank.
De Lar bellowed to the back of the line "Dead wagon to the fore go through the routine and make your delivery." then to the rest of his men he said "We wait then ride a short way in as soon as the wagon's escort arrives for them. Cool heads and remember why we are here! I'll have any man flogged for any irrational action!"
The wagon made its way into the wasteland. A short while later huge lean doglike beings could be seen bounding towards the wagon. De Lar counted twelve of them all moving with unnatural speed descending on their target. There were fearful murmurs behind him, he heard more than one man whisper in fear filled awe; "Werewolves... gods, look at them..."
He waited until the wagon was a ways off while regarding some of the figures shambling, running or flying around in the darkened sky before them. Noticing the silence of the forest around him he shivered and had to once again extinguish his growing angst at what was coming. 'That house' he thought sticking out like a sore thumb and yet, seeming grand as if it's got a life of its own.'
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Another of the corpses was felled. De Lar sheathed his sword as the threat was dispatched, worrying at the scene around him cursed the task before him. One of his men had been bitten by one of the shambling corpses that seemed to infest the place as if they were vultures smelling corruption of death. Yet, he thought sardonically, they seemed to be the corruption seeking to ingest the living. The injured man had his shoulder bandaged but seemed deathly pale.
The contingent was roughly surrounded by the werewolves who had accompanied the dead wagon. After it arrived at the house they came back placing themselves roughly around his men, simply stared at them, seeming to ignore the dead bodies that shambled towards his group. Two of his men stern faced and resolved intercepted a corpse and De Lar was mildly surprised to see it put up it's hands and speak.
"I come from the house! I'm let you know that the lord of the house is being informed of your presence and we would deem it most polite if you would await his arrival!" it said with a human voice. De Lar sighed a sigh of relief, something was happening at least and he hadn't been met with any 'real' force. He strolled forward halfway between the werewolf-border and the men to meet the figure from the house.
"I am Captain De Lar.' he introduced himself 'the wagon driver bought this letter with him after the wagon's last visit. My liege lord..." He stopped as the corpse held up his hand to interrupt. "Dear sir, few creatures here can read let alone write. Other than that the only one with authority enough to even dare send anything to the humans is the Lord. I trust he will be along shortly. Excuse the Mindless Ones Captain, we have no control over them and even to us they are an annoyance." De Lar simply nodded at the man, puzzlement apparent on his face at being addressed so civilly. He considered the crooked form before him then thought better of saying another word. Returning to his men he ordered the issue for three quarters of them to stand down and rest while the last quarter was to intercept the "Mindless Ones".
A short while later the light hadn't changed at all and it was impossible to determine how much of the day had gone. The men had stopped talking, the depression of the surroundings mulling their spirits. Some had taken out some of the travel rations and chewed listlessly on hard biscuits while others prayed or simply sat trying to get comfortable on the hard blackened ground. One man shouted "Ye gods! Will you look at that!" he pointed towards the house.
De Lar turned his eyes in the direction shown seeing a huge dark shape restlessly moving towards them. It seemed like a pitch black cloud descended on them and more than one man had his sword out expecting trouble from this form. De Lar noticed his men's distress and attempted to calm them while hiding his own fear at the aura coming towards them. "Stand! We have not been seriously harmed yet. There does not seem to be any aggression..." A bow twanged and De Lar watched in horror as a shaft from a longbow flew through the air at the mighty figure. He stood wide eyed for a moment feeling a chill run up his spine. The shaft flew true and disappeared in into the blackness of the cloak. The figure paused a moment then the Captain noticed that another man was walking next to it. It started moving again, toward them. De Lar turned to see it was the man who had been bitten by a zombie who had shot the arrow. The soldiers stared at the man who seemed to have gone blank. One soldier near De Lar whispered "It's impossible, not with that hole in his shoulder." De Lar was about to speak then the man's eyes cleared, he stared at his companions then crumbled to the ground screaming in pain. "For everyone's sake quiet him down! Sergeant!" the sergeant appeared "Sir?" "Knock him out or something, we're in a spot of trouble I think. We'll find out later what happened." De Lar turned to the assembled company then said "Stand ready, be vigilant but I want no hostility until we are threatened. Any man causes any more trouble than we already have will be flogged to death if we survive conflict. Clear!?!?" some answered vocally while others just looked gaunt in the grey light.
De Lar turned and waited for the approach with his heart in his stomach.